Day in the life: Describe a typical day-in-the-life. Give us details!
Give us pictures! Sometimes our days can seem boring. Is that okay?
What do you do to make your days feel a bit special?
Oh, how retirement changes day-to-day life!
Tony almost always gets up before I do. I snuggle back down in the covers and snooze, awakening usually between 8 and 8:30 (unless I didn't sleep well, in which case it could be an hour later). Sweats and slippers on. Flip on lights on the plant shelf (where my angels sit); open great room blinds, and I'm ready for a cup of tea (sometimes decaf coffee). Teabag in the tall St. Elizabeth Hospital cup, cup under the Keurig dispenser (hot water). Sit in my green leather chair with my iPad. McMurphy leaps to the arm of the chair, his butt barely missing the cup of hot tea, and into my lap, where he insists on snuggling, stretching out long paws to push away the iPad. I comply. Sort of, anyway, holding the iPad at an awkward angle so I can cuddle the cat too.
Tony is in the office and comes into the kitchen anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes later, always coming over to my chair, leaning down, and giving me a kiss or three. (*lucky girl* aren't I) And then he goes to the kitchen to fix breakfast -- alternating cereal (hot or cold, depending on the season) or eggs. (ditto that *lucky girl* thing)
"It's ready," he'll say. I put down the iPad and come to the table, where I dispense vitamins, we enjoy breakfast and bird watching since he's already replenished the feeders tjhat hang outside the sliding door by the table. We clear the dishes; then sit back down and read aloud, taking turns with each book, from the two books we've chosen for the year's morning readings.
From there, depending on what's on the calendar for that day, I may go back to my chair with a second cup and browse through email and Facebook and blogs for another hour. Or I may go back to the bathroom, pausing to make the bed, and get showered and ready for what's on the agenda.
{{{Day goes along -- maybe a trip to town, to an appointment, to lunch -- maybe a movie together or a day trip or errands or grocery store. Maybe some laundry. Or cleaning. Or writing. Or reading. Lunch happens, usually together, unless I've got a lunch date. Or we decide to combine errands and lunch. Or I bring home a sandwich. We will be adding regular exercise to this timeline in 2015, either at home or at the gym. }}
Around 5 p.m., the TV news usually goes on and I begin puttering in the kitchen in preparation for supper. We generally eat between 6:30 and 7, sometimes lingering for half an hour if we're deep into a conversation. I clear the table, he does the dishes, I feed the cats, and we're ready for an evening of TV -- unless I still need to do the daily email I write to a small group of family and friends (a bit of nothing much -- what I did, what's going on with the weather, maybe a commentary about the state of life or something newsworthy, and a quotation that either reflects how I'm feeling or is something I think one of the recipients should hear), which takes maybe 20 minutes.
We are such creatures of habit. We record a number of TV series and movies, and most always have a discussion that goes something like: "What do you feel like?" "I dunno. What do you want to watch?" "Oh, I could be up for most anything." (or, alternatively, "I don't feel much like a movie...I want something light and fluffy....I dunno.") Eventually we either take turns narrowing the choices ("Uh, Person of Interest, Agents of Shield, or Divergent.") or I just click on something (I nearly always am the mighty ruler of the TV control.)
Unless it is a movie, we do that again in the hour it takes to watch a series. I know. It's SO co-dependent. We know it too.
The exceptions are when we have both Showtime and HBO favorite Sunday night series to choose from, and we know we'll get to at least two of them, so it rarely makes a difference which we do first. And Scandal and How to Get Away with Murder, in that order, don't need conversation to choose either.
News at 10, and it's off. Tony goes back to the office for a last bit of computering; I usually play a game or two on the iPad, and then I'm off to get ready for bed and reading my Kindle. He'll come in, both cats leading the way, in half an hour, snuggle down, and is usually asleep quickly. I read for maybe an hour, and then it's lights out for me too, and hopefully to sleep (perchance to dream....)
Boring?
I suppose it could seem that way. It doesn't feel boring, however.
We prefer to think of our days as drama-free. We like our little routines and rituals, and even when we're traveling in Sallie Forth (our travel trailer), we follow pretty much this process.
I like waking to the same routine every day. It puts a structure, a beginning that is predictable and comforting, to another lovely day.
Every day that we are together and feeling good, every day that allows us to control what we do and when we do it is a special day. We don't need excitement and drama and lots of socialization to feel satisfied and happy with our days, and neither of us needs to be entertained or kept busy, since we are both exceptionally self-directed with our activities and interests. If there is a downside to this, it is that we ARE such compatible creatures and enjoy our routines, and sometimes need to shake things up a bit, to change what we are doing to promote better, healthier habits.
Life is so good, folks. We are so, so blessed.
Showing posts with label retirement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label retirement. Show all posts
Sunday, January 04, 2015
Monday, November 03, 2014
August Moon 2014: Day 9, Just one thing?
"Today I invite you spell out the range of things you are and would like to be....
How could you a cultivate a life that reflects all that you truly are?
I think the intent of this prompt was to examine who we are and what brings us joy, and how we might create our whole life, work and all, around this concept to actually make a living at what we love doing.
I'm not in the 'making a living' part anymore since we retired. Thank God(dess), we have enough to allow us to live comfortably without (much) worry. There are always things beyond our control, of course, like fickle stock markets and economy-crashing disasters, but that has always been true.
I AM in the business of making a life, however, and retirement really offers an opportunity to look closely at how I want to spend the time I have left with this life. It's a little daunting as well: we spend years and years doing what we need to do (nevermind that we have chosen to undertake a large part of it -- in our choices of jobs, spouses, children, activities) and getting it all done one way or another.
To have time to do whatever we truly want to do is not an easy decision for most of us. Sure, sleeping in, reading books, gardening, cooking -- whatever we enjoy doing -- is a large part of it, and a fun one. But there are larger questions: is this truly what I want to be doing? Should I be doing more? Am I too old to have a do-over? Is there a larger purpose than what I have seen so far to my life?
In my choices of jobs during my working life, I was fortunate: mostly I was working in areas that I felt a strong attachment to, a passion for. It was never about the money for me, although there is no question that I needed the income. But it was about how I could contribute my passion, my talents, my knowledge to the field in which I was working. Those were mostly non-profits or public sector jobs, jobs with purpose and meaning and which touched people at some basic levels.
It was not until much later in my working life that I was employed by corporations and my efforts were really directed at putting money in the stockholders' (or owners') pockets through my skills in marketing, writing, and creative flow. While the money, at least in one, was far better than anything I'd ever earned in a non-profit or public sector job, the job politics were ah-ma-zingly difficult, especially for one who pretty much takes people at their word. I was pretty much doomed to fail. When they finally laid me off in the third or fourth company reorganization I'd survived, I was delighted -- and careful not to let them know that. It was a soul-sucking, ethically challenging experience, and I learned some good things from it -- but also suffered extreme stress.
That was my last 'office' job. From then on, I was self-employed -- and that, too, is stressful in some ways, but so freeing in so many others.
So now I am two years into retirement and am wanting more substance, more purpose to my days. There is still housework and regular chores. There is time, if I choose, to read and to cook and to putz at different little projects. There is time to sort through clutter and choose what to keep and what to let go. There is more time than I'd wish spent in going to doctors and getting medical tests, and more attention to physical issues. But there is also time to travel and to pet kitties and talk to my honey and my friends.
But that does not necessarily make for a fulfilled life. I want more. I want direction and purpose. And only I can find that -- through going within, through contemplation, through self-examination.
How could you a cultivate a life that reflects all that you truly are?
I think the intent of this prompt was to examine who we are and what brings us joy, and how we might create our whole life, work and all, around this concept to actually make a living at what we love doing.
I'm not in the 'making a living' part anymore since we retired. Thank God(dess), we have enough to allow us to live comfortably without (much) worry. There are always things beyond our control, of course, like fickle stock markets and economy-crashing disasters, but that has always been true.
I AM in the business of making a life, however, and retirement really offers an opportunity to look closely at how I want to spend the time I have left with this life. It's a little daunting as well: we spend years and years doing what we need to do (nevermind that we have chosen to undertake a large part of it -- in our choices of jobs, spouses, children, activities) and getting it all done one way or another.
To have time to do whatever we truly want to do is not an easy decision for most of us. Sure, sleeping in, reading books, gardening, cooking -- whatever we enjoy doing -- is a large part of it, and a fun one. But there are larger questions: is this truly what I want to be doing? Should I be doing more? Am I too old to have a do-over? Is there a larger purpose than what I have seen so far to my life?
In my choices of jobs during my working life, I was fortunate: mostly I was working in areas that I felt a strong attachment to, a passion for. It was never about the money for me, although there is no question that I needed the income. But it was about how I could contribute my passion, my talents, my knowledge to the field in which I was working. Those were mostly non-profits or public sector jobs, jobs with purpose and meaning and which touched people at some basic levels.
It was not until much later in my working life that I was employed by corporations and my efforts were really directed at putting money in the stockholders' (or owners') pockets through my skills in marketing, writing, and creative flow. While the money, at least in one, was far better than anything I'd ever earned in a non-profit or public sector job, the job politics were ah-ma-zingly difficult, especially for one who pretty much takes people at their word. I was pretty much doomed to fail. When they finally laid me off in the third or fourth company reorganization I'd survived, I was delighted -- and careful not to let them know that. It was a soul-sucking, ethically challenging experience, and I learned some good things from it -- but also suffered extreme stress.
That was my last 'office' job. From then on, I was self-employed -- and that, too, is stressful in some ways, but so freeing in so many others.
So now I am two years into retirement and am wanting more substance, more purpose to my days. There is still housework and regular chores. There is time, if I choose, to read and to cook and to putz at different little projects. There is time to sort through clutter and choose what to keep and what to let go. There is more time than I'd wish spent in going to doctors and getting medical tests, and more attention to physical issues. But there is also time to travel and to pet kitties and talk to my honey and my friends.
But that does not necessarily make for a fulfilled life. I want more. I want direction and purpose. And only I can find that -- through going within, through contemplation, through self-examination.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Life as we know it right now
That it has been more than a month since my last post is embarrassing for someone who fancies herself a writer.
Ideas and comments have popped into my mind over this month, usually escaping as soon as they're formed, and unwritten on a 'to-do' list, of course. I can tell you that among them have been thoughts on aging, aches and pains, insurance, health care, mental illness, people who do simply unimaginable things, losing weight, gaining weight, travel, the ocean, friendships, and oh so many more.
I've been to the mountains four times for day-long respites from heat, tended gardens and reaped bounties from one not my own, alas, boiled many batches of hummingbird nectar for thirsty little birds who scold if the feeder is empty, and refilled thrice weekly the seed feeder both for hungry birds and the many thin deer who lick the spilled seeds from the ground, looking at me through the sliding glass door with seed-covered noses, ears cocked towards me, and huge eyes. And very thin bodies, ribs plainly showing. They are hungry this year, more than usual -- I hope we have acorns next month.
We have received Medicare cards although they're not valid until November, talked about and researched supplemental plans, dental and vision plans, and remain astonished and doubtful at those who claim they can 'pay their own way' through medical care without help from the affordable health care act.
I have read newspapers, magazines, blogs, and a couple of books. I have cooked many meals, watched carb counts at all of those, started getting fresh brown eggs from a neighbor's chickens, hosted my bunco group, cleaned house a few times, attended two plays, and talked with more girlfriends than I ever thought I'd have at one time!
I've said thank you to the universe at least morning and night, and often during the day. I have hugged my husband frequently, petted, fed and played with our kitties (indoors and out), watered my asparagus ferns and ivy geraniums which are laden with blooms and make me smile every time I go outside. I've noted that the deer are eating things they don't eat: coreopsis, vinca, aloe vera, although they still haven't touched the dusty miller nor lavender. Yet. I fill water dishes front and back daily for kitties, deer and whatever other creature needs a drink.
I am ready for summer to be done. I prefer winter's woodstove and afghan weather. I am tired of hot sun and crave cool grey skies for a change. I want rain to wash away the dust and pollen.
Right now my life feels very good: there is little drama, the health issues are minimal and controlled, we have enough of everything, and I am so, SO grateful for that. We are planning a road trip that will take us to places we haven't been and will give us the cool and the grey and the ocean and the mountains that we love, and will end with family hugs and conversation and connection.
That all will change, I know. But for now, I am grateful to be where I am and how I am.
Ideas and comments have popped into my mind over this month, usually escaping as soon as they're formed, and unwritten on a 'to-do' list, of course. I can tell you that among them have been thoughts on aging, aches and pains, insurance, health care, mental illness, people who do simply unimaginable things, losing weight, gaining weight, travel, the ocean, friendships, and oh so many more.
I've been to the mountains four times for day-long respites from heat, tended gardens and reaped bounties from one not my own, alas, boiled many batches of hummingbird nectar for thirsty little birds who scold if the feeder is empty, and refilled thrice weekly the seed feeder both for hungry birds and the many thin deer who lick the spilled seeds from the ground, looking at me through the sliding glass door with seed-covered noses, ears cocked towards me, and huge eyes. And very thin bodies, ribs plainly showing. They are hungry this year, more than usual -- I hope we have acorns next month.
We have received Medicare cards although they're not valid until November, talked about and researched supplemental plans, dental and vision plans, and remain astonished and doubtful at those who claim they can 'pay their own way' through medical care without help from the affordable health care act.
I have read newspapers, magazines, blogs, and a couple of books. I have cooked many meals, watched carb counts at all of those, started getting fresh brown eggs from a neighbor's chickens, hosted my bunco group, cleaned house a few times, attended two plays, and talked with more girlfriends than I ever thought I'd have at one time!
I've said thank you to the universe at least morning and night, and often during the day. I have hugged my husband frequently, petted, fed and played with our kitties (indoors and out), watered my asparagus ferns and ivy geraniums which are laden with blooms and make me smile every time I go outside. I've noted that the deer are eating things they don't eat: coreopsis, vinca, aloe vera, although they still haven't touched the dusty miller nor lavender. Yet. I fill water dishes front and back daily for kitties, deer and whatever other creature needs a drink.
I am ready for summer to be done. I prefer winter's woodstove and afghan weather. I am tired of hot sun and crave cool grey skies for a change. I want rain to wash away the dust and pollen.
Right now my life feels very good: there is little drama, the health issues are minimal and controlled, we have enough of everything, and I am so, SO grateful for that. We are planning a road trip that will take us to places we haven't been and will give us the cool and the grey and the ocean and the mountains that we love, and will end with family hugs and conversation and connection.
That all will change, I know. But for now, I am grateful to be where I am and how I am.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
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?
**************
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.
**************
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.
Friday, March 02, 2012
Transitions
A week ago today, Feb. 24, was a significant day for the two men who I have loved: my ex-husband Jim turned 70, and my beloved Tony retired.
Those are big steps.
Jim, I'm glad to report, had just come back from an extended trip through the Deep South with his wonderful wife Susan, and seems to be thriving and happy. I am lucky in that our divorce was fairly simple and that we remain friends. His wife was one of my students long, long ago when I taught high school in a little rural Missouri town. She attended the college where we worked, and we had some infrequent contact through the years. Several years ago she'd contacted Jim to see where I was, and they ended up dating and falling in love, and they married a few years ago. That makes me very happy.
Tony has been thinking of retirement for a long time, and it has been discussed, delayed several times for various reasons, and the timing debated for more than a year. Last Friday finally arrived, and he was given a good sendoff by his colleagues -- and he found it more emotional than expected. He has worked at a corporate job since he was 20 years old. As he likes to say, that was longer than the space shuttle flew, and it's now retired too.
So it's a new stage then in our lives, this state of not-working-for-a-paycheck. None too soon, either: both of us have discovered some health glitches that require some attention and focus, and some redirecting of our habits.
I expect that wrapping our heads around this will take time. I know that years ago when I left an extremely stressful job and moved to another state with my family that it took me about a year to thaw, and some very deliberate behavior-modification too: I remember making myself sit on the back deck swing for 10 minutes every day and just watch the squirrels and birds playing in the greenbelt. Eventually it worked. But I came out of that a changed person.
Our job now, as I see it, is to certainly take care of the routine things like cleaning, finances, property maintenance, and going through the old files and books that were part of our past jobs to sort, pitch, and give away what no longer isneeded.
But it is also to cultivate the spirit that we've neglected or not had time for: the fun-loving, adventurous, knowledge-seeking, creative inner self that we know is there, wanting to come out and play after all the years of being an adult.
And our job is also to make it happen sooner rather than later. We do not know how long we will live: few of us know that, ever. But there are enough stories about people who get unexpectedly dire diagnoses or who die in accidents to make us want to make our moments meaningful and full of the life we want to live. Our health glitches only make that clearer.
For a long time we have tried to live one day at a time. Truly now our restrictions are only those we impose on ourselves, and it is up to us to choose how to live each day of our lives, for the rest of our lives, as long as we can do that. It is a time for second chances and new beginnings, once again.
Those are big steps.
Jim, I'm glad to report, had just come back from an extended trip through the Deep South with his wonderful wife Susan, and seems to be thriving and happy. I am lucky in that our divorce was fairly simple and that we remain friends. His wife was one of my students long, long ago when I taught high school in a little rural Missouri town. She attended the college where we worked, and we had some infrequent contact through the years. Several years ago she'd contacted Jim to see where I was, and they ended up dating and falling in love, and they married a few years ago. That makes me very happy.
Tony has been thinking of retirement for a long time, and it has been discussed, delayed several times for various reasons, and the timing debated for more than a year. Last Friday finally arrived, and he was given a good sendoff by his colleagues -- and he found it more emotional than expected. He has worked at a corporate job since he was 20 years old. As he likes to say, that was longer than the space shuttle flew, and it's now retired too.
So it's a new stage then in our lives, this state of not-working-for-a-paycheck. None too soon, either: both of us have discovered some health glitches that require some attention and focus, and some redirecting of our habits.
I expect that wrapping our heads around this will take time. I know that years ago when I left an extremely stressful job and moved to another state with my family that it took me about a year to thaw, and some very deliberate behavior-modification too: I remember making myself sit on the back deck swing for 10 minutes every day and just watch the squirrels and birds playing in the greenbelt. Eventually it worked. But I came out of that a changed person.
Our job now, as I see it, is to certainly take care of the routine things like cleaning, finances, property maintenance, and going through the old files and books that were part of our past jobs to sort, pitch, and give away what no longer isneeded.
But it is also to cultivate the spirit that we've neglected or not had time for: the fun-loving, adventurous, knowledge-seeking, creative inner self that we know is there, wanting to come out and play after all the years of being an adult.
And our job is also to make it happen sooner rather than later. We do not know how long we will live: few of us know that, ever. But there are enough stories about people who get unexpectedly dire diagnoses or who die in accidents to make us want to make our moments meaningful and full of the life we want to live. Our health glitches only make that clearer.
For a long time we have tried to live one day at a time. Truly now our restrictions are only those we impose on ourselves, and it is up to us to choose how to live each day of our lives, for the rest of our lives, as long as we can do that. It is a time for second chances and new beginnings, once again.
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
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,
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.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
In a bit of a funk
It feels like so many things in my life and around me are up in the air, and I've never done limbo very well. And yes, the gray skies and rain that I so wanted have been here for several days, although sun is peeking through as i write, but gray skies and rain also can exacerbate moodiness, and I'm fighting it a bit.
Partly it's the cold that I'm getting over, and am very grateful that it did not get any worse than it did and that I can taste again. But it makes me tired and without much energy, and I've taken naps the last few days, something that is pretty rare for me.
Partly it is waiting for the results of a health test that I'll likely know about tomorrow. While I truly, deeply, do not think anything is terribly amiss, I think there could be some medication changes and possibly further testing. It -- or at least the what-if factor -- maks me feel terribly mortal and more than a little fragile, and that is never a good place to be.
And partly it is looking at all the bits and pieces of projects that need to be completed, few of which will take a long time, and just not wanting to tackle any of them. There are certainly more than a few that indeed will take time and effort,, like cleaning out the attic, but that's not one that is right under my nose. No, it's the scraps and bits of Christmas still left in the spare bedroom and the messy shelves in the laundry room that need to be tidied and stuff thrown away. I'm heading for the bedroom in a few minutes to at least clean off the floor.
And it's January, never my favorite month. The music and falala of the holidays are over, and it's on to hoping that we get enough rain to fill up the lakes and water tables and lessen the summer fire danger, and realizing that we have only a few more months to do that. While I love the freshness of spring, I'm not ready for the outdoor work that really needs to be done this year.
I know all this will pass and the test will be what it is and I'll adapt however I must. I know that Tony's last full-time day is less than a month away now, and that his long-awaited retirement will soon be here. I'm glad for that change, even though it also brings with it the acknowledgement that we are indeed in our 'golden' years, hopefully with many more good ones ahead of us to share.
What I know for sure: nothing lasts, everything changes. So it is with my life, so it is with yours.
“We're all just walking each other home.” ― Ram Dass
Partly it's the cold that I'm getting over, and am very grateful that it did not get any worse than it did and that I can taste again. But it makes me tired and without much energy, and I've taken naps the last few days, something that is pretty rare for me.
Partly it is waiting for the results of a health test that I'll likely know about tomorrow. While I truly, deeply, do not think anything is terribly amiss, I think there could be some medication changes and possibly further testing. It -- or at least the what-if factor -- maks me feel terribly mortal and more than a little fragile, and that is never a good place to be.
And partly it is looking at all the bits and pieces of projects that need to be completed, few of which will take a long time, and just not wanting to tackle any of them. There are certainly more than a few that indeed will take time and effort,, like cleaning out the attic, but that's not one that is right under my nose. No, it's the scraps and bits of Christmas still left in the spare bedroom and the messy shelves in the laundry room that need to be tidied and stuff thrown away. I'm heading for the bedroom in a few minutes to at least clean off the floor.
And it's January, never my favorite month. The music and falala of the holidays are over, and it's on to hoping that we get enough rain to fill up the lakes and water tables and lessen the summer fire danger, and realizing that we have only a few more months to do that. While I love the freshness of spring, I'm not ready for the outdoor work that really needs to be done this year.
I know all this will pass and the test will be what it is and I'll adapt however I must. I know that Tony's last full-time day is less than a month away now, and that his long-awaited retirement will soon be here. I'm glad for that change, even though it also brings with it the acknowledgement that we are indeed in our 'golden' years, hopefully with many more good ones ahead of us to share.
What I know for sure: nothing lasts, everything changes. So it is with my life, so it is with yours.
“We're all just walking each other home.” ― Ram Dass
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Reverb11 -- Day 29 -- Shake it up, baby!
#1 Prompt: Shaking Things Up - Looking towards 2012, what can you do to shake things up a little next year?
#2 Prompt: Expectation: What is on expectation you fiercely held for 2011 that you wish to let go of before 2012? What steps are required to putting it to rest?
#1 -- Hooyeah. I think retirement is gonna shake stuff up pretty good without any effort on my part at all. For the first time since August 2007, Tony will be home with me every day, all day, and neither of us will have a J.O.B. We can sculpt our own days, our trips, our routines, we can go to matinees in the middle of the week, we can be couch potatoes whenever we want.
I expect the year to be interesting, exciting, enjoyable, and joyful. Even the parts about washing windows and putting down gallons of RoundUp -- because we don't have to wait for a decent weekend! Yay for retirement!
#2 -- Generally I try not to have big expectations about much of anything but to try to watch events unfold the way they will. Especially as a 20-30-something, and beyond too, I would plan out events in my head and anticipate them with great delight, and then be bitterly disappointed (and a bit of a martyr, too, if I'm honest) when things didn't work out the way I'd expected them to. I remember, for instance, a visit to the Maine coast many, many years ago (I was in my mid-20s), and we'd planned to have a picnic on a beach and then go for a dip in the ocean -- something I had never done, much less in Maine. The day dawned cloudy and quite cool with threatening rain, and the ocean was every bit as frigid as our northern Pacific coast, and I was soooo disappointed that I whined and complained for the rest of the day, endearing myself so greatly to my husband and parents, of course.
Some years later I read a horoscope book that discussed in depth the characteristics of the Scorpio-Sagittarius cusp, and was smacked upside the head by the 'martyr' description that was included in some undesirable traits. Ever since then, I've tried to keep my expectations in check and to squelch the inner martyr.
The biggest expectation I can think of for 2011 was Tony's retirement date which for several years we'd anticipated happening first in May (which got changed in August 2010) , and then in mid-August, which didn't happen. Then it was going to be July 31, 2012, but after a couple of months of wrapping our heads around that date, the Universe intervened once again. It might actually have been today, but he agreed to stay on a bit longer, so at this writing it will be March 31 at the latest. I don't think that will get pushed out again.
We were able to let go of the different dates as the situation changed, and I'm proud of that. We worked together to talk it out and work through the different scenarios, and once it was past, we let it be and didn't revisit it.
That's really how I try to live my life these days -- kind of like being on a ship on the ocean and needing to keep your balance depending on the size of the swells. Some swells ask a little effort more from us, but everything changes from moment to moment. We can anticipate, but we must remain flexible and ready to move quickly. Not a bad way to live, I think.
#2 Prompt: Expectation: What is on expectation you fiercely held for 2011 that you wish to let go of before 2012? What steps are required to putting it to rest?
#1 -- Hooyeah. I think retirement is gonna shake stuff up pretty good without any effort on my part at all. For the first time since August 2007, Tony will be home with me every day, all day, and neither of us will have a J.O.B. We can sculpt our own days, our trips, our routines, we can go to matinees in the middle of the week, we can be couch potatoes whenever we want.
I expect the year to be interesting, exciting, enjoyable, and joyful. Even the parts about washing windows and putting down gallons of RoundUp -- because we don't have to wait for a decent weekend! Yay for retirement!
#2 -- Generally I try not to have big expectations about much of anything but to try to watch events unfold the way they will. Especially as a 20-30-something, and beyond too, I would plan out events in my head and anticipate them with great delight, and then be bitterly disappointed (and a bit of a martyr, too, if I'm honest) when things didn't work out the way I'd expected them to. I remember, for instance, a visit to the Maine coast many, many years ago (I was in my mid-20s), and we'd planned to have a picnic on a beach and then go for a dip in the ocean -- something I had never done, much less in Maine. The day dawned cloudy and quite cool with threatening rain, and the ocean was every bit as frigid as our northern Pacific coast, and I was soooo disappointed that I whined and complained for the rest of the day, endearing myself so greatly to my husband and parents, of course.
Some years later I read a horoscope book that discussed in depth the characteristics of the Scorpio-Sagittarius cusp, and was smacked upside the head by the 'martyr' description that was included in some undesirable traits. Ever since then, I've tried to keep my expectations in check and to squelch the inner martyr.
The biggest expectation I can think of for 2011 was Tony's retirement date which for several years we'd anticipated happening first in May (which got changed in August 2010) , and then in mid-August, which didn't happen. Then it was going to be July 31, 2012, but after a couple of months of wrapping our heads around that date, the Universe intervened once again. It might actually have been today, but he agreed to stay on a bit longer, so at this writing it will be March 31 at the latest. I don't think that will get pushed out again.
We were able to let go of the different dates as the situation changed, and I'm proud of that. We worked together to talk it out and work through the different scenarios, and once it was past, we let it be and didn't revisit it.
That's really how I try to live my life these days -- kind of like being on a ship on the ocean and needing to keep your balance depending on the size of the swells. Some swells ask a little effort more from us, but everything changes from moment to moment. We can anticipate, but we must remain flexible and ready to move quickly. Not a bad way to live, I think.
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