Pop 89: WHY ARE YOU YELLING?

By Madonna Hamel

One day, you will wake up old. And some part of your body will ache, maybe even explode with pain. Maybe it will be that knee you destroyed playing ball. Or your hand from all those years gripping everything from wooden spoons to laundry baskets to the steering wheel of a sedan with five kids in the back. Not wearing seat belts. And you're slipping through the snow. Maybe it'll be your shoulders or neck, but probably it'll be your back. Or your liver, from too many nights drinking to forget. Or a genetic predisposition to high blood pressure and low white cell count.

Whatever the cause, you will find yourself in the hospital. And some well-meaning young woman or man will start yelling at you in that pseudo-pleasant way that healthy young people talking to tired older people often have: with a raised sing-song voice. "I hear we're not eating our lunch, Mrs. Hamel." (They will assume you are married or a widow because you are old.) Maybe he or she might say something a nurse recently said to my father: "You don't want me to get tough with you, would you? That wouldn't be much fun."

And the first thought that might come to mind might be: "Can't be anything worse than how I am feeling right now? Do you not think that maybe life is already getting tough with me?" Or maybe "'We'? Are 'we' eating my instant potatoes together?" Or "Why are you talking to me like that? Yes, I am lying here in an unbecoming hospital gown with an IV stuck in my arm and a bib around my chin, but you are talking to a grown woman who's had more adventures than you've had hot dinners. Certainly dinners like this minced chicken."

You might want to point out that the injury/illness/surgery you are undergoing or about to undergo is the result of a life lived. "This is not my first rodeo," you might say. And if you're from my part of the world, you would mean it, literally. Where I live, men and women herd cattle, race horses and ride broncs. 

"These wrinkles and bruises and limps are evidence of many a lesson learned, mistakes made, risks taken, hurdles hurdled. I have embarrassed myself in ways you can't imagine. I've over-extended myself down to the size of a slug, and I've swelled myself with pride." You might try raising yourself on an elbow and give your best steely stare in the direction of wherever her voice is coming from and say: "This is what living looks like. So please don't talk to me like I'm a child. And I'm not deaf, either. So PLEASE STOP YELLING AT ME!"

Of course, if you are one of those rare humans who sees a man shuffling down the hall and you don't immediately assume he is shuffling with a few cards short of a deck, then this is not for you. And, while I understand many people do lose their hearing as they age, I'm just saying: you might not want to lead with your best imitation of a kindergarten teacher. Save yourself some dignity by honouring theirs. Ask first, before yelling.

Just last year I was, I swear, I was 36. And then, when the clock struck midnight on my birthday, I looked in the mirror and I was 61. No, wait, shit, I'm 65! "Ok," I said, "So, this is the year I look my age. Maybe I should start acting it." 

We could all use more responsible adults in our lives. So, I'm trying to act age-appropriate in the hopes of being an inspiration, especially to younger women. But while I am not one of those misguided eternal teens who thinks it's wrong to act one's age, what exactly does acting one's age entail? One thing I know for sure is, our concept of what makes us lovable cannot be contingent upon the hotness of our bodies. To be concerned about whether or not men find us attractive is to be giving precious time and energy away - it's like burning money or sleeping through your vacation.

When I read posts that some actresses of a certain age claim to be still having exciting sex, I ask, Why? What are you trying to prove? And to whom? Haven't you moved on to more fulfilling practices? What kind of surgeries, injections, and regimes are you following in order to make that possible? You are not the role model for those of us who now just want to spend our time and money writing or, hiking or reading. Connecting with others, not 'dating.' 

And then, I stopped to wonder if maybe they are afraid of being alone. I get that. Especially, when I see so many older people on my father's ward without visitors. With no one to tell people to stop yelling. Or no one to yell on their behalf. As I wanted to one day when I heard an old guy - who was no gift to women, let me tell you - point at an old woman whose entire side of her face was black and blue, and shout: "Hey, lady. You need make-up!" Really? Here's a woman in her 80s who had a bad fall, and you still expect her to look nice? I reported him to the nurse. (The one he made pinching gestures at when she passed.) Her response: "Oh, don't worry. She won't remember what he said by the time she gets to her room."

Let me leave you with some wise words by poet Mike Barnes, from his book "Be With", written after spending seven years caring for his mother through Alzheimer's: "The bravest, most persevering person you'll meet today? There's a good chance he's trying to dress himself, or tackling the dilemma of a meal. Sitting in a chair surrounded by strangeness, or making her slow way down a hall." So, stop yelling.