When I was a young person I would watch older people get together and talk, and I saw they frequently talked about their maladies. I thought, “How boring!” You probably did, too.
And didn’t you vow never to be like that when you got older?
Come on, fess up.
So now, it’s us.
A few days ago I was at lunch with my friends, one who is eighty years old and the other in her late fifties. We’re all writers, so we talked about writing for a while, and that was fun, but then we started yakking about our aches and pains. And it hit me. Oh, no, I sound like those old people!
Yeah, like I’m not.
But the truth is, we got comfort from each other. We weren’t trying to belabor or celebrate our problems, or one-up each other with our aches and pains. It was comforting to share what we’re going through, because so many of us at this age are having weird, unpleasant things happen.
The problem is, no matter what we look like on the outside, somewhere in our minds we’re still sort of young-ish, and thus we cannot BELIEVE the crap that’s happening. I mean, we are incredulous. Next time you see a group of older folks talking about their health or surgical complications, look at their faces. Guaranteed, you’re going to see at least one that reflects this sentiment: “I almost died!”
My husband, who ran a car dealership and loves everything about cars, is big on automotive analogies. He says if you’re a car with 150,000 miles on you, things are going to happen. Some of the seals will give out. Some of the lines are going to start leaking. The frame squeaks. The leather cracks. 
It’s inevitable and unavoidable. The question is, how are you going to deal with this shocking new development?
One of the things you can do is talk about it. And that’s not bad. Actually, for women, that kind of discussion generates oxytocin, a healing chemical released in our bodies when we bond and commiserate. Often in a group, fear and commiseration turns to acceptance and even humor. The best dark humor is that cooked up by older people, I am sure.
(One evening, after saying goodbye to guests who stayed far too late, I was helping my 90-year-old Mom clean up. We were exhausted, but just happy they’d finally left. All of a sudden a car pulled up out front. We thought they were back! As I peered out the window, Mom hollered, “Oh, my God. If it’s them, tell them I died.” )
When you get older, you’ve been through the mill, and you develop solid coping skills. One of them is the “organ recital.” Regardless of how cliched, boring, and unimaginative it may look to young people (or older people in denial), it can serve a useful purpose, as long as it’s kept in proportion. Remember to change the subject after a while, so as not to become tedious. Expert communicators recommend the following stalwarts of good conversation: how stupid the presidential races are getting, how stupidly they make clothing these days, and how stupidly everybody drives now that they’re all texting.
Why do we talk about aches and pains? ‘Cause we all have them. But hey, If you want don’t want to hear about them, then don’t ask anyone over 60 “How are you?” You’re liable to get an earful!
(And you thought it was just a rhetorical question.)
Great to hear from you, Lu. Thanks for stopping by.
Lynne,
You are so funny. Yes, I used to notice the same thing about the older folks in my life when i was younger. They were always talking about their bursitis, arthritis, tendonitis, colitis, everything-itis etc. At the time i felt zero pain or physical issues and could not understand it. OMG now it is me with the painful wrist and lower back, loss of sight and memory. Karma is a witch!
As always, you hit the nail on the head.
Hi Heather, great to hear from you! I think half the reason I blog is just to make sure I’m not the only one going through stuff. So your comment means a lot to me, plus I was laughing! Karma is pretty tough!
Great post! I’ve always believed that women tend to be healthier than men because they share their medical information with each other. I’ve learned so much about different medications, surgeries, symptoms, etc., from conversations with women I’ve met. Some men tend to be closed-mouthed about their illnesses. Maybe they don’t want to appear weak or boring. (I don’t pretend to understand male thought processes.) That’s their loss!
Yes, Sandy, the men really don’t have it that good, in so many ways. Whether by nature or nurture they are not likely to communicate as much. Although my husband has a group here in our neighborhood that he visits with frequently, and sometimes they get pretty deeply into what they are going through. Maybe because they are old enough now to have the confidence to do so!
When we are new mothers we share our “kid” stories, and when they get to their teens we discuss the problems we’re have with them. We go through all of the stages of our lives and talk about what is happening for us, get advice from others, and share our remedies for a problem a friend is having. Why not share our aches and pains? It’s part of life and very often cheers us up and makes us laugh. A great post!!
And that is a great common-sense point! Thanks, Joan.
This was soooo good! I have had death knock on the door a few times and have been known to talk about it, but I also try to listen. There is always someone who has or had it worse than you and they need to talk about it. That in itself is healing.
You are so right about that, Judy! One of the strangely beautiful things about getting older is to find out just how human we all are, how shared our experiences are. None of us is breaking new ground necessarily. I find comfort in that.
Thanks for this. Loved you Mom’s quip!
You’ve taken a topic we’re all too aware of and put it in context–thanks, Lynne! I like the idea of how even our organ recitals generate oxytocin–hell, if we can’t share what’s happening to us and commiserate, what’s the point of friendship? And there’s still plenty to laugh about…
I know! Didn’t you love my mom’s story? She has the props to deliver it.
Sometimes, we need to have someone tell us what we are experiencing is not unusual. Verbalizing our maladies/concerns processes through a different part of our brain, and often we hear ourselves better, and are better able to cope. In a group of women we can safely commiserate, and learn invaluable information.
Personally, I have an extremely rare kidney disease [less than 50 in the world, only one in the US]. An “organ recital” is not usually in my vocabulary, since no one else can relate to it.
In a way, Ginger, I can relate to it, because I had a lot of problems when I was young, and given my youth, most of my peers had no such problems. It was a lonely time. One of the silver linings of being older is that so many more people can share my pain! I wish you good health.
Lynne, My best friend of 53 years(second grade) and I call each other on Friday niysand talk about what we ate and what we read that week. She is a nurse (42 years…since she was 19) so she won’t let me talk about my symptoms because gets enough of that at work. I remember my mother calling me in her later years and telling me what she ate that week. She was a farmer and a great cook and loved to talk about growing, preparing, and especially…eating…food. I rolled my eyes, sighed, and changed the subject. Now I’m doing the same thing.
I think the mistake is that, as with so much in our culture, we tend to devalue that which engages the old. But maybe we could see it another way: that the older folks have gained enough knowledge about life to know what’s important, and then they tend to do those things.
Two years ago, I was visiting my best friend from high school in Raleigh, NC…I live in Michigan.
On the second morning of my visit, my friend had to take me to a hospital to have my gall bladder removed.
You’re right, Lynne…my “organ (removal) recital” was one of my favorite stories to tell to anyone who showed the slightest interest.
I’m “over it” now…but thanks for helping me understand why talking about it was a good thing.
Sue, it’s hard to rein yourself in (at least for me) when talking about surgeries, health scares/challenges, etc. There had to be a reason. Mother Nature is so amazingly smart!
PS Re nostalgia for “the good old days,” I hope I always remember that when I was in my early 30s, I had a couple of surgeries that, were it a couple decades earlier, would not have happened. I would have died for lack of new medical knowledge. Which is something I’ll probably be talking about for the rest of my life!