21st Century Living
Celebrate Joy
Mary Oliver is well-known for her poetry. Although I am not normally a lover of poetry, I do love this one that seems to encourage us to find and celebrate joy, regardless of what is going on around us. I hope you enJOY this brief poem of hers.
Don’t Hesitate
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it.
There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be.
We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world.
It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins.
Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty.
Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Mind Games of Kindness
I would venture to say that 100% of us humans have some sort of mental health anomaly. In the Oxford dictionary, anomaly is defined as something that deviates from what is standard, normal, or expected.
A broken leg is an obvious malfunction: obvious to everyone who observes the cast that is worn or the crutches that are employed to hobble around. But what about what is going on in our brains? It is certainly true that certain behaviors are equally as detectable as a broken limb, but I believe the majority of us have degrees of anomalies of which only the individual affected might be aware. And we get up every morning hoping to crawl out of what that might mean for us: depression, anxiety, or fear of this, that, or the other.
The thrust of this brief post is two-fold:
to encourage those who suffer to seek beneficial support, and
to beseech others to be kind-hearted to those in need of your compassion.
To be sure, it is difficult to know what is going on in the emotional background of people we encounter so it is a very good practice to interact with others without passing judgment. I would very much appreciate being on the receiving end of a nonjudgmental encounter so it behooves me to extend that same courtesy to those who cross my path.
May we all practice acceptance and compassion towards ourselves and towards others.
Perhaps in addition to the above poster, this site would also be a helpful resource for all of us: NAMI
A Foot Ahead
Some time ago, I came to the realization about how many places my almost seventy-two year old feet have taken me. I’ve lived in the following US states: California, Hawaii, Alaska, and Washington. I’ve traveled to the following countries: Canada, Mexico, France, Scotland, and the UK. (I know, that’s not a lot of places but just the same, my feet took me there and back!)
Sometimes our feet take us to geographical places; other times they take us to and through life experiences – not all of which are easy or pleasing. But those gnarled toes and fallen arches manage to carry us where we need to be and will continue to do so until they can’t.
A few years ago, I came to a place of acceptance of my body resulting in gratitude for everything it has endured and managed to survive. That may not seem like a monumental achievement to some, but for me, it most definitely has been. My body’s challenges and your body’s challenges may not be identical but there isn’t a person around that doesn’t have them – bodies or challenges – and we’re still here!
I HAVE SURVIVED THE LESS THAN ENJOYABLE BODY FOIBLES 100% OF THE TIME AND HAVE LIVED TO WRITE ABOUT IT!
Wow! And because I have evidence that such successes have occurred, when I’m in the midst of seemingly insurmountable medical, physical, or emotional challenges, I can look forward to getting to the other side of them to add yet another success to my growing evidentiary list.
And my feet will take me there.
Life: A Jagged Journey
Our lives never follow a straight path. We make turns, we leap or crawl over speed bumps and roadblocks, and when needed, we take breaks along the way while battling the insistent urge to just give up. More often than not, however, we keep going; we move forward, one step at a time, hoping for the best.
A Jagged Journey, is a novel that follows the pothole-filled lives of disparate characters between the ages of seven and seventy-seven who are far from perfect and for the most part, are not hesitant to admit it. Set in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, the diversity inherent within that region is front and center and will have readers laughing and crying in equal measure.
Laughing because the youngest character, Sammy, is a kick-in-the-butt delight when his honesty comes through loud and clear, challenging every adult with whom he comes in contact to sit up and pay attention.
And crying, because readers will see themselves in the imperfect childhoods that can find adults sinking or swimming in their grown-up years.
My novel was written for anyone eighteen years and older. Within its pages, readers will find loving friendships and relationships that will challenge even the hardest of hearts to open up to the many joys that life has to offer.
Although my second novel does not have the same focus as Requiem for the Status Quo with its’ storyline filled with the caregiver and loved one’s journey with Alzheimer’s and other dementia, you will always find that element in every novel I write, including this latest, A Jagged Journey.
Love in Living Color
What a privilege it is to love someone and be loved by them. There’s a reason why there are so many dating/relationship services out there: we crave connection, and happily-ever-after is a worthy goal to pursue.
I’m fortunate that my current 29-year relationship (married for 25 of those 29) quite naturally fell into place. Girl meets boy on a blind date set up by a dating site; girl and boy decide to get together for another date, and…the rest is history!
No one disputed my choice of a partner with whom I held hands, smooched in public, and eventually enjoyed full intimacy. That is not always the case, whether a partner is of a different race, financial standing, or of the same gender identity. I experienced racial hatred when I married my first husband who is Chinese American. As a newly married couple, we walked hand-in-hand on a weekend outing in an Eastern Washington town where we were verbally accosted by a woman who shouted, “Thou shalt not mix races! You are an abomination to God!” I very unpolitely told her off and went on my way with my husband, enjoying the love we had already shared for more than eight years. That was 50 years ago, and I am still negatively affected by it. Many are harassed and abused in a similar manner because of the love they share with someone, harassment that takes many forms.
In the early 90s, I was privileged to work at a progressive Seattle law firm where one of my coworkers, a woman, was in a relationship with another woman. The two of them had certainly experienced discrimination but expressed that for the most part they had been fortunate. I asked my coworker how she and her partner had met. “Susan is who I fell in love with and she with me. It’s all about who you fall in love with.” That made sense to me and still does.
What also makes sense is living one’s truth and genuineness about who you are as an individual, and with whom you choose to share your life. Being who you are with someone else is rife with hurdles, regardless of your gender, but truly there is no other way to be. No ifs, ands, or buts – being safely and securely transparent in a relationship is a gift! What a privilege it is to live honestly, not having to pretend to be someone else, not living a cloaked identity just to be accepted by others.
I experience that freedom, and wish that same freedom for everyone seeking connection, love, and happily-ever-after.
May it be so.
Our Words Count
I know words count because I recently experienced one word that means so much. Get a load of this! That one Hawaiian word, ALOHA, is packed with goodness. Not only does it mean “Hello” but it also means:
- Love
- Affection
- Peace
- Compassion
- Mercy
That one word has a deeper cultural and spiritual significance to native Hawaiians for whom the term is used to define a force that holds together existence.
Am I the only one who thinks there may be a need for such a force in the world at large and specifically to where each of us are located?
I thought not. I even wrote about this same topic in the online Australian Publication in which I have a byline each issue: Grandparents Day Magazine. Spread the word!
There isn’t a person on this earth who couldn’t benefit from what Aloha has to offer. I think many of us think that only grandiose acts of kindness can have an impact. We might say, “How can just saying hello to someone or opening the door for them make a difference in a person’s day?” My answer to that is: “How did you feel when someone extended those kindnesses to you?” Exactly. It made you feel acknowledged and cared for.
A very good friend of mine calls these mini connections GLIMMERS. As a matter of fact, I recently wrote a blog piece Glimmers of Friendship, that elaborates on how some accidental meetings just might make the difference between having an improved day or not.
You and I can make a difference just by embodying Aloha in our everyday interactions. It might take some practice on our part, but if practice makes perfect, then let me commit to practicing my heart out.
Let’s Make Someone’s Day Better!
There are 26 letters in the English alphabet and what I find amazing is that those 26 letters make up all the words we could ever want to write in our lifetime. I find that such an endearing fact!!!
But you wanna know what I REALLY love? Sending greeting cards to people.
Okay, true confessions time: I am a card-a-holic. Yes, I am! I love sending cards to people for noteworthy occasions or for no occasion whatsoever. Why do I do that? Well, it’s a passion of mine, but also, I have to believe that any day I can improve someone’s life with snail mail that lands in their physical mailbox, is a good day.
And who doesn’t want to gift someone with a good day?
Trust me when I say, I know that texting and writing emails is a more efficient way of getting ones’ message across, but is it always the best way? No, I don’t think it is. The tactile experience of someone slicing open an envelope to receive my greeting excites the heck out of me! I send more cards than I receive but that doesn’t stop me from sending at least one card a week to someone, and what also doesn’t stop me is the ever-increasing price of postage because seriously people:
Can you put a price tag on happiness? Nope, you cannot.
I hope that my own country’s postal service never goes out of business, and I am doing my best to support it by purchasing the stamps it sells and giving the employees something super worthwhile to do: improving someone else’s day by delivering a card!
So, there you have it. I am grateful for the English alphabet that was created centuries ago so I could stand at a greeting card counter – like I did the other day – and carefully choose future tactile experiences that many someones will receive in their postal mailbox.
I SURE DO LOVE WHAT JUST 26 LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET CAN DO FOR OTHERS!
Adjusting Our Focus
Marcus Aurelius stated a good thing in this particular meditation, but boy is it difficult to comply with such wisdom. Am I right?
Negative matters and thoughts can really color our view of what’s going on around us but because of that negativity, I guess it’s far more beneficial to only give them their minimum due and then shift our focus to more positive happenings. After being on this earth for more than 71.5 years, I can state without hesitation that while yucky stuff is going on left, right, front, and center, positive stuff is equally as present…although not always recognizable. In a post last month, You Can Never Have Too Much Hope, I suggested that hopelessness is not a desired state of being. It’s a brief post I hope you will click on.
That is where hope comes in – an emotion that just might provide clarity when all the lines of decency seem blurred.
The Value of Connection
How well do you know the person who bags your groceries on a weekly basis? I am here to encourage you to engage with staff you see every week because the rewards to you, and the staff, are immeasurable.
The other day my husband and I said goodbye to our favorite grocery bagger, “Steven.” We saw Steven every week for a few years, and each time we did so – and after a certain measure of trust was established between customer and staff person – Steven opened up more and more to us. We shared grandchild stories while he shared tidbits about his hobbies and his later in life dating adventures.
But the other day, just a couple days before he moved across the country to help out his daughter in her hardware store business, he honored us by walking our groceries out to our car and then opened up like never before when I asked him how long he had worked at that Redmond, Washington area grocery store. His response floored us.
Steven revealed that he started working at the store six years ago, a couple years after he had survived, and been rehabilitated from, a brain aneurysm that didn’t quite stop him dead in his tracks. As a 50-something year old adult, he had to learn everything from scratch. Prior to this severe medical event, Steven was a professor of industrial engineering at a Washington university. Now he bags groceries, which, let me tell you, is a noble profession, especially during all the pandemic and other world events that pitted frontline workers in the midst of disarray and uncertainty.
My husband and I were shocked by his revelation given that we didn’t detect anything medically abnormal about this now 60-something year old gentleman. We never knew about the challenges he endured and overcame; we simply enjoyed our weekly interactions with him and quite frankly, felt those interactions were the highlight of each week’s mundane shopping trips. We were not looking forward to his planned move out of the state.
Opening up and being transparent with others is a vulnerable thing to do and shows a strength that many do not possess.
Once our groceries were loaded into our vehicle we visited with Steven some more and when it was time for him to head back into the store, the three of us exchanged goodbye hugs. We will miss this valuable connection but are happy that the state of Indiana will now get to benefit from this stellar human being we had come to know.
Just Checking In With You
How many times in a lifetime are we asked: How are you?
How many times have we answered: Fine.
How many times has that not been a true statement? Probably lots and lots of times.
We don’t always feel fine, and when I say “feel” I don’t just mean the physical or medical definition of fine. How about emotionally? How about the complicated psychological aspects that are tied in with how each of us is handling life as it presents itself to us?
Our confidence or lack thereof. Our sense of safety or danger in any given hour of every day. Our ability to cope when coping feels like the least practiced skill available to us.
I would suggest that each of us check in with those individuals within our sphere of influence: spouse or partner, neighbor, coworker, and friend, so that we assure the person we are querying that we really want to know and that they can be as transparent as they are comfortable being.
When we get in the practice of honestly inquiring about each other, it is my hope that our responses will be equally as honest so that dialogue, true dialogue will take place.
I hope that you are fine, but if you’re not, it’s okay to say so.
More Good News!
Last week I wrote a post about something terrific that happened to me while traveling recently. This post spotlights another terrific instance that took place at the commencement of our travels.
Our scheduled ride share failed to show up at our house to take us to the airport.
That certainly doesn’t sound like good news, does it? WELL, my husband and I had never used a ride share but wanted to do so for our most recent trip. Rather than drive our own vehicle to an offsite airport parking lot, we decided to enter the 21st century and hire a lift like so many other people routinely do. A couple weeks before our intended airport commute, we expressed our fear of doing so to our neighbor who immediately offered to be our backup should anything get in the way of the driver getting us to our intended destination. The day before our travel day, we scheduled the driver to pick us up at 7 the following morning.
Fifteen minutes before the driver was scheduled to arrive, they called me to say that their vehicle was slipping and sliding all over the road (it had snowed a bit the night before) and they didn’t know when they would arrive at our house. We both agreed that the scheduled ride needed to be cancelled. That left me needing to contact my next door neighbor at 6:57 am to ask if he could take us to the airport – a destination that was a good hour away.
I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.
Yep! He had chosen to monitor his phone starting at 7 am just in case he was needed so he was awake and ready to roll if called upon.
What started as a stressful travel day turned into an exercise in appreciating the goodness that exists just over the hedge/fence. We certainly knew our neighbors were the best neighbors ever and this incident confirmed what we already knew.
So if you’re looking for some good news to brighten your day, look no further than someone who just might be a stone’s throw away.
Make Good News
I recently had the opportunity to see an extraordinary bit of good news unfurl right before my eyes. My husband and I recently traveled by airplane for our 25th wedding anniversary trip. From my seat in the plane I could view everyone else entering the airplane as they were greeted by flight attendants. A woman walked through the plane’s portal and handed the flight attendants a box of See’s chocolates. I figured she must also be in the industry and gifted her fellow flight attendants with a gift.
At our airport destination’s baggage claim area, this same woman was waiting for her luggage just as we were waiting for ours. I walked up to her and said, “Can I ask you a question?” She nodded a yes. “Did you know those flight attendants you gifted with a box of candy?” Her response, “No. When I fly, I always give the attendants a box of chocolates to thank them for the difficult job they do.” I then put my hand to my heart and said, “Thank you for making my day. What a lovely act of kindness you are in the practice of giving.”
Kindness doesn’t have to be a grandiose effort to make a difference.
You Exist, And I Am Glad
We have all averted our eyes from an uncomfortable site, which is probably something different for each and every one of us. But there is more to that thought than meets the eye. Seeing eye to eye doesn’t have to mean that we agree or understand everything a person stands for, rather, it could mean seeing and acknowledging the existence of he/she/they, regardless of their standing in life, their race or ethnicity, their religious beliefs, or their me-ness.
Acceptance is defined by the Oxford dictionary as: The action or process of being received as adequate or suitable, typically to be admitted into a group.
Don’t get me wrong, I am the first to say that I don’t love everyone with whom I come in contact because I haven’t known everyone with whom I come in contact for a long enough period of time to develop such a feeling.
With that said, however, even if I don’t agree with everything and everyone’s viewpoint, I don’t pretend for a second that everyone should change to meet my requirements, however adopt-worthy, nebulous, or ethereal they may be. Choice comes into play when applied to others, just as it does when applied to me.
I have never been a fan of clubs or organizations that are limiting in their scope.
For me, once you start doing that, exclusivity takes on an ugly appearance and one’s status becomes either elitist or not noteworthy. Ugh, how horrible that must feel to be in the latter category.
That is why when I look someone in the eye, I will give them the benefit of the doubt and let a far higher power than I handle the rest. I don’t want to be the judge or the jury during this limited lifespan I have been given. So here I am. Judge for yourself.
Be Your Own Best Friend
Have mercy, I can truthfully tell you that I have been VERY hard on myself as an adult. Heck, even events for which I am not proud that happened many, many decades ago have come back to haunt me and shame me.
But then I learned about self-compassion and I realized those past events, and that person who was involved in those events, me, isn’t the me I am today.
Nope. Some matters took lots and lots of scrubbing to wash away the negative sense of worth that permeated my mind and my heart. LOTS of scrubbing. But as Maya Angelou stated very wisely during the course of her life:
“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
Trust me when I say, I believe in you and I really, really don’t want you to be so hard on yourself. If you wouldn’t treat a friend in that manner, please extend the same courtesy to yourself. Peace be with you.
You Can Never Have Too Much Hope
When Senator Gabby Giffords was shot at a campaign meet-and-greet and her future as a healthy human being was in severe jeopardy, a news reporter asked her husband, former astronaut Mark Kelly who is now the senior senator from Arizona, the following question when he expressed his extremely positive beliefs about his wife’s recovery, and I paraphrase:
Mark, don’t you think you’re hoping for too much?
His response, and again I paraphrase:
You can never have too much hope!
I have to believe that hope never disappoints. Let’s face it, the alternative, hopelessness, is far from an ideal state of being. Whatever you are going through, I hope that hope never stops growing within your heart and your mind.
Aging is a Privilege
Yes, it is.
No doubt each of us can name a friend or loved one who died younger than they should have. For me, it’s my sister-in-law, Wendy, who died of cancer and never got to meet her daughter’s children nor witness her son’s wedding; and my son-in-law’s father, David, who also died of cancer and not only didn’t get to see his children get married but also missed out on being grandpa to his son’s two children. Although it was years ago now, we are still feeling the after effects.
This body of mine has certainly inspired some complaints on my part; all those aches and pains and the inability to get up off the floor when playing with my grandkids without much fanfare. But I get to play with my grandkids on the floor. What a gift!
I am still here and Wendy and David are not so I will honor them both by not complaining too loudly when the privilege of aging has been granted to me and not granted to those two stellar human beings.
That sure gives me pause, as I am certain it does you where your losses are concerned.
Bless you all.
Glimmers of Friendship
A good friend of mine calls the above types of connections Glimmers.
I wonder where you experience glimmers? I am quite certain that not a day has gone by when I am in public that I haven’t been involved in an accidental meeting with someone, or several someones. Just ask my husband…there isn’t an elevator – or a store checkout counter – where I have not reached out to a stranger for that very short glimmer of friendship.
You don’t have to bug the heck out of someone to make a connection wherein they are frantically trying to get away from you – not in the least. All that is needed is a smile, a kind word, a compliment about their sparkly boots – the latter occurring just a couple weeks ago – or even just wishing a stranger a positive day of sorts.
Give it a try. You just might have made that stranger’s day with that accidental meeting’s mini conversation.
And may I add, I hope someone does the same for you someday soon that will make you feel better than you did just moments before.
AND TRUST ME, THAT’S NO ACCIDENT.
A Pet’s Devotion to Her Human
In November of 2024, my brother had knee replacement surgery. My brother doesn’t live alone, he lives with his pup, Ramona; she is the quintessential loving doggie everyone dreams of having.
She is so well-loved by the neighbors, that with my brother’s inability to take Ramona on her two times a day walks, the neighbors took over that duty so that my brother’s dog could get exercise and attend to her daily doggie business. Shortly after the substitute dog walker neighbors started their daily tasks, they told my brother that Ramona wouldn’t take the time to do said business and refused to take an extended walk through the vast neighborhood.
Everyone concluded that the dog’s reason for wanting to truncate her walk was no doubt due to her attentiveness to my brother’s needs: she didn’t want to be away from the house, and more importantly, her daddy – my brother. What if Daddy fell while Ramona was away? What if he needed her undivided attention, usually proffered by placing her head on my brother’s knee and lovingly looking deeply into my brother’s eyes?
How can the walkers not understand that her appointed rounds involved more than just sniffing every leaf in the neighborhood but also included being available 24/7 to her housemate, my brother? Quite frankly, when I spent time with my brother at his house during his recovery, Ramona followed him everywhere he ambled – assisted by his walker or his cane – never losing sight of him, even though she knew her Aunt Irene was providing her daddy with all the care he could possibly require.
Dedication. Attentiveness. Love personified…or should I say dog-i-fied? Thank you, Ramona, for being such a devoted caregiver to my brother.
Acknowledge the Good News that Exists
I think we can all agree that we are surrounded by bad news stories. We need not look any further than a pop-up notification on our phones to catch BREAKING or HEADLINE news that is rarely good.
I am as guilty as any other consumer in that I have recently paid more attention to the yucky happenings in my world than the good that already exists. You and I can certainly find some delightful happenings right in our own backyard, can’t we?
Seeing as I live in the United States that was in a very contentious election season that played out this very month, I have relished the opportunity to look for even the smallest of victories that come my way so as to lighten the emotional load that too often clouds my view of the world.
So here are a few positive incidents I had the privilege of recently celebrating:
- My husband and I celebrated having met each other on a blind date 28 years ago that changed our lives in such a very good way.
- Our two grandchildren have thus far managed to stay healthy, even though their school sessions started a few months ago. That’s a record because as most of us know, schools can be regular germ factories!
- On top of that, two of our adult children are teachers in the local school system, and they too have stayed healthy. Let me tell you, that is good news worth celebrating!!
- Our oldest daughter and her husband will celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary in just a month’s time and our youngest daughter and her husband recently celebrated their 13th wedding anniversary!
- The home of one of my nieces who lives in the region of the United States that was hard-hit by one of the recent hurricanes suffered physical damage, but my niece, her husband, and their teenage daughter escaped bodily harm. Homes can be repaired, but human bodies aren’t quite as easily fixed. It is now my dream that full restoration for all affected will be forthcoming.
- The two novels I wrote, Requiem for the Status Quo, and A Jagged Journey, continue to receive positive reviews! Requiem is dedicated to all family members caring for their loved ones with dementia. I celebrate that others have been helped by my own challenging experiences that were included in that memoir-like novel and I dream of a world that eradicates Alzheimer’s and all other dementia.
Majoring on the “minors” is a great way of living when positive happenings cross our paths. They are so very important because the more good we acknowledge, the less yucky the bad stuff will seem to be.
Focusing on the good news around us is a healthy way to close out the current year, don’t you think? That’s what I plan on doing because the alternative just doesn’t seem very appetizing to me.
Differences Shouldn’t Separate Us
This very brief post is meant to help me, and anyone else for whom it applies, to acknowledge the differences in our thoughts and beliefs but not allow those differences to dehumanize the other.
No one wins when barriers get in the way of decency and kindness.
Let’s Try To Work It Out
Us humans really like to point fingers at others, don’t we? Doing so lessens our own guilt about the way things are going – whether in our family, our job, or our country.
As a United States citizen, the political climate can seem overwhelming, because it is. That overwhelm is perhaps experienced by our loss of sleep, increased anxiety, or even blaming one whole group of people for the country’s ills. But for most of us, that overwhelm is contained and instead of doing bad, we endeavor to do good.
The recent violent acts towards a political candidate were the actions of mentally unstable people; they were not representative of me and they were not representative of you. Individuals, not a group of people, carried out those violent acts. Those individuals made a decision to take the law and my country into their own hands. I don’t support those actions, nor will I ever support making a point by using violence.
I certainly do support choice, however. Although sometimes difficult, I choose to accept that others have differing opinions than I. And accepting that fact doesn’t mean I agree, rather, I acknowledge a person’s right to think differently, as long as that person is civil towards myself and others. Can we please start a movement to acknowledge our many differences without engaging with each other on a battlefield where absolutely no one comes out as victor?
Thirty-three years ago, Rodney King was severely beaten after an attempted arrest in 1991. The acquittal of the officers involved in that beating sparked the Los Angeles riots of 1992. The recipient of that beating by the acquitted officers made a television appearance during the height of the riots to plead for peace and calm. Rodney King is quoted as saying,
People, I just want to say, you know, can we all get along? Can we get along?…It’s just not right. It’s not right. It’s not, it’s not going to change anything…Please, we can get along here. We all can get along. I mean, we’re all stuck here for a while. Let’s try to work it out.
PLEASE EVERYONE, PLEASE. LET’S TRY TO WORK IT OUT.
Respite for You and Me
Going on an extensive tropical vacation sure seems like an enviable thing to do, but such destinations aren’t always doable.
But we can dream, can’t we?
Of course we can, and if I learned anything during the worldwide pandemic, it’s that escapes don’t have to be costly and they don’t have to be far, far away.
Let’s talk about a few minimalist escapes that nurture our well-being.
Impromptu Lunch or Dinner Picnic that broadens our view, whether that view is of the water, the mountains, or a flowering bush. Flee the norm to feed your soul and your psyche will thank you! Even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or dinner leftovers taste special when the beholder is treated to a different viewing perspective.
Cabin Fever Drive (CFD). The CFD became the norm for my husband and I during the aforementioned pandemic. We were safe in the confines of our vehicle and when we got out of the vehicle to sit on a rock or a bench out in the open, we used that moment as an opportunity to appreciate all that was and is still available to us. And we had numerous picnics, as described above, while on our CFDs. This escape is still one of our mainstays of enjoyment.
Budget-minded Mini Getaways are so worth it. My husband and I just got back from a change of pace and change of scenery stay on an island just off the coast of Washington state that is a mere 50 miles (80 kilometers) from our home. What really made it special was having the option to take a vehicle ferry to/from the island or split it up by going by ferry one way, and by vehicle the other, the latter of which included a longer drive, but varying the options – and the scenery – really added intrigue to our travel day.
A Walk on the Not So Wild Side. We are avid walkers, and even though we live in a neighborhood that for all intents and purposes is very forest-like, we hop in our car and drive a few miles away just to have a different stomping – or walking – ground for exercise and entertainment. We will even purposely choose an area frequented by tourists just so we can look at our area from their perspective and “meet” individuals from other parts of the country or world simply by bidding them hello and having a brief chat with them. Everyone enjoys a friendly encounter, and we’ve had many!
The bottom line is that we all have ideas of what it would take to escape the norm, and doing so frequently truly provides healthy outings worth pursuing. Life doesn’t have to be droll. We are only limited by our imagination.
Let’s face it, tropical vacations aren’t the only game in town.
Terminal Misdiagnosis
SPOILER ALERT: I AM HEALTHY.
I recently had a doctor appointment with a naturopathic physician; a doctor not associated with my primary care clinic at which I have been a patient for decades. I wanted a different take on an ongoing condition that wasn’t resolving, primarily to discern if vitamin supplementation might be a worthwhile treatment. I had Covid in February of this year and have experienced ongoing exhaustion and energy depletion ever since that time.
After my first visit to see this doctor – who holds the professional status of 1st Year Resident at her clinic – the doctor ordered a complete blood count (CBC) to get a sense of my general health. My previous CBC was in May of this year and the one prior to that occurred in May of last year. I reviewed the results of the labs in the clinic’s patient portal – the labs were normal – and I met with the doctor for a follow up visit a few days later. When I arrived for my visit, she handed me a printed copy of the results, showing a comparison between the current labs and the two previous CBC blood draws from my primary care record, which were all normal.
She concluded that my white blood count (WBC) was concerning, given the fact that the WBC was a couple points higher the past three blood draws. Keep in mind, all three WBC results were well within the safe/normal range that is determined by professional laboratories worldwide. None of the results breached the high-end of the normal range. She then looked at me with a very sad face and said,
“I suspect you have leukemia.”
In my state of shock and despair, I managed to point out that her conclusion was suspect because the numbers were in the normal range. She offered, “Do you want me to talk to your primary care provider (PCP) about my findings?” I told her I did and she said she would do so in the next couple days. I argued, “No, you need to talk to my PCP as soon as possible. What am I supposed to do with your diagnostic statement in the meantime? Carry on as if someone didn’t just tell me I might have a terminal illness?” She faxed her findings to my PCP later that same day.
I left that clinic to drive home to tell my husband the news. How do I do that when my own body and mind are in total shock? But I did. I sat down with my husband, who, like myself, saw no truth in her diagnosis given the lab results, but who was as devastated as me with the prospective diagnosis. After that conversation, I logged into my primary care patient portal to message my long-standing doctor – who has seen me through many health matters over the years – to summarize that day’s devastating appointment.
She called me right away exclaiming that my labs were normal, not leukemia, and that no further testing needed to be done. She was shocked that a doctor would make such an erroneous conclusion without any evidence to support such a conclusion. My PCP suggested that perhaps this 1st Year Resident didn’t consult with the supervising doctor in her clinic because an experienced doctor would not come to that same conclusion.
I am recovering from the emotional impact of this episode and I am also very aware that many people receive devastating accurate cancer diagnoses all the time. I have dear family members and friends who received such news that changed their lives forever and from which some did not recover. What I experienced should never have happened, but I rejoice that this inexperienced medical person’s diagnosis was wrong. Fact gathering is an important step toward responsible doctoring and knowing how to relate to patients about possible serious conditions is a must. I do not have leukemia – not even close! Obviously, I will not be returning to the clinic.
The end of July I had a virtual meeting with the Owner/CEO because the Medical Director doesn’t handle such matters, which I find concerning. Said Owner and I disagreed on several points but he agreed that the way in which the Resident communicated with me could be improved and they will use it as a teaching moment going forward.
I too am moving forward…away from this clinic.
Their. There. They’re.
I don’t envy those who try to learn the English language when it is not their first language. For example, words that are spelled differently but pronounced the same are called HOMONYMS, like the three words in the title of this post. Words that are spelled the same but are pronounced differently are called HETERONYMS. Some examples of both of these anomalies:
I need to alter the arrangement on the altar. Did you develop instructions about the right way to write?
While viewing the beautiful red flower in the vase, I read the cookie recipe and opened the canister of flour. I rode my bike on the road in the desert but had to desert the area because it was close to getting dark so I had to close out my plans.
I was born in the United States to a middle-class family. My parents and my older brother and sister spoke English, so quite naturally the first words out of my mouth were also English ones. The educational system of which I was a part was English speaking only and although learning how to diagram sentences was a requirement, it was expected of me, and I didn’t have to discard any non-English rules to do so along the way.
HOW DO NON-ENGLISH SPEAKING PEOPLE MANAGE?
One of my nieces is from Russia and when my sister and brother-in-law adopted my sixteen-year-old niece from a Russian orphanage, Kristina didn’t speak or understand English. She is now in her mid-30s and has a successful job. Keep in mind, Kristina’s parents didn’t know or understand the Russian language either, so the challenges existed on both sides. BUT, and this is an important BUT, my sister and brother-in-law were born and raised in the United States so the biggest post-adoption adjustment occurred for the teenager who entered high school as an extremely handicapped individual and managed to graduate from her secondary school AND attend college. WOW!
The bottom line regarding the English language is that even though there are rules about how to write and speak the language, those rules don’t always apply, and when they do, they are still confusing as heck. I have deep respect for anyone who attempts – and succeeds at – learning the English language. At seventy years of age, I still struggle with discerning the correct word choices and sentence structures in any given circumstance, and I am a published author who is supposed to know a thing or two about the correct way to speak and to write! As I leave you with a few more frustration-inducing examples, think of those with whom you come in contact who might struggle with the language that comes so naturally to you. Perhaps we can all exercise a bit more grace towards them as a result.
HOMONYMS: ate or eight way or weigh aisle or isle blue or blew buy or bye
HETERONYMS: tear (crying result) or tear (rip something up); object (an item) or object (in a courtroom); lead (as in a heavy metal box) or lead (using a map to guide someone)
Emotional Clearing House Project
At seventy years of age, the end of 2023 saw me setting out to make space in my home’s storage areas. My husband and I weren’t running out of storage space, but in an effort to help our adult children should either my husband or I be out of the picture – which of course will happen eventually – we dragged out the under-the-stairs storage bins filled with photos, mementos, and journals to lessen the emotional impact on our adult daughters when the time does come, whether tomorrow or many years from now.
Doing so meant the emotions would no doubt come barreling down on me. Boy did they.
As many of you know, I was the caregiver for my father after he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. When caring for my father after his Alzheimer’s diagnosis, I kept meticulous journals on the progression of the disease from which he died in October 2007. I kept those journals so I could provide in-the-moment accurate updates to my brother and sister so those journal entries were VERY detailed about incidents I would rather not revisit.
But revisit them I did, and although the emotions that came through were raw, letting them bombard and fill me was a necessary step so that in the future our daughters would not have to wonder what they should do with all the anguish-filled words I put down on paper in those journals. You see, once I recently re-read my journals, I shredded them, knowing I didn’t need them for future reference. Over the course of several days, I digested their emotional impact and then eliminated them – remembering all that occurred, but not needing to save such records for decades to come. Bags and bags of shredded and disposed business effects and medical records were a gift I consciously gave to our daughters well in advance so they would not be put through the decision-making process of trying to figure out what the heck to do with Mom’s emotional ramblings and Grandma and Grampa’s business and health records that have been in my possession for so many years. My husband and I have already streamlined our own personal business effects so although at our passing our daughters will have to pour over them and address what is necessary at that time, at least they won’t have the much older generation’s business matters with which to contend.
But along with the somewhat devastating emotions experienced while going through the storage bins came joyful emotions in discovering decades of old keepsakes that shed a light on who my parents and grandparents were in the 1800s and 1900s. The most cherished keepsake were my parents’ love letters to each other a week before they got married in the 1940s. They were so in love with each other and did not hesitate to put that love into words as a gift to each other a few days before their May 26th wedding day. I made copies of those letters for our adult children and my siblings. Needless to say, good vibes prevailed in our hearts as a result!
Making space for storage purposes – and for emotional purposes – is an arduous task but the cleansing benefits can very much be worth the effort. I made space for the emotions to enter and pass through me and somehow or another, I survived that herculean task. Keep in mind, this is not a job for the faint of heart, but if you have it in you, you just might feel as lighthearted and/or relieved as I do now. And for me, that makes the task’s anguish a fading memory rather than a landmine waiting to be discovered.
A Little Help From a Friend
Lessening the burden of another.
Last year, I became aware of a neighbor’s struggle with his wife’s newly diagnosed dementia. “Reggie” is in his early 70’s, as am I. Reggie is retired; I am as well. I retired from the long-term care industry working with adults whose conditions are most often associated with aging – Alzheimer’s and other dementia being at the forefront.
Along with that professional experience, I also had hands-on personal experience for both my father, who died from Alzheimer’s disease in 2007, and my sister-in-law, who died from mixed dementia in 2012. Additionally, I worked as an Alzheimer’s Association caregiver support group facilitator for five years. When Reggie advised me of his household’s situation, I filled him in on my varied experiences – simply to add credence to any advice I might offer him – and then I provided information that I thought might help address the various situations he very openly discussed with me over several months’ time. I was thrilled that he joined a nearby caregiver support group that I had recommended because let’s face it, we all could use a little help from a friend, or like-experienced individuals, as the stresses of life present themselves – right? Trust me when I say, that even with all my long-term care experience, I still struggled to apply that textbook knowledge to real life, in-the-moment situations with my loved ones. A little help goes a long way.
Caring for a loved one is always on-the-job training, even during the best of times.
When my neighbor openly disclosed to me that he would be leaving for an out of state trip, I texted him resources that could be of help to him – resources that might assure his wife’s safety and his enjoyment of what I was certain was a much needed and much deserved break from 24/7 caregiving. As my casual neighborly conversations continued with him thereafter, I provided advice in my ongoing friendly efforts to help his wife, and therefore him. When Reggie told me that he had ultimately decided to have another female neighbor, with whom the wife is familiar, check in on his wife for dinner each night while he was out of state, I strongly suggested his wife could benefit from more attentive care in his absence. I brought up several What If scenarios that might pop up during the greater amount of time his wife would be alone. He stated “that would never happen” and “she’s never done that before” to which I suggested it might be more prudent to assume that what would never happen would, and what she would never do, she would do. Reggie stuck with his original plan. Caveat: just before he left for his trip, both my husband and I were recovering from being enmeshed in the hell that is Covid so being more than casual eyes on the prize during his absence was not an option.
The story has an eventual happy ending but getting there was problematic.
A few days in to his multi-day trip, I observed Reggie’s wife walk by my house to walk the dog on her own. She hadn’t walked in the neighborhood alone or with someone else for quite some time. I let her get far enough ahead of me and then followed her to make sure she got home safely. Upon my return, I texted her husband first to ask if he was home; he was not. I sent a second text to let him know that I was concerned because his wife had just gone on a solo walk with the dog. He did not respond to that text, although upon his return, Reggie’s take on his wife’s out-of-the-ordinary behavior was a positive one, in that he was thrilled that she was able to accomplish something that hadn’t been in her wheelhouse in the recent past. Go figure! It’s always a good thing when something positive comes about from a potentially negative event.
I am sorry that one of my What Ifs came true – and thankfully, there were no negative repercussions – but it probably could have been avoided had the neighbor trusted the information provided to him to assure his, and therefore his wife’s, well-being. I don’t need or want to be right, but if my personal and/or professional experiences can somehow help someone, that realized benefit is good for the community. My take on life is that individually we all know some things, but not all things, so I am constantly on the lookout to learn something new that just might augment and benefit my life and the lives of my loved ones.
Full disclosure: ACCEPTING SOMEONE ELSE’S HELP IS A DIFFICULT THING TO DO. I am ashamed to say that I too am guilty of dismissing well-intentioned assistance from kind neighbors, most recently assuring a neighbor a couple blocks from me that she need not make meals for my husband and me while we were convalescing from the very debilitating effects of Covid – a virus we avoided for four years but when it invaded our home, my husband and I fell gravely ill. I regret turning down the offered meals because that gift of meals was a communal generosity that I failed to truly acknowledge at the time. Similarly, I hope Reggie learns something from the What If that came about in his absence, and going forward I pray he is more open to those in our neighborhood community who truly only want the best for him and his wife.
When we don’t know or understand a situation, may we all be open to receiving and applying lessens that just may ease the burden of not knowing. We all need community. We can all benefit from community. If we haven’t learned that fact in the past four-plus years, I fear we/I haven’t learned a thing.
I documented my personal dementia caregiving experiences in my novel Requiem for the Status Quo in my ongoing effort to help those who find themselves in similar family caregiving situations.
How Old Do You Feel?
I sometimes find myself in new circumstances—perhaps a new medical professional’s office—so that when I check in for an appointment the receptionist or the medical assistant invariably say, “Wow! You don’t look seventy years old!” Which begs the question:
What is 70 years old supposed to look like?
Aging is a strange bedfellow, isn’t it? We can’t get away from it, but would we want to? Doesn’t that bring about a lethal alternative?
Former model, Cindy Joseph said, “Aging is just another word for living.”
From all outward appearances, I look to be in good shape: I’m not overweight, I more or less stand upright (even though I’ve lost 2 inches of height over the past 10 years), I don’t leave the house in inappropriate clothing, and most of the time I remember to put on a pair of earrings in the lobes that were pierced 57 years ago as a teenager. Yep, for all intents and purposes, I present myself as being in pretty darn good shape for a seventy-year-old. But as we all know, outward appearances don’t tell the whole story, do they?
What no one can see is what is going on inside of my seventy-year-old brain. No one sees the worries and the fears that keep me awake at night or that keep me secluded in my home because I don’t feel comfortable driving long distances—especially on freeways—by myself. The receptionist at the medical office isn’t aware of my perfectionistic tendencies that create “What ifs” that need not be addressed but that I revisit over and over and over again in my effort to get things just right.
She or he has no sense of the terror that fills me when a neighborhood dog approaches me that, even though on-leash, I fear may take a chunk out of my leg like the “harmless” dog that did so in my same neighborhood twenty years before.
I am touching on these elements of my life that I am certain exist in many people regardless of their age, simply to point out that appearances can be deceiving. That just because someone presents themselves as in stellar shape doesn’t mean they are 100% healthy. Mental health is health, and without it, fullness of well-being does not exist. Thank goodness we are all becoming more aware of the mental health piece so that the stigma oftentimes attached to it is less pronounced than it was in times past.
I am not at all ashamed to speak of such matters because I know I am not alone. I take pride in the fact that I expend just as much energy to maintain my mental health as I do my bodily health, and apparently, it shows. The way I look at it—my physical body shouldn’t get all the attention, right?
My wish for you is that you nurture your mind just as much as you do your body. Aging isn’t for wimps, and I doubt very seriously that any of you would choose to fall into that wimpy category. Rock on everyone and celebrate the proof of life that your age has afforded you.
Making Space Where It Counts
I finished off 2023 by going through numerous storage bins that were filled with photos, mementos, and historical family records. I didn’t enjoy it, but I am glad I spent the time to do so. I wrote about that emotional process in my column that appears in an online Australian publication called Grandparents Day Magazine. I welcome you to click on the link. Perhaps it will encourage rather than discourage you to do the same.
Be well, stay well, y’all.
December Prescription
REST.
RECUPERATE.
RESTORE.
Please know that you need not overbook yourself this month – when we usually feel we have no choice but to do so – nor do you need to do so in any future month. This message is brief but I hope it lands with you. If you don’t matter, no one matters.
Terror for Unsuspecting Prey
The voracious demon has no respect for its unsuspecting prey; I personally met it twice and lost two loved ones to it. Although younger citizens manage to avoid being consumed by this fiend, those older have little defense against its murderous appetite.
“I’m not going!” Amanda is tired of her husband’s persistent attempts to take her on a surprise outing. Giving up is not an option for Seth, however, so he resorts to lying.
“Okay, you don’t have to accompany me, but I thought you’d want to pick out the size of the emerald for your ring. I’ll just wing it and hope you like it.”
Amanda put her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have dressed better. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be good to go.” Seth wasn’t proud of his deception, but the concern he felt outweighed any questionable ethics at play.
As soon as Amanda returned wearing a different outfit, Seth pulled her into a hug. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of Seattle.” Amanda pulled away from him, “Just Seattle? Last night you talked about the whole world, not just our little corner of it. Where are we going? To Tiffany’s?”
Twenty minutes later, Seth pulled his vintage Chevy into a parking space marked Patients-Only. Amanda looked around. “We shouldn’t park here, there must be a space closer to the store than this one.” Seth didn’t look at her when he said, “I parked here for a reason.”
“Okay, you’re being creepy. I want you to back up and head to the jewelry store!”
Seth turned to his wife. “You’re sick, Amanda. You’ve got that … brain disease. We’re seeing a specialist today to get us the help you need.”
Amanda crossed her arms, hurt more than angry at Seth’s trickery. “I’m not really sick-sick, and I don’t care about some silly ol’ emerald, let’s go to that car show in South Seattle you mentioned the other day.”
“The car show was two months ago. I took photos of you behind the wheel of that shiny red Corvette, remember?” Seth got out of the car, opened the passenger door, and crouched beside her. “I love you so much, but I can’t protect you. The doctor said the types of tests he’s going to perform won’t hurt. I’d like to know what we’re dealing with so we can be prepared for what’s to come.”
Seth couldn’t stand to see his wife cry. Eventually Amanda composed herself. “What about my anniversary gift? I want to celebrate!”
“We celebrated our anniversary four months ago.”
Amanda wiped her face. “Now you’re just being stupid. We didn’t celebrate our anniversary yet. We got married in August and it’s only – whatever month it is right now. Take me away from here.”
“In February, twenty-five years ago, we vowed to love each other forevermore, and we renewed those vows four months ago. I’m just as much in love with you now as I was then which is why I want you to have a thorough medical exam. Please, Amanda, do this for me?”
Seth helped his wife out of the car and held her close. “I wish this wasn’t happening, but it is. This nice doctor will spend a few hours with you while I go shop for a new tool for my workshop.”
“You won’t forget that I’m here, will you? You’ll take me home afterwards?”
“Of course.”
Amanda said, “Okeydokey, but you have to cross your heart and hope to die, or I won’t believe you.” Seth took a step away from his wife. “Cross my heart and hope to die, you’ll always be the apple of my eye. When years and years have passed us by, I’ll still be your favorite guy.” Seth kissed her forehead, nose, and lips, then taking Amanda’s hand, they walked into the Seattle Urban Medical Clinic.
The imp makes itself known by gradually invading the privacy of the victim’s brain. Helpless family members struggle to hold on to those infected by a plague that can strip their loved ones of all functional abilities.
A week later Seth met with Dr. Mishra to go over the neurological findings, prior to a joint appointment with Amanda. “Your wife’s case is one of the most aggressive I’ve seen. Historically, early onset victims tend to have a stronger strain of the disease which oftentimes manifests itself in extremely unpredictable behaviors. Your wife is a poster child for that profile. Her primary care physician indicated that her symptoms became very pronounced six months ago. Tell me about those symptoms.”
“Didn’t Dr. Tobias provide that information in her notes?”
“She did, but I’d like your take on it.”
Seth dove in. “Amanda used to be a fastidious person but that started to change. I always left for work an hour before her so I was never home when she showered to get ready for her job at an accounting firm downtown.”
“Does she still hold that job?”
“No.” Seth continued. “One Sunday morning I concluded she hadn’t showered in a while. She insisted she had. I figured I’d encourage her by asking her to join me in the shower, which she did. Afterwards I suggested that maybe she only thought she had showered. She started to cry and accused me of thinking she was ugly. I just let it go and hoped that little episode would correct itself in time.”
“Did it?”
“No, and her lack of personal hygiene shifted to the house. One day I didn’t get home from the office until late. I had helped her plan dinner menus for the entire week and that evening’s meal was chicken stir fry. I cut up the chicken in the morning and put the raw pieces in a zip-bag with Teriyaki sauce to marinate in the fridge. When I got home, she finalized dinner preparations while I headed upstairs to change. Back downstairs, she sat at the dining table with a proud smile on her face and said, ‘Voila!’ but the dishes at each of our place settings were filled with cooked rice and uncooked chicken. She was just about to put a forkful in her mouth when I grabbed her hand. When I explained that the chicken was raw, she ran upstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. From that point forward we agreed that I would make dinner every night.”
“How was she with household chores?”
“She couldn’t figure out how to do the day-to-day stuff: vacuuming, laundry, you name it.”
The doctor asked, “What lead to her leaving her job?”
“There were days when Amanda didn’t go to work because she forgot she had a job. One day she arrived two hours late and simply sat in her office, not knowing what she was supposed to do. Her boss called me that day and said Amanda wasn’t well and should go home. She also talked about Amanda’s ongoing erratic work behavior. That was Amanda’s last day at work.”
“How was your wife’s general health at the time?”
“My wife seemed healthy. She didn’t have any of the conditions common with aging. Heck, she went through menopause, and I wasn’t even aware of it.”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
“I do.”
“Look, doctor, this is old news. My wife endured several hours of testing, and I expected you to tell me something new. You said she has an aggressive type of the disease, what does that mean?”
Dr. Mishra turned the computer screen around toward Seth. “Your wife’s brain has been invaded in such a way that the frontal portion is shrinking dramatically.”
Seth looked at the MRI image. “No way, that can’t be Amanda’s brain, you’re mistaken.”
“There’s no mistake. The testing conclusively indicated that her behaviors, and the decline in her ability to perform many daily activities, indicate an abnormal variant of the disease.”
“What else will this ‘variant’ do to her?”
“Your wife could lose her ability to speak and walk, and eventually her organs will not function effectively.”
Seth leaned on the front of the doctor’s desk. “This disease, when will it take her away from me?
“Less than five years if she’s lucky.”
“If she’s lucky? What’s lucky about that?”
Amanda’s mother stayed at home with Amanda while Seth attended monthly dementia caregiver support group meetings. Seth felt encouraged but was equally as discouraged when other members’ loved ones joined the ranks of the deceased. He knew he couldn’t change the course of his wife’s illness but was determined to do all he could to maintain her dignity until the end.
World governments have failed to adequately reduce the percentage of those who fall victim to the perils of this demon disease.
Unfortunately, Seth and Amanda’s journey is just one of countless cases where unsuspecting peoples’ lives have been ruined in a world where Alzheimer’s and other dementia – the demon murderers – show little sign of abating.
HELPFUL RESOURCES:
AlzAuthors, an extraordinary resource of hundreds of vetted reading content about all types of dementia.
Alzheimer’s Association, find a support group near you.
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Living: the ultimate team sport 