This is 72: Dr. Susan Landers Responds to The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire
"I’ve exercised my mind in so many different ways since retirement, and both of my parents were sharp until their deaths at ages 94 and 97."
From the time I was 10, I’ve been obsessed with what it means to grow older. I’m curious about what it means to others, of all ages, and so I invite them to take “The Oldster Magazine Questionnaire.”
Here, retired neonatologist and author Dr. Susan Landers responds. -Sari Botton
Dr. Susan Landers is a retired neonatologist who practiced in the Neonatal ICU caring for sick newborns and premature babies for over 30 years. She is an accomplished, well-published academic and mother of three grown children. During her professional life, her interests were quality neonatal care, breastfeeding medicine, and donor human milk banking. Her interest in retirement is helping working mothers who struggle with attempting to balance their work and home lives.
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How old are you?
I am 72 years old.
Is there another age you associate with yourself in your mind? If so, what is it? And why, do you think?
In my head, I feel like I am 50. After the myriad struggles of midlife in my 40 — balancing career and raising children — I learned how to accomplish all the things I wanted to do professionally. My children were thriving, and 50 started a good decade for me emotionally, professionally, and personally. I changed into a great new job and pursued another avenue of professional development, from my routine of providing NICU care to one studying and encouraging the use of donor human breastmilk. So, feeling 50 makes me think that I have some answers and very little fear in pursuing what I want to do. Feeling 50 makes me feel wise and encourages me to practice generativity. Feeling 50 makes me want to help younger professional women who struggle with having it all — a full-time career, family, and some “me-time.”
I am not surprised that I must occasionally search for the word I want to use. There seems to be a slight pause between my brian’s image and the spoken word. Hopefully this is not a sign of early dementia. Thankfully, my memory is still sound, but I do not like not being unable to recall people’s names without effort.
Do you feel old for your age? Young for your age? Just right? Are you in step with your peers?
I feel young for my age since I do a lot to keep fit. I move a lot, and exercise nearly every day. My weekly routine: pilates twice, barre once, strength training twice, and walking for three miles on several days. Plus, I walk very fast, a habit I developed early during my medical career. You get more done if you move fast. My (non-medical) peers tend to move more slowly than I do. They may read more than I do, play mahjong more often, and travel more than I do, but I may be imagining that. I started my own book club so that I could stay in touch with my peers.
What do you like about being your age?
I like knowing a lot of things! I like reading medical articles and knowing what they really mean and whether the studies are sound. I like reading news and lay articles about medical advances that are not in my field. I like having the free time to read whatever I want — science books (Sapiens), news (NYT), magazines (The Atlantic), and essays in Substack newsletters. My book interests are predominantly fiction and historical fiction. I just dipped my toe into fantasy. My pilates teacher recommended Fourth Wing and I loved it!
What is difficult about being your age?
Since I have mild osteoporosis, I am extremely cautious about my risk of falling. I climb only onto low step-stools and never climb on a ladder. Truthfully, I climbed up a ladder to string some Christmas lights on my house when my husband was not around. He would have forbidden it. My good friend held the ladder for me, ha! I used to worry about the possible loss of mental acuity at an older age, but I have yet to experience that. I’ve exercised my mind in so many different ways since retirement, and both of my parents were sharp until their deaths at ages 94 and 97.
Added question: What have you done that’s kept your mind sharp?
I read a lot, maybe three or four books a month. I play games on Lumosity. I listen to NPR. I look at headlines in NYT and WSJ daily and read what interests me. I love reading various Substack newsletters,
, are two of my favorites. I write my newsletter, and I keep a gratitude journal. That’s about it.What is surprising about being your age, or different from what you expected, based on what you were told?
I used to enjoy wine with friends and with a fine meal. As I aged, I became less tolerant of alcohol. Drinking wine began to give me indigestion and poor sleep, so I quit. My parents drank scotch well into their 90s, and I wrongly assumed drinking would not bother me either.
I am not surprised that I must occasionally search for the word I want to use. There seems to be a slight pause between my brian’s image and the spoken word. Hopefully this is not a sign of early dementia. Thankfully, my memory is still sound, but I do not like not being unable to recall people’s names without effort.
I am fully aware that many physicians practice well into their 70s. However, I was an ICU doctor, taking night calls in the hospital at least weekly, running to emergency deliveries, resuscitating babies, and I could no longer do that well after the age of 64. I allowed myself to suffer real burnout at 62, and that prompted me to retire early. So aging took away my livelihood and my purpose in life.
What has aging given you? Taken away from you?
Aging has given me wisdom, however aging has taken away from me my sense of purpose and fulfillment with the practice of medicine. I am fully aware that many physicians practice well into their 70s. However, I was an ICU doctor, taking night calls in the hospital at least weekly, running to emergency deliveries, resuscitating babies, and I could no longer do that well after the age of 64. I allowed myself to suffer burnout, real burnout, at age 62, and that prompted me to retire early. So aging took away my livelihood and my purpose in life.
During the early years of retirement, I wrote a book about my experiences in the NICU, called So Many Babies. I picked out special stories which highlighted typical cases there, and I honestly revealed all of my struggles as a full-time physician mother.
How has getting older affected your sense of yourself, or your identity?
I miss my stethoscope, the small black one with the tiny neonatal head that I wore draped around my neck all the time. It allowed me to listen for breathing sounds and heartbeats so that I could reassure a new mother that her baby was alright. If not, I knew what to do. It allowed me to do so many other helpful things in the NICU with scads of sick babies. My little stethoscope marked my privilege in being a healer. To me, it also felt like a badge of honor. One has to work very hard to achieve my level of expertise. I really miss being a doctor, which was such a huge source of enjoyment for me over my thirty-nine years of practice (since graduation from medical school). My identity is undoubtedly as a physician, healer, and a caring compassionate person.
Medicine is an intimate practice, since the depths at which you get to know and care for others is immeasurable. I could attend the delivery of premature triplets, take care of each of them for four to six months, send them home healthy, and then keep up with their mother so that she would send me their prom photos at age 18. I could walk into Nordstrom to buy some jeans and have a mother ask, “Are you Dr. Landers?” And I would respond, “Yes,” as I slowly remembered her name and face. Then she would announce to all those around us, “This doctor saved my son’s life sixteen years ago!” That is what medical practice gives you!
I miss my stethoscope, the small black one with the tiny neonatal head that I wore draped around my neck all the time. It allowed me to listen for breathing sounds and heartbeats so that I could reassure a new mother that her baby was alright. If not, I knew what to do. It allowed me to do so many other helpful things in the NICU with scads of sick babies. My little stethoscope marked my privilege in being a healer. To me, it also felt like a badge of honor.
What are some age-related milestones you are looking forward to? Or ones you “missed,” and might try to reach later, off-schedule, according to our culture and its expectations?
I would like to travel more often and visit more unusual and beautiful places. I am married to a penny-pinching saver who is worried that we will not have enough money to last into our 90s. So, he does not allow me more than one or two trips each year.
I am looking forward to having more grandchildren. Currently, I have only two, but they are lovely, bright, active and funny. I wish I had six!
What has been your favorite age so far, and why? Would you go back to this age if you could?
I had my first child when I was 34, so that was my favorite age — the age when I first became a mother. Throughout my medical training, four years of medical school, three years of pediatrics residency, and three years of neonatology fellowship, I was alone and sadly concluded that I would never marry and have a family.
Thankfully, I met my brilliant, albeit laid back, husband, also a dedicated physician, who was the perfect balance for my high-strung, perfectionistic tendencies. I always wanted a big family — raised in the deep South there is no other way — and he cooperated. So when I became a mother, knowing so much about babies, it was love at first sight.
Together we raised three children and have been happily married for forty years. I loved being a mother so intensely that I measured it against my love of practicing medicine. Some days I waver between which role was more fulfilling and more challenging.
Is there someone who is older than you, who makes growing older inspiring to you? Who is your aging idol and why?
My aging idol was Ruth Bader Ginsburg, because she made a real difference in our world and she continued to work diligently until she was very old. She was bright, well read, and outspoken, characteristics that I value.
I refuse to slow down and just sit around and watch TV. My mother-in-law did this and it was pitiful to watch. I want to go places, travel, and do things. I am learning pickleball and getting better at mahjong. I want to write another book and play outside in the park with my grandchildren.
What aging-related adjustments have you recently made, style-wise, beauty-wise, health-wise?
I exercise enthusiatically to maintain my health and my bone density. My auburn, red hair (which I once loved) is now strawberry blonde and rapidly turning white, which I fear will make me look too old. So, I allow a stylist to color it to keep it blondish for a while longer.
I wore scrubs throughout most of my career, and they were comfortable. In retirement, now I wear blue jeans and tunics most often, rarely dresses. My style remains comfortable, not proper. I rarely wear makeup, since leaning over to care for a baby on a warming bed in the NICU often melted the mascara and make-up on my face. It became not worth it to even try.
What’s an aging-related adjustment you refuse to make, and why?
I refuse to slow down and just sit around and watch TV. My mother-in-law did this and it was pitiful to watch. I want to go places, travel, and do things. I am learning pickleball and getting better at mahjong. I want to write another book and play outside in the park with my grandchildren.
What’s your philosophy on celebrating birthdays as an adult? How do you celebrate yours?
The last giant birthday party I was given occurred at age 60. We rented a river boat which slowly cruised the Colorado River running through Austin, while drinks and dinner were served. Everyone had a wonderful, memorable time and I felt really special! All of my other birthdays have been small intimate affairs with family.
I love Oldster. You’re saving my life.
Particularly vivid and touching: missing the stethoscope that connected Susan to her tiny patients in the NICU, where she made a difference all day and every day. This is the bittersweet part of leaving any job that has formed you, even when it’s time to go. I left my job 20 years ago and wouldn’t go back (as if they would have me!), but there’s nothing like the capacity the right job provides for making a difference you can see and touch. I wish Susan well in her adventures.