Blog
Jan 26, 2012
Note from Joel: My intention when founding Beyond Age was to make it a collaborative effort and to have many voices represented. My friend Sharon Kristjanson shared some ideas with me last week and I asked her if she would write them up so that I could share them publicly. After reading this post, I’m sure you’ll agree with me that Sharon has a remarkable voice. I’m proud to have her contribute to this blog.
I went to see the movie “The Iron Lady” with my daughter and friends, expecting it to be about Margaret Thatcher’s illustrious political career. While flashbacks of Thatcher in her prime certainly filled the screen, what haunted me long after I left the theater was Meryl Streep’s portrayal of Thatcher’s old age and dementia. The resemblance to my mother was heartbreakingly familiar.
Meryl Streep was masterful at capturing Margaret Thatcher in different stages of her life, but what really unnerved me was the extent to which I saw my elderly mother up on the screen, with every detail matching exactly – even the extent to which she fooled her doctor into believing she was more lucid than was actually the case. My daughter recognized her Grandma too: the old face, the vacant stare, occasional moments of brilliance, and a perpetual state of confusion – reflected not in a furrowed brow, but in passivity. When the protagonist lay on the pillow and stared blankly into space, it was my mother’s face in every respect. In that moment, Streep and Thatcher and my mother were interchangeable.
And therein lies the chill that stayed with me so many hours after I left the movie theater. In our twilight years, are we largely interchangeable? We may differ in the prime of our lives, but in dementia we are eerily similar, with discrete moments that recall our earlier selves. Streep revealed the vulnerability and confusion of encroaching dementia with exquisite insight.
The movie brought back for me not only the heartbreak of caring for my mother as she lost her way in dementia, but also my fear that this will be what my final chapter looks like, too. After all, statistics say that about half of us will experience some form of dementia in old age. Having seen it up close and personal, it terrifies me. As I cared for my mother and tried to meet her increasing needs, I felt compassion, sadness, and angst at the decisions I had to make. I also felt anxiety about my own future. I constantly wondered if I was looking in a mirror.
Now, almost a year after my mother’s death, I no longer feel raw and depleted. Instead, I recognize the fragility and gift of life as never before, and I value relationships in a new way. As I enter my Third Act of life (with thanks to Jane Fonda for coining the term), I walk a tightrope between embracing this time with high enthusiasm and fearlessness, and planning ahead for my final years. There is a duality that is ever-present, and it marks this stage of life in a very unique way.
by Sharon V. Kristjanson
SVK Communications LLC
www.svkcommunications.com
Meryl Streep was masterful at capturing Margaret Thatcher in different stages of her life, but what really unnerved me was the extent to which I saw my elderly mother up on the screen, with every detail matching exactly – even the extent to which she fooled her doctor into believing she was more lucid than was actually the case. My daughter recognized her Grandma too: the old face, the vacant stare, occasional moments of brilliance, and a perpetual state of confusion – reflected not in a furrowed brow, but in passivity. When the protagonist lay on the pillow and stared blankly into space, it was my mother’s face in every respect. In that moment, Streep and Thatcher and my mother were interchangeable.
And therein lies the chill that stayed with me so many hours after I left the movie theater. In our twilight years, are we largely interchangeable? We may differ in the prime of our lives, but in dementia we are eerily similar, with discrete moments that recall our earlier selves. Streep revealed the vulnerability and confusion of encroaching dementia with exquisite insight.
The movie brought back for me not only the heartbreak of caring for my mother as she lost her way in dementia, but also my fear that this will be what my final chapter looks like, too. After all, statistics say that about half of us will experience some form of dementia in old age. Having seen it up close and personal, it terrifies me. As I cared for my mother and tried to meet her increasing needs, I felt compassion, sadness, and angst at the decisions I had to make. I also felt anxiety about my own future. I constantly wondered if I was looking in a mirror.
Now, almost a year after my mother’s death, I no longer feel raw and depleted. Instead, I recognize the fragility and gift of life as never before, and I value relationships in a new way. As I enter my Third Act of life (with thanks to Jane Fonda for coining the term), I walk a tightrope between embracing this time with high enthusiasm and fearlessness, and planning ahead for my final years. There is a duality that is ever-present, and it marks this stage of life in a very unique way.
by Sharon V. Kristjanson
SVK Communications LLC
www.svkcommunications.com
"Invigorating the Aging Experience"
