A New Malady – Peter Culley – 29th

Life is full of surprises. One such revealed itself recently to me courtesy of the NHS. Being a somewhat cynical old b*****d I had long anticipated that – as I entered what is coyly labelled “the twilight of my life” – the overstretched medical services of this country would probably lose interest and complacently await my departure while concentrating their efforts on younger and fitter members of society.
Not a bit of it! To my eternal surprise my local NHS providers appear to have adopted the daunting challenge of preserving me until a reach my centenary. I am currently therefore being monitored by both the Shrewsbury Hospital (Nephrology Dept) and the Telford Hospital (Heart Assessment Team and the Heart Failure Ambulatory Unit). The terminology is both Greek to me, and also strangely frightening!
In common with many others today I suspect the postman seems to make just one delivery each week, and yet they almost inevitably contain at least one envelope marked ‘NHS’ sending me reports, offering inoculations, requesting blood tests, etc. A recent letter to my GP (copied to me) listed my current condition. Among other things It contained references to ‘kidney problems’, ‘Urinary issues’, ‘hypertension’ and ‘atrial fibrillation’. It really scared me I can tell you.
Of course all these issues are really part and parcel of the ageing process and rational people must come to expect them (and many are a damn sight more serious than those listed above). The object of this article is to draw your attention to a further – largely unreported – facet of growing old which I witnessed last weekend and would like to explore further.
On 13 June 2026 I travelled to Northampton to attend the Annual Reunion of colleagues who joined the RAF as Apprentices back in the 1950’s. Due to Anno Domini we are a dwindling band of brothers but we are comrades who have shared a common experience which binds us together. Inevitably the current state of the nation was briefly discussed as was our concern for its future. But the overriding topic of our conversations (and the subject of much mirth and fond memories) was that other affliction of old age, namely Nostalgia. We revelled in it and -I admit – wallowed in it to the extent that I found quite emotional. I make no apology. On my return home I tried to analyse this symptom of growing old.
Do all generations indulge in this behaviour with the onset of old age? Did the Saxons mourn the passing of their way of life after 1066? Did the farm labourers of the Agricultural Revolution feel nostalgic as their lives changed so drastically with the coming of the Industrial Revolution? I have no idea, but my colleagues last Saturday were unanimous that – by and large, all things considered, etc – life was better then in so many ways. I am not so naïve as to claim that life then was perfect and we all enjoyed an idyllic existence, but, from what I recall of our early adulthood it was preferable to what we have now. I certainly feel that way. All credit to the RAF.
Clearly the very introduction of Nostalgia has its pros and cons. On the one hand it can enshrine fond memories of our past lives, while – under different circumstances – it could be a curse we could do without.
Sadly this is one effect of growing old for which the NHS has no remedy, no magic pills. All I would say is that the onset of old age is akin to the onset of Winter after Spring and Summer. Both are notable for their attendant coldness. If you are lucky enough look upon Nostalgia as your personal electric blanket. It will help you to keep warm and it is certainly a big improvement on Paracetamol!