Pacemakers \ Paranoia \ Parents \ Passion \ Passwords \ Patience \ Patronized \ Pedantry \ Penis \ Perseverance \ Pessimism \ Pets \ Pleasure \ Podiatry \ Politeness \ Political correctness \ Politics \ Pornography \ Posture \ Power \ Prejudices \ Pretending \ Pride \ Principles \ Psychotherapy \ Punctuality
Pacemakers are wonderful gadgets for maintaining a regular heartbeat. My mother had one fitted in her late eighties, after she complained of feeling breathless and lacking energy, and it certainly kept her going with minimum fuss. She went in once a year for a tune-up and to have the battery checked. When she passed 101 it became too much of a hassle to take her to the hospital for routine maintenance, and the pacemaker was just left to do its stuff. Which it did so effectively that it prolonged her existence well beyond the point when she could enjoy some quality of life. She frequently said she wanted to “wake up dead,” but as the pacemaker could not be turned off or removed without surgery, she had to endure several months of twilight before dying at 103. She enjoyed many years of lively activity thanks to the pacemaker, for which we were all sincerely grateful, but as a supporter of dignity in dying I hope that if I have one fitted it will include an “off” switch so I can slip away peacefully when my time is up.
Paranoia can get more acute when you grow older, especially if you spend a lot of time alone. You worry if the phone doesn’t ring, because it means no one cares about you; you worry if it does, because it’s bound to be bad news. You’re anxious about going out, in case you’re late or let your host down or can’t get back at a reasonable time; you’re anxious about staying in, in case you fall or a start a fire, or might confront a burglar. You know these fears are mostly groundless and could be dissipated if you talked, or even joked, about them, but you don’t want to burden others with your anxieties or have them think you’re silly. You’re very aware that you need to distract yourself by doing more, but when you’re paranoid you feel like the kid nobody wants on their team, only half a century older and even more sensitive. You need help. Somewhere there’s someone with a hand outstretched to help you over that imagined ring of broken glass that’s making you so nervous. The first step’s the hardest.
Parents: If you still have yours, congratulations and commiserations. You love them, they drive you demented, and you swear you will never make your grown-up children feel guilty for not visiting more often or, worse, slap them down like errant teenagers when the poor kids were just trying to be helpful. The safest thing we can do as parents is to take the blame for everything. At least we can then act modestly amazed when we’re held up as an example.
Passion continues to smolder regardless of age, and though there’s often more smoke than flame, it can be kindled without warning by a memory, an encounter, a taste, or a piece of music. What’s marvelous, and unsettling, about it is that you get carried away by a sudden emotional rush that leaves you bobbing beyond your comfort zone. It’s more than liking, more, even, than loving; it temporarily eclipses everything else, you are dazzled and a little dazed, you can’t see straight, you don’t act normally, you want only the object of your passion, whether a thing or a person, and while you are gripped absolutely nothing else matters. And then, like a dog that plunges into a muddy pool despite everyone shouting that it shouldn’t, you emerge, you shake yourself, and wonder what the fuss was about. You would think we are too old and sensible to allow ourselves such passionate distractions. Fortunately, perhaps, they don’t happen that often.
Passwords should only be kept secret from outsiders. Write them down, keep them somewhere safe, and make sure those who will take charge of your affairs when you die know where they are and what they’re for. The same is true of advance directives on how you want to be treated if you develop a condition that denies you any quality of life. Sort this out now, when you’re still up and running, otherwise your loved ones will have enormous difficulty in accessing your computer to learn what you want them to do, and your bank and savings accounts to pay for it. If you don’t, they’ll be frustrated and furious instead of impressed and gratified, and your funeral will be miserable. Not that you’ll care, but they will.
Patience doesn’t miraculously appear when you’re old, unlike hair in surprising places. If you haven’t developed patience by now, the chances are you never will. You’re going to go on fuming when you’re stuck behind some even older person fumbling for change at the checkout, or when you’ve been hanging on the phone for ten minutes only to be told “your call is important to us and one of our operators will be with you shortly.” You can be patient with babies and people who simply don’t understand what they’re being told, because they can’t help themselves. With everyone else, you give them a fair chance and if they don’t get it, forget it. Life’s too short.
Being patronized is unforgivable as well as unavoidable. Though we seniors are everywhere, and growing more numerous all the time, the people who keep things running, whether in government, business, transport, or entertainment, are younger than we are, and though many of them are marvelous, there are always some who treat us with barely contained irritation, as if it were our fault they can’t give us the answers we want. Like we did, they never think they’re going to end up like us, and maybe they secretly resent the way we clutter up shops and operating rooms, or trains and ticket booths, gallivanting around with all the time in the world, and enjoying retirement to boot. We should try not to sink to their level and patronize them back, though it wouldn’t take much effort. If we don’t always succeed, let’s not worry about it.
Pedantry is a tedious insistence on accuracy and should be firmly resisted, because it’s so easy for someone you’ve corrected to check the facts, and you will look like a total jackass if it turns out you were wrong.
The penis is an unreliable appendage despite providing many years of pleasure and relief. The main things that go wrong with it are failing to rise to the occasion and making it difficult to pee. Both these problems can be alleviated with medical help, which is some consolation, as is the fact that size no longer matters, if it ever did. See also Gravity.
Perseverance is a quality that has gotten us where we are, but it wears thin with age. It’s so easy to give up on a task if things go wrong, and it’s always tempting to hide doubt and fear of failure behind the belief that there are times when the omens are against us, and we just have to wait until they improve. Our impatience can be all-pervasive, but perseverance is a measure of our continuing engagement with a world that constantly tries to thwart us, especially in petty matters.
Pessimism may be inherited, but is usually the result of a dismal childhood. Where a realist tries to see things as they are, a pessimist is convinced they will end badly, and though they are sometimes surprised and delighted by a happy outcome, they take a gloomy satisfaction in being proved right. Their low expectations often bring about the result they feared, creating a circle of despair that is hard to escape, and it is difficult to persuade them to take evasive action, such as therapy, because they are convinced it will do no good. Like depression, pessimism is miserable to live with, for the victim as well as those around them, as it often results in a narrowing of choices that leads to isolation. The optimist always hopes the sufferer will see there is much to live for and take pleasure in their surroundings, and of course pessimists aren’t permanently sunk in gloom. But as the remedy lies in their hands alone, much patience is required, and at our age there isn’t an infinite supply of it.
Pets give you unqualified love (whenever you want it if they’re dogs, when they feel like it if they’re cats) and, provided you feed them regularly, will also forgive you for outbursts of anger, if they’re the only one you can take it out on. They’re expensive (insurance is advisable) and a bind—you can stay out late and only receive a look of reproach, but a quick foreign trip involves either getting them a pet passport or costly boarding fees. Dogs need a regular walk, which is good exercise, even though they go for the wettest and smelliest patches of ground and, unless you dry them thoroughly, leave hair and muddy paw prints all over your nice clean floor and furniture. On the other hand, they are always available for a hug and a tickle, and if you’re on your own they provide a warm furry bed companion that snores just like a partner.
Pleasure: Giving it as well as getting it matters as much now as it did in our more energetic youth, but you may have to be more inventive, as relying on the old tricks and routines that have become part of your repertoire may no longer be fit for purpose. I’m talking about cooking—what did you think?
Podiatry, which used to be called chiropody until we Brits adopted the American term for foot doctor, enters our lives when cutting or trimming our toenails becomes a serious challenge. This happens for a variety of reasons: shortness of breath when bending over, difficulties balancing on one leg, increasing girth making it hard to see what’s going on below, or a benign tremor, which makes getting to grips with sharp scissors or clippers a hazardous and possibly bloody business, especially as the nails themselves seem to grow thicker and tougher with age. You know you’re getting old when you have to call somebody in to do something you’ve always done for yourself, and having a stranger fiddle with your bare feet is a peculiarly personal invasion of your private parts, but comfort yourself with the thought that it’s no more intimate than having your hairdresser attack the top of your head, and it’s done in private rather than public.
Politeness is surely ingrained in us and oozes out regardless of any provocation to be rude. It involves taking people seriously, listening to them, and responding courteously. Nothing infuriates a young hooligan more than being treated politely, though that may lead to violence rather than an improvement in manners. When I receive cold calls just when I’m eating or watching TV, I always preface my coldly furious response with “Sorry, but . . .”
In an argument, the thrust of the knife is made all the more effective when delivered politely, and if it makes us look quaintly old-fashioned, or even faintly ridiculous, at least we won’t be ignored.
Political correctness is a distorted image of politeness, and however absurd some of the linguistic contortions are that people go through to avoid giving offense, we have to pay it lip service. Of course, it’s hard to keep up with changes in vocabulary when words we used without thinking are suddenly taboo. Authors who were popular in our parents’ day use terms like “Hebrews” or “bolshies” or the N-word, and apologists excuse them on the grounds that they were just reflecting the culture of their time. But those authors were actually anti-Semites, conservatives, and white supremacists, whereas when tolerant and fair-minded people like us employ words that are politically incorrect we never intended to offend anyone. Nevertheless, it’s worth trying to come to terms with new terminology, as new words encapsulate new attitudes, and that can sometimes be a sign of progress, or the opposite.
Politics See Understanding.
Pornography is so widely available on the internet that I’m sure every man with access to a computer has looked at it more than once. And many women, too, though they usually have better things to do with their time. Being aroused by watching other people who appear to enjoy what they’re doing doesn’t seem perverted to me, unless what you’re watching is against the law or involves coercion. If you’re in a relationship, it may be considered an act of notional infidelity, though it could also be described as a flirtation with fluids that are better out than in. We all know pornography is an industry that has criminal elements and that commodifies and commercializes sex and especially women. It also gives young people an unreal image of what sex is actually like for ordinary people, those who don’t have unfeasibly large breasts or huge penises. But the internet offers good stuff as well as bad, and if old people want to pleasure themselves in private watching others do the same, it surely doesn’t deserve condemnation out of hand. See also Masturbation.
Posture matters only when you catch sight of yourself in a mirror or shop window and wonder who that poor bent old creature is. We’ve gotten so used to the way we walk, stand, and sit that we imagine our heads are up, our backs straight and our shoulders square, whereas to the rest of the world we resemble an ambling turtle. We know perfectly well that slumping and slouching aren’t attractive, make us look small, and enhance the unsightly bulges between our shoulders and our knees. We also know that it’s really not hard to make the effort to stand tall and sit straight; what’s hard is keeping it up for more than a minute or two. There’s no evidence that slouching is bad for your health—I had an uncle by marriage who was a professor of anatomy and insisted that trying to keep the spine rigidly straight was unnatural as well as injurious—and your friends and loved ones are accustomed to the way you look and would be suspicious or alarmed if you suddenly started sitting straight-backed on the edge of the sofa like a Victorian dowager. Some elderly men throw back their shoulders in the presence of an attractive young person, but we all know wit and wisdom are far more enticing than military posture that can’t possibly be sustained.
Power, for everyone except monarchs and dictators, is something we used to have. In the physical sense, we can’t lift or carry what we once did; and the power to command others to do our bidding has long since passed into younger hands. We may carry out traditional roles in our families, or enjoy ceremonial titles in the business we created or expanded, but being addressed as chairman when strategy is decided by the chief executive is like putting a crown on a snowman: It looks impressive, but no one takes it seriously. We are playing a part with which we, and our audience, are wearily familiar, and there’s no scope to enlarge it. When the horizon is no longer within reach, you can accept it gracefully (which, unless you are saintly, will scarcely camouflage your resentment); you can bellow defiance (which will result in a lot of eye-rolling exasperation); or you can focus on smaller kingdoms over which you will rule undisputed. Put the skills and experience you have acquired over the years to unexpected use. Small is even more beautiful when you can’t see as far as you once could.
Prejudices are what other people have, because they’re not as open-minded, rational, tolerant, generous, educated, civilized, wise, balanced, and experienced as we are. It’s hard to persuade a prejudiced person to change their mind in private; in public it’s impossible, and sometimes dangerous. We have learned over the years to pick the battles we think we can win, but sometimes we have to stand up and fight prejudice even though we will probably be defeated. The scars are honorable, and with any luck we will have inflicted enough damage to make them think again. Or at least reassure ourselves that our instinct for decency is not entirely dormant.
Pretending starts in childhood, and we get better at it as we grow older. But whereas children can change roles swiftly, and are quick to correct anyone who isn’t playing their part properly, some of us find it increasingly hard to abandon a character we have pretended to be for so long. It’s fine when you act brave to reassure someone who is frightened, or pretend to know more about a subject than you do in order to impress or win an argument—we all do that. It’s when you project fantasy as reality—if, say, you pretend to be rich, or organized, when the truth is you are only just managing and your affairs are in chaos—that the danger lies. The chances are you won’t be found out if you’ve carried off the pretense for so many years, but if your mask slips—if, for example, you were taken ill and someone investigated your true situation—you risk your entire reputation being exploded. It doesn’t take much for people envious of the character you’ve created to label you a fantasist, and that could undermine the genuine achievements you may have made. Pretense is addictive, and it requires real resolution to be honest about it before it’s too late.
Pride is a virtue, not a vice, and we have surely earned the right to enjoy it. We are proud of what our children and grandchildren achieve, as well as the successes of our friends, provided they are balanced by the occasional failure. Why shouldn’t we be proud of our own achievements, or at any rate the ones that were honorably earned, or where the dishonor has been forgotten or forgiven?
Principles: Do these change as we acquire experience and wisdom? Of course they freaking do! There is a subtle difference between principles and convictions: The latter are what we believe about a particular topic, the former a set of beliefs that cover our entire behavior. Convictions can, or should, be changed by facts—if not, they become prejudices. Principles are formed by, or in reaction to, education and example, and they alter as we learn more, largely from those we love or live with. If principled behavior is not changed by new experiences, we would never evolve and instead become the grumpy old persons of caricature. As for being models of consistency, where’s the fun in that? Keeping ourselves as well as others on their toes is what aging is all about.
Psychotherapy is big business and, like other big businesses, not always well regulated. There are professional associations for almost every activity, but having a diploma from them is not necessarily a guarantee of respectability. Yet just having somebody listen to you sympathetically is valuable, and if they encourage you to wrap words around your problems, you’re on the road to coping with them. You don’t have to agree with their analysis of what caused you to despair any more than you have to go back to a physical therapist whose manipulations made you feel worse. And though everyone you know will recommend their favorite, you know you’ll go with the friend whose judgment you trust and respect.
Punctuality is a habit that’s hard to break. Whether you’re the infuriating type who always leaves time for emergencies, or the sort who still arrives puffing and red-faced and blaming everything but yourself for being late, that’s how you’ve always been, and you’re unlikely to change now. I hate keeping people waiting but hate even more being kept waiting and wasting what remains of my time. As a result, I constantly hover between anger and anxiety. If I’m the guest, I think it’s only polite to arrive slightly late, as if I’m the host my ambition is to be there slightly ahead of time and appear totally serene and unruffled. You’d think that at our age we’d have stopped worrying about such trivialities, but it’s been drummed into us that punctuality is the politeness of kings, and we either conform or rebel.