Making your way through the golden years
No matter what the experts say, aging is hard. It takes a lot of luck, good genes, family support, and activity to make this journey work. There is an additional quality that really lightens the load when the elderly face their “golden years”, and that is the ability to laugh at oneself and at life.
As the aches and pains begin to mount, and the elderly begin to feel alone in their plight, humor is a powerful potion for maintaining an attitude toward success. Life becomes a chain of mountains to climb, and hiking is much easier if the elderly navigate their journey by mocking a world full of challenges. Older adults must learn to float down the river, propelled by the water as they pass over branches, branches, and rocks along the stream of life.
Lessons from the young at heart
When it comes to humor, the late George Carlin would have been proud of my mother. At 93 years old, he can take a life event and turn it into a surprising and dramatic story full of adventures and lessons to be learned. He recently had a stint in the hospital due to atrial fibrillation, an indicator of congestive heart failure. Although my mom’s heart pumps enough blood, the upper chamber shows signs of wear.
When she was released from the hospital to go home, my mother switched from two pills to a variety of blood thinners while her cardiologist tried to regulate her heartbeat. She stayed in a nursing facility for a while and then was sent back to her independent living apartment on a trial basis. Several days later, at 5 am, she fell in the bathroom and landed on her hip. She had the presence of mind to crawl to the cordon to get the attention of the nursing staff. They arrived quickly, called me and contacted the paramedics for another round to the ER.
When I got to the emergency room, she said dejectedly, “Son, I’m sorry I made a mistake.” “Did you use your walker to go to the bathroom?” I replied. “No, it was full of all kinds of papers,” she revealed sheepishly and continued, “but it was VERY CLOSE to the bathroom,” as if that mattered. They took an X-ray of her hip and it had been fractured; her femur needed repair. When she arrived at room 2107, her staff moved her to her hospital bed. An internist immediately visited her and she asked, “What time is it, doctor?” “It’s 8 am young lady. Why do you ask?” “I have to get out of here in an hour. I have to go to the beauty salon. I can’t stay here looking like this. By the way, what’s your last name?” The doctor spoke slowly… “GHIAMADI… GHIAMADI,” she said. “Oh, that must have been a serious problem for you when you were in elementary school,” she replied.
See the humor in any situation
For the next few days, the cardiologists monitored my mom’s vital signs trying to prepare her for surgery. My wife told my mother about the excellent nursing care she was receiving. “You’re getting a lot of attention, Oma.” “Yes, and I might even get a tiara at the end of the day if I play my cards right,” she replied.
Several days later, the surgery was “all systems working.” The launch had been delayed several times, but now we were counting down. Exasperated, my mother put the nursing team on alert. “Let’s get this show up and running. Just make sure you get your right leg ‘cut off,'” she said jokingly. As they wheeled her into surgery, she kept saying, “Where are you taking me? Looks like we’re headed to the parking lot. Hey, don’t let them stick a knife in me if I’m not there.” mature enough!”
When we get to the pre-op area, a nurse puts us there. When the nurse bent down to remove my mother’s necklace, my mother was amused. Hey, I guarantee you it’s been a long time since anyone looked down on that area.” When the nurse finished laughing, she asked my mother the critical question: “Which leg is being operated on today?” the shy one.”I really don’t know,” my mother replied. “Is the left one Gladys?” the nurse said. “I think it is the right; I mean, I think it’s correct that it’s the one on the left… is that right?” The morphine didn’t seem to affect her wits. She reminded me of Abbott and Costello, but this was a monologue.
She took the liberty of putting on her surgical cap before the anesthesiologist came to give her the “juice.” The orthopedic surgeon came in and asked my mother if she had any questions. “I just have one question for you. Are you REALLY old enough? My daughter tells me you were born in 1970. Is that right?”
The anesthesiologist came in and told my mom that her heart would withstand surgery and proceeded to give her an injection in her arm so she could nap. “The surgeon looked so young. How old are you?” she asked. The juvenile doctor said, “How old do you think I am?” “I think you’re about 62 years old,” my mom replied. She winced and left for a minute and when she came back my mother had adjusted her assessment. “It suits me to say I’m sorry. With the cap on, I thought you were older. You really must be around 45 years old. You see, my son is in his early 60s and I really like him.” When I kissed her on the cheek, she was on her way to surgery, and when she turned her head, I heard her say, “Good luck with your new book. I hope it’s a success.”
I never had any doubt that my mother would survive the surgery. She had successfully created an atmosphere that put everyone in her sphere of influence at ease. She laughed her way through a disgusting situation and brought everyone with her into her humorous inner world. As my mother always believed, she was doing comics, the tried and true method of traveling through the golden years.
{In loving memory of my mother, Oma, who died on July 26, 2008, two weeks after I wrote this article}.