Another Covid winter looms, but this moment of the pandemic feels hopeful. At the age of 87, I am reacquainted with the social life I had put on hold for months. I go out to restaurants and museums, go to church and visit my grandchildren who live in a neighboring town. I have always seen myself as a risk taker and an optimist. But every day when I go out, I have a drum roll in mind, a constant accompaniment: “Is this too risky for me?”
But if the risk of getting sick with Covid-19 is holding me back, there’s something that pulls me out even more strongly: the fear of not making the most of my time left, my “one wild and precious life” like the poet Mary Oliver described it.
Life expectancy is only six years at my age. I want to spend my remaining time traveling, going to parties with friends and seeing all my distant grandchildren. I am overjoyed that my retirement community has reopened. The dining room is again serving meals and I’ve taken both a dance and a tai chi class. I want to enjoy everything now. Time speeds up as you get older. A 90-year-old friend put it this way: “What have I got to lose?” Those of us in our 80s and older are used to having death in front of a neighbor.
That’s not to say I live without fear. While I am confident that my triple injections of the vaccine will protect me, I am not the same person I was before the pandemic. You feel vulnerable when you are repeatedly reminded that people aged 65 and older have a higher risk of dying from Covid-19 and that the risk increases with age. I have some fear of crowds and large gatherings, and I am reluctant to touch other people. The pain and suffering of the world are with me in a way they never were before, and I’m all too aware now that what we take for granted can change in the blink of an eye. But I’m ready to move on.
While the toll of Covid-19 was felt by all, the pandemic life for people in our 80s was different. Yes, our risk of getting sick or dying from Covid was much higher. Yet I was able to maintain my equanimity. People my age are resilient; we were kids during WWII after all.
What will work and life look like after the pandemic?
As the pandemic forced me and my peers to be so sheltered, everyday life, ironically, became stress-free and, for some of us, boring. In March 2020, my boyfriend and I were told we couldn’t keep going back and forth between our two retirement homes. We decided within minutes that he would move in with me. That hasty decision ensured that we enjoyed the long months of quarantine, reading books and playing word games. I wrote about aging on my blog and spoke to my psychotherapy clients via Zoom. Dinner was delivered to our door.
It wasn’t the same for my adult children or many of my therapy clients, most of whom are in their 40s, 50s, and 60s. Their stress levels were extraordinary. Some took extreme precautions and disinfected their groceries. One of my clients, who had a full-time job and arranged her children’s school from home, told me she could “sleep for three years.”
Many of my younger clients seem very cautious about returning to a more normal life. They tell me they take it easy. Often it is much slower than us older people. A customer in her 40s told me she is “very much looking forward to going to a restaurant and eating in.” (I’ve been to six or seven restaurants.) Until recently, when we visited my son and daughter-in-law, they would let us sit in chairs in their driveway. In my book clubs and writing group, there are some younger women who don’t want to meet in person.
Some adult children in their 80s have become bossy and even tyrannical in their concerns about their parents’ safety. My friend was told by her two grown children that she was not allowed to leave her house under any circumstances. Her children ran errands for her food and took her to the doctor. But she was starving for human companionship and became resentful. After many decades of living, we know with absolute certainty that relationships and enjoying time with the people we love are the most important thing in life.
Until recently, living into the eighties was not very common. But these days, people my age are doing everything from hiking the Appalachian Trail, falling in love, writing poetry for the first time, or helping to resettle Afghan refugees. Being in your 80s doesn’t mean you have to focus on surviving. It is a time to enjoy a full life. And I’m ready for that.