Choose The Hearing Aid
Yesterday I was on a call with my supervisors and one of them was telling us how chaotic his life has been lately — his father-in-law has been hospitalized again. The series of ailments began because he insisted on continuing to drive, but he's in his late 80s and kept getting into car accidents. He was unable to drive anymore, not by his will, but by law. Then it progressed to random falls doing house projects, and eventually to being bedbound. He was constantly told not to get up and wander, to always wait for a caretaker, but he keeps getting out of bed and falling face down. Right after being hospitalized for injuries he sustained from falling, he was discharged, got out of bed twice, fell twice, and was rehospitalized again.
As my supervisor kept speaking about his ailments and old age, all I could think was: this isn't an age issue, it's a loss of autonomy. Maybe I'm projecting, but the most terrifying thing about aging to me is losing my autonomy. To not be independent anymore, to rely on someone else to do the most basic things. I can't imagine not being able to drive myself, let alone having someone carry me to the bathroom. I'd fight for my autonomy until the last breath too.
Then I asked myself, why? Why is it so bad to rely on someone else? Why is it such a horrendous thought to accept help?
It reminded me of a conversation I had with my father, who suffers from hearing loss in one of his ears. He visited a doctor who confirmed it and told him he had one of two choices: either spend the rest of his life saying "huh?" or wear a hearing aid. My father instantly chose the former. No way would he put a hearing aid on. I was SO confused. Why is a hearing aid so bad? Because it signals you're getting old? As I got older myself, I had similar feelings about my grey hairs. I'd rather pluck them one by one from my forehead than start dying them. Why? Because dying them signals I'm getting old.
It's so relatable, this cluster of emotions, pride, caring about what others think, denial, clinging to youth with all fingers, scared that if you loosen one it will slip right through, so you continue to tighten your grasp until it hurts. Wondering how time flew so fast? Did I really take advantage of life when I was able to? Did I do it right?
But why are we so resistant? We know it's coming; it happens to everyone, it's a way of life. Why can't we accept help? Frame it differently? A resistance to aging only makes it so much more miserable, but embracing it, giving in, and learning to accept help, I think, can be transformative.
I'd be lucky to have someone love me so much they'd rather help me with every little thing than risk me getting hurt. I'd be lucky to wear a hearing aid and have the chance of hearing the sounds of the world and the people I love so clearly forever. I'd be lucky to have the means to dye my grey hairs and to still care about my appearance when they cover my whole head. I'd be lucky to have people at my beck and call. I'd be lucky to have someone at my bedside. I'd be lucky to have someone I can depend on. I'd be lucky to age gracefully and happily.
But what do I know? It's easier said now. Catch me again when I'm actually old. I hope I accept the hearing aid, but I'd probably be a miserable old bitch who doesn't want anyone to touch me, hehe.
