I can’t remember if I’ve posted this photo in a previous blog, but it fits today’s topic.
I heard a speaker last week say, “I’m 80, but age is just a number.” He’s right…in a way. He’s wrong in another.
Age is more than a number. It’s your health, your attitude, your genetics, your abilities. An 80-year-old, no matter how healthy, is not as strong or young-looking as he was at 30. But even some 30-year-olds are “older” than others their age.
I’m fortunate to be physically fit, and I often say I can out-walk most 40-year-olds and am proud of the fact I can bounce up from sitting on the floor without any problem. But I can’t do without sleep as I used to be able to do, and the fact that my hair is graying, and my skin is thinning demonstrates that I am, indeed, not 40 anymore.
Lifestyle choices affect the aging process. The 50-year-old who has made unhealthy choices such as smoking, drinking to excess (new research shows that even one alcoholic beverage a day, wine or otherwise, will damage your health and make you more at risk for cancer, dementia, etc.)), not exercising, and eating an unhealthy diet may not see the results yet, but when he is 65, he may be more like an an 85-year-old while a peer who has made healthy choices is still full of energy and living an active lifestyle.
Genetics play a huge role, in appearance, health, and longevity.
But, still, age is not just a number.
It’s also a mindset. I feel much younger than what the calendar indicates, but other things remind me of my age. One thing that makes me feel older than I am is my vision loss.
You may wonder why that’s a factor. There are several reasons. First and foremost, I’ve lost my independence. Being unable to drive has robbed me of my independence and of many of my joys in life. That’s okay, I accept it. But it doesn’t change the fact how it feels to rely on others for transportation. My mom drove until she was 87. When she was 85, she was driving herself to radiation treatments. I can’t do something as simple as get in the car and drive to the Dollar General a couple of miles from my house. I stopped driving at the age of 62, and it has been the most frustrating, discouraging, and humiliating part of this vision loss journey.
Like the time the 90-year-old gave me a ride home after a civic group meeting. There I was, all five feet seven inches of me sitting in the passenger seat of an older car driven by a very sweet woman who was maybe four feet eleven inches tall. Such a sweet gesture. Such kindness. Such a kick in the gut.
I often say I’m not complaining, I’m just explaining. Well, in this case, I’m complaining. I’m appreciative of all the people w who drive me places, more than they know, but I admit that the loss of independence is … well, you get the idea.
These ladies in the photo agree. Unless they have a family member to take them places, they are stuck in the facility or on the grounds. One of the ladies told me, “The days sure are long.” They’re such sweet ladies, and they tell me I’m just a baby. I tell them that’s why I like hanging out with them, ha ha!
I suppose I’m rambling with this blog, but when the gentleman made that comment last week, it weighed on my mind. He was not the eloquent speaker he once was. His voice was weaker and shakier than it used to be.
Don’t get me wrong, I think his attitude is great. But to say age is just a number is, to me, an inaccurate statement. And maybe what people mean by that is you’re as young as you feel. If that’s the case, we all feel different ages during the course of one day!
Life As I know it 