Humanly vs. Humanely: On Dignity, Aging and What We Owe Each Other

There are tens of thousands of experts on aging, and hundreds of thousands of books on the process of aging. However, the book that tells us as individuals how to age well, gracefully and with our faculties and agency intact has yet to be written. This post has very little to do with prepping as it relates to disasters. Rather, this is a conversation about how to maintain the dignity of those we love as they are near the end of their lives. Aging isn’t about how well we treat those we love, it’s about how we clearly we express our humanity. This is a personal reflection on dignity, fear and care.  

In a previous post, I mentioned that my sister and I lived in the house my grandmother and her siblings grew up in. While I loved the natural setting, I was less enamored with my grandmother’s elderly father. He wasn’t mean to us, wasn’t gruff or unpleasant. From what I’m told, he was quite the character, and I’d have truly benefitted from knowing him. He was a Deacon in the church and prominent member of the community. He did what men of his era did, he took care of his family. He passed at ninety-three.

No, my issue was something far deeper and would take me well into my forties to fully come to terms with and to let go. He was an old man on his death bed. He was skeletal, had a couple of massive bed sores on his buttocks and in a great deal of pain. I have vivid memories of watching him as he lay there in bed, moaning and reaching out to us with those skeletal hands and being terrified. As a child, I had no frame of reference for what was going on, and I grew up being afraid of “old people.” In my experience, old people died and I wanted no part of that.  

As a new EMT on the ambulance, I was the patient care attendant, the person in the back with the patient, assessing vitals, writing the report and dealing with whatever happened. Being the new person, I didn’t have a choice in the matter. However, once I had a few years under my belt, I made it a point to be the care attendant. I enjoyed the interactions and as much as I was caring for them, they were helping me to overcome my fears of aging and death. I regularly shared my insights and the things I learned with my mother as she cared for her elderly mother, who was fighting a losing battle with Parkinson’s and Dementia with Lewy Bodies.  

I’m speaking from personal experience when I say that getting old(er) sneaks up on you. One moment, I was reveling in the full vigor of my youth, with nary a care about things such as high blood pressure or chronic exhaustion or Obstructive Sleep Apnea. I’ve always been athletic and very active but doing more doesn’t lend itself to resting. In a sense, we can see parts of our future, but we don’t make the critical connections of where we are in our twenties and thirties to our future selves in our sixties and beyond. The short explanation is that we live how we live and deal with the consequences later.  

We have a better, though, still incomplete picture of what happens cognitively as we age. It’s often difficult to know if forgetfulness is just that or the signs and symptoms of something more serious. For years, we thought Grandma was simply becoming forgetful and overwhelmed due to aging. It wasn’t until a doctor who had been watching her walk down the hall asked my mom how long Grandma had Parkinson’s. In that moment, things instantly clicked. With this new frame of reference, everything over the last twenty or so years made sense.    

When you are sick, you’re never at your best. Irritability, complaining and general crankiness often mask deeper issues. As with young children, sometimes the elderly have difficulty explaining how they feel and what’s happening to them. All of this is predicated upon understanding what’s happening to you. Understanding and processing information quickly then taking appropriate action takes much longer and to those on the outside looking in, a frustration-inducing process. People do what they’re capable of doing and a little grace goes a long way.

I often joke that any day that I can take myself to the bathroom is a good day. And therein lies the truth, for many people, this is an act they’re no longer capable of. I’m not going into the pathophysiology of aging, but incontinence can be brought on by any number of factors and for some, it’s a source of frustration and supreme embarrassment. The result is isolation and withdrawal. Rather than having to use the bathroom in a public place or worse, many seniors opt out of social activities and socializing at all, for that matter.   

The village that raises a child is the same community needed to engage and care for seniors. Outliving your spouse and siblings or not having either to begin with creates isolation and loneliness. Neither is good and neither promotes emotional well-being or longevity. Aside from hobbies, human interaction and strong, close-knit communities are essential for staving off isolation and loneliness. People live better in the presence of those who care for and about them. Like I said, I never got to know my great-grandfather, but taking care of my family and no longer being afraid of growing old keep him in my thoughts.

Check out these other posts Life with People, Lions in Winter, Care and Assistance at Home and Community Building for more thoughts on aging and what dignity looks like at the end of life.