"Sans Everything"

by Cliopatria

I don’t read Maureen Dowd regularly, but I may start to do so. This column was well worth it.

The beginning, a comment on the Baby Boomers resisting age, gives way to reality. This reality she observed by sleeping in her mother’s nursing home room for four weeks. It’s grim, but it’s also a telling picture on how the atmosphere of dying can permeate those not yet there (or at least not obviously so).

This sent me in search of Shakespeare’s 7 Ages. Nothing like the web for famous quotes. . This seemed the best source.. (Scroll down. Jacques gives the speech.) Here are the last two stages:

The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

“Sans everything.” The historian in me was born, in part, from my taking my fears and trying to wrap them safely in my intellect. So of course I ask you, the audience, if you know of histories of old age. There are histories of childhood, pointing out that much of it is a social construct. Surely much of old age is, too.

The pastoral tribesman is left on the path when unfit to move on. The old man in Shakespeare’s sixth stage, is in pantaloons and shrinking, but with a roof and, implicitly, someone to change his bedpan. Is it family or wealth that protects him? It could be either, or both.

The grandmother in early Pennsylvania is wheezing in the back room of the farm that had been her husbands. His will gives her life tenancy, but the eldest son from her husband’s first marriage always stood a bit distant. Her own son, the second, has moved two counties west.

The older man I used to see regularly in Cedar Mall: he was waiting and waiting and waiting, but for what I never knew. I did not stoop to ask, and one day I realized that I had not seen him for some time.

Societies and governments matter. Physical well-being of the old in the US hinges on Social Security, our badly frayed safety net, the person’s savings, the largesse or stinginess of children.

Emotional well being depends on these things too, but also on the chance to talk intelligently, the ability to read, the treasure of true loved ones. It depends on an old friend who shared the times that you are both exiled from; or a younger friend who shares a bit of the energy that Is harder and harder to find within. The stranger who says hello.

“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” That line of Tennessee Williams passed from the stage into our culture, because it is true for us all. While families are critical factors, most old people depend heavily on webs of individuals they do not know or barely meet.

In the end, of course, no matter the society, we end up like Shakespeare’s last line, emptied of sentiment as well as sensation. “Sans Everything.”

“Be merry, my friends!”

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Maarja Krusten - 4/15/2005

Many thanks, Dr. Chamberlain, for taking the time to read my post. And even more thanks for being kind enough to post a thoughtful response about some difficult issues.

Oscar Chamberlain - 4/15/2005

Thank you for your reply.

I have never had the opportunity (if that is the word) to be with a loved one as he or she died. I think I would have shared your desire to be with your sister, but I think I can understand why someone might prefer to be alone. The reasons you suggested for her decision made sense. I can also imagine it as a kind of stripping away of the world, a preparation of sorts.

Still, while there may be a perfect way of saying goodbye, I have not heard of it.

As far as preparing our written materials, I hope that no historian or archivist will ever be interested in me, as my "filing system" resembles a perpetual game of 52 pick up. However, I have some books of historical, if not monetary value. Your post makes it clear that I should at least create a list to help my heirs, whoever they may be. That way they can value them correctly or, at minimum, realize that some historical collections would find them important.

Maarja Krusten - 4/14/2005

A couple of thoughts, one related to professional activities, one related to caregiving, from having watched my twin sister die.

When people die before retiring, they leave their personal and professional records behind in their offices. Someone then has the sad duty of going through what one leaves behind on the job. I had to do this for my sister, who was a senior archivist at the National Archives. I once worked at the Archives but no longer did when my sis died. My twin sister, Eva, died of cancer in December 2002 after a valiant 18-month battle. She was diagnosed with Stage III melanoma in July 2001 and last worked at her office in March 2002. By using a computer and a speaker phone, she was able to continue contributing to the work at her office from home, until November 2002. Eva was lucid and sharp witted until the day she died, in fact, she read history books and biographies until the weekend before her death on a Monday.

When Eva died, her office was as she had left it in March 2002, with all her files and collected items just left in situ. She had hoped to come back to work after undergoing radiation and chemotherapy during the spring and summer of 2002, but it was not to be. From the day she learned her diagnosis, Eva knew she would die. People who are diagnosed at that stage of melanoma almost never survive. Although Eva told me that the chemo and other treatments would not save her, but merely would extend her life for a short time, she was so committed to her job and colleagues, she really yearned to get back to work. (See
http://h-net.msu.edu/cgi-bin/logbrowse.pl?trx=vx&;list=h-diplo&month=0301&week=a&msg=ho9Ws/NR4DjmxN7m8iurug&user=&pw=

on how she continued to contribute to her office until a month before her death).

My sis was lucky in that I and one of her friends from the office were able to go through, screen, pack up for me to take home, transfer to office files, or dispose of everything she had left in her office. Not everyone can count on that. Sometimes, strangers end up with the task of going through everything one carefully accumulates at the office. Something to think about.

People may think about what they have at home but rarely do they set up their offices so as to prepare for a sudden departure. It is easier for everyone if one carefully segregates personal materials from office materials, thereby avoiding leaving behind paper and electronic records that mix up the two. I recently was reading postings on a records management listserv on what to do with "abandoned" records when employees in the private sector suddenly are fired and told to get up and leave the building. In one case, a woman begged to be allowed to return to copy personal files she had on her computer. In other cases, the people boxing up records didn't know what to do with all of them and how they fit in with other records. So, similar issues come up under different circumstances of departure, as well.

Here's the hard part, something I thought about when I initially read Maureen Dowd's thoughtful column. I cared for my sister at home until the last few hours of her life, when I had to take her to the emergency room. We never put her in a hospice. You never know how someone is going to handle their last moments. Be prepared for anything and respect the fact that ultimately, this not about you and other friends and family, but about the person who is facing the last moments of their final struggle. Dying people often seem to withdraw and keep their eyes closed, as if concentrating on or seeking relief from their final struggles.

During the last few days of her life, my sister didn't want me to leave her bedroom, she wanted me by her side. She was calm and courageous. But, I wasn't prepared for the fact that after I took her to the emergency room a mere 6 hours before she died, that once she got to the hospital, she told me to go home. I don't know why. At the time, I thought of how animals sometimes hide themselves away in the woods to die, alone. Perhaps she wanted to spare me at the end. I don't know. What do you do under those circumstances? I felt I had to respect her wishes. Why upset someone who is about to die? I pretended to leave, but actually hid out in the waiting room, peeking surreptitously from time to time into the hospital room to which they transferred her. She died very peacefully that same evening, from what the nurses told me. But I could not be beside her. So, it was very different from what you see in old movies, where someone dies holding the hand of a loved one who sits by their bedside. There's no way to prepare for the loss of a loved one, especially a twin, someone a part of you in every way. All I can say is, be brave, do all you can to help the one who is dying, and be prepared for anything.

Oscar Chamberlain - 4/13/2005

Thank you! The article you linked looks particularly useful (and I love that it refers to Shakespeare's 7 stages).

Sharon Howard - 4/13/2005

Not something I've read much about, but there are plenty of interesting references here: http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m2005/is_1_37/ai_109668472/pg_7

On early modern England, I think Margaret Pelling has also done recent research on old age and ageing, as part of her wider work on health and medicine. Here she is: http://www.history.ox.ac.uk/staff/postholder/pelling_m.htm