Paul Hopkins: It can take an age to plan anything now
My eldest child, my only daughter, has the uncanny knack of second-guessing me. She recently asked me could I pick her up and drop her to the train station for the city. Her youngest girl would be napping at said time, under the watchful eye of her husband, so grandad's services were called upon.
"No problem at all," I said and she had, after all, given me a week's notice and a couple of gentle reminders in the intervening week. But here's the thing: I spent that week mentally going over and over the Friday pick-up and 10 minute drive to the station.
When I say 'mentally going over' let me explain.
Here we are another year over and a new one just begun – and I, as are we all, another year older.
There was a time when I was up in the morning, broke fast, showered and shaved and was out the door in 30 minutes for the hour's commute to my newspaper in the city. Working away on the next day's edition, having lunch, doing a bit of window shopping, having a few pints after work, commuting back home, taking my wife out to dinner (occasionally) and then home for a night cap, only to do it all over again the next day. And it was all done on auto-pilot. Never having to, as such, plan it in my head or work out the logistics of the tasks to hand. That's being young – and energetic.
'Mentally going over' picking up my daughter for the train that Friday I constantly mulled over how long it would take me to get out of bed, have breakfast and shower and dress so as I would not be late for the pick-up. There is no auto-pilot at play these days. I am old, and I have to plan out almost every action before going into action, as it were.
"I bet, dad, you spent the whole week thinking about making sure you would pick me up on time," said my daughter as I dropped her at the station. She smiled. Hmmm, I thought, she really does know me. Either that or she's been reading my emails.
It has been widely found that the volume of the brain and/or its weight declines with age at a rate of around five per cent a decade after age 40 – yes, 40! – with the actual rate of decline possibly increasing with age particularly over age 70. According to my psychologist friend from Magherafelt, the manner in which this occurs is less clear. The shrinking of the grey matter is reported to stem from neuronal cell death but whether this is solely responsible or even the primary finding is not entirely clear. The rate of reduction in brain volume may increase with age particularly over 70, although numbers studied are very small. Because of the individual differences seen in brain development and ageing, mapping structure to function and change because of ageing is a complex task.
All I know, I tell him, is that my brain and memory are still in great nick but act somewhat differently. Like having to mentally plan a forthcoming action, and being less spontaneous.
When you’re young, it’s hard to envisage getting old. Now, I am here, I hear that train a comin’ and its shrill whistle increasingly stops me in my tracks, momentarily frozen with the fear of, and for, the future. Ultimately, my demise.
Seamus Heaney noted: "Strange, it is a huge nothing that we fear." Not I, as such, but rather I fear missing out on life.
Today, people in their 60s seem, not necessarily young, just nicely mature. Hopefully, wise and empathetic. The 60s is the new 40s. No, 60s is the 60s. It’s just we are all living longer. But with living longer can come a failing ability to function – not yet, thank God – and an increasing blip on society, on its young members in terms of care and cost.
My father, who lived until he was 80, used to say that life was "sweet no matter what". He had good health until the end. But the acorn does not always fall that close to the tree and our lifestyles are polar opposites.
As an ardent supporter of euthanasia – the subject back before the Oireachtas – for me, a cheap bottle of vodka under the bed and a handful of sleeping tablets seems preferable to catheters and other paraphernalia.
Thankfully, though, like a good wine, I may be old but I am fine.