Month: February 2024

February 2024

By Richard Fleming

Photo by Richard Fleming

Last September, my wife and I visited the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, a beautiful 47-acre preserve south of Fort Bragg, California. It was midweek in autumn, and the gardens were peaceful and serene. While the park’s 13 collections remained lush, the flowers, shrubs, and other plants were clearly settling down for the winter ahead. The air was crisp and cool, and the wind found its way beneath our jackets as we walked along the Coastal Bluff Trail. Looking out over the Pacific Ocean, we saw occasional flocks of birds winging their way south in anticipation of the chilly weather to come.

After a gentle two-mile walk, we circled back to the entrance area and tucked into Rhody’s Garden Café for a light lunch. Rhody’s has an outdoor seating area surrounded by plants of all kinds. When we arrived, the dozen or so tables were occupied, but fortunately we were able to claim one just as an older couple was leaving. As we sat eating a turkey pesto sandwich and a soup-and-salad combo, we looked around and noticed that every table was occupied by seniors. Since it was a Wednesday and schools were in session, it should not have been surprising. But the complete absence of anyone young or even middle aged seemed a mite odd.

We also noted that almost no one was talking. Couples were focusing on their food. Groups of friends were silent. This too seemed a little strange. We were sitting in the midst of an open air plaza filled with old people who were not talking. It felt a bit bizarre, and it seemed we were out of place.

But we then realized that we were not talking with each other either. And we recognized that we too were just a couple of old folks, like everyone else there. We fit the mid-week, mid-September mold at Rhody’s Garden Café to a T. I’m sure no one eating lunch that day thought there was anything unusual about us.

We started chatting quietly and realized there was no reason to be surprised that it was exclusively old folks on the plaza. Most middle-aged and young adults were working and children were in school. So of course it was only seniors who had the freedom to relax in the botanical gardens on that autumn weekday.

But what about the eerie silence? Why was no one talking to their tablemates? I reflected on this and recalled the many times we’d been in restaurants where couples were sitting quietly, not saying much to each other. This seemed to occur more commonly among older couples. I had not previously given much thought to this phenomenon, but being surrounded that day by a group of quiet old people was a bit disconcerting. And thought-provoking.

I realized silence between couples does not necessarily imply an absence of communication. When two people have spent many decades together and know their partner better than they know themselves, their channels of communication run wide and deep. Nouns and verbs, adjectives and adverbs, are not always required to exchange thoughts, feelings, and ideas. Silence does not necessarily mean distance. It does not have to imply absence. Silence may convey closeness. And interconnection. And love.

And a similar phenomenon can apply to seniors who are with a group of friends. They often reach a point where they understand each other so well that sitting quietly is a source of warmth and comfort.

I think it is different for most young people. For them, communication relies more heavily on language. For the young, connections depend on words, spoken or texted. Silence is not a source of comfort. Rather, it is often a reflection of distance and disconnection.

But for many seniors, silence can speak louder than the human voice.

*    *    *

And so we finished our lunch. I got up to return our food trays to the cart. I looked around and nodded briefly at a couple of the old people sitting quietly at their tables. They nodded their heads in response, and faint smiles crossed their faces. In that moment, it seemed we were acknowledging each other’s situations. We were communicating a mutual understanding that we were just old folks, with no young’uns around, enjoying the peace and quiet of the California coast.

And it seemed we were quietly acknowledging, without needing to speak any words, that we were on the verge of entering deeper into autumn, with its golden sun, looming clouds, and falling leaves.

*    *    *

If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing to be notified of future posts. Subscriptions are free.

February 2024

By Richard Fleming

Photo courtesy of Ricardo IV Tamayo

My wife and I recently saw two well-reviewed documentaries – one a TV series, the other a movie – showcasing seniors suffering serious health problems. The first focused on acute changes in old people’s health. The second explored the chronic downhill slide often experienced by seniors. They were interesting. But I also found them disquieting. They made me a bit uncomfortable, akin to fingernails scratching on a blackboard.

*    *    *

The TV series is called 999: Critical Condition. Over 36 episodes, it presents an intimate look inside the Emergency Department and critical care units of Royal Stoke University Hospital in Staffordshire County, England. My wife is a retired ICU nurse and I am a retired internist, so we thought it would be an interesting series. We could relive some of the excitement without having to experience the very real stresses and pressures that kind of work entails.

The first installment of 999: Critical Condition offers a close-up view of old people being brought urgently into the hospital with possible strokes, heart attacks, and other serious medical problems. It also includes some younger patients coming in after traumatic injuries. The documentary features close-ups of not only the patients, but also their family members experiencing bewilderment, anxiety, and devastating grief. They are trying to come to terms with how their lives have abruptly transformed from familiarity and comfort to strangeness and heartache.

As the show progressed, I found myself shifting around on the sofa, not able to enjoy what I was seeing. Rather than remembering fondly the exciting days (earlier in my career) when I worked in an ER and an ICU, I could not stop imagining what it would be like if I was one of the patients coming in by ambulance. Or if it was my wife.

We only got through one episode. I don’t think I can watch any more.

The vignettes of younger patients did not generate as much angst. I found their experiences in the ER more interesting. I felt bad for these young patients and their families. But their stories were intriguing. And it was easier to maintain my distance from them. I don’t imagine myself falling off a ladder or being hit by a car while crossing the street.

*    *    *

The movie is a Chilean documentary called The Eternal Memory. Nominated for Best Documentary Feature Film this year, it tells the story of an older couple, Augusto and Paulina, who have been married for 25 years. Eight years ago Augusto developed Alzheimer’s, and it has been steadily progressing. Rather than suddenly changing a person’s life forever, as can happen with a stroke or heart attack, Alzheimer’s slowly robs people of their memories. And losing memories means losing part of oneself. The changes do not happen over days or weeks. They progress over a period of years.

The movie portrays Augusto’s gradual loss of himself in very human and relatable terms. And it tenderly shows his wife Paulina doing her best to support him during his slow downward spiral. The challenges she faces are hard to fathom. She alternates between optimism and pessimism, love and frustration, patience and anger, denial and acceptance. But letting him decline without her is never an option.

This movie also was a bit disconcerting to view. I have one family member experiencing dementia, and fortunately we have an excellent support system in place to help. But the idea of my wife or myself possibly succumbing to Alzheimer’s is too painful to contemplate. If it happens, we will deal with it, of course. But witnessing the difficulties of that challenge in this movie was quite uncomfortable.

Fortunately this film lasted only 85 minutes. I don’t think I could have watched much longer.

*    *    *

Seeing these two shows was both engrossing and repelling.

In the old days, I used to enjoy programs and movies like these. Stories of old people experiencing the maladies of aging and the ways their families supported them were heartwarming. Not anymore. Now I find these stories heartrending. They’re no longer warm and fuzzy. Now they seem a bit ominous.

Simply put, they hit too close to home.

If I am lucky enough to continue growing older, I wonder whether I will reach a point when these movie and TV themes will again become enjoyable to watch. But this would require a level of maturity and acceptance I’ve not yet reached. For the next few years, I think it’s best if I put myself on a timeout from watching shows about the tribulations and capriciousness of old age. Actually living through the process of growing old provides more than enough emotional stimulation.

*    *    *

If you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing to be notified of future posts. Subscriptions are free.