WARNING! New Virus Alert for Over-50 Adults

It’s Sunday, I’m sitting in my home office, it’s snowing like crazy – and I’m pissed.

At this moment, I’ve become the “grumpy, immobile, smelly ‘ol fart I swore I’d never become.” (That’s the subtitle to a book I wrote several years ago that seems to be stuck in eternal unpublished mode).

We’re in the middle of a two-day major snow dump – probably around two feet by the time it passes through. It’s heavy spring stuff that draws out lots of “heart attack” warnings about dragging out the snow shovel.

My 20- and 30-something nieces and nephews have offered to come over and shovel my driveway and sidewalk “because they love us and want to help.” Then before they could arrive, my next-door neighbor, James, attacks my walk and driveway, unsolicited, with his Toro, making quick work of the first 7″ of the snowfall. Yes, James knows how old I am but not much beyond that.

Mine was the only driveway other than his own that he plowed.

I thanked him, biting my tongue as I did so.

I gave it another hour or so and went out and hand-shoveled the next 6″, extracting a warning from my bride “not to overdo it.”

What am I – an invalid?

Does 79 guarantee a myocardial infarction when at the end of a snow shovel?

So, I’m sitting here feeling put-upon because I’ve reached a certain number.

I’ll go back out again in a couple of hours and attack the next 6″ –  maybe even twice if the front persists.

I’m sworn to never own a snowblower for two reasons: (1) they are, alongside lawnmowers, one of the worst polluters on the planet, and (2) I view snow shoveling as a great aerobic and anaerobic exercise and an excellent back-and core-strengthening event.

C’mon, mother nature just served up a great exercise opportunity and a break from my boring treadmill, Bowflex, and upright bike routine.

Somehow that idea falls on a lot of deaf ears. Because you see, I’m 79.

So, yeah, I’m sitting here in my “cave” selfish, indignant, disgustingly self-centered, ungrateful, grumpy, pouting, and (add your own here_________). I was born with all of those talents.

As fate, the muse, luck, or whatever would have it, as I pout, I end up with my nose into an article on Medium.com entitled “Age is a Mental Virus.” You can read it here.

I have followed the author, Julia Hubbel, for some time. She’s a prolific, profane, Type-A, late-60-something with an edge, especially when it comes to aging. I’ve learned, from her writings, that she’s particularly sensitive about the “your number is your age” syndrome that most of us buy into, saying in the article that “the absolute belief that you deteriorate swiftly with age is, in fact, genuinely deadly.”

Hubbel references a highly-touted research paper by Yale School of Health Professor Becca Levy. In it, Levy says (the bolding is mine):

Exposure to negative and positive age stereotypes over time plays a crucial role in whether people develop signs of dementia in their later years. The central message of the theory, and the research supporting it, is that the aging process is, in part, a social construct.

She goes on to say:

How you and I see ourselves, and how society treats us as aging human beings, has more to do with our quality of life than age itself.

The study is worth reading if for no other reason than it punches missile-sized holes in the notion society shoves at us that age=deterioration, decrepitude, despondency, and depression.

In sum, if we believe it sucks to be older, it will suck to get older. In fact, Prof. Levy’s research showed that those who bought into negative aging stereotypes are far more likely to suffer a cardiovascular event ( congestive heart failures, heart attacks, and strokes) in the next few decades.

There’s the virus. The mental virus. Sneaky. Subtle. Insidious. Self-inflicted.

There’s no Pfizer or Moderna or J&J or Astra-Zeneca solution for this one. No visits to the hospital or ambulance rides. Just a slow but accelerating slide down the slope on the back-side of life, unaware that the tough but simple antidote is a mindset change and a change in language.

Next time you, or someone in your presence, utters something like “getting old sucks” or “aging is for the birds” or any of the plethora of popular but deadly cliches that proliferate amongst post-50 adults, just know that you or they are infected. It’s likely that many of those closest to you have the virus. It will show up in their innocent reference to your “number” with a disregard for the deadly nature of their “social construct.”

I’ll return to the age model I’m adopting that I borrowed from Dr. Helen Harness of Career Design Associates and wrote about 9 weeks ago.

Harkness calls it the “living long and dying fast model.”

I’m adopting it.

Here it is again:

• Young adulthood: 20-40
• First midlife: 40-60
• Second midlife: 60-80
• Young old: 80-90
• Elderly: 90 and above
• Old-old: 2-3 years to live

Just so you know, you are granted the right to intrude on my snow shoveling domain (maybe) somewhere around the mid-point of my “elderly” period. Until then, leave your “aging sucks” and your Toro at home.