Tag Archive | getting to the truth

It Happens Faster Than You Think

Hi Everybody! I hope those of you who followed me in the past are still willing to do so. I’ve been away to dedicate my time to writing three books. One is the second edition of my first attempt at a novel. During the past several years and six other books, I’ve learned a thing or two. I still like the story, but the writing—not so much. The second book is a sequel to “Finding Gessler.” And the third is the more difficult tale to tell—“Barbie and Ken, A love Story.” This book chronicles our journey through Multiple Sclerosis. So you get it—I’ve been busy.

But I had to write about an important subject—aging. This summer I will have a milestone birthday. Yes, I will turn 65. I think this birthday is tougher than turning any other milestone birthday like 18, 21, 30, 40, 50, 60 etc. Inside, I feel no different than I ever did, but for the first time outside, there are tell-tale signs—gray hair, glasses, and moving a bit slower. What I didn’t count on was the government and different professionals reminding me almost every day  I’m getting close to the big 65.

It started when my Medicare card arrived a month ago. Following that memorable event was a plethora of advertisements for Medicare supplement plans. Next came the phone calls from every insurance agency that sells the old fogy plans. Okay, I’m tough. I can take it. But when my family doctor came into the exam room saying, “So, Barbara, how’s the hip?” Weeks later, the optometrist said, “You’re eyes are in good health, but I do see the start of cataracts.”

It’s bad enough to look at my birth certificate and KNOW I’m getting older, but to have all these outside influences reinforcing the fact, well, it is a bit overwhelming. And considering my birthday is not until the end of July, what’s the rush?

For all of you who are younger than I am, don’t hurry to grow up. It happens sooner than you think. Just saying’.

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Let There Be Light

Over the weekend I took advantage of the warm weather (50’s) and got started on my outdoor lighting display for the upcoming holidays. The garland is draped around the wheelchair ramp, the wreath is up and I got my lovely Angle perched on her pedestal. If it doesn’t rain today, I will finish my project.

I’ve learned through the years such a project is a lot of work and even a little bit of engineering, but it’s one of my favorite things about the holidays. Ken and I always take a ride through the different parts of the city where other people have done the work to put up holiday lights.

The only problem with such a project is this: Will everything work when I plug it in? Most of the time something doesn’t light after I’ve exhausted all of my electrician genes–which is a BIG problem.

As a “recovering” Catholic, I began to wonder whether there is a patron saint of outdoor lighting. Don’t laugh. There is at least one patron saint to call upon for most life situations. When I can’t find something, I talk to St. Anthony. When my girlfriend wanted to sell her house, she buried St. Joseph upside down in her backyard. So, I give this practice of praying to these saints for help some credence.

I know. I know. This practice is superstitious. But with that in mind, this morning I “Googled” a list of patron saints on catholicfaith.org. The list included abandoned infants to youth, but there was no patron saint of outdoor lighting. I guess the list was put together before electricity was invented. But that can’t be true either, because there was a patron saint of Automobilists and Aviators — in fact, two saints were assigned to aviators.

I think my only option is to say a prayer to the patron saints of writers — St. Lucy and St. Francis de Sales. Perhaps they will look over me when I take the final step to plug in the lights and make the scene come alive.

 

It’s Time to Say Thank You

Every fourth Thursday of November, families gather around tables to share a special meal which usually involves turkey. This ONE day was declared a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln so Americans could give thanks for their their blessings. But in recent years, Thanksgiving has lost its punch because the holiday now finds itself buried under “Black Friday” shopping ads. Some stores even open on Thursday afternoon with their door buster sales. Am I  nuts to think this is nuts? Are we Americans really that eager to join throngs of frantic people rushing from store to store before the leftovers are even refrigerated?

Personally, I like to give each holiday its due. Face it, we only have one Easter, one 4th of July, one Memorial Day, one Labor Day, one Veteran’s Day and one Halloween per year. Why rush it all?

It seems holidays in general have become little more than a day off for over-worked employees, except of course, the poor people who have to work on the holidays because heaven forbid the stores might lose a couple of bucks in revenue if they shut their doors. Bah Humbug!

I’m old enough to remember when stores were NOT open on Sundays. We took twenty-four hours to just relax. If we needed a gallon of milk, well, we stocked up on Saturday or waited until Monday to refill the frig. Nobody died because we didn’t have enough milk. But that was before companies studied the 40-hour week and found it was more efficient to put people on 4-day work schedules for ten hours and rotate them during the rest of the month. Luckily, I didn’t ever have to work such crazy hours, but my daughter now does. And I tell you, she looks tired all of the time.

We also waited for every holiday and enjoyed the festivities connected with each. The world was slower than, and frankly, speeding up the pace of living has turned most of us into nervous wrecks. I jumped off that merry-go-round about seven years ago with a premature retirement and to tell you the truth, I haven’t missed the helter-skelter world at all.

I just think it isn’t too much to ask to take one day out of the year and make a point of looking at your life and finding things to be thankful for. I understand sometimes when the bottom has dropped out of your world, this task can be more challenging. We’ve all been there. But I suggest if you don’t go hungry, have a roof over your head, and don’t have to fear a bomb will hit your house, bow your head and say “Thanks.”

 

 

Creating Your World

A few days ago my daughter called and said she found an outlet for some of my jewelry. Lately, painting has taken the place of my jewelry designing because I have a dresser drawer full of necklaces, earrings, and bracelets just lying dormant. So I was excited a tanning salon wanted to take my creations and sell them. Christmas is coming, after all. The store I had my jewelry displayed downtown closed over a year ago, so I pretty much abandoned my jewelry efforts.That is not to say my paintings are flying off the wall. I’ve found one idea leads to another, then another, and another. Before long, my creative endeavors almost move me out of my house!

I may never sell a painting, but I challenge myself by trying new techniques and practice things like perspective, which I really haven’t mastered yet. The best part is when my artist friend Marie critiques my creations and makes suggestions to improve what I’ve done. Constructive criticism is part of the creative process, so grow a thick skin and ask for it.

I’ve always enjoyed crafting but like everything I seem to take on, I am prolific. I’ve written eight novels and many short stories. I’m working on two more books, too. This is my 482nd blog — and I took a year off.

But I have to do these things. Creating is the reason we are all put here. Really. Maybe you don’t create “art” or “literature” but most people pick something to enrich their soul. My creating keeps me thinking. I hate foggy days (not the weather). When I feel sluggish, I pick up one of my creative outlets and just do it. Nobody has to push me to move into the creative side of me, and before I know it, the fog has lifted and I can go on to tackle more mundane activities like cleaning, paying bills, or cooking the evening meal.

If you don’t indulge your creative side, you’re missing the boat. Pick something you might enjoy. Try it. And if you don’t like the activity, try something else. Creating is in human DNA. You need to express this part to make you whole. Tell me about your creative outlets. I’d love to hear about them.

 

When Disappointment Darkens Your Door

unhappy faceHow do you accept disappointments? Do you have a tantrum like a two year old? Do you yell at someone? Or do you swallow the hurt and deal with it another day?

Let’s face it. Life usually doesn’t fulfill our every expectation. In fact, I have come to the conclusion “life” finds way to stand in the way of most things these days.

Today Ken was supposed to go to his harmony club, and I had plans to see a friend. I haven’t seen her in a couple of weeks, so I looked forward to reconnecting with her. BUT — When I heard Ken hit the bedroom floor, I instantly knew my plans for the day were dashed. I jumped up to see if he was hurt, and God willing he wasn’t. I swear that man has a legion of guardian angels who lay on the floor and break his falls. He hardly ever gets hurt. For me — not so much. About three months ago I leaned over in my office chair to pick up a paper from the floor — and WHAM! The chair slid out from underneath me, and I landed on my tail. I struggled to get up, and for at least a week, I felt like a kid who got hit with a wooden paddle. Anyway, I digress . . . Back to disappointment.

As soon as I expressed my disappointment — like a three year old — not a two year old — I am making some progress on this journey, I hated myself. Here the poor guy is struggling to pull himself up to stand and get into his wheelchair, and I’m cranking about my plans changing. What a bitch, right?

Well, yes. I’m a bitch –sometimes. But I never understood why a crabby women is named after a female dog. There I go again  . . . digressing.

I think it is important to express anger in a controlled way. Just like every process, care giving has it’s frustrations and disappointments –not to mention fear of what else is down the road. I know where I am with Ken is pretty stable for now, but the unknown future scares the life out of me. People say I shouldn’t borrow trouble. And they’re right. I shouldn’t think about what MIGHT happen and I should deal with the challenges as they appear. But that’s easier said than done.

When I’ve taken the appropriate amount of time to digest this disappointment, I will be my old self again. I’ll wear a smile and when asked how I am, I’ll say, “I’m fine.” After all, most people expect that response. They certainly don’t want a blow by blow of a disappointment that only changed my plans.

Queen For a Day

Once a year the Aging and Disability Resource Center in our town invites care givers to a special luncheon. The theme this year was a “Virtual Cruise.” Having enjoyed at least ten cruises in my lifetime, I wondered how they would carry this off.

The theme was set at the front door when we all were greeted with “Aloha” and a colorful silk lei was put around our necks. Ken was greeted in much the same way, but he would spend his day being cared for by professionals in a different room from where I would spend the outing.

Care givers were ushered down a long hallway where Hawaiian music wafted through a grand ballroom. Large round tables covered in white linen each had a silk star lily centerpiece. We were invited to sip a drink from tall, tropical glasses with paper umbrellas; of course, the rum was left out of the fruity drinks. It was morning, after all; entirely too early for rum. 🙂

From ten until two o’clock about fifty care givers were able to relax and laugh. We also were encouraged to learn about some of the area services available once the care giving mantel gets too heavy. The organizers had a clever way to get us to visit all of the vendors present; we were given a “passport” that needed to be stamped by each vendor as we completed our “worldwide tour.” The passports were then collected for door prize drawings at the end of the day.

Unfortunately I didn’t win a thing, but I did have a nice day out of the house. Our group enjoyed entertainment including teenage dancers, a ventriloquist, and a massage therapist, who gave five-minute chair massages to anyone who wanted one. When it was my turn, I was flabbergasted he found very sore tight muscles on both sides in my shoulder area. I guess I carry more tension than I ever dreamed.

One of the best things about the day was the view. I sat and stared at the beautiful fall color outside the floor to ceiling windows. For some reason, colorful trees just do it for me, you know? The natural beauty reminded me I’m a small cog in a very big machine. When the same humdrum experiences go on day after day, I forget that.

During the ride home, Ken shared he had a good time, too. Two other people he knew from “Harmony Club” — the respite service he attends twice a month — were there. But I never worry about Ken in a social gathering; he’s so congenial he can make friends with anyone.

If you’re a care giver, I encourage you to seek out help from the local Aging and Disability Center in your area.  The hardest thing you’ll do is make phone call. People working in such an organization are caring, empathetic, and helpful. They also help keep things in perspective. They let you know your anger, frustration, and searching for answers are part of the package when you’re a caregiver. They know how to maneuver through the state obstacles and restriction. I’ve found answers to the problems Ken and I encounter as we travel through this MS journey.

Who knows, maybe you’ll have the pleasure of being “Queen for a day” like I did yesterday.

A Day Alone

Yesterday I spent the late morning and early afternoon alone. Ken when to his “Harmony Club,”which is a a a supervised gathering of elderly and handicapped people. The participants exercise, play games, make crafts, and eat lunch together. They have a chance to form friendships, and they end each session by playing Bingo and winning prizes. Ken loves going because he can talk to somebody other than me, plus he enjoys being with older people. Seeing I’m ten years older than he is explains our happy marriage. 🙂

The four or five hours we have apart gives me a chance to have a little fun with my friends. Usually I meet somebody for lunch and then tie up the day with a trip to some shop to nose around for a little while. I love going downtown because there are a lot of restaurants to chose from and plenty of specialty shops where hidden treasure waits for someone to discover it.

But yesterday I chose to just be alone. I hunted new winter tops at the thrift store. (Since I discovered the place, I haven’t darkened the door of any retail shop.) Then I went home, finished my blog posting for the day, and ate lunch with Ernie sitting on my lap. (He watched my food as I enjoyed my soap opera without somebody teasing me for watching such drivel.) I didn’t talk for four hours! Believe me, that’s a record!

When I picked up Ken at 3:30 p.m., we  both looked forward to being together again. With stuffed peppers and acorn squash waiting in the oven, we had a pleasant dinner followed by a night of television. In the past, days like this would have bored me to death, but now the mundane times are cherished. Call it old age, but normalcy in our world is just fine. Achieving contentment in one’s life takes some time, and I’m glad I arrived at that place when a day spent alone becomes time well spent.

A happy life is one of balance and contentment, no matter how old or young, rich or poor a person is. I’ll warn you though. Achieving such a life is hard work. Just try it. I dare you.