The expression "My nerves are just gone"

What did he mean "my nerves are just gone"? Mrs Beans explained what she thought that meant with an example.."just like that music when we first went into taco bell tonight... " (interrupt to clarify...."you didn't like that music?") she continued... "I didn't say I didn't like it, I just couldn't take it, it was just in my head, it was very uncomfortable "...(and she trailed off with a "yikes" expression of someone whose "nerves are shot" but they are having to suffer the irritant anyway...)

Maybe, maybe thats what my greatgrandpa meant? He shared that with me when he was about 93 when I mentioned some activity involving a group of kids. "my nerves are just gone, I don't have any left". Any enhancing or clarifying visual cues into his meaning would only include him leaning into the message, with a serious "its a fact I've just accepted" look.

I reflect often on times we spent together. Picturing his expressions and remembering things he said or did. Wow, what an experience to have had in my life! Having the chance to be an adult and yet talk with your GREAT Grandfather...who is at that point already into his 90's by a few years. Nineties! And the years he lived in were quite a bit different! He has always been with me reminding me to see life as "comfortable", a place with laughter and orneriness and kindness.

He was always a kind, laugh-easy guy...to be sure, there was definitely an irish side of him that could harden up like a purposed steel tool and be downright mad...but that was seldom seen these days..mostly now just his playful orneryness that always had his eye cocked up and his tongue sticking out thru smiling lips, sheer glee in his eyes, glee and active orneriness!

That Randy Travis song about his grandpa , "I thought he walked on water" was SO about my great-grandpa in my eyes! That song captures it, I can "feel" it as if it were my heart singing it. (Right down to the part.."my momma's daddy was his oldest son")

I well remember a time back when I was still in the small end of single digits being in the bathroom, and upon finishing up decided to use that shaver I spotted on my way in there, and I climbed up on the counter quietly, so i could be next to the medicine cabinet- mirror and I was "shaving" like a grown up.

Just as I nicked my earlobe (just enough to bleed ) I could hear his voice reaching all the way in there from the other room..."you're not shaving are you?" and explained with some worry in your voice that I wasn't to do that. "No" I replied, thinking silently..."not anymore".
I was quiet too! But that man, he just "knew" stuff.

When I came out of the bathroom, he was ready and waiting on me, we were going to the store. He was enjoying having some time just he and his great grandson, he let me drive some of the way,...sitting in his lap with him kinda keeping his hands ready on the wheel.

In the rear-view mirror I saw him and he looked eye to eye with me pointing at the little shaving nick. His eyes were sparkling and gleeful and fired by orneriness..a big "I gotcha" smile...He didn't even ask about the blood dotted tissue paper wadding I had sticking to my ear. He knew. Somehow that didn't surprise me.

From deep within him he was kind. You could see that, clearly. We were headed to the store to get "Pixley" sticks...thats what I thought they had said, and it was years later before I realized that those were "Pixie" sticks. Man, being in the town called "Pixley", I was anxious to get some Fresh made Pixley sticks! He never corrected me. If he had been saying it right in the past, he now called them Pixley sticks.

We went from there, just down the street a short ways...to his son's car lot. Here I met my "Uncle Pete". I gotta tell ya about my much loved Uncle Pete another time,...and how he had been ornery & lovin it even on our first occasion to meet, though I didn't realize that till later.

Fast forwarding till I'm in my 30's, I'm now sitting there in a chair near him so he can hear me easier and I can see his eyes when we talk..at this point in his 90's but still living on his own in a semi- assisted apartment. When he spoke, I listened.

"My nerves are just, gone....i don't have any left." Is this the same as "my nerves are SHOT!?"...or is it something different entirely that I may not experience till I'm in my 90's ? Maybe how Mrs. Beans defined it "i didn't say I didn't like it, I just couldn't take it"...is precisely it. That would explain why many of the elderly find solitude in quiet dimly lit homes...cutting way down on all the sensory input.