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Showing posts with the label just getting older

A Hysterical Thought

As some of you dear readers know, I underwent a full hysterectomy last year. For those of you who are learning for the first time, yes, I did. Snip, snip, snip, snip went the oncologist/gynecologist with the da Vinci robotic arms and pop! shusssssh! went my Fallopian tubes, ovaries, uterus, and cervix, along with cancerous cells, which nobody was really sure if they truly were there.

Yes, it overwhelms me when I think about it. My mind does really well about not thinking. My body is another story. Before telling you more, know that the doctor assured me that my reproductive system fits the size of my fist, maybe even smaller, and that within time my guts will drop and fill the space.

So, here I am just over 13 months later continually clenching my tailbone because I'm afraid my intestines will fall out.

Seriously.

This got me to wonder: Has anyone given birth to her guts?

Do you think I ought to ask the doctor? Giggle


Whooo-hooo! Almost Eligible for Medicare

I got my first piece of advertisement for a Medicare advantage plan in the mail yesterday. It wished me Happy Birthday! That was last month.

It stated that it is time for me to think about Medicare, even though I won't be eligible until the end of the year. The mailer did give one two piece of valuable information. Namely, I can enroll for Medicare three months before I turn 65, nine months from now. Unless things change between now and then, the only reasonable and, thankfully, affordable option for me is the Medicare advantage plan that the Husband is already on.

Five Facts about Medicare
Medicare, established under Title XVIII of the Social Security Act, was signed into law by President Johnson in 1965.President Truman and Mrs. Truman were the first Medicare beneficiaries, receiving the first Medicare cards.In 1972, President Nixon signed a bill to expand coverage to persons under 65 who have long-term disabilities.In 1982, hospice services was added as a Medicare benefit.The o…

Feeling Free at Sixty-Four!

Yesterday I celebrated my first day of being 64 years old.

How did that happen?

My body knows I'm old. Probably my brain does, too. I'm guessing all old people say that since I have no guidebook for getting older.

Spiritually, I'm that five-year-old wandering in the fields surrounded by tall grass, wildflowers, butterflies, and sun bubbles.

I'm also that young thing uncovering worlds and possibilities.

I feel, again, a freedom to dream, to discover, and to do!



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.


A New Trip

So begins a new adventure around the sun for me.

Here I gooooooooooooooooooooooooo. . .




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 …

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. 

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 do…

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 y…

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!


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.


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 valle…

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.

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!

Endless Energy

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…

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 righ…

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.
I ate no foods made of flours or had more than 20 grams of sugar per serving.For 29 out of the 30 days, I ate no food nor drank alcohol after 7:30 PM.I worked out every day…

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 bein…

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. 

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.