Tell Me More

Lessons in Aging

I was sitting in the main floor lobby of my doctor’s building yesterday. I was on hold, trying to make an appointment for an ultrasound of my foot. It would be three months away as I walk on a fleshy ball, tightening my calf and messing with my walking. I sat next to an older woman with a walker. Her hair and face covered by a scarf. Another lady, older than me but younger than her, was standing next to her. A friend, sister, older daughter? The breeze was chilly and kept swooping up and through our bones. She didn’t want to wait outside and neither did I.

She asked her person, “Does anyone my age want to live anymore?” My ears perked up. There were so many ways I could have responded if the question was asked of me. But I was talking to the phone person then. The scheduler was trying to no avail, to find a sooner appointment.

The woman next to my seat mate said “most people in their 60s and 70s hope to get to your age. Some of them don’t get a chance.”

The older woman, in her 80s or 90s, replied. “They don’t know what they are wishing for.”

Her person said, “Do you want go to outside and wait?” Presumably for her ride, I thought. I waited on the phone. The earliest appointment is in May. I will have to hobble along until then. The older woman on my side responded to her person. “I am too cold. It’s better in here.” I silently agreed.

Eventually, we both went outside going on our separate ways, never speaking with each other. I checked my email on the way home. My ninety-four-year-old patient had been trying to die with dignity. She asked for the pill to die before Thanksgiving. It should have been received. It only takes a few weeks. Whether the hospice, family, someone else or even the patient, the process had stalled. I felt bad knowing that with her illness, there was no quality of life. She wanted to go, but her body kept her here until that day. Now, she was gone.

Why did these two older women want to die? To not stay in this world? I wonder if they felt alive as they aged. My godmother is in her nineties and having the time of her life. Or at the very least, muddling through gracefully. She connects, makes art, and finds joy. She lives in love. I don’t judge these other two women because every circumstance is unique.

However, it does call into question – how do I want to age? I would have liked to ask that older woman with a scarf covering her head, “Tell me more.” I would like to know the how’s and why’s before consider the should's. The advice I would have no business to offer. I would like to know about if things were different. If despite's were a possibility. What would be valuable to her? What would give her meaning and purpose? What would be enough to want to squeeze out another day?

As I left the medical center, what I wished for most, and wasn’t my place to ask, was to be curious. “Tell me more.” This instead of “You should be so lucky.” I want to learn from these teachers since someday, it will be me. It will be my turn to question what is left. Or perhaps, what is next.

Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash