The New Norm

My father is not a patient man. As he gets older and has to take new medications, he finds he's increasingly disappointed with the results. He'll often stop taking a pill after a few days, without consulting a doctor, because he doesn't think it's helping him. His oldest sister told him it took six months for a particular medication to help with her arthritis; he gave up on it after a week.

“I don't know what's wrong with me,” he said after we marched a two mile parade in the rain on Saturday. He didn't get winded or have chest pains or any symptoms associated with his heart condition, but was annoyed that his hands couldn't grip his music book and turn the pages, and that his legs grew stiff near the end of the procession. “What good are all these doctors if they can't help me? This isn't normal; I shouldn't be having trouble.” I had to point out the fact that he did just turn 78 and there probably aren't many guys his age walking two miles in the rain while playing a brass instrument. I always think of the old man character Tim Conway sometimes portrayed on The Carol Burnett Show. My dad's not exactly a doddering old man taking tiny steps and trembling. Often I can't keep up with him, especially when he's in a hurry to get somewhere.

There is no magic pill, no way to make an 80-year-old as spry as a 20-year-old. The reality is, with each year on this Earth, we embrace a new norm. Some things improve, and others worsen. The best we can hope for is some improvement when things don't go as smoothly for us, hope for a plateau of functionality. I'm not saying we should accept our maladies. My dad should be able to bend his fingers, to turn pages. He should be able to use his hands and walk down the street. For years I've heard guys decades older than I warn me to enjoy my youth, that after a certain age aches and pains become features instead of glitches. My dad should be able to pick up a fork, and not wake up in the middle of the night when the Carpal Tunnel flares up. He probably won't be making a fist or tying any complicated knots though, but he shouldn't need to. Expectations should be inversely proportionate to years.

I think it's a matter of adjusting expectations. I tend to worry about every unfamiliar itch or twinge. Why does my shin hurt? Why does it feel like there's something under my shoulder? Am I dying? It's not unnatural to worry about the unfamiliar. We know what's normal, and know when something is different. Sometimes these changes go away and turn out to be nothing more than stress or strain. Sometimes they are indicative of a more serious problem. And sometimes, there's no explanation, and they become a part of us. After a while, we don't think anything of it. We expect a knee to hurt when it rains, or a face to swell when we eat foods that for some reason no longer agree with us. The only constant in life is change. Our challenge is to discern between the things we can live with, the things we can't live with, and the things we have to live with.

It's important when we achieve a satisfactory norm not to take it for granted, to forget the things that got us there. I didn't think vitamins or exercise were making me feel any different after a while, but when I stopped and started feeling worse, it was a reminder that maybe I did need those things after all. My dad might not think medications are helping him, but he usually finds out after stopping. It can be dangerous to “test” oneself thusly.

Healing and adjusting takes time. My dad has a benign growth on one shoulder that keeps coming back, no matter how many times doctors drain the golfball sized protuberance. He finally found a doctor who specializes in wounds, who did a better job fixing it than previous ones, but told him it would probably be back in about two months. Something abnormal has now become a part of him, and removing it completely would not only be risky, but surgery still wouldn't guarantee it wouldn't come back. There are no instant results or instant cures. Even an aspirin needs time to alleviate a headache. When I started eating better, and started walking every day again, I didn't feel better the first day. After a week though, I felt great, had more energy, and walked further. When I joined a gym a few years ago, I didn't run 6 MPH on my first day. I walked between 3.5-4 MPH, and my shins hurt. I did that every day, and one day raised the speed up by a tenth. After a week I raised it again. Soon, I was pushing for a higher “score” each day, trying to beat the level of the day prior. We can push our limitations at any age, provided we're patient and work our way there in small increments.