Coming to terms with the loneliness of the long-distance hummer

My great-grandfather was a hummer. My enduring image is of him teetering around humming a tuneless refrain.

According to the experts, humming isn’t necessarily a sign of impending loss of marbles.

My great-grandfather was a hummer. My enduring image of the old fellow is of him teetering around the yard or hobbling down the hallway on slightly bowed legs, resplendent in shorts and a white Chesty Bonds wife-beater, humming a tuneless but curiously catchy refrain.

So catchy, in fact, that I have lately found myself hobbling around my own flat humming the very same non-tune.

Which got me wondering. Is humming hereditary? Is it simply the non-singer’s substitute for bursting into song in the shower? Is it some latter-mid-life recrudescence of a childhood penchant for chanting, whereby I would drive my family nuts by repeating little snatches of television commercials or invented rhymes ad nauseam?

Perhaps it’s a symptom of solitude and a way to break the long silences that accompany living alone — the loneliness of the long-distance hummer — or a way of coping with the pain of my increasingly uncooperative hip that, as I mentioned in my previous column, has me staring down the barrel of hip replacement surgery at the grand old age of 50.

Or could it be some more sinister symptom of a long slide towards senescence? I thought some research was in order, the better to understand my recent onset of atonal self-serenades.

Apparently humming is quite the thing among the elderly, not to mention a source of great irritation among those who care for the same or even have to be in proximity to them.

“This may seem a strange question but have you noticed that men over a certain age have an annoying habit of humming?” asks one correspondent to an online agony aunt. “It may seem faintly amusing, but I tell you what, I am slowly but surely going round the bend cos I have one sitting next to me at work and he doesn’t stop humming or talking to himself ALL day. My nerves are getting pretty shattered and I almost dread coming into work now and I used to love my job. I wear earphones all day and this is doing my head in too. Please HELP, what can I do?!!!!”

Alarmingly, humming is common among those suffering from Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia, and can manifest itself constantly, in public places, while eating or during conversation. It may come out as the same snatch of tune over and over or simply a monotone buzz.

But according to the experts, humming isn’t necessarily a sign of impending loss of marbles but can simply be a way to calm frayed nerves and activate the parasympathetic nervous system: a kind of sonic chicken soup for the soul. Further, it transpires that a hum can camouflage inner chaos, reduce the thoughts churning in one’s head, summon memories of happier times and elevate one’s mood, supplanting the confusion and fear of pain or impending illness. Humming can naturally calm and refresh the mind, greatly increase oxygenation and blood flow, not just in the sinus cavities but also in the brain and elsewhere in the body. There may even be benefits similar to meditation, with the calming, mood-elevating and life-affirming effects that accompany mindfulness and chanting a mantra.

On the flip side, repetitive behaviours such as humming, hand-rubbing, foot-tapping and leg-jiggling (guilty as charged) can mark the early stages of frontotemporal dementia, along with other symptoms such as being insensitive or rude, loss of inhibitions, acting impulsively or rashly, losing interest in people and things, losing drive and motivation, inability to empathise with others, seeming cold and selfish, overeating, a change in food preferences such as craving sweet foods, poor table manners and neglecting personal hygiene.

Fortunately, I’ve never had any of these problems, and I don’t think my humming has crossed over into the workplace. Although the other night while eating my third peanut butter, bacon, jelly and ice cream sandwich, I realised my neighbour’s television was too loud, so I charged upstairs in my underpants, banged on their door, screamed abuse in their face along with a spray of little nuggets of peanut butter, bacon and jelly, told them they were a waste of space and an insult to humanity, then I returned to my apartment, forgot what I’d been doing, thought “bugger it, who cares anyway”, and went to bed without bothering to shower or clean my teeth.

Ho hum. Just another day in paradise. Great-grandfather would be proud.