Doctor, Doctor, Talk to Us about Senior Sex
Angry and/or bewildered readers write me or raise their hands at my talks with tales of doctors who can’t or won’t inform them about sex.
Just a few of the many examples seniors have shared with me:
- One woman described how her oncologist bolted from the room when she asked how her cancer treatment would affect her sexuality.
- A man emailed me that he finally got the nerve to tell his doctor that he could no longer have erections. “You have ED,” he was told, and that was that. I was the one to tell him that ED is a symptom, not a diagnosis, and he needed to get tests run to find out what was going on.
- Several women with vaginal pain reported that their doctors offered them no help other than telling them their vaginas were “normal” and they should just use more lubricant. A referral to a vulvar pain specialist or a pelvic floor therapist would have helped these women enjoy sex again.
- Several men told me that they were never told that treatments for their medical conditions would interfere with their erectile difficulty and that other options were available.
A woman at one of my bookstore talks told a roomful of sympathetic listeners that after a hysterectomy at age 70+, she asked her doctor what she should know about resuming sex. He asked, “Do you have a partner?” “No, she replied. “Then you don’t need to worry about that, do you?”
When I retell this story in different parts of the country on my travels, there’s always someone who says, “I know that doctor!”
I always rush to defend doctors, being a doctor’s daughter and a doctor’s sister, and having had my own life saved and quality of life restored by brilliant medical professionals.
But that doesn’t mean that I think doctors and other medical professionals adequately address senior sex — they do not. I know that their medical training barely addresses sexuality at all, and doesn’t deal with senior sex whatsoever. Unless doctors make an effort to educate themselves (and bless ’em, some do!), they just don’t know what to tell us.
I give my readers and audiences tools for talking to their doctors, for example, saying, “If you can’t help me with this, give a referral to someone who can.”
The worst thing we can do is keep silent about our sexual challenges or mumble and give up.
I invite your comments — your stories about doctors who have or have not helped you regarding your sexuality, and especially what you would like doctors to know about what we seniors/boomers/elders need from them in that realm.
For example, Ron posted to my Naked at Our Age Facebook page (which I hope you’ll visit and “like”!), “Docs need to be up on the sexual side effects of medications and we need to be sure to tell docs we don’t want any meds that somehow reduce our libido or capability.”
Your turn!
Grief Sucks
Last night, I burst into tears in the locker room of the health club where I teach line dancing. I haven’t done that in a long time, and it surprised me, but I couldn’t control it.
We’re coming up on the third anniversary of Robert’s death August 2, and the dance class was a huge part of our love story. We met in my class and we fell in love there. The loss happened there, too — he announced his cancer diagnosis to the class, kept dancing even as he got weaker, until he finally couldn’t do it any more.
“Dance with Joan, and you’re dancing with me,” he wrote in a letter to the class when he needed to tell them he wouldn’t be back.
The first year after Robert died, I cried after dance class on a regular basis. I also cried in private, in public, in my car. I cried in the park, at the DMV, at Trader Joe’s, in the doctor’s office, walking along the street.
I couldn’t help it. It was like my heart caved in and squeezed out huge, unstoppable waves of sobs. I wailed, too, but at least I could hold back the screams until I was in a private place (though my neighbors came running once).
Do I miss Robert still, almost three years after his death? Only when I breathe. Only when I open or close my eyes.
Oh, I function very well. I write, I teach my dance classes, I travel talking about senior sex — my favorite subject! How lucky I am to get to spend my day doing what I love!
I laugh a lot and I make others laugh. I learn, I teach, and what I do helps other people. I do find joy in my life. It’s a good life, I know that. I’m even kinda sorta dipping my toes into dating, as you know from my (very infrequent!) posts about dating, such as this one.
But I’m not done with grief, perhaps I never will be. Those of you who have lost a loved one know the grief journey isn’t predictable. You can be doing just fine, and then, boom, you burst out crying in the locker room.
The emotional stab wounds close up, then rip open again. I know this is “normal” because grief isn’t linear, it’s cyclical. Thank goodness, each year it gets easier to cope. As my uncle, psychotherapist Larry LeShan who lost his wife of 58 years, says, “The knife still keeps stabbing, but not as deep or as often.”
I didn’t want to call this post “Grief Sucks.” I don’t like the term, and personally, I think sucking is a delightful pasttime and shouldn’t be associated with a negative experience. But hey, this post wrote itself and insisted on that title. Sometimes that happens.
As always, I welcome your comments.
Your Questions about Senior Sex
When I give a talk about senior sex, my favorite part is answering your questions. I feel both proud and humble that you trust me (and the audience) enough to voice your concerns.
I’ve been traveling to tell people about my new book, Naked at Our Age: Talking Out Loud About Senior Sex and talking at bookstores, sexuality shops, a senior center, a restaurant, and my 50th high school reunion (!) about the myths and realities of older age sexuality. Here are some of the most frequent questions and topics you’ve been sharing:
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The #1 question from partnered seniors is how to revive a dull, infrequent, or nonexistent sex life. I talk about scheduling sex and understanding that at our age, desire often follows physiological arousal rather than the other way around. In other words, getting started with touching and kissing will get you in the mood after your body starts responding — don’t wait to be in the mood.
- Single seniors ask about the importance of safe sex, hoping (from the wording of your questions and the looks on your faces) that I’ll tell you we probably don’t need condoms at our age. I tell you the opposite of that — yes, we need to use condoms, and we should do so whether someone tells us his or her health history or not. The fastest growing population for new HIV infections is the over 50 age group.
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Women whose partners experience erectile difficulties often don’t understand what’s going on (“Is it because I don’t attract him any more?”) or what to do to keep the sensuality going in the relationship (“Isn’t it cruel teasing if I want to touch and be touched?”).
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Both men and women scoff at the idea of sex toys until I tell them why a well-placed vibrator can mean the difference between orgasm or not.
Is it any surprise that that one place people were reluctant to ask questions was my high school reunion? It’s understandable — we were with people we hadn’t seen since we were 17 and our main sex problem was how to hide our activities from our parents! When I saw that my classmates were uneasy about asking questions, I said, “If you’d rather talk to me privately, I’ll be giving consultations in the corner.”
For the rest of the weekend, people came up to me to request their “consultation in the corner”!
Your comments are welcome. If you were in my audience, what question do you hope I’d answer? If you’re brave, include the answer you think I’d give!
If you want to be in my audience for real, click here to see my upcoming events. I’d love to meet you!
Moving Forward, but Not Saying Goodbye
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| Celebrating Robert’s 71st birthday |
“The task of saying good-bye seems insurmountable,” a friend wrote after losing her husband one month ago to the same cancer — multiple myeloma — that ripped my Robert’s life from him. I wrote this to her yesterday:
On August 2, it will be 3 years since I lost Robert. But I haven’t said goodbye to him yet, nor do I plan to. I talk to him still — and sometimes he answers.
I find joy in my life (especially now that my new book has come out and I’m giving talks and interviews), and I’m still startled by the realization that I can’t come home and tell him about what happened. Then I DO come home and tell him about what happened.
Is it magical thinking? Denial? It sustains me, whatever it is. You’ll figure out how to sustain yourself through this loss eventually, but that can’t be rushed. Meanwhile, just be real with your children, and take time for yourself, even if it’s painful. You can’t skip that part.
I really, really recommend counseling — as much as you can get!
If you want to talk, or go for a walk and let any thoughts emerge that need to, I’m available. Even if you want to say, “I’m not ready yet, but I’ll let you know when I am” (which is what I had to tell people who offered early in my grief journey), I’ll welcome your message.
Love,
Joan
I know that some of my readers have also lost their beloved partners, and I extend my invitation to listen if you want to talk. I wasn’t strong enough to do this at first, but one little step at a time, I got there. So many people helped me when I needed it most that it would give me joy to pass it forward and help others. Email me if you need to share.
I wrote the grief chapter in Naked at Our Age through tears. It was very important to include my own and reader stories of grief, because part of love and sex at our age is, sadly, that one of us will lose the other.
Last week, a woman at one of my talks bought my book, saying that she had just lost her husband. I held her hand and listened, and suggested that she read the grief chapter first. “I already did, while I was waiting. That’s what made me decide to buy it.”
I welcome your comments.
