{"id":1731,"date":"2020-12-19T00:01:59","date_gmt":"2020-12-19T00:01:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/?page_id=1731"},"modified":"2020-12-31T16:07:22","modified_gmt":"2020-12-31T16:07:22","slug":"eric-wilson","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/eric-wilson\/","title":{"rendered":"Eric Wilson\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Illness of Aging<\/h2>\n

 <\/p>\n

When I fell ill during a visit to Copenhagen a few year ago, a local doctor bicycled over to my Airbnb apartment.\u00a0 Seeing my twelve prescription bottles lined up on a table, like small round, white-capped soldiers poised for battle, the Danish doctor asked if he could take an iPhone photo of them.\u00a0 I had confirmed what he had always suspected about Americans and their pill-popping ways.\u00a0 I\u2019m sure his colleagues had a good laugh.<\/p>\n

Actually, I myself had to laugh.\u00a0 My golden years had been exposed.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m 82 years old and have a compromised immune system\u2014antiphospholipid antibody syndrome.\u00a0 It\u2019s a rare disorder\u2014fewer than 200,000 cases in the U.S. per year\u2014in which the immune system mistakenly attacks normal proteins in the blood.\u00a0 It can cause blood clots, and so it\u2019s imperative that I take a blood thinner.\u00a0 And wear a bracelet alerting people to my condition.\u00a0 And that\u2019s just the beginning.<\/p>\n

Right before Christmas last year I developed a persistent cough.\u00a0 A few days later I felt I should probably go to Urgent Care.\u00a0 Immediately I was diagnosed with pneumonia, and an ambulance (with an accompanying fire truck) was quickly dispatched to take me to the ER.\u00a0 I spent the Christmas week in the hospital on oxygen.<\/p>\n

Although I never smoked, my lungs are scarred from COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease).\u00a0 Perhaps this is attributable to my growing up in the San Gabriel Valley in the 1950s.\u00a0 (On the front pages of the Los Angeles Times<\/i>, every morning they would have a small box indicating whether that day we would have \u201csmog green,\u201d \u201csmog yellow,\u201d or \u201csmog red\u201d).\u00a0 Quite often 3:00 p.m. P.E. class had to be cancelled; we weren\u2019t supposed to breathe excessively.<\/p>\n

In the spring of 2019, I made a trip up to June Lake, California, at an altitude of 7,654 feet.\u00a0 By the third night I found myself gasping for air so badly I had to be taken to the ER in Mammoth Lakes.\u00a0 My oxygenation rate was 82.\u00a0 They immediately put me on oxygen for the next two hours, discharging me with the laconic admonishment: \u201cYou best go back down the hill.\u00a0 Quickly!\u201d<\/p>\n

Because of my age, my health was precarious enough even before the advent of COVID-19.\u00a0 It quickly became clear that I\u2019d have to stay close to home until further notice.\u00a0 I have no idea when it might be safe for me to go back out to public places again.<\/p>\n

To make matters worse, the government doesn\u2019t seem to feel that mask-wearing and other safety precautions are always necessary, since the virus has been considered to target only the expendable elderly.\u00a0 Last March, Texas Republican Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick suggested that seniors should be \u201cwilling to take a chance on your survival in exchange for keeping the America that America loves for its children and grandchildren.\u201d<\/p>\n

By September, at a rally in Ohio, President Trump continued to espouse this idea, arguing, \u201cIt affects elderly people.\u00a0 Elderly people with heart problems and other problems.\u00a0 If they have other problems, that\u2019s what it really affects.\u201d\u00a0 The President went on to say, \u201cThat\u2019s it. You know, in some states, thousands of people, nobody young. Below the age of 18, like, nobody.\u00a0 They have a strong immune system, who knows?\u00a0 You look \u2014 take your hat off to the young because they have a hell of an immune system.\u00a0 But it affects virtually nobody.\u201d<\/p>\n

And then on October 25, White House chief of staff Mark Meadows announced simply, \u201cWe are not going to control the pandemic.\u201d\u00a0 So then perhaps it\u2019s not just the oldsters among us\u2014everyone<\/i> is expendable.\u00a0 I think I\u2019m going to be staying home for a long time to come.<\/p>\n

And the fact remains that even without a pandemic, I\u2019m at a high risk simply for existing, for being an octogenarian.\u00a0 Things I was once able to do routinely are now out of the question.\u00a0 Fortunately I live with my partner, who\u2019s younger than I am and able to do all the things that I\u2019m not.\u00a0 I\u2019m certain that were it not for him, I\u2019d be in an assisted-living facility.<\/p>\n

I have to take my twelve different prescription pills on a daily basis.\u00a0 Most of them have two separate names on the label (generic and non-generic), so that the variations between them are often not even within shouting distance of each other.\u00a0 Tamsulosin HCL is also Flomax.\u00a0 Losartan is actually Cozaar.\u00a0 Furosemide is Lasix.\u00a0 They come in various shapes and sizes, from extremely tiny round white to a large sleek pill in a glossy two-tone orange-and-gray that evokes a vintage Oldsmobile.<\/p>\n

In 2014, due to arrythmia and tachycardia (my heart was found to beat irregularly and too quickly), they had to implant a pacemaker-defibrillator.\u00a0 Before it was installed, I asked the surgeon if I would need a medical bracelet to alert people to this device.\u00a0 He laughed at the idea.\u00a0 As it turned out, anyone seeing me shirtless might assume I had swallowed a large man\u2019s pocket watch, ready to burst forth from my chest.<\/p>\n

Some 15 years ago I was diagnosed with sleep apnea\u2014a sleep disorder in which breathing repeatedly stops and starts.\u00a0 So I now have a CPAP device (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) on my nightstand. A mask is held in a tight fit over my nose by a series of black straps.\u00a0 It looks totally ridiculous, like Halloween on the cheap, but I actually don\u2019t mind the mask.\u00a0 Its whoosh is like white noise.\u00a0 It helps me to fall asleep.<\/p>\n

But travel has become a problem.\u00a0 When I went through airplane security in Hamburg, Germany, the guards were suspicious of my small CPAP suitcase.\u00a0 With Teutonic briskness I was ordered into a separate building and then closed into a stark holding cell.\u00a0 The security officer stood back against the wall and ordered me to open the suitcase and then remove the device (along with its long breathing tube, electrical cord and heavy black current-converter box).\u00a0 Then I was ordered to dissemble the pieces of the CPAP itself.\u00a0 Finally he dusted the device with a powder.\u00a0 By the time he was convinced this wasn\u2019t a plastic bomb and I was free to go, I had almost missed my flight.<\/p>\n

Growing older, I started to feel increasingly uneasy driving.\u00a0 Freeways in Los Angeles can be unsettling even in the best of times.\u00a0 For me the most perilous maneuver was always moving over four lanes to the right of me, often trying to slide into literally bumper-to-bumper traffic.\u00a0 I had long since lost confidence in the right-hand side-view mirror, which bluntly warned me that objects were not what I might assume.\u00a0 Gradually I had to switch from freeways to \u201csurface streets\u201d (a strange L.A.-only name, as if to indicate that the freeways are streets that are floating up there somewhere), where I still felt in reasonable control.<\/p>\n

In mid-2016 I had cataract surgery in both eyes.\u00a0 Afterwards I found that my depth perception seemed to have vanished.\u00a0 It had never been particularly good; even as a kid growing up, I found \u201ckeep your eye on the ball\u201d to be a challenge.\u00a0 (I was always the last one chosen for teams in P.E. classes.)\u00a0 After the surgery I found I was unable to judge distances. The ophthalmologist presented me with a chart with ten circles to look at.\u00a0 If I had proper depth perception, I would see a hidden figure embedded in all ten.\u00a0 Beyond the first circle no pattern emerged.\u00a0 And so I\u2019ve given up driving altogether.<\/p>\n

\"\"Like both parents before me, I have a pronounced hearing loss.\u00a0 My pricey hearing aids make indistinct sounds louder, but often they\u2019re quite loudly<\/i> indistinct. I love the diversity of L.A.\u00a0 But the downside\u2014when I was still able to run daily errands before the onset of COVID\u2014a large number of people I came into contact with had accents.\u00a0 Statistics show that there are 224 identified languages spoken in L.A. county.\u00a0 So the speaker behind the counter who was patiently helping me might be approaching English from a default of Armenian, Dari, Gujarati, or Tagalog.\u00a0 I would constantly have to ask, What?\u00a0 I didn\u2019t want to annoy the people at hand who might feel ill-at-ease because of their accents, so I would explain that I have a hearing loss: \u201cIt\u2019s not you\u2014it\u2019s me<\/i>!\u201d\u00a0 They weren\u2019t always convinced.<\/p>\n

Sequestered at home in these days of pandemic, I find one of my joys is watching Netflix and Amazon Prime.\u00a0 They both offer closed-captioning, which is a godsend. \u00a0 It used to be that, like most people, I couldn\u2019t always (if ever) understand the British; now I have problems understanding almost anyone.<\/p>\n

These captions are a great help, but I find that they\u2019re intended for people who are totally deaf.\u00a0 Thus I\u2019m exposed to a clutter of non-verbal information strewn about at the bottom of the screen: (pounding on door) (keys jangle) (rain pattering) (sobbing softly) (heavy breathing) (dog barks) (birdsong) (insects churring).\u00a0 And always, always in a crowd there is (indistinct chatter).\u00a0 Lest I doubt the mood there\u2019s (ominous music) (upbeat music) (unsettling music) (melancholic music) (soft, hopeful music) (comforting piano music).\u00a0 And when the going gets really<\/i> tough, there\u2019s (heartbeat thumping).<\/p>\n

Netflix\u2019s closed-captions are excellent.\u00a0 Amazon\u2019s, on the other hand, are rather cavalier.\u00a0 At times they merely float around in the vicinity of the spoken dialogue.\u00a0 I hear (indistinctly) Hayden saying something to Jaden; then he leaves the room and slams the door behind him.\u00a0 Five or so seconds later, as a bewildered Jaden stands there alone on the screen, I read, \u201cThat\u2019s it!\u00a0 I\u2019m outta here.\u201d\u00a0 At times I try to look above the fray, but then the next protagonist is a young woman with a high voice, whispering very softly and quickly into the telephone with her back to the camera.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m a leftie and write upside down, having to push my way from left to right rather than smoothly pull the pen after me.\u00a0 Penmanship was never my strong suit.\u00a0 (When I was a child, we were still taught the Palmer method of push-pull and ovals, so at least I learned the rules of the game.)\u00a0 Now arthritis distorts my fingers, which can make my script illegible even to me.\u00a0 If I take notes, I find I have to use block letters so that (if possible) I can decipher them later.\u00a0 At this point my partner has to write my checks and address envelopes for me.\u00a0 Even if I concentrate, my hand can slip out of place unexpectedly and disfigure what I\u2019m trying to write, invalidating the check or the envelope.<\/p>\n

Mercifully I have a PC with a wonderful soft-touch keyboard.\u00a0 When I was at Stanford in the 1950s, I owned a boxy Olympic \u201cportable,\u201d which was the size of a small suitcase.\u00a0 For capital letters, as well as for the apostrophe, question mark, and quotation marks, you had to press down on the shift key, raising the heavy platen up into the air.\u00a0 Now when I type, my fingers virtually float over the keys; it\u2019s almost as if my thoughts automatically appear on the page.\u00a0 One expansion for me in a shrinking world.<\/p>\n

Even when young, I\u2019ve never had much grace of movement.\u00a0 As a Stanford freshman I took ROTC, the Reserve Officers\u2019 Training Course.\u00a0 (Don\u2019t ask why.\u00a0 Like the putative waters in Casablanca, I had been misinformed.)\u00a0 For one hour a week, we soldiers-to-be were assigned to march up and down a field in perfect, crisp unison.\u00a0 I was never quite able to manage this.\u00a0 It came to the point where two officers took me across the field by myself and marched me in drill, flanking me tightly on either side.\u00a0 \u201cHup! Hup! Hup<\/i>!<\/em>\u201d\u00a0 But I still couldn\u2019t pass muster.\u00a0 These military men were convinced I was trying to mock them and they were not amused.\u00a0 (By mutual agreement, I dropped the course after the first term.)<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t march properly back then; now I find I can\u2019t really walk<\/i> properly.\u00a0 Like my father before me, I have balance issues.\u00a0 I don\u2019t use a walker, and trying to master the rhythm of a cane only throws me off balance.\u00a0 I\u2019m all right when I\u2019m at home, but when I take walks in my Santa Monica neighborhood, it becomes more difficult.\u00a0 Long ago the city unwisely opted for lining many sidewalks with shady, easy-to-grow Ficus trees.\u00a0 But now the greedy roots of these trees have taken over.\u00a0 They uproot patches of the sidewalk at will, jutting it up irregularly, up and down and over at odd angles, like some devious fun-zone path.<\/p>\n

When I walk with my partner, I\u2019ve found I can hold on to his right forearm and keep myself upright.\u00a0 Stairs are another matter.\u00a0 In the U.S. there are usually elevators, even for a trajectory that ends at the second floor.\u00a0 But in big cities, both here and abroad, there are stairs.\u00a0 Many stairs.\u00a0 New York subways can entail three badly lit flights of stairs up to a platform.\u00a0 I have to stay over to the side, clinging onto the railing with both hands in a rush-hour crowd.\u00a0 In office buildings, on my way up, I constantly have to cede to toddlers, who go zipping past me in glee.\u00a0 My Airbnb apartment in Copenhagen was on the sixth floor, and there were no elevators.\u00a0 For a few of the flights there were no handrails.\u00a0 I could negotiate the stairs slowly, but not carry anything with me while my hands were on the rails.<\/p>\n

Lawn parties are now out of the question, since an expanse of grass has a mind of its own.\u00a0 Each step is a different adventure: now the turf is stable, now it\u2019s spongy, now it\u2019s bumpy, now it\u2019s off-kilter.\u00a0 I am no longer able to walk across a lawn without assistance; it might just as well be the floor of a birthday-party bouncy house.\u00a0 And how can women in high heels possibly navigate an expanse of lawn?\u00a0 (Worse than dancing with Fred Astaire, backwards and in heels?)<\/p>\n

In addition to my balance issues, I\u2019ve now been diagnosed as having spinal stenosis compounded by spondylolisthesis of the lumbar region and lumbar disc herniation.\u00a0 (I\u2019m reading this off the doctor\u2019s report.)\u00a0 When viewing an art exhibit at a museum, often my maximum walking endurance is curtailed to about an hour before my lower back locks up.\u00a0 For a comprehensive Manet exhibit at the Getty Center, I had to go back a second time in order to see the rest of the exhibit.<\/p>\n

In contrast, after graduating from college, I had a EurailPass, which allowed me to spend two months traveling on first-class trains throughout Western Europe for a low, set price.\u00a0 Youth hostels chased you out early, and I would spend the entire day walking through whatever city I was in.\u00a0 In Paris, right after breakfast, I would stroll from Trocadero all the way down to the American Express Office on the Rue Scribe to see if I had any letters from home.\u00a0 At times I would spend the entire day walking.<\/p>\n

Today when I read newspaper articles about a person in the public eye who\u2019s in his 80s, my first thought is always, \u201cIs he still alive<\/i>?\u00a0 He must be decrepit!\u201d\u00a0 In my mind\u2019s eye I\u2019m still 21.\u00a0 I\u2019m in a London theater.\u00a0 The cheapest seats\u2014in 1960 maybe costing only three shilling and sixpence, easily affordable for a student\u2014are behind the last rows of the last balcony.\u00a0 You have to stand the whole time, but I can stand there forever.\u00a0 The stage is far away, but, as the British say, I\u2019m up \u201cin the gods.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n

\"\"Eric Wilson<\/strong>\u2019<\/span><\/span>s fiction and personal essays have been published in New England Review, Carve, Literary Hub, Fifth Wednesday Journal, Massachusetts Review, Chelsea Station, Carolina Quarterly, German Quarterly, Scoundrel Time, Foglifter,<\/em> and Epoch,<\/em> as well as in the Pushcart Prize<\/em> and O. Henry Prize Stories<\/em> anthologies.\u00a0 An essay of his\u00a0was listed among the Notables in Best American Travel Writing 2018.<\/em><\/p>\n

After a Fulbright year of study in Berlin, he earned a doctorate in German literature at Stanford University.\u00a0 He taught German at UCLA and Pomona College and fiction writing at UCLA Extension.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Illness of Aging   When I fell ill during a visit to Copenhagen a few year ago, a local doctor bicycled over to my Airbnb apartment.\u00a0 Seeing my twelve prescription bottles lined up on a table, like small round, white-capped soldiers poised for battle, the Danish doctor asked if he could take an iPhone … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “Eric Wilson\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0“<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1731","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1731","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1731"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1731\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1912,"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1731\/revisions\/1912"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.hawaii.edu\/vice-versa\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1731"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}