On Aging

When I’m tired, I catch myself chasing after the right word, like my brain is misfiring just enough to leave me hanging. Usually, I can swap in something close enough, but that “it’s on the tip of my tongue” feeling? It drives me nuts.

Am I getting tired more often now?

Just the other day, it was just my wife and me, chatting about someone we both know who’s been having a rough time with Parkinson’s disease. For some reason, even though the condition was clear in my mind, the name just vanished. All I could offer was “the shaking disease”—and thank goodness my wife stepped in with the actual word. I recognized it instantly, of course. But not five minutes later, the word “Parkinson’s” slipped away again. So once again, I leaned on her memory. This isn’t the first time. Over the last few months, that particular word keeps playing hide-and-seek with me.

Even writing this down, I ended up searching for “shaking disease” so I could find the word “Parkinson’s” to type. It just wouldn’t come on its own.

Parkinson’s. Parkinson’s. Parkinson’s.

I wonder—if I just keep repeating it, will that make it stick the next time?

There are other words, too, that have started slipping through the cracks:

• Compelling. 
• Anecdotal. 
• Probability.

These used to be part of my everyday vocabulary. Now, they’re just out of reach. I first noticed these lapses creeping in before I retired in 2018. When this happens, I usually end up searching for synonyms to jog my memory.

It’s maddening.

It happened again this past weekend with friends. I was rambling, trying to think of the name of the movie with Tom Hanks and Gary Sinise. You know the one—"Forrest Gump". Again, my wife had to supply the answer, though, mercifully, as I’m writing this, I remembered it myself.

Horray for Small victories.

Dementia runs in my family. My father had it, and so did my uncle on my mother’s side. They both passed away in their 80s. A couple of other relatives are struggling now: one with dementia, another, at 68, had a stroke that’s made communication a challenge. I’m 67. Maybe it’s time to make a bucket list—assuming I can remember what should go on it.

There’s a line from Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations that’s been echoing in my mind lately:

Don’t just dwell on how your life gets shorter each day or how little time you have left. Think about this, too: even if you live for decades more, there’s no promise your mind will stay sharp enough to appreciate life, to chase after wisdom.

Your body—breathing, eating, feeling—will likely keep going even as age or senility sets in. But your ability to truly use yourself, to do your duty, to know what’s real and what’s not, to choose when to let go—those fade first.

So act now. Live with urgency. Not just because your time is running out, but because your mental clarity will disappear first.

—A modern take on Meditations 3:1

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