Category: aging

Those Moments

Shirleyjdietz4 Comments

There are moments of reflection, and I seem to have a lot of them lately, where I think “what if I never get to do this (fill in the blank) again?”  I have done a bunch of really fun things that I never intended to stop doing but haven’t had a chance to repeat.  

Last week, cleaning files, I found my maps and notes from my two Appalachian hikes.  I know the exact section I wanted to do next but have not gotten back.

And later, the three day walk for breast cancer – I did 60 miles and it was so gratifying to have made it to the end. I’m having trouble with my knees now and wonder if it is permanent or temporary.  

I found the handbook for the trail ride my daughter and I took across Florida, the menu from the chuck wagon, and the schedule of ranches that where we camped. My horse lives four hours away from me now and I rarely ever get to ride. Will it happen again?  Have I put these plans and dreams away?  

All this came to mind yesterday, at the pool of all places.  I don’t go to a pool very often but I have always loved to swim.  My childhood was full of long afternoons at the lake swimming and making up water games with my brothers and friends.  Here I was with Gracie, who is eight and in that early stage of water love that I remembered so clearly.  We had a few little races and tested how long we could hold our breath underwater.

I got one of those moments of reflection.  Some body memories never leave you and I could sooo feel the arch of my back and the body swirl of a backward somersault in the water.  Thought I, to myself, “do it again, it’s only water, how could you possibly hurt yourself?”  

(Are you poised for disaster?)

I was right, it didn’t hurt.  It felt downright good. (fooled you?)

 Gracie was very impressed and we spent a few minutes while she tried it and practiced.  As we did, we migrated to the height of water most convenient for her, about 3 1/2 feet. .My next backward flip demo was a little short on water depth, and I found myself kissing the floor of the pool at the bottom of my circle.  Well, not even that really. I scraped the tip of my nose and chin, but the redness kind of disappeared into the sunburn I had already gotten. I appear unscathed.  

It’s kind of nice to find that you CAN do it again, sometimes. You might have to think it through and be a little more careful, but you can do it.  If you want to.  If you don’t care that you are the only person over 60 in the pool doing handstands and back flips… just sayin’.

Where’s the Lid?

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Who would expect mayhem in such a peaceful place?
Who would expect mayhem in such a peaceful place?

It’s as if someone left the lid off the crazy bottle lately and little demons are spilling out all over.  Evidently I completely missed a life or death battle next door last night.  True, the person who related the story to me is a bit given to drama –  if he was really being chased around the yard by an angry woman with a shovel, would I not have seen that? Sigh.  We have two adjoining houses in the oneacrewoods.  We’ve rented out the second house ever since my parents stopped coming down in the winter.  I would say that probably 75% of the renters have been people we enjoyed having next door.  The other 25% have given us some bizarre stories to tell.  I have come to understand that this is all part of being a landlord and no matter how careful one tries to be, situations change, things happen.  The ideal appearing applicant is still a human being with life problems and things can go crazy down the road. I wonder if the message I see in all the recent events is that it’s time to make life a little less complicated.  Simplification can be a beautiful, freeing thing and I might be ready for some of that.  What am I going to want to put up with in five years? ten years? or, for instance, when I’m 90? This week I went to visit the 90 year old lady, living by herself, who needed some help dealing with her security company (read about it here) .  We were able to solve that problem without too much trouble, but I became aware of other problems that come with age and limited mobility.  After we cleared a place off at the table where months of mail was stacked, our conversation turned to how she hadn’t eaten much that day and wished she had a complete food for herself like she did for her dog.  Some sort of pelletized people food would be ideal.  She still drives her truck to the store for milk but she admitted that it was getting a little scary.  And yet she hesitated at my offer of help.  Her mind knows she is not taking good care of herself but her body makes it hard for her to do any better. We are all getting older and we need to watch out for each other and help each other when we can.  I’m just saying, who do you know who needs some  looking after?  Food for thought.

The Way Things Are

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I have no control, not really.  I may make appointments and think I know where I’m going to be, but it’s never really the case.  It’s such a true saying “wherever I go, there I am” and that’s about all I can count on.  It’s okay.  It relieves me of a lot of responsibility. I didn’t even get upset last night when the post I’d spent a couple hours thinking through and writing down disappeared when I inadvertently moved my hand in front of the touch screen.  I guess WordPress doesn’t have automatic update/save.  That’s the way things are.

Today I am put in charge of a situation to solve for someone else, if I can.  I have total compassion for people who by some strength of body and mind have managed to live to be old, like over 90, and still are taking care of themselves.  But things get difficult and maybe it’s hard to remember how you used to take care of difficulties with contracts and bills and harassing phone calls.  So you are happy to let someone help you.  I was volunteered for this job.

My friend C. who is younger, only a year or so past 80, has taken to looking after a neighbor, the above mentioned person.  A while back she fell in the driveway on her way to the mailbox and couldn’t get up. Someone noticed and came to her aid.  Later when C. was with her he suggested she get some kind of device she could use to summon help.  She had one – it was in the house, when she was in the driveway.  He found out she was a bit disturbed with a bill she had gotten from the security company.  She had an experience with a rather sharp tongued customer service rep when she called to ask about it.  She didn’t understand and C. couldn’t explain it to her but he told her Shirley would take care of it, not to worry.  Right.

After half a dozen calls I finally get to someone who might have info on this account and, as usual, I have to have a password or they won’t address the issue with me.  That’s the way things are.  What are the chances our 90 year old friend will remember a password she chose three months ago?  I don’t remember passwords I chose last week.

It’s a strange day outside.  It is bright and sunny except for the three or four times (about every hour) when a cloud has coasted overhead and dumped torrential rain for 10 minutes or so.  We are in Florida and that also is just the way things are.

Honor

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Today I will think of all the spent hours of your life that translated into food for my body, clothing to cover me and as much security as you knew how to create.  Today I will consider that you started out as a teenage man with little instruction in family life, except that you grew up in a family yourself.  I will think about the times you changed your path and the uncertainty you must have felt as you searched for a better way to provide.  I will think about why you would fall asleep in your chair at the end of all those long days – not from laziness or drunkenness or escapism, but because you were physically exhausted.

I will realize that as a human you probably experienced sadness, frustration, anger (oh yeah), despair and doubt and yet you never bothered us children with any of it.  We had little knowledge of your struggles because you were a man and we were self absorbed children.  You taught us how to work alongside of you, but you always worked harder and longer.  And yet I can remember that you sang in the barn, and whistled and tried to yodel.  You modeled that it was possible, and desirable to enjoy work.  You gave me the idea that sometimes when trouble seems overwhelming the best thing to do is just go out and work at something.  Sometimes the trouble loses interest and goes away unfulfilled.  And at any rate, working is better than worrying.

As you’ve grown older with so many limitations ganging up on you, your persistence to do what you can inspires me (and scares me, but, hey… how can a nearly blind man on a rider mower cause any trouble?)  I see you teaching lessons of humility (when Mom is right and you are wrong), lessons of love (when you rub Mom’s feet and wash the dishes), lessons of trust (when you put those unsolvable things in God’s hands).  And you still whistle now and then and have Pandora playing on your cell phone, announcing your presence as you go.  I honor you for all of that.

Today I will grieve that as a society we have almost lost the concept of honoring our fathers for anything. Temptations are everywhere, expectations are high, psychology focuses on faults and there is nothing that cannot be blamed on a father.  I will remember how hard it is to be the head of anything, particularly a family.  I will be thankful for you – that you have not run away, that you are my dad, my father.

One of my favorite pictures of you, Dad
One of my favorite pictures of you, Dad

Been putting it off…

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doctors office

For the last six years I have not darkened the door of a doctor’s office, except on behalf of my employer. No check ups, no mammograms, no anything.  I suppose that is not the best example for a nurse to be giving, but honestly, I feel like I am probably safer and healthier for it.  These days it’s almost like doctors feel they must intervene in some way, usually a pill of some kind, or you wouldn’t be coming to them. And many of their interventions come with weird side effects and complications that end up being worse than what you started with.  So I’ve been trying to stay away from those places sick people go (waiting rooms, yuck!).  There is also the poor excuse of being busy, which I have been, oh and yes, I was also mad at my doctor.  When I get poison ivy and turn into a fiery itching, oozing mess and need a prednisone pack to save my life I don’t like being told that they can’t find 10 minutes somewhere in the schedule to write me a scrip. Go to a walk-in clinic? No, I’m thinking – why bother having a family physician if that’s what they’re going to tell me?

But there are some things that need checking up on occasionally, especially since they are in my family medical history. It is time. Actually it is past time, but I would have recognized if anything urgent had come up, right? ’cause I’m a nurse… .

Last month I laboriously went through the process of hunting up a new doctor.  Laborious because I can’t just pick any doctor.  He or she has to be younger than me so I don’t have to worry about them dying before I do and not being around when I need them. However, that’s not the biggest problem since almost everyone still working is younger than me.  Biggest problem is whether or not they are still accepting new patients.  I will confess that I spent a bit of time looking for someone whose picture I liked (cause I have to look at them, right?) and whose name I liked (some names sound more dangerous than others… Filesticker? what’s with that? sounds dangerous.).  And when I narrowed it down to two possibles, I called and neither one of them were accepting anyone new.

I needed a different process.  I started calling offices alphabetically and asking if they took new patients.  I ended up with Dr. Kassabov.  I don’t know what to think of that name but at least I’m not afraid of it.  Bring on the needles, the scopes, the x-rays.  It’s June and I want to get this over with. Just sayin’…

Change, bring it on…

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I have to say that things have begun to change for me already, but  that will continue.  Since last August I have been following an inner directive to be free for helping  my immediate family should they need it.  There are extended times in the ordinary progression of life when everyone  is on the young side, fairly healthy, moving forward and enjoying independence.  And then there are those other times that are not all those same things.  If the family is like a wagon train heading across the plain, there are times when they need  to circle the wagons.  That’s a bit of what I feel.

Time is not a limitless commodity. I want to make conscious decisions where I spend my time and who I spend it with.  As much as I love and appreciate my present friends and my community, I kind of arrived here out of financial necessity.  And time spent here has been good, but I am also blessed that I love to spend time with my family, every one of them.  They are all people  I would choose to spend time with, lots of time. Instead, it’s  been limited to a week here and there while on vacation, a reunion every few years, sometimes a holiday celebrated together.  I am ready to choose a closer connection.

That being said, I don’t really know where I’ll be a year from now.  Hey, but until I’m ready to do it, I don’t have to worry about where I’m going.  I just have to get ready to go somewhere.  The husband and I have made great progress toward this – at least I’m proud of us. Every week we get rid of some of our “stuff” that would not be worth taking with us.  We are both thinking about our present jobs and how our work would continue in a different place.  I jumped the hurdle of signing up for my social security benefits yesterday (believe me, it was a mental/emotional HURDLE).  I am scaling back on commitments I make and not jumping into new ones.  I am waiting to see what God will do with my readiness.  And there is a peace in not knowing the timing but just doing one thing at a time as the possibilities become apparent.

steps toward change
steps toward change

 

A to Z Challenge: R reminds me of “Remember When…”

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my well traveled notebook
my well traveled notebook

At almost every family gathering I’ve been to there is at least one session when all of us sit around telling “remember when” stories. Sometimes the stories are funny, sometimes tragic but they are ones we want to remember and pass on. I will admit that as time goes by the story details can tend to get a little fuzzy.  In fact, one story that my brothers and I all remember is about one of us being a toddler and breaking the glass of a second story window and nearly falling out.  Someone else caught him by the back of his jammy suit and pulled him back. Funny how it’s not real clear anymore who played what part. We try not to argue about it. Dates are also hard to remember.  When did we take that first vacation to Florida?  How long did we live in that house?

One year, as I was listening to my parents and aunts and uncles trade stories and debate the when and why of it all, I decided it might be good to write things down.  I call it sort of a family timeline, like writing a history book about your family.  It’s fun and I love to take it with me to our gatherings, in case I hear some new detail.  The oldest generation in any family knows things that others do not, and face it, those things could be lost if not written down somewhere.

I took an ordinary notebook, of a convenient size to carry in my purse, and put a year on each page. I started with the year I was born but after interviewing my mom this winter I think I will start another section for the time before I came on the scene.  I have a page for every year even if I don’t have anything to enter because sooner or later someone will come up with something for that year.

I get information for the timeline from lots of different sources. Last month I was getting rid of some old check registers and noticed some things I’d written checks for that sparked a memory. My calendars always have something in them that belongs on the timeline, even if I haven’t managed to be faithful in recording everything. Even an old “to do” list in a notebook has clues of projects, parties, and purchases that might be memorable. Birth dates, graduation dates, firsts of all kinds, when the measles struck, where you spent Thanksgiving – it all gets written down. My children laugh when they see that we got our first VCR in 1991. Their children will probably ask what a VCR is and they will get to have a fun conversation about how things have changed.

At the end of each year, during that calm period between Christmas and New Year’s Day I change out my old date book for a new one. Before I store or throw away the old one, I have a fun session reviewing the past year and putting things on the timeline. Year by year, it grows.  Would this be a project your family would enjoy?

Remember when...
Remember when…

A to Z Challenge: The Letter D

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D is for Departure: Another Family Story

A friend of my daughter, a thirty something business associate, lost her mother last week. In an email to my daughter she said “go call your mother, now”, and that’s why I got a nice, long chat with my eldest girl. I couldn’t help but think how blessed I was, at 60 something, to have my mother and dad visiting me for the past month. I went and gave my mom a hug and a good chat as well.

And this morning in the dark I drove the parents to the airport and watched them depart to their flight. Departures. Whole lists of flights going to everywhere. I wanted to go with them because their carry-ons were really heavy and Dad’s shoulder isn’t good. I wanted to be there to help hold things, find things, zip the zippers, turn off the devices, settle them in. But sometimes departure means you don’t get to go. Then there’s that final glimpse as the tram doors close.  I have that fleeting thought “what if something happens and I never see them again?”.  No one else thinks morbid things like that, right?

Back at home I have to look at the places where they sat at the table, the closet where their clothes were hanging. I have to change the bedding and put the bedroom back the way it was before they came. The pain of missing them has it’s very vivid moments when I can’t avoid the fact that they’re gone.  It’s a little like rehearsing for the last, big departure we’re all going to experience, not that rehearsing will make it any less sad, or easier – but maybe more familiar. It’s ok to be sad. I’m giving myself permission to miss them, for a while.

Fortunately, departures are only half of what’s on the board at the airport. We get to have arrivals too! If the snow ever melts up north, the husband and I are planning a car trip to Wisconsin to help Mom plant her garden. We’ll take Dad to Walmart to walk the aisles for exercise. We’ll help clean the attic, play us some Mexican Train, look through old letters and work on the memoirs, probably have a picnic and cook hotdogs in my brother’s yard. We’ll enjoy being a family! I am already looking forward to it with anticipation! Now that I think about it, I’m might be rehearsing something there too…  Yep. Just sayin’.

Grandma in her Garden

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My Mom loves to garden.  I call her Grandma sometimes because I have talked to my children about her for years and years. She is their grandma, my mom, Gwendolyn Boone Smith.  Gwendolyn who never had a middle name and didn’t need one because her first name was long enough for two. Grandma keeps saying […]

Where Did I Put that List?

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Somewhere I have a list of things I wanted to write about but since I don’t remember where it is, maybe I’ll write about forgetfulness.

You know, I really don’t think it’s early dementia or Alzheimer’s. I think I’m just too lazy to commit every little detail to memory. I put high value on being free to act upon inspiration as soon as it hits.  This means that whatever thought preceded the new idea gets … forgotten, I guess.  I don’t quite understand what happens to it. Most of the time I don’t care either.  If it’s truly important it will come around again. I remember lots of stuff, just not when I’d most like to remember it.

Names? Where did I put my keys? Where is that missing credit card? Why didn’t I remember to record the last six checks I wrote? Is that baby shower tomorrow or next week? Did I close the garage door?  Did I turn off my cell phone ringer?  Did I turn on my cell phone ringer? What was that password? Did I take those clothes out of the washer? (no, they dried in there and that’s why they smell so funny).

The really good thing is that I’m an equal opportunity forgetter.  I forget the bad things as easily as the good things. I can’t remember much childhood angst, any really. I don’t remember details about bad grades in school, losing boyfriends, my several car accidents.  When I’m asked about my most embarrassing moment (and don’t we all get asked about that occasionally?) I’ve memorized one, just one, and only for that purpose. There have been many but I can’t remember them. I think that’s a good thing.

So, do I have a remedy for my forgetfulness? Yes, indeed I do. I don’t tell anyone unless I get caught.

I can have a decent conversation with someone without saying their name. I can look it up after.

Most of the time, if I’m patient, the lost gets found. Like the uncashed check I found in my pants pocket after two months – it was still good.

I still go kind of crazy over the missing credit cards, but hey, if that didn’t happen my purse would never get cleaned.

Memory is not all it’s cracked up to be.  I might be losing my mind but if I keep my mouth shut, probably no one will know.  I’m just sayin’…