I am not sure we will ever make much progress in our quest to give care to elderly loved ones with a minimum of conflict and guilt unless and until we understand what they are experiencing and feeling. What does it feel like to grow old? This is the first of a series of blogs that will appear in this category over the next few months, with the hope of building stronger understanding between those who give care and those of us on the receiving end of care. 

Did you know that we are suddenly old? It is one of the great surprises of life. Everyone thinks they are at least twenty years younger than they really are. I am seventy-nine years old, or as I say it, I am twenty-six Celsius, but I think of myself as about forty-five. I am always shocked at how old all of my peers have become. We had a high school reunion last year. I told the group I was sorry none of my class could show up but I appreciated them sending their parents. It just could not be us. We are not that old. No one thinks they are.

I have wondered why so many athletes refuse to retire until they are either fired or hurt. They don't know it is time because it still feels the same to them. The whole world can tell that they have lost a step, but in their mind and body they are running at the same speed as always. It feels the same. I remember walking through an airport trying to catch a plane and I was late. It felt like I was really moving and I have always been able to walk fast. Then I noticed that everyone in the airport seemed to be passing me, even one or two little old ladies went around. It still felt the same to me, but I missed the plane.

Then an illness comes, or a mate dies, and we become suddenly old. It is hard to admit and harder still to really believe it. Our denial dies gradually with great reluctance. Is it any wonder then that we try to avoid talking about changes in life style? Is it any wonder then that we bristle at our children's efforts to guide us like we were some kind of "old people?" Is it any wonder then that we become super sensitive to any indication that someone thinks we are not capable of taking care of ourselves? Is it any wonder then that we dread what we see in the future? I dread what I see in the mirror every morning, much less what I know I will see long before I think it is time to see it. 

I am beginning to hate cameras. When did I start going around with my mouth open? When did my skin start looking like that? When did my hands start looking like they could be a model for that praying hands statue? 

We need time to adjust to this new and scary world of ours. We need the right to rebel and complain without being jumped on or made to feel foolish. We need someone to listen to us and simply understand where we are and why we are there. A little bit of understanding and acceptance will go a long way toward letting us catch out breath as we plunge into the dark new world of being suddenly old. I am there, but so far, all I have decided to do about it is stay out of airports.