HAL & PHILLIS SOLOFF
Instead of concentrating on the negative possibilities of surviving into “old age,” one must accentuate the
positive.
Dealing with the Fears of Aging with CF
Aging Should Be A Joyous Experience–Summer 2002
BY HAL SOLOFF
In my opinion, there should be no fears in the process of aging with CF. It should be a joyous experience, although it has been said, old age is not for sissies. There are the vanity problems, such as wrinkles, loss of hair, bulges and shrinkage. Eyesight, hearing, and the performance of various organs become suspect. One minute of watching TV commercials is an education in what often is considered important by the aging population. We are told that one pill will restore our vitality, another will enhance our sexuality, a liquid will restore hair, another will remove it, and I suggest it’s best not to confuse the two. We are taken in by hopes and dreams of elixirs, much as was Ponce de Leon.
The reality of surviving CF into the “Golden Years” (or “Senior Citizenship” as it now is referred to, in politically correct terminology) is there is a change of focus, from surviving an insidious disease to also greeting the maladies usually suffered by those who have accumulated many years. How many people have looked in a mirror and asked themselves, “What has happened to you, you look old?” My personal experience with that phenomenon is to say to myself, “Wow, you made it to old age! You’re old! Congratulations!” Then, I line up all my pills, etc.
Having reached my 71st birthday and having been married to Phyllis for 46 years, we have experienced the deterioration caused by the aging process together. We are afflicted by arthritis, chemical imbalances, the ravages of conditions that we cannot pronounce, and many that cause us to shudder when the terminology is used by our doctors. Our social life includes the many weekly visits we make to our various doctors, all of whom are not much older than our children. If only our original doctors had followed the advice they gave us, they might still be here too.
Phyllis no longer can pound on me to relieve the sticky mass that once was removed while she relieved her tension and anger. My vertebrae no longer are able to withstand the shock. Too many pinched nerves. Hot showers, Dornase, and other methodology must be employed, instead. We rarely go where there are crowds, especially areas where smoking is allowed. My walking pace is slower, and my breathing is labored at times. When I was a teenager and young adult, I lifted weights and was in marching bands. I’m sure the continuous exercise and discipline has helped sustain me.
We don’t live in a vacuum, but know our present limitations and abide by them. We have missed little in our life together and pictures on our walls, over three thousand slides, and countless VHS films remind us of our many travels through Europe, North America, and Hawaii. We’ve adjusted our appetite for long trips and prefer shorter adventures by car, rather than hours on an airplane.
We keep our minds active and maintain the same weight that we have had for most of our adult years. Learning to accept a new diagnosis that comes with time and dealing with it is a joint effort. Antibiotics that once worked now cause reactions. I must continue hoping that new ones will come along. All of this can be frightening at times, but survivors cannot be passive. Accepting limitations is not accepting that the inevitable will be sooner than later.
There are more complex issues to be dealt with as we age. Our parents and siblings age also. Often, a person with CF who survives beyond what is considered the middle age period finds him or her self with the responsibility of taking care of an invalid and ill parent. Phyllis and I had that responsibility for three of our parents for over 14 years. Many hours were spent in the emergency room of the local hospital, usually late at night or in the wee hours of the morning, as there was no one else to be their advocate and caretaker.
Watching a sibling, who is many years younger than you, die from CF (as I have) is a trauma that cannot be described. It is far more heartbreaking than having to give up my MGB due to spondylosis.
Those with CF are used to an exotic diet but further adjustments are on the way as the years go by. Most American fast food is filled with sugar. Those who consume it now will pay for it later, in ways almost unimaginable. Much as those who get tans to get that “athletic look” will pay with skin cancer and wrinkles. We who have CF often think of our mortality, while many who live in the fast lane rarely think about it. In that respect, perhaps we have an advantage. We are concerned for our health, and a pain in the shoulder or knees, a loss of hearing, or thicker eyeglasses are minor inconveniences compared to what we must do to maintain our existence.
Instead of concentrating on the negative possibilities of surviving into “old age,” one must accentuate the positive. As President Franklin D. Roosevelt said in his first inaugural address during the Great Depression, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself.” Of course he had a job, a place to live, and at least three meals a day, while millions were out of work.
Consider the advantages of aging, which include discounts at the movies, on airfares and at supermarkets, to cite a few. It seems no sooner are we no longer eligible for a student discount when we qualify to get a senior discount. Some stores set aside special parking spaces for seniors. (You’d be surprised how many two-seat sports cars park there.) It is not unusual to see shoppers in the supermarket driving electric carts, or trucking along with their oxygen in tow. Fortunately, the supermarkets are smoke free.
Phyllis and I would never live in an area populated solely by elderly types, or go to “Early Bird Specials.” It’s more like those standing in line at the restaurants are waiting to be admitted at the Pearly Gates than for dinner. Society has come to accept that the people with CF, cancer, diabetes, emphysema, kidney and other organ failures are surviving today and carrying on with their lives as best they can.
We might have to give up body parts, pop more pills, see more doctors, and adjust every phase of our lives, but it’s the same old sun we see rising and setting that we knew when we were young. Enjoy every one of those sunrises and sunsets you can get.
Hal and Phyllis live in Norwich, CT.