by Jack Bragen
Recently, I went to see a doctor in my new neighborhood, one where most of the population is high-income. When I got to the waiting room, I happened to spot a couple of people who are likely on Medicare as I am. It was comforting to realize that I would not stand out as the only economic misfit.
Everyone seems to be ahead of me in life and can handle a faster pace than I can. I’m not dumb, I’m just slow. And I can’t handle many of the things people assume everyone can do, partly because of my schizophrenia. I was at the doctor’s office, and I could not understand everything the doctor was telling me. She was young, in her thirties at the most, and probably didn’t grasp all the special needs of a disabled 60-year-old. I was given a link to “MyChart,” to access my medical records. I would rather not deal with online charts if I can avoid it, but in this case, I couldn’t.
When the doctor quickly examined my knees, I told her that I was experiencing extreme pain. She prescribed ibuprofen.
That appointment was my social interaction for the day.
This year, the loneliness threatens to engulf me. I’m not alone—pardon the pun—as loneliness has real health impacts. A 2023 surgeon general report linked the lack of social connection to increased risk of heart disease, stroke and developing dementia.
I often see people getting support from their lovers, their parents or even from a social worker. Where is my support?
People with schizophrenia also face the risk of dementia as they get older. Rebounding from a high-strung existence to something this quiet has caused me to loosen the rubber band. My mind was degrading.
The combination of advancing age, alienation and adversity can lead to a downward spiral if I allow it to.
I’m in the process of a divorce that causes me heartbreak, which I never felt until a few short years ago. I also moved away from a residence where conditions were dangerous, overcrowded and seedy. At the same time, those conditions filled the air with a thick energy that fed my mind with raw, intangible material that I needed.
Sixty is not typically considered a time for making a fresh start. People my age are usually settled, and have enough sense not to walk away from something that works even if the shoe pinches on the inside.
But I’m not finished.
The average life expectancy of a schizophrenic man is 59.9 years, according to the National Institute for Health. Already, I feel like I’m beating the odds.
There is evidence to support the notion that older adults with disabilities are subject to discrimination in health care.
So far, I haven’t experienced anything resembling this. However, I have found that doctors are far too fast paced for me, and collectively they could potentially control my life if I do everything they tell me to do..
Whatever hope I enjoy comes from optimism based on things unseen, wishful thinking or maybe delusions. It’s hard to be 60, alone and not keeping up. My living situation appears precarious and possibly doomed, yet I still need to keep the fire burning.
I see this as a “cosmic test,” an agnostic version of “God’s test.” This is serious business because if you slip up, you can suffer real consequences and reap a bad result.
So far, I know that I’m doing a lot of things correctly, and it’s likely that I’m getting enough things right so that I will ultimately pass that test.
I’m sure that there are higher purposes to my existence. Still, I would rather have comfort, security and plentitude if it’s possible, but. I guess I’ll have to keep trying and see how it goes.
Jack Bragen lives and writes in the Bay Area, California. His writings are searchable.
