Showing posts with label just getting older. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just getting older. Show all posts

Friday, May 19, 2017

Two Fridays Ago


Two Fridays ago, the sunflower plants (those standing green guys in the background of the photo) were about one-third the size they are today.

Two Fridays ago, I was sleeping off the effects of a robotic laparoscopic hysterectomy in a hospital room over an hour's drive away from home.

I am healing well, thank you. I think I have inherited the Mama's resilience genes. It could also be described as the gene that resists letting go, chilling, and not doing anything at all. Fortunately I have also inherited the Daddy's gene of that's enough being whatever, so I have decided that I will not work in the yard unless the Husband is with me. Did you think I was going to say not work at all? Ha!

I appreciate all your warm thoughts, prayers, positive vibes, and well wishes. They're all helping me get stronger each day.

Love you, one and all,

Su-sieee! Mac

P. S. I'll write about by not-so-hysterical adventures soon.


Monday, December 12, 2016

A New Trip


So begins a new adventure around the sun for me.

Here I gooooooooooooooooooooooooo. . .




Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Oh, Gee. Oh, My. Oh, Gosh!


"Are you ready?"

"Me?"

"Susan?"

"Yup. That's me." I pushed myself off the bench and grabbed the Mama's cane.

"Take your time," the X-ray lady said. "No hurry."

"I finally think of myself as old," I said, trying not to grimace as I stiffly walked into the inner room of the X-ray laboratory.

"Is that why you gasped when I gave you the form to sign?" the office lady asked, as I walked behind her desk. "I wondered what it was on the form that made you hesitate."

"Seeing my age, yes," I said. "I don't think of myself as being that old. 62!"

"I don't think of myself as old either," said the office lady, who may have been a few years younger than me.

The X-ray lady, who looked to be in her late 40s  agreed as well.

 I felt like the three of us gave a invisible collective sigh.

Since the beginning of August I've been hobbling along most days because of the knees. At first it was my left knee that gave me trouble. Then at the beginning of October, it switched over to the right knee. Too much overcompensation, I figure, from too much lifting and carrying of heavy boxes. So forth and so on. Bleah. The X-rays show arthritis in both knees. Also, the misalignment of bones in my right knee. Fun stuff.

My knees have been an issue since I was a kid. On the bright side, it has taken 50 years for the knees to kick in and say, "It's time to see an orthopedist."

I'm missing my rides with Tilda-Hilda.  One day, soon!


It's ABC Wednesday time. (Thank you very much, ABCW team!)  Here we are at the letter O. Oh, boy; oh, girl! Click here to join in and/or to check out the other participants.

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Youth


Old age realizes the dreams of youth: look at Dean Swift; in his youth he built an asylum for the insane, in his old age he was himself an inmate.
~ Soren Kierkegaard

When I was a youth, I dreamt of hiking mountains, pedaling bicycles, paddling boats, crafting words for a living, seeing wondrous sights, traveling to distant lands, hanging out with great friends, and sharing life with an honest, respectful, kindly, compassionate, intelligent, and funny gentle man.

I have realized, and continue to realize, my youthful dreams. How about you?

Youth has no age.
~ Pablo Picasso


It's the letter Y at ABC Wednesday. Click here to read other Y posts and/or to join in at the fun weekly meme. 

Sunday, March 20, 2016

An Adventure, Nevertheless


We are on a new adventure—the Mama, Molly the Cat, the Husband, and I.

The Mama's body is failing. Thank goodness, her spirit is not.

She's stubborn. That's a positive.

Yesterday afternoon, she faced reality. She fell! "You need to use the walker," I exclaimed.

"No! The dead people used it," she said, referring to the walker gathering dust in the garage. She used it once upon a time when she was healing from a broken hip. Somewhere along the line she let a friend borrowed it, which his wife returned after he died.

"We will get you another one," I said. It was 5 o'clock in the afternoon. Fortunately, for us, we found a bare-basic walker, without the sparkles and whistles, at the pharmacy.

Thankfully for us,  the Mama allowed herself to use the walker. I loved that at one point, as she slowly made her way down the hallway, she stamped her feet and scolded her legs for not working with her.

Last night, Molly the Cat gave the Mama an extra dosage of purrrrrrrrr while she laid on the couch in the living room. Molly first kneaded the Mama's blanket, then snuggled beside the Mama's legs. Sweet, Molly the Cat.

It seems that Molly's and the Mama's appetite are in sync. Mama eats a little bit, Molly eats a little bit. The Mama eats a good bit of her food, Molly eats her food. When Molly doesn't eat her meal, the Mama urges her to "Eat, eat, eat." I would love it if Molly could say, "You first, Madame."

As I'm writing, I can hear the Mama washing her breakfast dishes. (It was a good day for breakfast for the Mama and Molly.) My first thought when I heard the clang of dishes was to stop her and wash them for her. No. It's routine. It's normalcy. It's independence. For her. And for us.

Today, when the Mama is watching her game shows, the Husband and I will rearrange the furniture in her room so that she can move about fairly easy with her walker. She'll strike back at that change of reality. That's good.

I have begun to cry. I do my best not to do it in front of her. So far, so good.


Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Attempting to Speak Ilocano


Ilocano is the Mama's primary language. It was the Daddy's as well. Ilocano is one of the languages of the Philippines. I'm one of those second-generation people who can understand their parents' primary language proficiently but is a doofus when it comes to speaking it. I don't even think I spoke it before I went to school, which was probably because the Only and Older Brother was already in school when I came along.

Because we've lived with the Mama for over 12 years, I've gained back much of my comprehension skills. It's a good thing. As the Mama has gotten older, she is speaking more in Ilocano without realizing it. Her hearing is pretty bad, which has me thinking that a lot of the time English sounds like jibber jabber to her. I've started using a word or two of Ilocano, when I can think of it. Of course, my Ilocano also sounds like jibber jabber to her.

Doesn't matter. Broken Ilocano talk, here I am. 

Adda iti kayat mo? Is there anything you want?

Awan. Nothing. 

Ado.  A lot.


Today ABC Wednesday starts Round 18, which begins my third round with the meme. Whooo-hooo! This cool meme was started by Mrs. Denise Nesbitt and continues today under the helm of Roger Green and his ABCW team.  Thank you!  If you'd like to participate and/or check other participants, please click here.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Day 83 with Tilda-Hilda: A Birthday Ride


My day 83 ride with Tilda-Hilda was yesterday. It was my birthday ride, from our house to my favorite coffee shop just over 13 miles away. Whoo-hoo!

Starting off!

We've done longer rides, but this is the first time I've ever pedaled Tilda-Hilda to San Juan Bautista, which I've been wanting to do for three years. I was hoping to accomplish my goal this past August, but my knees got all whiny and worrisome. For about four months, we mostly pedaled around our neighborhood and it wasn't until the end of November that I ventured out and about. Although I only worked up to a few miles per trip, I decided last week to simply do this ride on my birthday, if the weather is good (no rain nor thick fog) and my knees are in good order.

Looking back from whence we came: The highway we crossed at the end of the field.

I admit I was a bit scared leading to yesterday, although I have often driven the path I would be taking. I would be crossing a highway, which worried me even though there are traffic lights at the intersection. And, I'd be zig-zagging through San Juan valley, which can sometimes feel like it takes forever to cross by car.

An organic apple orchard

The Husband was worried, too. I heard it in his voice, even though he didn't say anything. I'm glad he didn't. No doubt, he probably had the same "What if's" going through his head. What if I got a flat tire? What if an idiot driver didn't see me? What if there's no reception for the cell phone? What if I hurt myself?. . . .

My last stop: This is where I called the Husband to let him know
I've only a few miles left to go.

Yesterday was beautiful morning for a ride. Bright and sunny. A bit on the chilly side, which I didn't realize until I was drinking my delicious mocha java. My feet were cold for a long while afterwards.

Cattle greeted me, as I passed them by in their fields. Mooo. So, did horses. Neighhhhh. Birds, too. Chirrppp. I did surprise a few birds off their perches along the road. Sorry.  And, drivers waved to me as I pedaled through the valley. Sweet.

Here we are! At Vertigo Coffee. Safe and sound.

It was a great ride and easier than I thought. Tilda-Hilda and I pedaled 13.28 miles in 77 minutes, not including the times we stopped so I could take photos. Pretty good for a new 62-year-old woman.

My birthday mocha java. Yummmm.

And, next time, I'll pedal back home. Maybe.  The Husband drove over to fetch Tilda-Hilda and me. Isn't he a very nice guy?

Going home.

Update: Blogger Petra-Pippa Koenig of Germany kindly invited me to join her linky party that she hosts on her blog, What Happened in Your Surrounding or Your Mind This Week? (That's an English translation.) Click here to check out the participants. Thanks, Pippa!

If I remember, I shall also link up with Warm Heart Wednesday, hosted by Jenny Matlock. Until then.

 

Saturday, December 12, 2015

A Rose for Me


I'm writing this yesterday. Not caring about proper grammar. Because today is my birthday. Giggle. 

This old lady is a young 6-2. Ha!

If the weather and my body cooperated,  and I didn't chicken out, Tilda-Hilda and I have begun my new adventure around the sun by pedaling our way over to San Juan Bautista for breakfast. The Husband shall have driven over and met us there. And, together we shall have figured how to tie Tilda-Hilda into the trunk for our trip back home. Knock on wood.

Until later, dear friends.

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Success!

Hurrah!

The Husband and I found a market yesterday in Santa Cruz that sells beef liver and beef soup bones that I can trust. The Mama has been wanting soup-bone soup lately, too.

We bought three half-pound frozen containers of liver. Two containers went into the freezer, while the liver in third one was cooked with onions, garlic powder, salt, and soy sauce for the Mama's and my dinner last night. The Husband does not eat liver, no matter how much I tell him I cook so he'd think it was steak. He won't bite. So, he got leftover Chinese food to eat.

This morning, I asked the Mama if she liked the liver. "Yes," she said. "I feel stronger." 

Yay!

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Endless Energy

My ABC Wednesday theme: The Mama and Her Authentic Green Thumbs
. . .and Fingers

In the late 1990s, when the Mama was in her mid 70s, her doctor prescribed her one and only medication -- a pill for low thyroid. The doctor started her with .05 mg, a very low dosage. But, in the Mama, woooo-weee! It made her run the marathon, jump over the moon, and lift several 100-pound bags of soil every day.

Essentially, taking the medicine made her tired. And, of course, after awhile she stopped taking it.

A few months went by before I discovered she was not taking her medication. While visiting her one weekend, I noticed she was looking very tired so I checked her bottle. She was very good at not refilling prescriptions.  The bottle was the one I had ordered months ago and it was still full. The Mama admitted that she stopped taking it. Sigh. 

"Why?" I asked. She shrugged. Her usual answer to questions to which she was not ever going to respond.

"That's why you're feeling tired," I said. "The doctor prescribed this medicine so you can have the energy to do your work."

After more nagging from me, the Mama reluctantly took it.

That day, I watched her run a marathon, jump over the moon, and lift several 100-pound bags of soil. I was tired keeping up with her. The following Monday, I called her doctor and told him what happened. He mumbled that he would cut the dosage in half. All was good. She was back to just running a 10K, jumping over the roof, and lifting 50 pound bags of soil.

Last year, the Mama's thyroid levels had decreased, so the doctor doubled the dosage to the original .05 mg. I worried that she would start running around like crazy and hurt herself. Nothing happened. Hurrah!

All is good, as you can tell. The Mama no longer runs, jumps, and lifts like she used to, but she slowly and surely moves around her gardens, front and back, happily tending to their needs.


Today is the letter E at ABC Wednesday, a fun weekly meme created by Denise Nesbitt 16 rounds ago. Currently it is being administered by Roger Green at Ramblin' with Roger, with the help of his ABC Wednesday crew.  Please click here to read other ABC posts.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Rusted Running Feet


Plod, plod, plod. I jogged nonstop all the way around the block. Nearly one-quarter of a mile that first day. Yes, it was tough. On my lungs. On my knees. On my whole body.

Lumber, lumber, lumber.
The second day, I jogged, gasping, but nonstop, for half a mile.

When I got home, I told the Husband that my jogging went from  plod, plod, plod to lumber, lumber lumber.

The Husband asked, "How is plodding different from lumbering?"

The sound is different. It is.

Pad, pad, pad. My gait sounded like Molly the Cat's when she scoots across the kitchen floor in search of something mischievous to do. I went three-quarters of a mile that third day. I remembered to breath in through my nose and not my mouth. I tried not to think of the twinge in my right knee.

The fourth morning, I laid in bed thinking which route around the neighborhood would make one mile. And I thought about whether I ought to run at all. Maybe I ought to pay attention to the twinge that was now twanging in my right knee. It might go away after I stretched and rumbled along the street a bit. Or, it might tear.

I got out of bed and did my stretching exercises.  Afterwards, I decided for once in my life to pay attention to my body.

That was last week.

"Walking is just as good," the Husband said yesterday as we walked back from the bicycle shop where Tilda-Hilda was getting an extra-duty tire tube installed. "It's better for your knees."

"I know. I just miss the feeling of running."

It's been nearly 30 years since I ran -- excuse me, jogged -- on a regular basis. That was when I lived in San Francisco and ran every other day in Golden Gate Park. I liked going pad, pad, pad down the dirt paths, imagining that I was a village messenger bringing important news to the other villages. And, I liked participating in the fun races for the tee shirts. Actually the idea of doing a local 5K run in January got me motivated to see if I could actually do the motions of running again. Now I know.

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

That Effervescent Older Couple


I was in my late 20s when I first noticed that there would always be one older couple dancing their hearts out to a band playing in the middle of a mall or a hotel, or at a street fair or a farmers market. The couple would waltz, do the box step, cha-cha-cha, boogie-woogie, or just freestyle to the music.

The couple would be so full of joy that others would watch with big grins and smiles on their faces. A few people would even clap in appreciation. And, yes, there would be the few boors who would point at the older couple, laugh and make fun of them. But, then that's what boors do.

Well, here's the good news. Turns out the Husband and I have become one of those effervescent older couples.

Sam Farr 30-Day Challenge

I'm done! Yesterday was the last day. Whoo-hooo! I followed the rules as well as can be.
  1. I ate no foods made of flours or had more than 20 grams of sugar per serving.
  2. For 29 out of the 30 days, I ate no food nor drank alcohol after 7:30 PM.
  3. I worked out every day, pedaling Tilda-Hilda, the pretty pink cruiser, for a total of 303 miles and walking an altogether 6.55 miles.
Pretty darn good for this "young" old fogey.  Onward!

Today, I'm joining at  ABC Wednesday. This week is the letter "E" as in effervescent.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Grey Hair Stops Cars


It started happening last year. Well, I noticed it last year. A wonderful phenomenon that sometimes happens at intersections where there are no traffic lights or stop signs. The Husband and I stand at a corner, waiting to safely cross the street. We are in no hurry, usually. So, if there are several cars about to parade in front of us, no big deal. But, then, unexpectedly, a driver stops for us. We walk as quickly as we can across the street, waving our thanks to the driver. 

The first few times this occurred, I was amazed that there were still kind drivers in the world.

One day it occurred twice—drivers stopping their car to let us go by. The first time was in a parking lot, the second at a street intersection. As Yul Brynner in The King and I sang, "But is a puzzlement."

Then it dawned on me. The drivers who stopped saw two old people standing on a corner. Perhaps we looked forlorn or lost. Ha! I doubt it. Our normal stance is silly. They probably felt sorry for us being old and felt like paying something forward. Which is nice.

The Husband and I don't think of ourselves as old, except when another aspect of our health goes wrong, or, when we look in the mirror and see how grey our hair is. But, you know, if our grey hair will get us across the street sooner, that's okay by me.
I'm participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge this month. To check out other participants, click here. See you tomorrow.  

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Bra Time


Names have been changed because I just don't remember them anymore.

"Need any help, Bea," a grey-haired woman said heartily, from the doorway of the Friends of the Library Bookstore.

"Laurie, good to see you, darling," said the elderly Bea, turning from the bookshelves. "You're not scheduled for today."

"I know," Laurie said, walking into the shop. "I had to come down town to pay bills and return books. Since I had to put on a bra, I thought I'd stop by and do a couple of hours if you could use me."

Both women laughed. I laughed, too, from the side of the room. Yup. I could hardly wait to get home and take my bra off.

I'm participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge this month. To check out other participants, click here. See you tomorrow. 

Friday, September 20, 2013

One Dime. . .Two. . .Three. . .

"I think I have 86¢," I said, when the fish lady told us the lovely looking rockfish was $5.86.

Pulling out a handful of change from my purse, the fish lady said, "Yes, I think you do."

I plucked out two quarters, two dimes, a nickel, and a penny from the coins in my hand and put them on the counter. My mind when blank. "How much was it again?"

"86¢," said the Husband.

I fished out more coins. My mind went blank again. "What was it?"

"86¢," he said.

I looked down at the change. Total blankness. "What?"

"86¢!"

I gave up. "Okay, that ought to do it."

The fish lady picked up the change, laughing with the Husband and me as we chattered on. "And, to think he has to deal with me everyday," I said while the Husband rolled his eyes and threw up his hands.

I noticed the fish lady counting the change. "Did I give you enough?"

"More than enough," she said, handing me back two dimes.

"I used to be so good at counting change," I said.

"We should get you a change maker," said the Husband.

"Like a train conductor. Yeah. I could go for that."