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For Many Patients Leaving the ICU, the Struggle Has Only Just Begun

The accident happened in Pittsburgh on November 16. Joseph Masterson, a lawyer who was just days from retiring at age sixty-three, suffered cardiac arrest while driving, plowed into a guardrail, and lost consciousness.

Other drivers stopped, broke the car window, and pulled him to safety. A passing volunteer firefighter performed CPR until an ambulance arrived to take Masterson to UPMC Mercy hospital.

He spent eighteen days in the medical intensive care unit there, forteen of them on a ventilator. He developed delirium, a common ICU condition, and needed antipsychotic drugs. Despite a feeding tube, he lost weight. “We honestly weren’t confident that he would pull through,” said Ron Dedes, his brother-in-law.

But he did. Masterson was discharged February 1 and returned home with near-constant family support. Working diligently with several kinds of therapists, he has regained his ability to walk, despite lingering weakness, and to manage his personal care. His once-garbled speech has markedly improved. He can make himself a sandwich.

Now, “our biggest concern is his memory,” Dedes said. Masterson, who so recently handled complex legal matters, forgets conversations and events that happened a few hours earlier, said Patti Dedes, his sister. He can’t yet operate a microwave or place a phone call.

In an interview, he described himself, accurately, as “much, much better than I was” — but misstated his age. Screening tests after his discharge indicated cognitive impairment and depression.

Among critical-care doctors, prolonged symptoms like his are known as “post-intensive care syndrome,” or PICS. The fallout can be physical or psychological, as well as cognitive, and can persist for months or years.

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More than five million people annually are admitted to intensive care across about 5,000 American hospitals, and research shows that more than half experience such aftereffects. Older age increases the odds.

Patients and families are often startled by these continuing difficulties. “The belief is that they’ll be discharged from the hospital and in two or three weeks, they’ll be back to normal,” said Brad Butcher, who was Masterson’s doctor and wrote about PICS recently in the medical journal JAMA. “That doesn’t comport with reality.”

In fact, with greater ICU use and improved treatments — the Society of Critical Care Medicine estimates that 70% to 90% of adults now survive their stays — the population likely to encounter the syndrome is growing.

“Everyone is grateful that the patient has survived,” said Lauren Ferrante, a pulmonary critical-care doctor and researcher at the Yale School of Medicine. “But that’s just the start of a long road to recovery.” In a study of patients 70 and older that she co-authored, within six months after discharge only about half had returned to their pre-ICU functional ability.

Intensive care patients face a long list of challenges. PICS symptoms range from the physical — weakness, pain, neuropathy (tingling in arms and legs), and malnutrition — to mental health concerns, primarily anxiety and depression. Cognitive difficulties like Masterson’s are commonplace, including problems with memory, attention and concentration, and language.

“For many people, surviving a critical illness is a life-altering experience,” Butcher said. Patients in intensive care after emergency or elective surgery also have high rates of new physical, mental, and cognitive problems a year later.

The same aggressive treatments that save lives contribute to the syndrome. Intensive care patients “have some sort of dramatic organ failure that requires immediate attention” and constant monitoring, explained Carla Sevin, a pulmonary critical-care doctor who directs the ICU Recovery Center at Vanderbilt University Medical Center.

That could mean a breathing tube attached to a ventilator, which in turn often requires sedating drugs. Sedation “can precipitate delirium, and delirium is the key factor in cognitive symptoms,” Butcher said.

It doesn’t help that constant beeps and alarms from monitors and round-the-clock bright lighting disrupt sleep, and that restrictive family visiting hours deprive patients of reassuring faces and voices.

Gregory Matthews, a retired accountant in St. Petersburg, Florida, spent nearly a month in an ICU after a lung transplant in 2014. He still vividly remembers his hallucinations, including mice running across the wall and someone trying to frame him for drug running.

“One day, I thought a doctor was an assassin — I could see the rifle,” said Matthews, now eighty. “So I jumped out of bed,” he said, and yanked out his IVs. The staff put his arms in restraints for days.

But immobilization exacts its own toll as patients quickly lose muscle mass and strength. “Our bodies were not meant to lie in bed all day,” Ferrante said.

Psychologically, “PTSD is pretty common, similar to what’s seen in combat veterans or sexual assault survivors,” Sevin said, referring to post-traumatic stress disorder. Families can suffer anxiety and depression along with the patients.

Alarmed by such discoveries, doctors and administrators at about thirty-five U.S. hospitals have established post-ICU clinics, where teams of doctors, nurses, pharmacists, therapists (physical, occupational, cognitive, speech), and social workers screen for a host of conditions and help guide patients through them.

Vanderbilt’s clinic saw its first patient in 2012. The Critical Illness Recovery Center at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, which Butcher founded in 2018, works with about one hundred patients a year, including Masterson. Yale opened its clinic in 2022.

They rely on six practices recommended by the Society of Critical Care Medicine that are shown to significantly reduce post-ICU symptoms. The measures call for changes such as using lighter sedation, getting patients up and moving earlier, testing their breathing daily to wean them from ventilators sooner, and removing restrictions on family visiting.

Clinics often offer support groups for patients and families. There’s evidence that keeping an ICU diary, in which patients and caregivers record their experiences, and engaging in exercise and physical rehabilitation improve mental health after discharge.

Also on the clinics’ agenda: discussions of what other options patients might prefer if they face another critical illness, as many do. Would they agree to undergo intensive care and risk its aftereffects again? Or choose palliative care, which emphasizes comfort rather than cure? Some post-ICU patients remain permanently impaired.

Butcher, although he said that the use of the new practices needed to expand dramatically, sounded optimistic about the future of critical care. “We’re going to find better diagnostic tools, better preventive strategies, and better therapies,” he said.

For now, though, the ICU experience remains disorienting and sometimes traumatic. When Butcher asked 117 patients in his post-ICU clinic those next-time questions, many wanted to place limits on further medical interventions.

About a third would want to lower the level of aggressive care. Of those, about a quarter would want “do not resuscitate” and “do not intubate” orders, and almost 7% said they never wanted to return to an ICU.

Masterson is working hard to further his recovery. “I haven’t been out and about much,” he said. “I’ve been kind of homebound.” He hopes to get strong enough to resume running — he used to log three to four miles several times a week.

The future for patients contending with post-ICU syndrome often depends on their physical, mental, and cognitive health before their admission. Masterson’s previous fitness and cognitively demanding work bode well for his further progress, Butcher said.

His family remains alternatively hopeful and worried. “Down the road, what’s it going to be like?” Dedes, his brother-in-law, wondered. “We just take it day by day.”

The New Old Age is produced through a partnership with The New York Times.

Banks Are Becoming Bulwarks Against Scams for Vulnerable Seniors

The first call came just before Thanksgiving last year. She didn’t recognize the phone number, but she answered anyway.

“The person said he was an officer of the Department of Criminal Investigations looking into drug trafficking and money laundering,” the woman recalled. He seemed to know a lot about her: the states where she and her late husband had lived; his name and occupation; and her current address in Washington County, Rhode Island.

On her phone, he showed her a convincing badge and a photo ID with his name (“‘Frank’ something”), plus an article describing the supposed investigation. The woman, a 76-year-old retiree, denied any involvement.

“You can hire a very expensive criminal defense attorney, or you can cooperate with me,” Frank told her.

“Now, when you think about it, it doesn’t make any sense,” the woman acknowledged recently. But persuaded by the badge and ID, she agreed to cooperate. Otherwise, “I thought they were going to come and arrest me.”

Frank called each morning to learn where she was going, what she was doing. His team would be watching, he warned. The woman, feeling “petrified,” started looking around as she drove to garden club meetings. Was somebody following her?

It was all a scam.

Because victims’ sense of shame often leaves them reluctant to report such crimes, the extent of elder financial exploitation is hard to calculate. The Federal Trade Commission reported losses of $2.4 billion in 2024, largely driven by investment and romance scams and impersonations, with total losses much higher.

Americans age 60 and older lose more than $28 billion annually to financial exploitation, AARP estimated in 2023.

As those numbers rise, because the population is aging and predators are growing increasingly resourceful, banks and investment firms are becoming the first line of defense.

Frank’s initial target: her account at Fidelity Investments. He instructed her to shift about $250,000 into her checking account, telling the financial adviser at her local office that she and her family intended to buy real estate.

That scheme fizzled when the adviser said Fidelity could not approve the transaction without more information on the property.

So Frank sent her to her local branch of Washington Trust Company to take $70,000 in cash from a home-equity line of credit. “We don’t give out that much in cash,” the teller said, quietly messaging the branch manager, who had known the woman and her husband for years.

The manager ushered the woman into her office to talk, and the scam stopped there, with a call to the local police. The woman’s assets remained intact, but the experience proved so mortifying that she has not told even her family how close she came to losing much of her life savings. The New York Times is withholding her name to spare her embarrassment.

“I felt so stupid,” she said. “I felt like a fool.”

Financial predators targeting older adults represent “a heightened focus for us now,” said Mary Noons, president and chief operating officer of Washington Trust.

A regional community bank, Washington Trust cranked up its efforts last fall to advise older customers and their families about finances, including the dangers of elder fraud and exploitation. It published and distributed a booklet called “Age With Wisdom” and brought in an expert on dementia to speak with staff members.

And it became one of the 1,500 financial institutions to date to use BankSafe, a free AARP video program that trains front-line employees to spot the red flags indicating possible elder exploitation and to intervene. Everyone at the branch where the 76-year-old banked had taken the training.

“Some older customers visit their bank far more frequently than they see their health care providers,” Noons pointed out.

Until recent years, financial institutions placed “more of an emphasis on the autonomy of the client,” said Pamela Teaster, director of the Virginia Tech Center for Gerontology and an elder abuse researcher. Their approach was, “an adult has the capacity to make poor choices, and we’re going to let them make them,” she added.

But changes in government and industry policies and practices have encouraged greater vigilance. Congress passed the Senior Safe Act in 2018, protecting banks and financial firms from liability if they reported suspected exploitation to authorities.

That year, the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority began requiring member firms to ask for a trusted contact person when investors open or update accounts. (The account holder isn’t obliged to provide one, however.) And since 2022, it has allowed firms to place holds on older investors’ transactions if they suspect exploitation is involved.

About half of states have enacted laws that permit financial institutions to deny suspicious transactions or impose holds for specified periods to allow investigations, said Jilenne Gunther, the director of BankSafe.

“It adds friction,” she explained. “With space and time, the criminal gets worried and might move on. And the potential mark has time to stop and think.”

Teaster’s analysis of data from BankSafe, during a six-month pilot in 82 financial institutions, found that participants were much more likely to report suspected cases and save customers money than a control group was.

Not all of older adults’ losses result from predators, however. They can, on their own, get caught up in investment fads, take on too much debt, or make otherwise unwise decisions, even without criminals pulling the strings or relatives looting their accounts.

Managing finances presents complex cognitive challenges, said Mark Lachs, co-chief of geriatrics and palliative medicine at Weill Cornell Medicine. “It requires a lot of brain,” he said, including: “Memory, remembering that a bill is due. Executive function, the ability to manage your time. Abstraction, hypothesizing about your future.”

He added, “Financial errors are not infrequently the first sign of impending dementia or a neurocognitive disorder.”

2024 study by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York, for instance, found an increased probability of delinquent payments and deteriorating credit ratings in the five years before a dementia diagnosis. Those errors can reduce seniors’ access to credit and raise their interest rates on loans at the very point when caregiving expenses are likely to soar.

Lachs has called on fellow doctors to recognize what he calls Age-Associated Financial Vulnerability, a syndrome that can affect even older people with normal cognition, especially if they contend with medical illnesses, sensory deficits, or social isolation.

And he remains skeptical about the financial industry’s claims of heightened attention to its oldest customers. “I still see concerning financial transactions executed that should have received far greater scrutiny,” he said.

Training more front-line staff members and increasing emphasis on establishing trusted contacts for older customers would help, Gunther said, because “once the money leaves the account, it’s near impossible to ever retrieve it.” More states could enact laws allowing financial institutions to deny suspicious transactions or impose holds.

Several related bills with bipartisan support are working their way through Congress. The National Strategy for Combating Scams Act would require the FBI to coordinate efforts to protect seniors. A bill that restores an IRS deduction would at least provide the consolation of excusing scam victims from paying taxes on money they no longer have.

However, new weapons like artificial-intelligence voice cloning — in which the supposed grandson four states away who urgently needs $5,000 in gift cards actually sounds like the victim’s grandson — keep advocates and bankers awake at night.

In the Washington Trust branch where the Rhode Island woman didn’t lose her money, employees just days earlier had stopped a scam similar to the one that had targeted her.

But more recently, nobody spotted any danger signs when an older woman withdrew $9,000 for a kitchen renovation, until it went to a scammer instead of a contractor.

The New Old Age is produced through a partnership with The New York Times.

Wheelchair? Hearing Aids? Yes. ‘Disabled’? No Way

That’s a shame because accommodations of all kinds are available for those willing to ask for them. Many are required by law. Journalist Paula Span reports on the situation in this column, posted on KFF Health News on December 11, 2025. It also ran in the New York Times. Funding from the Silver Century Foundation helps KFF Health News produce articles (like this one) on longevity and related health and social issues. 

In her house in Ypsilanti, MI, Barbara Meade said, “there are walkers and wheelchairs and oxygen and cannulas all over the place.”

Barbara, 82, has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, so a portable oxygen tank accompanies her everywhere. Spinal stenosis limits her mobility, necessitating the walkers and wheelchairs and considerable help from her husband, Dennis, who serves as her primary caregiver.

“I know I need hearing aids,” Barbara added. “My hearing is horrible.” She acquired a pair a few years ago but rarely uses them.

Dennis Meade, 86, is more mobile, despite arthritis pain in one knee, but contends with his own hearing problems. Similarly dissatisfied with the hearing aids he once bought, he said, “I just got to the point where I say, ‘Talk louder.’”

But if you ask either of them a question included on a recent University of Michigan survey—“Do you identify as having a disability?”—the Meades answer promptly: No, they don’t.

Disability “means you can’t do things,” Dennis said. “As long as you can work with it and it’s not affecting your life that much, you don’t consider yourself disabled.”

Their daughter Michelle Meade, a rehabilitation psychologist and the director of the Center for Disability Health and Wellness at the university, accompanies her parents to medical appointments and tends to roll her eyes at their reluctance to acknowledge needing support.

Working with other researchers on the recent national poll has shown her how often older adults feel that they are not disabled despite ample evidence to the contrary.

Many people still feel like ‘disability’ is a dirty word.

— Megan Morris, PhD

The survey looked at nearly 3,000 Americans aged 50 and older and found that only a minority—fewer than 18 percent of participants over 65—saw themselves as having a disability.

Yet their responses to the six questions that the Census Bureau’s American Community Survey uses to track disability rates told a different story.

The survey asks whether respondents have difficulty seeing or hearing, limitations in walking or climbing stairs, difficulty concentrating or remembering, trouble dressing or bathing, difficulty working or problems leaving the home.

In the university’s survey, about a third of those aged 65 to 74 reported difficulty with one or more of those functions. Among those over 75, the figure was more than 44 percent.

Moreover, when respondents were asked about several additional health conditions that would require accommodations under the Americans with Disabilities Act, including respiratory problems or speech disorders, the proportion climbed even higher. Half the 65-to-74 group reported disabilities, as did about two-thirds of those over 75.

Yet only a sliver—fewer than one in five—of older adults had ever received an accommodation from their health care providers to which they are legally entitled under the ADA.

Even among the small minority who identified as disabled, only a quarter had asked for an accommodation (though a third received one, whether they asked or not).

“It’s a familiar story,” said Megan Morris, PhD, a rehabilitation researcher at NYU Langone Health and director of the Disability Equity Collaborative. When it comes to the way people describe themselves, “many people still feel like ‘disability’ is a dirty word,” she said.

It’s almost an American value to decline to seek help, even when the law requires that it be available, Michelle Meade added. Faced with a disability, she said, “we’re supposed to toughen up and battle through it.”

In health care settings, it helps a lot if you tell providers you have a disability and ask for help. 

That may be particularly true among older Americans whose attitudes formed before the landmark ADA became law in 1990, or even before the 50-year-old Individuals with Disabilities Education Act, which guaranteed access to public education.

“It’s going to be hard for that older generation,” Morris said. “Disability was something that was locked away. Younger folks are more open to seeing disability as being part of a community.”

In the University of Michigan survey, for instance, among people over 65 who had two or more disabilities, about half identified as a person with a disability. In the younger cohort, aged 50 to 64, it was 68 percent.

Why does that matter? “It greatly assists in health care settings if you disclose a disability and know to request an accommodation and support,” said Anjali Forber-Pratt, PhD, the research director at the American Association of Health and Disability.

Such accommodations “can make a stressful situation easier,” she added. They include mammography and X-ray machines that allow patients to remain seated, scales that wheelchair users can roll onto, examination tables that rise and lower so that patients don’t have to step onto a footstool and swivel around.

Health care providers may also offer amplification devices for people with hearing loss, as well as magnifiers and large print materials for the visually impaired. Buildings themselves must be accessible. Practices can send a staff member with a wheelchair to help patients traverse long distances.

Even with a disability parking placard, “you hike in, you wait for the elevator, you hike to the office,” said Emmie Poling, 75, a retired teacher in Menlo Park, CA.

Because of arthritis and spinal stenosis, “I can’t walk with an upright posture for more than a few minutes” without pain, she said. “I basically live on Tylenol.” Yet when she makes an appointment and the scheduler asks if she will need assistance, Poling replies that she won’t.

“My personal voice says, ‘Come on, you can do it,’” she said.

Patients who identify as disabled feel less depressed and anxious than those who don’t, according to research. 

Identifying as a person with a disability provides other benefits, advocates say. It can mean avoiding isolation and “being part of a community of people who are good problem-solvers, who figure things out and work in partnership to do things better,” Meade said.

Government programs and private organizations like the National Disability Rights Network,  the Americans with Disabilities Act National Network and the National Association of Councils on Developmental Disabilities help connect people with services and supports in their communities.

Several studies have found too that patients who identify as disabled have less depression and anxiety, higher self-esteem and a greater sense of self-efficacy than disabled people who don’t.

For years, despite a lifetime of surgeries for congenitally dislocated hips, as well as joint replacements and cancer treatment, Glenna Mills, an artist in Oakland, CA, told herself that she was not disabled.

“I suffered a lot by denying that I couldn’t walk very far,” she recalled. Although walking caused pain in her knees, hips and shoulders, “I didn’t want people to see me as someone who couldn’t keep up,” she added.

But about 10 years ago, “I stopped worrying about that,” said Mills, 82. “I was more willing to say, ‘I can’t do that activity. I can’t walk that far.’” She bought a scooter that allowed her to take walks with her husband and dog and to spend time in museums. “I’m happier now,” she said.

More often, older Americans resist a label that could help improve their care. Even those who do request accommodations may find that enforcement of the ADA remains spotty, in part because patients don’t always report violations.

The Meades, after years of pleading from their children, have made appointments to see an audiologist about new hearing aids.

But Poling intends to struggle on without seeking or accepting assistance. “I know that point will come,” she said. “I’ll attempt to surrender as gracefully as possible, given my personality.”

Until then, she said, “the mental picture that’s acceptable to me is not wanting to look like I’m disabled.”

Maybe It’s Not Just Aging. Maybe It’s Anemia.

Anemia is a common condition that can have serious medical consequences, but doctors often fail to recognize it. Journalist Paula Span investigates the situation here and has suggestions for patients. KFF Health News posted her column on July 17, 2025. It also ran in the New York Times. Funding from the Silver Century Foundation helps KFF Health News produce articles (like this one) on longevity and related health and social issues. 

Gary Sergott felt weary all the time. “I’d get tired, short of breath, a sort of malaise,” he said. He was cold even on warm days and looked pale with dark circles under his eyes.

His malady was not mysterious. As a retired nurse anesthetist, Sergott knew he had anemia, a deficiency of red blood cells. In his case, it was the consequence of a hereditary condition that caused almost daily nosebleeds and depleted his hemoglobin, the protein in red blood cells that delivers oxygen throughout the body.

But in consulting doctors about his fatigue, he found that many didn’t know how to help. They advised Sergott, who lives in Westminster, MD, to take iron tablets, usually the first-line treatment for anemia.

But like many older people, he found a daily regimen of four to six tablets hard to tolerate. Some patients taking iron complain of severe constipation or stomach cramps. Sergott felt “nauseated all the time.” And iron tablets don’t always work.

After almost fifteen years, he found a solution. Michael Auerbach, MD, a hematologist and an oncologist who is the co-director of the Center for Cancer and Blood Disorders in Baltimore, suggested that Sergott receive iron intravenously instead of orally.

Now Sergott, seventy-eight, gets an hourlong infusion when his hemoglobin levels and other markers show that he needs one, usually three times a year. “It’s like filling the gas tank,” he said. His symptoms recede, and “I feel great.”

His story reflects, however, the frequent dismissal of a common condition, one that can not only diminish older adults’ quality of life but also lead to serious health consequences, including falls, fractures and hospital stays.

One study found that 20 percent of nearly 2,000 people who were tested were anemic.

Anemia’s symptoms—tiredness, headaches, leg cramps, coldness, decreased ability to exercise, brain fog—are often attributed to aging itself, William Ershler, MD, a hematologist and researcher said. (Some people with anemia remain asymptomatic.)

“People say, ‘I feel weak, but everybody my age feels weak,’” Ershler said.

Even though hemoglobin levels are likely to have been included in their patients’ records, as part of the complete blood count, or CBC, routinely ordered during medical visits, doctors often fail to recognize anemia.

“The patients come to the clinic and get the blood tests, and nothing happens,” he said.

Anemia affects 12.5% of people over sixty, according to the most recent survey data from the National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey, and the rate rises thereafter.

But that may be an underestimate. In a study published in the Journal of the American Geriatrics Society, Ershler and his colleagues examined the electronic health records of almost 2,000 outpatients over sixty-five at Inova, the large health system based in Northern Virginia from which he recently retired.

Based on blood test results, the prevalence of anemia was much higher: about one in five patients was anemic,  with hemoglobin levels below normal as defined by the World Health Organization.

Yet only about a third of those patients had anemia properly documented in their medical charts.

One possible cause of anemia: blood loss, due to internal bleeding from ulcers, polyps, diabetes or other disorders.

Anemia “deserves our attention, but it doesn’t always get it,” said George Kuchel, MD, a geriatrician at the University of Connecticut, who wasn’t surprised by the findings.

That’s partly because anemia has so many causes, some more treatable than others. In perhaps a third of cases, it arises from a nutritional deficiency—usually a lack of iron—but sometimes of vitamin B12 or folate (called folic acid in synthetic form).

Older people may have decreased appetites or struggle to shop for food and prepare meals. But anemia can also follow blood loss from ulcers, polyps, diabetes and other causes of internal bleeding.

Surgery can also lead to iron deficiency. Mary Dagold, eighty-three, a retired librarian in Pikesville, MD, underwent three abdominal operations in 2019. She remained bedridden for weeks afterward and needed a feeding tube for months. Even after she healed, “the anemia didn’t go away,” she said.

She remembers feeling perpetually exhausted. “And I knew I wasn’t thinking the way I usually think,” she added. “I couldn’t read a novel.” Her primary care doctor and Auerbach both advised that oral iron was unlikely to help.

Iron tablets, available over the counter, are inexpensive. Intravenous iron, becoming more widely prescribed, can cost $350 to $2,400 per infusion depending on the formulation, Auerbach said.

Some patients find a single dose sufficient, while others will need regular treatment. Medicare covers it when tablets are hard to tolerate or ineffective.

For Dagold, a twenty-five-minute intravenous iron infusion every five weeks or so has made a startling difference. “It takes a few days, and then you feel well enough to go about your daily life,” she said. She has returned to her water aerobics class four days a week.

In about one-third of cases, the cause of the patient’s anemia is never pinned down. 

In other cases, anemia arises from chronic conditions like heart disease, kidney failure, bone marrow disorders or inflammatory bowel diseases.

“These people don’t lack iron, but they’re not able to process it to make red blood cells,” Kuchel said. Since iron supplements won’t be effective, doctors try to address the anemia by treating patients’ underlying illnesses.

Another reason to pay attention: “Loss of iron can be the first harbinger of colon cancer and stomach cancer,” Kuchel pointed out.

In about a third of patients, however, anemia remains frustratingly unexplained. “We’ve done everything, and we have no idea what’s causing it,” he said.

Learning more about anemia’s causes and treatments might prevent a lot of misery down the road. Besides its association with falls and fractures, anemia “can increase the severity of chronic illnesses—heart, lung, kidney, liver,” Auerbach said. “If it’s really severe and hemoglobin goes to life-threatening levels, it can cause a heart attack or stroke.”

Among the unknowns, however, is whether treating anemia early and restoring normal hemoglobin will prevent later illnesses. Still, “things are happening in this field,” Ershler said, pointing to a National Institute on Aging workshop on unexplained anemia held last year.

The American Society of Hematology has appointed a committee on diagnosing and treating iron deficiency and plans to publish new guidelines next year. The Iron Consortium at Oregon Health & Science University convened an international panel on managing iron deficiency and recently published its recommendations in The Lancet Haematology.

In the meantime, many older patients can gain access to their CBC results and thus their hemoglobin levels. The World Health Organization defines thirteen grams of hemoglobin per deciliter as normal for men, and twelve for nonpregnant women (though some hematologists argue that those thresholds are too low).

Asking health care providers about hemoglobin and iron levels, or using a patient portal to check the numbers themselves, could help patients steer conversations with their doctors away from fatigue or other symptoms as inevitable results of aging.

Perhaps they’re signs of anemia, and perhaps it’s treatable.

“Chances are, you’ve had a CBC in the last six months or a year,” Kuchel said. “If your hemoglobin is fine, great.”

But, he added, “If it’s really outside the normal boundaries, or it’s changed compared to a year ago, you need to ask questions.”

Vaccines Are Helping Older People More Than We Knew

Let’s be clear: The primary reason to be vaccinated against shingles is that two shots provide at least 90% protection against a painful, blistering disease that a third of Americans will suffer in their lifetimes, one that can cause lingering nerve pain and other nasty long-term consequences.

The most important reason for older adults to be vaccinated against the respiratory infection RSV is that their risk of being hospitalized with it declines by almost 70% in the year they get the shot, and by nearly 60% over two years.

And the main reason to roll up a sleeve for an annual flu shot is that when people do get infected, it also reliably reduces the severity of illness, though its effectiveness varies by how well scientists have predicted which strain of influenza shows up.

But other reasons for older people to be vaccinated are emerging. They are known, in doctor-speak, as off-target benefits, meaning that the shots do good things beyond preventing the diseases they were designed to avert.

The list of off-target benefits is lengthening as “the research has accumulated and accelerated over the last 10 years,” said William Schaffner, an infectious disease specialist at Vanderbilt University Medical Center in Nashville, Tennessee.

Some of these protections have been established by years of data; others are the subjects of more recent research, and the payoff is not yet as clear. The first RSV vaccines, for example, became available only in 2023.

Still, the findings “are really very consistent,” said Stefania Maggi, a geriatrician and senior fellow at the Institute of Neuroscience at the National Research Council in Padua, Italy.

She is the lead author of a recent meta-analysis, published in the British journal Age and Ageing, that found reduced risks of dementia after vaccination for an array of diseases. Given those “downstream effects,” she said, vaccines “are key tools to promote healthy aging and prevent physical and cognitive decline.”

Yet too many older adults, whose weakening immune systems and high rates of chronic illness put them at higher risk of infectious diseases, have not taken advantage of vaccination.

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported last week that about 31% of older adults had not yet received a flu shot. Only about 41% of adults 75 and older had ever been vaccinated against RSV, or respiratory syncytial virus, and about a third of seniors had received the most recent covid-19 vaccine.

The CDC recommends the one-and-done pneumococcal vaccine for adults 50 and older. An analysis in the American Journal of Preventive Medicine, however, estimated that from 2022, when new guidelines were issued, through 2024, only about 12% of those 67 to 74 received it, and about 8% of those 75 and older.

The strongest evidence for off-target benefits, dating back 25 years, shows reduced cardiovascular risk following flu shots.

Healthy older adults vaccinated against flu have substantially lower risks of hospitalization for heart failure, as well as for pneumonia and other respiratory infections. Vaccination against influenza has also been associated with lower risks of heart attack and stroke.

Moreover, many of these studies predate the more potent flu vaccines now recommended for older adults.

Could the RSV vaccine, protective against another respiratory illness, have similar cardiovascular effects? A recent large Danish study of older adults found a nearly 10% decline in cardiorespiratory hospitalizations — involving the heart and lungs — among the vaccinated versus a control group, a significant decrease.

Lowered rates of cardiovascular hospitalizations and stroke did not reach statistical significance, however. That may reflect a short follow-up period or inadequate diagnostic testing, cautioned Helen Chu, an infectious disease specialist at the University of Washington and co-author of an accompanying editorial in JAMA.

“I don’t think RSV behaves differently from flu,” Chu said. “It’s just too early to have the information for RSV, but I think it will show the same effect, maybe even more so.”

Vaccination against still another dangerous respiratory disease, covid, has been linked to a lower risk of developing long covid, with its damaging effects on physical and mental health.

Probably the most provocative findings concern vaccination against shingles, aka herpes zoster. Researchers made headlines last year when they documented an association between shingles vaccination and lower rates of dementia — even with the less effective vaccine that has since been replaced by Shingrix, approved in 2017.

Nearly all studies of off-target benefits are observational, because scientists cannot ethically withhold a safe, effective vaccine from a control group whose members could then become infected with the disease.

That means such studies are subject to “healthy volunteer bias,” because vaccinated patients may also practice other healthy habits, differentiating them from those not vaccinated.

Although researchers try to control for a variety of potentially confounding differences, from age and sex to health and education, “we can only say there’s a strong association, not a cause and effect,” Maggi said.

But Stanford researchers seized on a natural experiment in Wales in 2013, when the first shingles vaccine, Zostavax, became available to older people who had not yet turned 80. Anyone who had was ineligible.

Over seven years, dementia rates in participants who had been eligible for vaccination declined by 20% — even though only half had actually received the vaccine — compared with those who narrowly missed the cutoff.

“There are no reasons people born one week before were different from those born a few days later,” Maggi said. Studies in Australia and the United States have also found reductions in the odds of dementia following shingles shots.

In fact, in the meta-analysis Maggi and her team published, several other childhood and adult vaccinations appeared to have such effects. “We now know that many infections are associated with the onset of dementia, both Alzheimer’s and vascular,” she said.

In 21 studies involving more than 104 million participants in Europe, Asia, and North America, vaccination against shingles was associated with a 24% reduction in the risk of developing dementia. Flu vaccination was linked to a 13% reduction. Those vaccinated against pneumococcal disease had a 36% reduction in Alzheimer’s risk.

The Tdap vaccine against tetanus, diphtheria, and pertussis (whooping cough) is recommended for adults every 10 years, with vaccination among older adults often prompted by the birth of a grandchild, who cannot be fully vaccinated for months. It was associated with a one-third decline in dementia.

Other researchers are investigating the effects of shingles vaccination on heart attacks and stroke and of covid vaccination on cancer survival.

What causes such vaccine bonuses? Most hypotheses focus on the inflammation that arises when the immune system mobilizes to fight off an infection. “You have damage to the surrounding environment” in the body, “and that takes time to calm down,” Chu said.

The effects of inflammation can far outlast the initial illness. It may allow other infections to take hold, or cause heart attacks and strokes when clots form in narrowed blood vessels. “If you prevent the infection, you prevent this other damage,” Chu said.

Hospitalization itself, during which older patients can become deconditioned or develop delirium, is a risk factor for dementia, among other health problems. Vaccines that reduce hospitalization might therefore delay or ward off cognitive decline.

Health officials in the Trump administration have assailed childhood vaccines more than adult ones, but their vocal opposition may be contributing to inadequate vaccination among older Americans, too.

Many will not only miss out on the emerging off-target benefits but will remain vulnerable to the diseases the vaccines prevent or diminish.

“The current national policy on vaccination is at best uncertain, and in instances appears anti-vaccine,” said Schaffner, a former member of the CDC’s Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices. “All of us in public health are very, very distressed.”

The New Old Age” is produced through a partnership with The New York Times.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

Older Americans Quit Weight Loss Drugs in Droves

Year after year, Mary Bucklew strategized with a nurse practitioner about losing weight. “We tried exercise,” like walking thirty-five minutes a day, she recalled. “And 39,000 different diets.”

But five pounds would come off and then invariably reappear, said Bucklew, seventy-five, a public transit retiree in Ocean View, Delaware. Nothing seemed to make much difference — until 2023, when her body mass index slightly exceeded forty, the threshold for severe obesity.

“There’s this new drug I’d like you to try, if your insurance will pay for it,” the nurse practitioner advised. She was talking about Ozempic.

Medicare covered it for treating Type 2 diabetes but not for weight loss, and it cost more than $1,000 a month out-of-pocket. But to Bucklew’s surprise, her Medicare Advantage plan covered it even though she wasn’t diabetic, charging just a $25 monthly copay.

Pizza, pasta, and red wine suddenly became unappealing. The drug “changed what I wanted to eat,” she said. As twenty-five pounds slid away over six months, she felt less tired and found herself walking and biking more.

Then her Medicare plan notified her that it would no longer cover the drug. Calls and letters from her health care team, arguing that Ozempic was necessary for her health, had no effect.

With coverage denied, Bucklew became part of an unsettlingly large group: older adults who begin taking GLP-1s and related drugs — highly effective for diabetes, obesity, and several other serious health problems — and then stop taking them within months.

That usually means regaining weight and losing the associated health benefits, including lower blood pressure, cholesterol, and A1c, a measure of blood sugar levels over time.

Widely portrayed as wonder drugs, semaglutide (Ozempic, Wegovy, Rybelsus), tirzepatide (Zepbound, Mounjaro), and related medications have transformed the treatment of diabetes and obesity.

The FDA has approved several GLP-1s for additional uses, too — including to treat kidney disease and sleep apnea, and prevent heart attacks and strokes.

“They’re being studied for every purpose you can conceive of,” said Timothy Anderson, a health services researcher at the University of Pittsburgh and author of a recent JAMA Internal Medicine editorial about anti-obesity medications.

(Drug trials have found no impact on dementia, however.)

People sixty-five and older represent prime targets for such medications. “The prevalence of obesity hovers around 40%” in older adults, as measured by body mass index, said John Batsis, a geriatrician and obesity specialist at the University of North Carolina School of Medicine.

The proportion of people with Type 2 diabetes rises with age, too, to nearly 30% at age sixty-five and older. Yet a recent JAMA Cardiology study found that among Americans sixty-five and up with diabetes, about 60% discontinued semaglutide within a year.

Another study of 125,474 people with obesity or who are overweight found that almost 47% of those with Type 2 diabetes and nearly 65% of those without diabetes stopped taking GLP-1s within a year — a high rate, said Ezekiel Emanuel, a health services researcher at the University of Pennsylvania and senior author of the study.

Patients sixty-five and older were 20% to 30% more likely than younger ones to discontinue the drugs and less likely to return to them.

What explains this pattern? As many as 20% of patients may experience gastrointestinal problems. “Nausea, sometimes vomiting, bloating, diarrhea,” Anderson said, ticking off the most common side effects.

Linda Burghardt, a researcher in Great Neck, New York, started taking Wegovy because her doctor thought it might reduce arthritis pain in her knees and hips. “It was an experiment,” said Burghardt, seventy-nine, who couldn’t walk far and had stopped playing pickleball.

Within a month, she suffered several bouts of stomach upset that “went on for hours,” she said. “I was crying on the bathroom floor.” She stopped the drug.

Some patients find that medication-induced weight loss lessens rather than improves fitness, because another side effect is muscle loss. Several trials have reported that 35% to 45% of GLP-1 weight loss is not fat, but “lean mass” including muscle and bone.

Bill Colbert’s cherished hobby for fifty years, reenacting medieval combat, involves “putting on 90 pounds of steel-plate armor and fighting with broadswords.” A retired computer systems analyst in Churchill, Pennsylvania, he started on Mounjaro, successfully lowered his blood glucose, and lost 18 pounds in two months.

But “you could almost see the muscles melting away,” he recalled. Feeling too weak to fight well at age seventy-eight, he also discontinued the drug and now relies on other diabetes medications.

“During the aging process, we begin to lose muscle,” typically half a percent to 1% of muscle weight per year, said Zhenqi Liu, an endocrinologist at the University of Virginia who studies the effects of weight loss drugs. “For people on these medications, the process is much more accelerated.”

Losing muscle can lead to frailty, falls, and fractures, so doctors advise GLP-1 users to exercise, including strength training, and to eat enough protein.

The high rate of GLP-1 discontinuation may also reflect shortages; from 2022 to 2024, these drugs temporarily became hard to find. Further, patients may not grasp that they will most likely need the medications indefinitely, even after they meet their blood glucose or weight goals.

Re-initiating treatment involves its own hazards, Batsis cautioned. “If weight goes up and down, up and down, metabolically it sets people up for functional decline down the road.”

Of course, in considering why patients discontinue, “a large part of it is money,” Emanuel said. “Expensive drugs, not necessarily covered” by insurers. Indeed, in a Cleveland Clinic study of patients who discontinued semaglutide or tirzepatide, nearly half cited cost or insurance issues as the reason.

Some moderation in price has already occurred. The Biden administration capped out-of-pocket payments for all prescriptions that a Medicare beneficiary receives ($2,100 is the 2026 limit), and authorized annual price negotiations with manufacturers.

The reductions include Ozempic, Wegovy, and Rybelsus, though not until 2027. Medicare Part D drug plans will then pay $274, and since most beneficiaries pay 25% in coinsurance, their out-of-pocket monthly cost will sink to $68.50.

Perhaps even lower, if agreements announced in November between the Trump administration and drugmakers Eli Lilly and Novo Nordisk pan out.

The bigger question is whether Medicare will amend its original 2003 regulations, which prohibit Part D coverage for weight loss drugs. “An archaic policy,” said Stacie Dusetzina, a health policy researcher at the Vanderbilt University School of Medicine.

The Trump administration’s November announcement would expand Medicare eligibility for GLP-1s and related medications to include obesity, perhaps as early as spring. But key details remain unclear, Dusetzina said.

Medicare should cover anti-obesity drugs, many doctors argue. Americans still tend to think that “diabetes is a disease and obesity is a personal problem,” Emanuel said. “Wrong. Obesity is a disease, and it reduces life span and compromises health.”

But given the expense to insurers, Dusetzina warned, “if you expand the indications and extent of coverage, you’ll see premiums go up.”

For older patients, often underrepresented in clinical trials, questions about GLP-1s remain. Might a lower maintenance dose stabilize their weight? Can doses be spaced out? Could nutritional counseling and physical therapy offset muscle loss?

Bucklew, whose coverage was denied, would still like to resume Ozempic. But because of a recent sleep apnea diagnosis, she now qualifies for Zepbound with a $50 monthly copay.

She has seen no weight loss after three months. But as the dose increases, she said, “I’ll stay the course and give it a shot.”

The New Old Age is produced through a partnership with The New York Times.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

Honey, Sweetie, Dearie: The Perils of Elderspeak

Elderspeak is a kind of baby talk sometimes used when speaking to older people, especially those living with dementia. Elderspeak is common and it’s alienating. Journalist Paula Span reports that in one study, nursing home staff used elderspeak in 84 percent of interactions with residents. She has suggestions for what to do about it.  KFF Health News posted Span’s column on May 9, 2025. Funding from the Silver Century Foundation helps KFF Health News produce articles (like this one) on longevity and related health and social issues.  

A prime example of elderspeak: Cindy Smith was visiting her father in his assisted living apartment in Roseville, CA. An aide who was trying to induce him to do something— Smith no longer remembers exactly what—said, “Let me help you, sweetheart.”

“He just gave her The Look—under his bushy eyebrows—and said, ‘What, are we getting married?’” recalled Smith, who had a good laugh, she said. Her father was then 92, a retired county planner and a World War II veteran; macular degeneration had reduced the quality of his vision, and he used a walker to get around, but he remained cognitively sharp.

“He wouldn’t normally get too frosty with people,” Smith said. “But he did have the sense that he was a grown-up and he wasn’t always treated like one.”

People understand almost intuitively what “elderspeak” means. “It’s communication to older adults that sounds like baby talk,” said Clarissa Shaw, PhD, a dementia care researcher at the University of Iowa College of Nursing and a co-author of a recent article that helps researchers document its use. “It arises from an ageist assumption of frailty, incompetence and dependence.”

Its elements include inappropriate endearments. “Elderspeak can be controlling, kind of bossy, so to soften that message, there’s ‘honey,’ ‘dearie,’ ‘sweetie,’” said Kristine Williams, PhD, a nurse gerontologist at the University of Kansas School of Nursing and another co-author of the article. “We have negative stereotypes of older adults, so we change the way we talk.”

Or caregivers may resort to plural pronouns: Are we ready to take our bath? There, the implication “is that the person’s not able to act as an individual,” Williams said. “Hopefully, I’m not taking the bath with you.”

Sometimes, elderspeakers employ a louder volume, shorter sentences or simple words intoned slowly. Or they may adopt an exaggerated, singsong vocal quality more suited to preschoolers, along with words like “potty” or “jammies.”

With what are known as tag questions—It’s time for you to eat lunch now, right—”You’re asking them a question but you’re not letting them respond,” Williams explained. “You’re telling them how to respond.”

Studies in nursing homes show how commonplace such speech is. When Williams, Shaw, and their team analyzed video recordings of 80 interactions between staff and residents with dementia, they found that 84 percent involved some form of elderspeak. 

“Most of elderspeak is well intended. People are trying to show they care,” Williams said. “They don’t realize the negative messages that come through.”

For example, among nursing home residents with dementia, studies have found a relationship between exposure to elderspeak and behaviors collectively known as resistance to care.

“People can turn away or cry or say no,” Williams explained. “They may clench their mouths shut when you’re trying to feed them.” Sometimes, they push caregivers away or strike them.

She and her team developed a training program called CHAT, for Changing Talk: three hour-long sessions that include videos of communication between staff members and patients, intended to reduce elderspeak.

It worked. Before the training, in 13 nursing homes in Kansas and Missouri, almost 35 percent of the time spent in interactions consisted of elderspeak; that share dropped to about 20 percent afterward.

Furthermore, resistant behaviors accounted for almost 36 percent of the time spent in encounters; after training, that proportion fell to about 20 percent.

A study conducted in a Midwestern hospital, again among patients with dementia, found the same sort of decline in resistance behavior

What’s more, CHAT training in nursing homes was associated with lower use of antipsychotic drugs. Though the results did not reach statistical significance, due in part to the small sample size, the research team deemed them “clinically significant.”

“Many of these medications have a black box warning from the FDA,” Williams said of the drugs. “It’s risky to use them in frail, older adults” because of their side effects.

Now, Williams, Shaw and their colleagues have streamlined the CHAT training and adapted it for online use. They are examining its effects in about 200 nursing homes nationwide.

Even without formal training programs, individuals and institutions can combat elderspeak. Kathleen Carmody, owner of Senior Matters Home Health Care and Consulting in Columbus, OH, cautions her aides to address clients as Mr. or Mrs. or Ms., “unless or until they say, ‘Please call me Betty.’”

In long term care, however, families and residents may worry that correcting the way staff members speak could create antagonism.

A few years ago, Carol Fahy, PhD, was fuming about the way aides at an assisted living facility in suburban Cleveland treated her mother, who was blind and had become increasingly dependent in her 80s.

Calling her “sweetie” and “honey babe,” the staff “would hover and coo, and they put her hair up in two pigtails on top of her head, like you would with a toddler,” said Fahy, a psychologist in Kaneohe, HI.

Although she recognized the aides’ agreeable intentions, “there’s a falseness about it,” she said. “It doesn’t make someone feel good. It’s actually alienating.”

Fahy considered discussing her objections with the aides, but “I didn’t want them to retaliate.” Eventually, for several reasons, she moved her mother to another facility.

Yet objecting to elderspeak need not become adversarial, Shaw said. Residents and patients—and people who encounter elderspeak elsewhere, because it’s hardly limited to health care settings—can politely explain how they prefer to be spoken to and what they want to be called.

Cultural differences also come into play. Felipe Agudelo, PhD, who teaches health communications at Boston University, pointed out that in certain contexts a diminutive or term of endearment “doesn’t come from underestimating your intellectual ability. It’s a term of affection.”

He emigrated from Colombia, where his 80-year-old mother takes no offense when a doctor or health care worker asks her to “tómese la pastillita” (take this little pill) or “mueva la manito” (move the little hand).

That’s customary, and “she feels she’s talking to someone who cares,” Agudelo said.

“Come to a place of negotiation,” he advised. “It doesn’t have to be challenging. The patient has the right to say, ‘I don’t like your talking to me that way.’”

In return, the worker “should acknowledge that the recipient may not come from the same cultural background,” he said. That person can respond, “This is the way I usually talk, but I can change it.”

Lisa Greim, 65, a retired writer in Arvada, CO, pushed back against elderspeak recently when she enrolled in Medicare drug coverage.

Suddenly, she recounted in an email, a mail-order pharmacy began calling almost daily because she hadn’t filled a prescription as expected.

These “gently condescending” callers, apparently reading from a script, all said, “It’s hard to remember to take our meds, isn’t it?”—as if they were swallowing pills together with Greim.

Annoyed by their presumption, and their follow-up question about how frequently she forgot her medications, Greim informed them that having stocked up earlier, she had a sufficient supply, thanks. She would reorder when she needed more.

Then, “I asked them to stop calling,” she said. “And they did.”

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