The Scintilla Project - Bonus Day 2

What is it that you're sure you'll never forget about being this age, or an age of your choice?

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I've never been one to remember exact years or even exact ages, unlike my ex-husband who could tell me exact years and sometimes dates of certain events. Oh I remember some milestones -- date and year and place, if applicable -- and usually they are dates I'd prefer I did not remember.

This year I am 64, and I'm sure I will not forget it: it began uneventfully enough in November, but just after Christmas I was put on a heart monitor for a month and we discovered that I have atrial fibrillation, certainly not untreatable but nevertheless frightening.

And then my beloved husband retired from work near the end of February -- after being in corporate life since 1968. We'd been planning and talking about this day for literally years, and it had been delayed more than once in the last year because of situations at his workplace.

 He'd gotten his own smack-upside-the-head moment shortly after I'd gotten news about the afib: he has type 2 diabetes. (He's written about it in his own blog, Cat-E-Whompus. Triple whammy here: both of us with health issues, and retirement -- the latter certainly anticipated and welcomed, but an event which ranks right up there on the stress level with marriage, death, and childbirth.

Early in March, I was finally getting used to the afib meds, adjusting as blood testing deemed necessary, and beginning to feel more like I could resume a 'normal' life. He was getting used to his new meds and we'd adjusted our diet somewhat both to lose weight and for his diabetes. We planned a quick ocean getaway.

And then on March 5, I was gobsmacked with what we think was a kidney stone: a thoroughly unpleasant experience that reinforced the feeling of how quickly life can change. And Tony got the green crud infection that has taken so many people out for weeks, feeling sick and weak and coughing up crud.

Four months since we turned 64, and all of a sudden we both are feeling fragile and old, vulnerable, unsure of how much I dare do, how far we dare travel, and wondering what is next.

I want a do-over.

Slowly I'm coming back to the place where I feel good, that life is resuming its more predictable pace. Tony is nearly over the cough and is feeling much better. We've both lost weight, a good thing. My meds are working, and as I've talked a bit more about the afib, I'm discovering how many people have it and continue to work and play and just 'carry on.' And many others know first-hand about kidney stones. I am not the first person to face these challenges, and I'm learning from others how to do it.

So there are two choices here: I can slow my life and activities down in fear of illness and stay close to home and doctors, or I can do all I can with medication and sensible management and do the things we want to do in retirement. At 64, I'm choosing the latter. But this is a year I'll never forget. And I hope it gets better than it has started.

The Scintilla Project - Day 5

Ooo. Now if I wrote about #1, I wouldn't have actually gotten away with it, would I? (And I'd have to kill you.) So I guess we're on to #2.

1. Talk about a time when you got away with it.

2. Show a part of your nature that you feel you've lost. Can you get it back? Would it be worth it?

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I used to have a lot of energy: as a younger woman I had a job, a house to take care of, a child in school and assorted activities (and I attended all of them) and a husband who worked a lot, a member of two choirs and active volunteer. Later I was involved in community activities, creating things, working, writing stories, attending events. I used to have a passion for getting involved in causes or organizations, from marching in picket lines to taking charge of the whole enchilada.

I'm not exactly sure when I lost that passion, that energy.

But I think it coincides pretty much with when we rescued Princess #1 from a very bad situation that I don't think she would have survived. Like the proverbial onion, her story had layers upon layers, and a lot of them were rotten -- and I didn't discover most of it until our five-day road trip on our way west. Once she was here, more details came out, and over the following six months,  a truly sad and frightening scenario emerged from the wreckage that has continued to impact her life.

And mine.

You don't need to know details. Trust me on this.

Guiding her through the county health system and its programs has been an enormous, eye-opening education for me and for her. Healthcare advocacy is not for the faint of heart in any economic status, but when there is no money, no insurance, and the individual is not able to meet her own needs, it is a quest paved with much patience, repetition, frustration, and emotional pain. (Despite deep budget cuts, staff cuts and reorganizations, I have great respect for so many dedicated public health professionals who try so hard to make a difference in the lives of So. Many. People. They do what they can with what they've got.)

Watching the child you loved and raised from an infant sob out stories that would make the tabloids look like bedtime reading does a number on your heart, your soul, and your mind. Realizing that she is an adult who is responsible for her decisions and that you no longer can ground her as a temporary solution takes an emotional (and physical) toll, and changes nearly everything in your relationship.

And that's where I think I lost the part of me that led groups and marches and got involved in activities and sang and acted and sewed and cared so passionately. .

I WAS involved and I DID care passionately: up to my eyeballs, with my whole being.. But it was all directed at doing the best I could for my daughter, and in the beginning, at 'fixing' her. Which any reasonable person is going to tell you can't be done, because we cannot 'fix' anyone but ourselves. I finally got that this last year, after three years.

She is doing better, I'm happy to report. She is responsible for her destiny, not me.

And I am responsible for mine. I can't change anything except my own mind, my own activities, my own life. And that's keeping me plenty busy, and a lot happier, these days. Eventually I think some cause, program, performance, or organization will again spark the enthusiasm and passion I once had in abundance, and I try to keep my eyes and my mind open to possibilities. But not just yet.

Doing all we can

For years we have used a phrase as our touchstone: "Do all you can, where you are, with what you've got."

It's similar to John Wesley's admonition to:

“Do all the good you can, By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can, In all the places you can,
At all the times you can, To all the people you can,
As long as ever you can.”

 

And only slightly skewed from Theodore Roosevelt's "Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."

 

That applies in every situation, from housework to job (although I'm quite aware that many employers expect their employees to do way more than they ever should be expected to do for way less money than they should be paid).

 

For us at this moment, we're applying it to our own health and well being, as well as to our usual daily attitude and tasks. Both of us have some new medical wrinkles that we're trying to wrap our respective arms around, and neither of us is especially thrilled about having them.

However, as Antsy McClain would sing, "It's all good if nobody gets hurt, Another day alive, Amen, I'm on the right side of the dirt."  

 

So many of us who are fortunate enough to make it through much of our lives without big medical problems take good, or at least decent, health for granted. The things I did to my body when I was in my 20s and 30s -- whew! Booze, cigarettes, chips, dips, too much  and too rich food. A little exercise, never enough. Doing what I needed to do to manage job, household, child care, husband, volunteering, and all that goes with it, even if I didn't get a lot of sleep. I was young, I was healthy, I could do it ALL.

Wellllll.....not really. Not without eventual consequences.

I don't know if the issues I have now are the result of some of the stuff I did as a younger woman or the happenstance of heredity; probably some of both. Fortunately I dropped some really bad behaviors in my 30s and early 40s, and that has helped to get me this far. I do medical checkups and testing regularly; always have. We've changed how and what we eat so that the heart-attack-on-a-plate-type foods are either gone or eaten sparingly only occasionally. 

 

Most importantly, we pay attention to what our bodies are saying: where and how something hurts, what feels right and good and what doesn't, and noticing when something is 'off.' And we check it out, scary as it may be to do so.

 

We have health insurance. THAT can make the difference between catching a problem and being able to treat it, and finding the problem only when it is too far gone to ignore and you end up in an emergency room, often in dire straits.

 

***Begin Related but not exactly on topic Rant****

That anyone in our country should have to settle for the latter because they cannot afford the blood tests, the EKGs, or the often inexpensive medication to treat such conditions as high blood pressure or diabetes is criminal neglect, abuse even. 

 

(I won't even comment about the folks who have insurance or can afford healthcare but choose not to seek regular medical treatment because they are afraid of the results. That's just stupidity, from where I sit.)

Those who do not support universal healthcare are mostly those who already HAVE health insurance and who can afford it: our Congressional representatives, for instance, have really good insurance. They and the highly paid lobbyists representing big pharma and big HMOs are the ones who are controlling the state of healthcare in our country. They apparently aren't troubled at all that so many people can't afford the checkups and diagnostic tests, even if they would be able to find $4 for a prescription to help their bp or diabetes or heart health. And they plant the 'big government controlling YOUR LIFE' scare seeds in the minds of those who don't usually think for themselves to 'prove' that universal healthcare is a terrible thing. 

***End of Related but not quite on topic Rant*** (for now)

So with Tony on the cusp of retirement, we've discovered a couple of new issues that will definitely take priority for us in the next months. Like so many, we've envisioned retirement as a time of relaxation, fun, travel, enjoying friends and family,  tending to our home and garden. And we still plan to do that, but health has suddenly taken top billing on our To Do list. 

 

Vulnerability takes some adjustment, mentally as well as physically. We've been active participants in life for a long time, doing pretty much what we felt like doing. To admit that some of the parts aren't working like they used to, and that indeed need regular monitoring and medication to continue functioning,  requires more than a little reflection. As Tony said, there is a sort of grieving process: giving up the ghost of what you thought would be to accept the reality of what is. It's another part of this aging process, I guess. Things and plans that used to seem important take a back seat when you start to understand what is REALLY important: your health and that of your loved ones.

We know we are fortunate: we read the obituaries and it seems that nearly every day there are deaths of people who are our age -- 'natural causes,' some of the obits say. (My gut reaction is that anyone MY age is too young to die of 'natural causes' but in reality, they do.) And we're not infirm by a long shot. Our legs and arms and minds work just fine. And we are grateful.

 

If we do all we can, where we are, with what we've got, paying deliberate attention to and taking good care of our problems, we should be fine enough to do pretty much anything we want to do.

Icky cold -- we has it

I'd forgotten how icky it is to have a cold. And I'm very grateful that I don't feel especially sick: my nose is drippy but my sinuses are congested despite using the nasal irrigator, and I occasionally have a bitty cough. My chief complaint today is that I can't taste anything.

Not sure where I got it, but there are so many who have been so sick for weeks with flu and cold and stuff, so I'm glad mine seems very mild. I'm drinking tea and sucking lozenges and wishing the Cold FX had gotten here in time for this. Fortunately I've had no trouble sleeping at night.

I think it's been a number of years since I had a cold or been sick, and I'll be happy to resume that schedule. I probably failed to wipe off a grocery cart or wash my hands once I got home. Won't make that mistake again.

Here's the tea recipe that I got from a friend a few years back -- thanks! Also known as chai tea, but without the milk although you could add it, it really helps and is full of flavor, not that I'm tasting it today:

Masala Tea 

 

2 inch piece of ginger

9 cups  cold water

1 1/2 inch cinnamon stick

6 to 8 small green cardamom pods

6 to 8 whole cloves

1 tablespoon tea leaves, preferably a blend of Indian teas, or 2 or 3 tea bags

honey to taste

 

Scrape the ginger.  Place it on a board and give it a few gentle blows with a mallet so that it breaks into several pieces.

 

Pour the water into a medium-size pot.  Add the ginger, cinnamon, cardamom pods, and cloves and bring to a boil. (I use a tea brewing basket to hold the spices.)  Reduce heat to low and simmer, covered, about 45 minutes to 1 hour. 

 

Add tea and boil 2 to 4 minutes.  Strain and serve the tea with honey to taste.

 

May you be well and not need to drink this for a cold remedy!