The "Organ Recital" vs. "I'm Fine"

I have a couple of observations about what happens when people get older, one of which is that they tend to talk about their aches, pains, and surgeries...a lot. One of my favorite writers, Jon Carroll, talked about this phenomenon in a recent SF Chronicle column:

"As I get older, I know more and more people who've had heart attacks or cancer scares or, well, death. It's just nature's way of reminding you that the next generation would like a little more space. I now know what a stent is and what it does, and I know about exploratory surgery. I know I have been lucky, but I do not expect to be lucky forever.
I have read an actuarial table. I know my chances of seeing the 2050 World Series are essentially zilch. I know the Giants' chances of playing in it are only a little better.
I notice the changes in my conversation. At Tracy's mother's nursing home, they used to call such exchanges "organ recitals" and banned them from lunch. But what the hell. Suddenly, late in life, you learn a great deal about the pancreas. Living is an educational experience, particularly the last bit."

You can read the whole article here: http://is.gd/drSd6

But, you see, I have this problem...I hate "doctor talk," especially "organ recitals," and so I make a big deal about telling people that I don't want to hear it. For a lot of old people, that removes about 90% of their typical conversational repartee...and they don't know what to do.

And, now that I've started this blog, I expect that people will want to talk to me about their own aches and pains as a fellow traveler in the process of growing old. Please don't!  Because if you do, I'm quite likely to faint. Seriously.

I first shared this tendency in public in a summer school class along about the seventh grade. I knew science was going to be a problem for me, so I decided to get it out of the way by taking it during summer school...less time spent on the topic, and much less focus on anything but the nice (hot!) weather outside by everybody...students and teacher alike. So we get to the quick swipe at biology, and I was hanging in there until we got to the circulatory system. The next thing I knew, I was looking up at a bunch of concerned faces from my prone position on the floor. My reward? I got to spend the next few days in the library doing a report on suntan...sigh...burned skin...another one of my favorite topics...

And long before I was aware of my "problem," I was also cognizant of one of the things you'll hear from pretty much everyone in my family: the "standard answer." It is quite simple, really. When someone asks you how you are, you say "I'm fine." Because most people don't really want to hear how you are anyway. Asking about how you are is a conversational device. For a while there, I was somewhat argumentative, and my response was "Do you really want to know?" People got off put by that...a lot...so I went back to the standard family answer. My uncle Lloyd said that to the day he died...even while he was in the hospital...my mother too, until she became too weak to speak.

So let's just leave it at that, OK? I don't want no stinkin' "organ recitals," and, when it comes to how I'm doing, or how I feel..."I'm fine."