Eyes: In the Dark

 

Eyes in Tularosa, New Mexico. May 2013.

I read this passage in Elderhood by Louise Aronson: 

"A sixty-five year old eye admits only one-third the amount of light as a twenty-year old eye .... "

Page 355

What the what?! 

Why was this the first I learned about this!? 

I've needed vision correction since I was in the 4th grade and I've never had an ophthalmologist or optometrist mention this to me. 

So I got to thinking. How does that affect us (you know, the "us" who are 65+) when we drive at night? 

I saw some stupidly simple things to do that can help: 

7 Tips for Seeing Clearly While Driving at Night

1. Clean your windows and mirrors. Historically, I've done a haphazard job of this. And I have paid the price in reduced vision because of the glare on a grimy windshield at night or at sunrise or sunset when the sun stares right into my eyes. 
2. Dim your dashboard. Never thought of this. 
3. Use the night setting on your rearview mirror. I typically only do this if the person behind me has their brights on. I'll try to get in the habit of routinely doing so. 
4. Don't look directly at oncoming headlights. OK, that I already practice. 
5. Decrease your speed. 
6. Skip the yellow-tinted glasses. Evidently, they don't work. Instead, wear glasses with a non-reflective coating. I don't think I had heard of these before. 
7. Schedule an annual eye exam. This would seem to be a no-brainer, right? But incredibly,  after my early-onset cataract surgery (wow! cataracts gone! severe nearsightedness gone! astigmatism gone!), I somehow let almost 10 years go by without an eye exam before I got annoyed enough with a vision change that I went in for one. But in the three years since, I've been diligent. 

A 2007 New York Times article by Jane Brody, Growing Older, and Adjusting to the Dark, served up good thought food, as well. Some excerpts: 

The human eye changes gradually with age, but the changes are critical, as the Harvard Health Letter described in its March 2006 issue.

In dim light or darkness, eyes adapt by widening the pupils to let in as much light as possible. The iris (the colored part of the eye surrounding the pupil) contains tiny muscles that control the size of the pupil. As you get older, these muscles (like most in the body) weaken and do not respond as well to the need to let in more light. The result is a small pupil when you try to see in poor light. It’s as if your eyes were still young but you were wearing sunglasses at night.

There is also evidence that as we age we lose more rods than cones. In the young eye, rods outnumber cones by nine to one in the part of the retina called the macula. But an autopsy study of older adults found that while the cones remained intact, almost a third of the rods in the macula had been lost.

The less responsive muscles in the iris also affect the eye’s ability to adjust when the intensity of light changes, such as when a car with its headlights on approaches and then passes.

Brody also had a list of darktime hacks. Most were the same as the list above, with some surprising new ones: 

1. Wear sunglasses during the day, before driving at night: "The No. 1 recommendation [from AAA] is to protect your eyes during the day by wearing sunglasses (neutral-gray lenses are best) and a hat with a brim when the sun is shining. Bright sunlight bleaches the photoreceptors and lengthens the time it takes for your eyes to adjust to the dark. While it normally takes half an hour for full adaptation to the dark, being in bright sunlight for two or three hours can delay this adaptation by hours.'The longer you stay in the sun, the worse your night vision gets,' [AAA warned.][Emphasis added.] 
2. "If you wear glasses, make sure they are clean. Grimy glasses, like a grimy windshield, scatter light. .... Though I don’t legally need glasses to drive, my ophthalmologist suggested I wear them, especially when driving at night, to enhance my distance vision."

And with this I concur wholeheartedly, based on my personal experience: 

"If you have cataracts, have them removed sooner rather than later, and see how much brighter the world can be."

My mother had her cataracts removed when she was close to 90. I had mine removed when I was in my 50s. Doing so changed my life. I had almost arrived at the point where I couldn't safely drive at night unless it was on a familiar route close to home. Otherwise, the lights of oncoming traffic blinded me so much I couldn't discern lane markings or the shoulder edges.  

References

Lighting Research Center: Lighting the Way: A Key to Independence: Lighting for Older Adults: The Aging Eye

From Human Factors and Aging:Identifying and Compensatingfor Age-related Deficits in Sensory and Cognitive Function, by Frank Schieber (2002):

"The maximum diameter of the pupil declines with advancing adult age (a condition known as senile miosis). Under low light conditions, the resting diameter of the pupil falls from 7 mm at age 20 to approximately 4 mm at 80 years of age (Lowenfeld, 1979).

"[But note this:] Although senile miosis reduces the amount of light reaching the retina, there is reason to suspect that smaller pupil diameters may actually benefit visual performance in older adults in many situations by increasing the contrast of the retinal image (see Sloane, Owlsey & Alvarez, 1988)."

Literature: Elderhood and Mary Ruefle on the Freedom of Age

 

Alamogordo Balloon Invitational. New Mexico. September 2013.

In her book, Elderhood, Louise Aronson quotes poet Mary Ruefle on the joys of becoming old: 

"You should never fear aging because you have absolutely no idea the absolute freedom in aging; it's astounding and mind-blowing. You no longer care what people think. As soon as you become invisible - which happens much more quickly to women than men - there is a freedom that's astounding. And all your authority figures drift away. Your parents die. And yes, of course, it's heartbreaking but it's also wonderfully freeing." 

Mary Ruefle is not all butterflies and birdsong about aging, of course. Getting to the sunny meadow, for many of us, requires a walk through a dark, Brothers Grimm forest. But once we make it through, she states in her 2015 essay, Pause, published in Granta: 

You are a woman, the ten years [in the dark forest] have passed, you love your children, you love your lover, but there are no longer any persons on earth who can stop you from being yourself, you have put your parents in the earth, you have buried the past. Of course in the meantime you have destroyed your life and it has to be completely remade and there is a great deal of grief and regret and nostalgia and all of that, but even so you are free, free to sit on the bank and throw stones and feel thankful for the few years or one or two decades left to you in which you can be yourself, even if a great many other women ended their lives, even if the reason they ended their lives is reported as having been for reasons having nothing to do with menopause, which is thankfully behind you as you would never want to be a girl again for any reason at all, you have discovered that being invisible is the biggest secret on earth, the most wondrous gift anyone could ever have given you.

Aronson nests her Ruefle quote in her larger essay on how happy, as a group,  the old are: 

"... Sixty- to sixty-four-year-olds were happier and more satisfied with their lives than people aged twenty to fifty-nine, but not nearly as happy as those aged sixty-five and over. Even those over age ninety were happier than the middle-aged." 

Page 255

The reason Aronson talks about the relative happiness of age is not as a reassurance to the younger demographics who fear aging. It's not an affirmation for legislators and policy makers who might like to congratulate themselves for jobs well done on behalf of their so-called Greatest Generation. 

No. It's the opposite. 

Aronson tells us about the relative happiness of the old in order to say: The quality of life - in spirit, mind, and body - for old people is worth a thoughtful, mission-based investment of our finite national resources of time, money, and holistic policies. 

Focusing on a quality-of-life mission will demand that healthcare providers think beyond their knee-jerk go-to's of drugs, invasive or expensive testing, and surgeries. 

It will demand that Big Pharma include a significant number of young-old, middle-old, and old-old people in its clinical trials. 

It will demand that Big Medicine educate itself on how to address the complexity of co-morbidities in the old, and to, at least, do no harm through laziness, contempt, or ignorance about, for instance, the way drugs behave in the elderly differently than they do in younger people. 

 

Elderhood: The Other Knee

 

Leonardo da Vinci's leg drawing, circa 1508. Source: Royal Collection Trust.

From Elderhood's author, Louise Aronson, a true anecdote: 

"The best response to the combination of social prejudice [about aging] and medical laziness came from a nonagenarian who went to see a doctor about knee pain. After a history and exam of the knee, the doctor said, 'What do you expect? The knee is ninety-five years old!' To which the old man replied, 'Yes, but so is the other one, and it doesn't bother me a bit.'" 

Page 111

Twice, maybe three times now, I've had a healthcare provider suggest that a concern I have is common as we age. And then they are finished with the topic. 

They didn't ask these fundamental questions, although I prefaced my concern with: "This is a change": 

1. How long ago did you notice it? 
2. Was it sudden? 
3. What was your experience before the change? 
4. Is there anything else that is different? 

So I reiterate: "This is a change. I am concerned about it." 

This has been effective, thus far, in producing more inquiry, including testing to rule things in or out. 

My First Pill Organizer

 

My first pill organizer. December 2021.

The pill organizer. My first one ever. 

A rite of passage into elderhood? 

I might only take the one pill each day. 

My Complex B vitamin pill. The first time I've taken a daily pill.**

But by God, I want to be sure I did take it. 

**Oh, right. Back in the day, there was birth control, but that's been a minute. 

Literature: Elderhood: Louise Aronson and Ursula Le Guin

 

Older Woman, Benson Sculpture Garden, Colorado. May 2016

In Elderhood, author Louise Aronson draws on the salt of Ursula Le Guin: 

"There are sayings about aging that everyone likes, and others that people find reassuring when they are young or young-old, and preposterous as they grow older still. You're only as old as you think you are is one of them. 

"Ursula K. Le Guin rebutted this popular falsehood and several others with her usual wit and brilliance: 'If I'm ninety and believe I'm forty-five, I'm headed for a very bad time trying to get out of the bathtub.' 

"She goes on to note that [when people say You're only as old as you think you are to] 'somebody who actually is old, they don't realize how stupid it is, and how cruel it may be.' 

"Another expression I hear often .... is Old age isn't for sissies. Of that one, Le Guin had to say: 'Old age is for anybody who gets there. Warriors get old; sissies got old ... Old age is for the healthy, the strong, the tough, the intrepid, the sick, the weak, the cowardly, the incompetent.'

"She acknowledged that most people say such things with good intentions but equated telling her in her eighties that she wasn't old with telling the Pope he isn't Catholic. .... 'To tell me my old age doesn't exist is to tell me I don't exist.' 

"In old age, as in so many other parts of life, when our self-delusions are indulged, our reality and true selves, along with all our needs and opportunities, are erased." 

Page 141

I add another annoying bromide: Age is only a number. 

You see that on dating sites a lot. 

It makes me roll my eyes. 

I'm a woman of some age. I've clocked some numbers. I can still do a lot of shit. But there's some shit I probably can't - or don't want to - do like a thirty year-old. And there's some shit I couldn't or wouldn't do as a thirty year-old that I can do now. 

Smoking

Do not drive into smoke. Oklahoma, July 2003.

Backstory

From age 16 and on into into my 50s, I smoked. Probably a pack and a half a day as an adult. 

Chantix made it possible for me to quit. I'm not endorsing Chantix; it's not for everyone. But it worked for me. 

I quit in 2009 or 2010. 

The beauty of Chantix is that I went through nicotine withdrawal while I still smoked. That's because the drug blocks the narcotic effect of nicotine when you smoke. 

Consequently, I eventually lost all desire to smoke. Because there came a time when I realized: what was the point? I derived no pleasure from the nicotine, so it really just kind of pissed me off to draw on a cigarette and gain none of the drugging benefits. 

I did not choose a quit date when I began to take Chantix. It just became evident over time that I was getting no juice out of smoking and my smoking dwindled down to nothing. And stayed that way. 

Another advantage - for me - of Chantix is that I have never - never - had even the slightest wistful thought about resuming smoking. 

Now, there was an emotional turbulence effect once I quit, because I found my temper - untempered by the smoothing smoke of a cigarette - flared when I entered uncomfortable interactions with others. I'd had no idea how much smoking had blurred the edges of my ire. 

Two close friends also tried Chantix. For one friend, it provoked unpleasant feelings or dreams, and she stopped taking it. I guess I'd say for the other friend, it was kind of effective, maybe, but over the long haul, no. This friend has always been able to stop for months at a stretch and then take it up again for awhile, then put it down again. She still does this. 

I'm just stupidly grateful Chantix worked for me. 

My future as a past smoker, into the Land of Age

Will my smoking history catch up to me as I age? Maybe. I hope not, but maybe. 

If I end up with emphysema, COPD, lung cancer, or some other smoking-related illness, then I'm going to hate that. But I will be very grateful that I was able to quit when I did, and I'll accept the consequences with grace. If I were still smoking, and any of these devilments were to swoop down, then what I would feel is deep shame and ... I will not sugarcoat it for myself ... self-loathing. 

By the by, do I judge those who've not been able to quit smoking when they wanted? Fuck, no. For one, it's not a question of one's morals, values, or character. The addiction to smoking is every bit as vicious as that to heroin, alcohol, or a myriad of other drugs. 

A Woman of Age is No Young Lady

 

Linda Hamilton in her 60s, in movie Terminator: Dark Fate, 2019. Credit: Twentieth Century Fox.

What I wrote in 2013, when I was still a woman of a certain age:

A Woman of a Certain Age is No Young Lady

Look.

The first few times a woman is called "ma'am," yes, it makes one wince. The transition from ingenue to mature woman is a little painful. But over time, one becomes accustomed to ma'am and even comes to appreciate the term for the respect it tenders.

But there is no justification for calling a woman over the age of 18 "young lady." Especially, especially if it comes from a man younger than the woman. There is no respect in this usage. Indeed, it infantilizes a grown woman. The act is particularly egregious when said in the workplace by one professional (in name only) to another. Yes, I've had that happen. (I've also had a CEO pull my hair playfully, as if I were a child, when I asked him a work-related question.)

To add insult to injury, I've found no way to express my dislike for this term without it resulting in blowback from the offender.

Some argue that they mean no harm. I'll accept that at face value; I'm sure they don't mean any harm. But intent is not relevant.

Just stop doing it.

Six years later, in 2019 .... 

Six years later (thereby six years older), in 2019, when I lived in Tucson, a man about my same age - a fellow volunteer for a local organization, who owned a special medical-device practice - called me young lady. 

I made a mild comment that I did not care to be called young lady.

The man smiled. He lifted his hand, reached across the space of air between us, and gently patted my cheek. 

The fucker. 

1. This man invaded my physical space and touched an intimate part of my body without my consent. 
2. It should go without saying, but evidently not everyman gets it: the act of patting someone's cheek is what one does to a child. 
3. Said patting of the cheek dismisses, discounts, and disregards my objection. 

Sidebar: Yes, our faces are intimate parts of our bodies. Consider the level of insult that comes with the phrase, "it was a slap in the face."

Blowback. There's always the blowback. 

Related articles by others

• From actor Karen Grassle, written in 2019, when she was over 75: Don't Call Me Young Lady
• From Ask a Manager in 2019: People Call Me Young Lady When Clearly I'm Not

No Crone Zone

 

Ali MacGraw at age 76. Credit: Ryan Stone/The New York Times/REDUX. Source: AARP Magazine 2017.

There are some women of age among us who have dug up the alleged ancient meanings of the word crone as a descriptor of mature wisdom, respect, and powerful womanhood/goddesshood. 

Fuck, no. 

I ain't gonna do it, but you go on ahead. 

Gloria Richardson Dandridge, civil rights leader in 1960s Maryland, in her 90s. Credit: Michelle V. Agins. Source: New York Times, April 2018.

While I'm at it - I'm not a grandma, babushka, old lady, or any other one-dimensional role as a human being. I'm a woman. 

Antonia Morales at almost 90, Duranguito, El Paso, Texas. Credit: Mark Lambie. Source: El Paso Times, August 2017.

Now, if our language evolves to create one positive word to describe a human being of mature years irrespective of our genitalia or gender identification, I'm down for that. 

Maybe we've got that already: An elder. I can live with that. 

Maya Angelou in her 80s (presumed). Credit: Unknown. Source: Wake Forest University, 2014.

In the Decade of Healthy Aging

 

A natural progression. Fresh and faded flowers. February 2015.

The World Health Organization (WHO) announced 2021-2030 as the Decade of Healthy Ageing. 

The World Health Organization (WHO) defines healthy aging as follows (with longer version here and the download site for the full Decade of Healthy Ageing Baseline Report here):

"... the process of developing and maintaining the functional ability that enables well-being in older age. 

Functional ability is about having the capabilities that enable all people to be and do what they have reason to value. This includes a person’s ability to:

1.     meet their basic needs;
2.     to learn, grow and make decisions;
3.     to be mobile;
4.     to build and maintain relationships; and
5.     to contribute to society."

 

To be concrete, in visualizing my 90 year-old self, I:

1. Live in a universal-design environment and in a walkable community.
   
2. Move myself around my living spaces, unassisted or with the help of a cane, walker, or wheelchair.
3. Manage my finances responsibly.
   
4. Engage in regular physical exercise that promotes muscular and skeletal strength, stamina, flexibility (range of motion), and balance.
5. Adopt any tools that are accessible to me (e.g. financially) to optimize my sight, hearing, and dexterity.
6. Carefully consider the risks and benefits of any meds that a doctor wants to prescribe to me, and decide if the RORI (return on the risk investment) is worth potential compromises in my quality of life physically, emotionally, or cognitively. 
7. Contribute to and receive quality-of-life support from a solid support network of both family and friends. 
8. Can say to myself when I go to bed: If I die tonight, I will have no regrets, as I have lived the best life I knew how to do. 
9. Say yes more than I say no.
10. Stay curious.
11. Am fearless, as I know that, statistically, my demise is relatively imminent.

 
I've already done some good prep, for which I needed outside help.

1. Quit smoking with Chantix about 10 years ago. In effect, this drug allowed me to go through nicotine withdrawal while I continued to smoke.
   
2. Whittled myself down to a healthy body weight from morbid obesity some years ago (and am sustaining the weight loss) with the aid of the 12-step program, Overeaters Anonymous. 
3. Did some growing up with the guidance of Overeaters Anonymous, Al-Anon, and intermittent counseling. 
4. Learned (and continue to learn) to dance.
5. Take risks that require me to stretch physically, emotionally, and intellectually.
6. Take risks that might result in rejection. Ouch.
   

But just so's you know, I was like the vast majority of humans in that I didn't take the above life-changing actions until I was over 40.

I subscribe to the axiom that (most of us) don't change until our backs are against the wall and the wall is on fire. There was that for me, and also the prize offered by the 12-step path: To be happy, joyous, and free.

So I've traveled pretty far in my physical and emotional walk, but this path doesn't end until I end, and I've got more stuff to do health-wise if I don't want to leave my well-being entirely to chance as I age.

My biggest challenge at COVID's start in 2020: I did not have a discipline of daily physical exercise. Before COVID, I could cover this up with dancing. 

But, while it was good exercise, dancing did not replace a discipline of walking, stretching, and resistance/strength-building.

To increase the likelihood of achieving the lovely vision of my 90 year-old self, I had to build the discipline into my daily routine. It had to become as regular as brushing my teeth. 

In late 2020, I began a routine of daily walking, resistance-band work, and a few qigong moves. I even took tennis lessons every Saturday for awhile, which was entirely new to me, and which called on muscle movements also new to me. 

In December 2021, I picked up my walking pace so I could call it brisk walking, as evidence suggests that brisk walking endows measurably more protection against the progress of osteoporosis and its related fracture risks than "just" walking. 

In 2022, my goal is to build in a 20-minute-or-so daily tai chi** or an exercise routine that strengthens most of my muscle groups, posture, and balance.

The above is an adaption of a late-2020 post I wrote in another venue.

**The day I discovered Lucy Chun's Everyday Tai Chi is the same day I discovered that she died in late October 2020, at the age of 74 after a "brief, unexpected illness." I confess that my knee-jerk reaction to this tragic information was shallow: No! She did everything "right" - daily exercise, family support network, contributions to her community, good nutrition, healthy body weight  - and yet she died young-old! And then I had to rethink: Oh!  She did everything "right" - daily exercise, family support network, contributions to her community, good nutrition, healthy body weight  - and yet she died young-old! Because sometimes this happens. It doesn't take away one bit the value of all of these good practices, as each enhances our daily lives physically, emotionally, and spiritually while we are here. 

Side note: Aging or ageing? 

A New Land

 

Walk along Rio Grande, Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. March 2010.

Not long ago, I was a woman of a certain age. 

Now .... I am a woman of age. 

Having become a woman of age, it is like relocating to a new land. 

I am neither a refugee nor an enthusiastic immigrant. 

It is more like .... 

It is more like .... 

It is more like ... I lived on the northern bank of the Rio Grande, a resident of the United States. One day, the course of the river changed, and suddenly I live on the southern bank of the river, a resident of Mexico. 

This blog is about how one woman learns to thrive in this new land. 

Many years ago, a dear friend gave me a nickname that I cherish: Mountain Breeze. I'm going to riff off of that for this journal. 

Pleased to meet you. 

MB

Leanin' Tree Sculpture Garden aspen - Colorado. May 2016.