Health & Wellness
Good Starts with Me – Irene’s about-face
I follow a gentleman on Facebook, Prince Ea, a twenty-seven-year-old poet, filmmaker, and speaker who, according to his website, “has touched the hearts and souls of millions of people worldwide.” I can’t vouch for the millions, but I can vouch for myself: what he has to say has been inspirational and life-affirming.
The end of August he posted a video encouraging Facebook users to stop spreading hatred and anger in the stories they post; stories that might further inflame others. (Political news stories come to mind, and I’ve been fairly actively posting said stories.) Additionally, he talked about the domino effect of reposting flaming news stories or other flaming social media.
Let’s look at how this may work. Let’s say I read some story in the news, or even on other FB pages, that inspire me to re-post that same story on my own FB page. Now, by inspire what I really mean is incite. Maybe if I hadn’t posted that story on my timeline, none of my FB followers would have been exposed to it. Now they’re inspired/incited to re-post that same post and then more and more and more people have the opportunity to get p*ssed off just like I was p*ssed off when I first read it.
Yuck. Now I’m responsible for inciting hatred and anger from innocent people who had the misfortune of having read my posting.
The flip side of this process is that a positive domino effect proceeds from Facebook posts that are less about the sh*t that makes us mad, and more about the good stuff that makes the world a softer place.
So enough. From now on – and this is gonna be difficult during the final weeks of this election season – I’m only going to post or repost stories on Facebook that might have the effect of affirming others; of lightening someone’s mood; of making others feel glad they woke up that day.
And where my blog is concerned, when writing new articles that my followers have the opportunity to read, I will make sure that regardless of the topic, there will always be a redeeming element that provides positive direction and hope in the midst of the life-topics that inspire me to spend hours providing content – over 750 blog posts thus far – to my followers on WordPress, Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter.
And now that I’ve announced this about-face on my part, I’m gonna do my level best to adhere to it. I’m only human . . . and I’m just as sensitive as the rest of you . . . but I’m still gonna give it the ol’ college try.
Mike Ditka, Hall of Fame NFL player, coach and TV analyst recently had this to say when asked what he would do if he were President of the United States:
“I’d focus on being a leader, not a reactor. We have too many reactors in this world.”
Wise words.
Live like you were dying
Even at my age, I live by the school year calendar. When a new school year approaches, I oftentimes find myself reassessing where I am, and where I’m going – not unlike what so many of us do the first of every new year. This post flows from that assessment and has been ruminating in my mind for some time now.
Maybe it’s my advancing age, or maybe it’s the wisdom that has come with my advancing age, but I’m constantly reminded how important it is to live NOW; in the present. We have limited time on this earth. Time is a luxury we can not afford to waste, and yet so much of our time falls into that wasteful category.
If you were diagnosed with a terminal illness, wouldn’t you do all you could to squeeze every last drop out of your life? I know I would because I would have no choice in the matter.
But those of us who have not been given a medical death sentence do have a choice. We can be engaged in this only life we’ve been given, or we can waste it.
We can wile away the hours of each day lamenting what isn’t and complaining about what is, or we can live in the present and accept what we can’t change and do something about that which we can.
The truth of the matter is, we all have restrictors strapped to our lives. They may be physical or medical restrictors; financial or situational restrictors. No one escapes what life dishes out, but we all have a choice about what we do with what we’ve been served.
That’s a very heady responsibility we’ve been given.
I mean, wow, it’s my life, I get to choose how I live it. I can choose to remain as I am, or I can do something this very day to make things better.
Waiting even one more day means that’s one more day I will have wasted.
I’m not willing to do that, I mean . . . what if tomorrow brings about that death sentence I thought I had avoided?
Do we have the power to influence the lives of children?
Yes we do.
That influence can be good or it can be bad so it’s important to pay attention to what we’re saying with our words, and with our actions.
My sister, Mary Riesche of Mary Riesche Studios, inspired this blog post.
For several weeks this summer, Mary taught an art class at The Leaven summer fun program in the town of Vacaville, California where she resides. As is often the case when parents sign their kids up for activities, not every child is enthusiastic about being forced to have fun with others.
That was the case for one of Mary’s students in her weekly classes. A thirteen year old boy – at least five years older than the rest of the students – couldn’t have cared less that my sister volunteered her time to pass along her passion for painting to the young participants. His weekly modus operandi was to quickly, and haphazardly, make whatever project my sister put before him, followed by him then crossing his arms in front of him while the rest of the children worked painstakingly to create what Mrs. Riesche had taught them to create.
During one particular class, the thirteen year old said that he didn’t like what he had done; that he needed to erase it or better yet, give up on the project. My sister stepped in and said the following to him, and I paraphrase:
Never give up, just keep going. You never know when what you consider to be a mistake may eventually turn into something remarkable.
As the very last art class of The Leaven’s artistic summer fun session came to a close a couple weeks ago, the Director queried the children, “What did you learn from your time in Mrs. Riesche’s art classes this summer?”
What happened next caught my sister totally off guard. The thirteen year old boy raised his hand, and said, “That I should never give up. That I should keep going regardless of how I feel about something.”
And there, my friends, is influence in action.
I told Mary I was certain this young boy would carry that lesson on tenacity with him into high school, college, and beyond. Perhaps he won’t remember the art teacher who made that lasting impression on him – I’d like to think that he will – but he will most certainly remember the sage advice my sister bestowed on him the summer of 2016.
Congratulations, Mary Riesche. You changed a child’s life forever.
Stronger Together
Stronger Together was the major theme of the Democratic National Convention (DNC) and it was the stand-out focus of Hillary Clinton’s acceptance speech on July 28th.
Whether you follow the “It takes a village” concept – or simply believe that our lives can be positively enhanced by others – you most likely believe as I do, that two is better than one; three is better than two; four is better than three . . .
Mind you, I am perfectly capable of accomplishing many things for which I require very little – if any – assistance. But when I attempt to do something for which others’ participation may add strength – emotional or otherwise – and value to my efforts, I’m welcoming of others’ participation.
Ariel and Shya Kane, authors of several books, including Practical Enlightenment, (free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers) have the following to say about not going it alone. I quote verbatim from their chapter “You Can’t Do it Alone”:
Independence and freedom are the background upon which many of our lives are played. So we may not be making use of our support system of friends around us because we’re locked into an unexamined need to prove we can do it alone . . .
Having someone to talk to, to share ideas with, to support you in going for excellence and not quitting on yourself is a rare gift. When you are feeling down and it all seems too hard to continue, those are the moments that a community can support you in rediscovering well-being. It’s easy to get discouraged. Life is full of disappointments, but when you realize you’re not traveling that road alone, you can keep going.
When you’re in a community, you realize that you make a difference, that you matter. This supports you in being your true self and supporting others as well, which is truly satisfying.
Our nation is divided in so many ways, especially from a political perspective. In May of this year I wrote an article Us Against Them Mentality, that addressed this type of party divisiveness.
The simple point I want to make today, however, is that I believe we need to make a concerted effort to pull away from the Me, Myself, and I paradigm and adopt an Us outlook. Doing so opens up so many healthy possibilities:
- we’ll be more aware of the needs around us;
- conversely, we’ll be more inclined to accept help when offered;
- we’ll be giving others – friends and strangers – an opportunity to exercise their strengths in the midst of our weaknesses;
- we’ll build community where previously none existed;
- we’ll release positive energy into our little portion of the universe, rather than infect that same space with selfishness, hatred, and bitterness.
It’s virtually impossible to be a violent person – in actions or in words – if we’re practicing what is listed in the above bullet points. If we truly live our lives outwardly, we’ll create a binding strength that will make us stronger as individuals, while also creating an indestructible civilization that can stand up against anything that gets thrown in its path. I certainly can’t say the same for the Me, Myself, and I method of existence.
No. I alone can not do it . . . no one can.
The sooner we realize that fact, the better off we’ll all be.
60 is the new 40 … kind of
I’m in my early 60s and I’ll be damned if I’ll use my age as an excuse to be inactive. Not on your life … certainly not on mine.
Since my husband retired late April of this year, we’ve managed to go hiking every week. (It’s such a luxury being able to do so on the less-crowded weekdays.) Prior to coming down with the hiking bug, we would look for a trail with an elevation gain FAR below 1000 feet. To be more honest, we only chose trails with a couple hundred feet elevation gain.
Elevation gain = degree of steepness of the trail
Now we choose trails with at least a 1300 foot elevation gain.
Why?
Our goal is to hike Mt. Si, 8 miles RT and 3150 elevation gain, by the end of September. That’s 1850 additional feet elevation gain than the hike we completed on July 1st.
The hike we completed with my husband’s daughters on July 3rd was difficult because of all the massive rocks and boulders we had to maneuver through…I got a good bruise on my leg when my maneuvering wasn’t all that successful. (See below for the terrain.)
We have been training for the Mt. Si hike by walking in our very hilly neighborhood. We’ve labeled each training walk in the following manner: The Wall, The Monster, The Broadhurst Monster, The Figure Eight Double Monster. We’re very pleased with our increased physical endurance and lung capacity as a result of said training walks. And of course, each and every hike we take, we increase the elevation gain and the length of the hike, all the while enjoying the beauty Pacific Northwest hiking destinations have to offer.
You may ask, “Why in the hell is Irene boring us with her husband’s and her hiking exploits? Sure sounds as though she’s bragging.”
Oh, I’m not bragging, not in the least. I’m celebrating my husband’s and my decision to push through the pain and discomfort and to stretch the boundaries of what we thought we were capable of doing. Speaking for myself, being 60-ish has brought a few health challenges, not the least of which is pretty severe arthritis in both feet, several ruptured discs and tears in my lumbar spine area, and an internal issue or two that sometimes chain me to my house.
But you wanna know something? I had a good teacher when I was growing up in the form of my mother who had severe rheumatoid arthritis. She was diagnosed with RA as a teenager.
Mom made the decision early on in her life to keep moving.
My mother declared that she would rather be active and hurt more, than stay at home and hurt slightly less.
And that’s what my husband and I are doing. Let’s face it – we’re not getting any younger and every day we waste can never be retrieved and lived over. As the old saying goes, “This ain’t no dress rehearsal, folks.”
I’d rather squeeze what I can from every day I’m given … and then apply the multitude of ice packs we have at home to our various body parts when we return home to celebrate our accomplishments. What can I say, it works for us and it makes us extraordinarily happy being able to do these activities together.
Forgotten children
I don’t know about you, but I’ve left something in my car and later regretted doing so. One item in particular that I REALLY regretted leaving in the trunk of my car was a can of frozen orange juice. I guess I didn’t forget it, it slipped out of my shopping bag and after awhile, once it had melted, it turned bad…real bad and stunk up my car. Fortunately the smell alerted me to the neglected juice can so I could retrieve it and thoroughly clean out my trunk to eliminate the stench of rotted, putrid, orange juice.
Okay, true confession time. Let me be totally honest with you, there have been other items I’ve left in my car, the fact that they existed having completely slipped my mind:
- Cell phone
- Water bottle
- Briefcase
- Umbrella
- Jacket
- Bag of snacks
- iPod
So yes, I can readily be accused of forgetting something in my car that should have been brought into the house.
But I never left my child in my car.
I never forgot I had a daughter and then “slap myself on the forehead” ran out to retrieve her to bring her inside the house.
What’s going on these days that some parents now go about their day, fully oblivious to the fact that earlier in the day they had placed a child in his or her carseat in the heat of the day, and that if the child isn’t in the house when you enter the house, there must be some place where he or she may be located?
Or when you go to work, having placed a child in the carseat earlier in the day, you somehow work your shift and then return to your car, drive home, and then remember you and your spouse gave birth to this little bundle of dehydrated flesh some x-years ago?
Are we so distracted that a living, human being slips our minds?
How can one explain this extraordinary occurrence of parents forgetting their children in their vehicles?
Hell, I didn’t even leave my child unattended in my vehicle just because my store errand would only be 5 minutes! No, too many things could have happened during that five minutes and I wasn’t about to chance any of those from occurring to the little girl I carried in the warmth and protection of my womb. I would rather be inconvenienced having to unstrap her from the carseat – even if she had fallen asleep and desperately needed some Zzzz time – and carry a crying child into the store for my five minute errand than risk anything happening to my most cherished possession.
The fact that car manufacturers are now developing alarm systems in vehicles to alert a parent to the existence of their flesh and blood seems rather alarming in itself…doesn’t it?
Or is it just me who thinks so?
Ann Hedreen: Enough gun violence, already!
Please take the time to read Ms. Hedreen’s thoughts with this article reposted from her blog: The Restless Nest. Ann Hedreen is the author of Her Beautiful Brain: A Memoir.
You know how it is. You don’t want to feel numb. You know that numbness is just pain postponed. Novocained. You know that, in order to get through this, you’ve got to feel. And so you go about your day. You get in the car. You turn on the radio. Some of the speakers […]
The fathers in my life
The father who raised me:
Dad knew how to get through our childhood – and childish – brains, and in our later years, he continued to impact my life and that of my brother Don, and my sister, Mary.
Without a doubt, the combination of mom’s and dad’s parenting styles really and truly prepared us for adulthood and made us the well-rounded, caring, accepting adults I believe we’ve grown up to be. When Dad died from Alzheimer’s on October 13, 2007, a huge void was left in our lives.
My brother, the father:
Some would say that at 39 years of age, my brother got married later than most. What can I say? He found the love of his life, Nancy Satterberg, in 1987. I’m pretty sure up to that point, no one else qualified for the love Don had for his wife. My brother was, and is, an involved and loving part of his three stepchildren’s lives. Just the other day, his youngest son, who is preparing for his upcoming wedding, told Don that he always considered him as his second dad; not a stepdad, not a replacement for his biological father, rather, a second dad. Per and his siblings, Sten and Kirsten, were fortunate in that way. Don was also a caregiver for his wife who died from Alzheimer’s on July 4, 2012. He was the epitome of an involved, loving, attentive provider of care for the wife with whom he would have celebrated his 25th wedding anniversary in September of 2012.
My husband, the father:
Jerry has two daughters, Lainey and Kirstin, and lest you think he ever hoped and wished for a son rather than those two, you would be sorely mistaken. There were no gender limits when it came to actively participating in his daughters’ lives. Hell no! There were hikes, softball games, soccer matches, woodworking training…you name it, he shared his knowledge and interests with them and they benefitted greatly as a result. My husband’s reserved and unassuming manner camouflages the extraordinary love he has for Lainey and Kirstin. His care about their well-being, happiness, and health is evident in all that he does for them, and in the ways he thinks about them and talks to them. Unlike myself, who tends to be a bit overbearing and sometimes far too transparent, my husband exhibits strength and concern by the way he demonstrates his commitment and dedication to his daughters, to me, and to all those whom he considers dear to him. Jerry is a man of few words but when he speaks, every spoken word is worthy of your undivided attention. I’m the luckiest woman alive to have him as my husband.
Happy Father’s Day in absentia, Dad.
Happy Father’s Day fabulous brother of mine.
Happy Father’s Day Jerry – the man with whom I chose to spend my life on February 10th, 2000.
We’re all different versions of each other
Black, brown, or white.
Gay, straight or trans.
Rich, middle class or poor.
Religious, agnostic, or atheist.
Young or old…
We’re all the same, but different.
In the book A Different Perspective on Alzheimer’s and Other Dementias: Practical Tools with Spiritual Insights, author Megan Carnarius relayed a conversation she had with one of the employees she supervised in a long-term care facility who was moving out of state. Ms. Carnarius asked this young caregiver what she had learned from her job of four years. This is what she said,
Older people are no different from any of us. People with dementia are no different from us. They all, we all, have the same feelings and needs.
They want to laugh and be silly, they want to be listened to and be taken seriously, they want to be reassured and loved, they want to love and be helpful, make a contribution, just like everyone else.
I learned that here.
It is my hope that all of us learn that same lesson so that whomever is in our lives, so that all those with whom we come in contact, we’ll be able to recognize ourselves in them and perhaps treat them with the respect for which all of us yearn.
Bearing another’s burdens
While waiting for an appointment the other day, I picked up the May 2016 issue of O Magazine and read a brief article by author Elizabeth Gilbert, of Eat, Pray, Love fame in which she relayed her experience riding a cross town bus in New York City – a bus filled with sweaty, disgruntled, rude, and combative passengers. It was the end of the business day for most and from Ms. Gilbert’s perspective, it appeared that every one of them – her included – had had a shitty day. Add to that, the weather was less than accommodating.
The bus driver got on the intercom and announced (I’m paraphrasing here):
I know you’ve all had a lousy day for one reason or another. You’re either upset about something that happened to you today or by what’s currently going on in your lives.
This is what I’d like you to do. When it comes to your bus stop, I’ll hold out my hand and I want all of you to drop your troubles in my hand as you exit the bus. When I get to the Brooklyn Bridge, I’m going to toss all of your troubles out my window.
Will you do that for me?
You can imagine the mixture of mumbling and giggling that ensued after that announcement but at the very first stop, the disembarking passengers symbolically dropped their troubles into the driver’s out-stretched hand.
And then every passenger did the same at each stop along the route.
What a wonderful gift that driver gave to all the perfect strangers that rode his bus that afternoon, a gift that cost him nothing but benefitted so many.
Every day, in so many ways, you and I have the ability to lighten another person’s load.
How will you do so today?
A call to cyclists
If you are a cyclist who rides his or her bike on paved or unpaved trails meant for both walkers and cyclists, please hear my plea:
Offering an “On your left!” when you pass me on the trail will go a long ways towards endearing you to me.
My husband and I took a six mile walk on the Sammamish River Trail from Redmond to Woodinville this morning. This paved trail is used by walkers, joggers, roller bladers, parents with strollers, cyclists, you name it. It’s there for all of us to enjoy. Please understand that as a walker, I can not hear you coming up behind me: your sophisticated bicycle doesn’t alert me to your imminent arrival until you’ve zoomed past me, sometimes causing me to lose my footing or at the very least, jump starting my heart to where it need not jump. This shock to the walker’s system can be avoided by a simple announcement on your part that you’re about to pass me on the left.
To those who did announce themselves, my husband and I yelled an equally as loud, “Thank you!”
To those who did not announce themselves, they heard us shout, “Warning please!”
How inconvenient or difficult is it for you to either ring your handlebar bell or shout “On the left!” as you approach our backsides?
Young or old, two thirds of those who passed us from behind did not announce themselves. And lest my readers think we were walking in the middle of the path so as to be a hindrance to cyclists, we were not. We always hug the right side of the path to allow for oncoming and upcoming cyclists. We’re all supposed to share the path – that’s what we do.
None of those to whom we shouted, “Warning please!” apologized for their rude oversight. A simple, “Sorry!” or “My bad!” would have sufficed.
All I’m asking is that cyclists extend the courtesy of letting walkers know they’re about to whiz past them so they can be sure to get even further out of their way. Each and every time a rider alerted us to their presence, my husband and I thanked them and moved more to the right, to which the cyclists said, “Thank you!” What a delightful and courteous exchange, don’t you think?
A collision between cyclist and rider would most certainly cause severe harm to both.
That’s sure to ruin both our days, don’t you think?
Life on the sidelines vs actively engaged
My husband and I have the privilege of being able to hike during the work week because he’s now retired and we’re not reliant on the weekends to do fun stuff any more. So I took my early 60s body on a hike the other day and let me tell you, it was a doozy.
Now some of you may think that an elevation gain of 1100 feet isn’t all that difficult but my body says otherwise. The incline up the mountain was a looooong one so you’re constantly climbing up, up, up, and your hamstrings are spouting off swear words you never thought you’d hear coming from such a close member of your body.
Added to that, your heart is accustomed to brisk walks through the hills of your neighborhood as well as high-resistance recumbent bike riding both of which should have prepared it for the heart-pumping action required for a mountain hike. Right?
Not so much.
We had never hiked Rattlesnake Ledge before so we had yet to memorize every twist and turn of the trail. We also weren’t intimately acquainted with the 1000s of evergreens along the way so we had no way of answering the question, “Are we there yet?”
Just about the time I spouted off that question what did I see ahead of me but a fellow hiker in his late 80s to early 90s coming down off the mountain…with a smile on his face…carrying a hefty backpack on his somewhat stooped over back. I turned to my husband and said, “Shit! If he can do it, I can do it!” We spoke briefly with the elderly hiker and then we huffed our way up the trail, eventually making it to the top for a picnic lunch.
We caught up with him on the way down the mountain – at his age he certainly takes a wee bit longer to ascend and descend the trail – and being who I am, I started a conversation with him. Come to find out, not only has Ray hiked Rattlesnake Ledge numerous times, but decades ago, he hiked Mount Rainier several times.
“That was decades ago. I certainly couldn’t do that now.” To which I responded, “Look, Ray, you’ve accomplished that feat and we haven’t. And not only have we not accomplished that feat but we have no aspirations of ever doing so.”
Because I tell just about everyone my hubby and I come in contact with that my husband is retired, I told Ray that Jerry had just retired from Boeing after 38 years of service at the company. Ray replied, “I’ve been retired for 30 years now and I’ve loved every minute of it.”
So this is what I’ve concluded: Ray knows how to enjoy life, but not only how to do that but how to really and truly occupy his life. His current life is not just a placemaker until better things come along. NO, he’s making things happen while he still can rather than waiting on the sidelines where nothing ever happens.
As my husband and I were about to continue down the trail ahead of Ray I said, “Glad to know your name Ray, that way when I see you again, I’ll know what to call you.”
“Well, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep up this pace. I may not be on this trail again.”
To which I responded, “Ray, that could be said of everyone on this mountain, myself included, but something tells me we’ll be running into each other some day soon.”
So I learned lots of stuff from my hike the other day. Just because the hike was somewhat uncomfortable – okay, a lot uncomfortable – doesn’t mean I wasn’t supposed to do it. I have to say, once I got home and showered I was astonished to hear myself thinking, “I’d be willing to do that hike again, and one even more difficult than that.”
We look back on difficulties/mountains in our life that at the time seemed insurmountable but when we consider where we’ve been and where we are now we can say not only did we get through it but we’re feeling far more competent to take on even more as a result.
We don’t have to perfect every new endeavor the first time out. Perfection isn’t our goal, is it? I tend to believe that if perfection were our goal, we’d just stay put and never venture out to discover what we’re capable of.
And a last note on this subject: as my husband and I were gleefully hiking down the mountain we came across numerous people huffing and puffing their way up the trail. One or two groups stopped us to ask how much longer it was to the top. We couldn’t lie to them, that wouldn’t be fair, so when this one group of girls in their late teens asked, “Are we there yet?” we had to inform them that they were just over a quarter way up. Oh, the groans coming from them were hilarious but we didn’t laugh at them, my husband simply said, “You can do it!”
To which I’m sure they said – out of our earshot – “If those geezers can do it, we can do it!”
Caregivers: bruised by judgments & criticism (reblogged from My Alzheimer’s Story)
Dedicated to unappreciated care partners worldwide. Thank you for all you do. Dear random person who sees my care partner from time to time and feels the need to point out s/he has bruises all over her/his body that look frightening and s/he has really declined a lot since the last time you saw her/him and…
via an open letter to those who think they know better — My Alzheimer’s Story
Our lives in focus
Through comments by someone I follow on Twitter, I stumbled on the key to living in – and thriving on – the present. Authors Ariel and Shya Kane [@ArielandShya] went through trial and error during their early adult lives in their attempt to find fulfillment.
If you read even one of their books, you’ll discover that they admit their journey took them to many places and venues, under varying conditions, spending great and small amounts of money, only to find the answer to their quest in their every day experiences.
If we’re aware and focusing on the present we’ll find life lessons everywhere we look.
We can be deaf and blind to those lessons, but it doesn’t take a trip to India, a luxury spa, or even a therapist’s office, to practice the art of thriving exactly where we are.
The painful yet honest truth is that we excel at complaining and stressing about situations in which we find ourselves: traffic, long lines at the TSA security checkpoint, our job or lack thereof, boredom, illness, and so on. But if we’re honest with ourselves – and lately I’ve been painfully honest with myself – we’ll conclude that complaining and stressing out over such situations does nothing toward changing them. But changing the way we view those situations does alter how we react to them and therefore how we feel about that moment of time in which we’re inconvenienced because what we would have preferred to happen, did not.
When did your complaining about a lengthy red light – when you were endeavoring to get to an appointment on time – actually make the green light come quicker?
It didn’t.
Here’s a direct quote from the Kane’s book, Practical Enlightenment: Read the rest of this entry »
My Regret and My Shame
This post centers on the following theme:
Never put off for tomorrow what you can do today.
Unfortunately, I did just that.
My sister met her biological mother several years ago. Ever since that time I’ve dreamed of flying to Manitoba, Canada – where her mother lives – with my sister to meet Cathy. That didn’t transpire but in the alternative I planned on sending Cathy a letter to thank her for the unselfish and generous act of placing my sister up for adoption when she found herself pregnant as a high school teenager.
Had she not placed my sister up for adoption way back in 1952, I wouldn’t have the wonderful, giving, fabulous, sister I have today. I wanted to thank Cathy for giving me the best sister a person could ever have.
Guess what, folks? I can’t do that now because Cathy died of a massive stroke this past Mother’s Day. Oddly enough, for the past three weeks I’ve said to myself more than a half dozen times, “I’ve really got to ask Mary for Cathy’s address so I can mail her that letter.”
I guess my intuition is stronger and more reliable than my constitution. I guess I thought I’d have plenty of time to gift Cathy with that letter. How moronic is that, folks? The next minute isn’t guaranteed so why would I think a woman in her 70s would be sitting around just awaiting for the time when I would finally get off my ass and make good on my plans?
Do me a favor, all of you who are reading this post:
do what you intend to do as soon as possible.
I don’t know what that intention may involve. Reconciliation with someone? Complimenting someone who could really benefit from your kind words? Asking forgiveness of someone for prior acts of which you’re ashamed?
Regardless of what that intention looks like, please put it into effect today, not tomorrow.
Tomorrow may never come.
And then where will you be?
Retirement with an awesome person
No, my husband isn’t retired quite yet but as of today there are only eight more work days until he is retired. He is certainly excited, but his excitement is tempered with the realization that after 38 years with Boeing as a trusted, well-respected, structures engineer, those skills will no longer be needed from him. Others at the company will have to take over his work, and let me tell you, that’ll be a difficult task for them to accomplish.
Guess what? You can’t take off or land without the airplane part that my husband was responsible for. Oh sure, there are many planes in the Boeing system but Jerry was intimately involved with several generations of those planes.
Even the President of the United States relies on landing gear to get from point A to B and back again. That’s right, the current President and several before him should be thanking Jerry for having the skill level my husband has, I mean, just think about it, the entire weight of an airplane is on the nose and main landing gears … you really, really want them to be structurally sound.
This same extraordinary engineer is also my husband and has been since February of 2000. And guess what? I get to be a part of his retirement experience and I am privileged to be able to grow old (older) with him for many years to come.
The Boeing Company was honored to have my husband in their employ for thirty-eight 38!!!!! years.
Now I get to have him all to myself.
And that makes me extremely happy.
Last things
My husband is retiring the end of April at the age of 59, the same age as did my father. I can’t recall the reason why Dad chose 59 as his retirement age. Maybe he felt the same way my husband does:
It was time.
Yes, it’s time, and my husband and I have been very diligent throughout our marriage – and before – making prudent financial decisions that will enable a somewhat early retirement compared to others. But did Jerry and I ever feel we robbed ourselves of enjoyment while being frugal? Not at all.
Between us, we financially assisted three daughters through college, still managing to travel to Hawaii every few years and other low-budget trips in-between. We’ve had our fair share of vehicles, not fancy ones, but safe metal encasements with four wheels each. 🙂
But this post isn’t about that, it’s about marking “lasts” while remembering the “firsts.” Here are some of the lasts that have already occurred and that are yet to occur:
- Voting one last time for – or against – the SPEEA engineering union contract that comes up for negotiation every few years. Done;
- Last at-work employee Holiday potluck. Done;
- Last Boeing Holiday break that gives employees a week or so off during Christmas/New Years (who needs it when every day during retirement is a break from work?) Done;
- Last employee performance review. Done;
- Jerry’s last Boeing paycheck will be received in May of this year. The first one was in June 1978;
- On Thursday, April 28th: he’ll shut off the last 3:45 am wake-up alarm, he’ll drive the last commute to/from Everett, when he walks through the door later that day, I’ll say my last, “Yay, you!” which I have said to him pretty much every day he comes home from work.
Wow. Looking forward to creating some new firsts once he’s retired, starting with: Read the rest of this entry »
The man in the tree – Seattle, Washington
It seems we’re so trained to treat the world as our own personal entertainment venue that when it comes to a mentally challenged man’s fate, we don’t give a shit what happens to him. We the inconvenienced public stand at the base of an 80 foot tree into which he’s climbed in one of the busiest sections of downtown Seattle, Washington and we shout:
“Shoot him!”
Jump!”
What the hell is wrong with us that we so carelessly thrust our complete lack of empathy at this man with words that could very well have ended his life right before our eyes?
Frack you
those who treated this human being’s frailty with such callousness!
Frack you!
The mid-life crisis myth
The Middle-Age Surge written by columnist, David Brooks, is a fabulous expose on what it really means to be living in ones “middle ages.” He reviews the book, Life Reimagined, by Barbara Bradley Hagerty while also proposing that the idea of mid-life crisis is truly a myth that many don’t see as being applicable to them. I mean seriously, people, how many friends or coworkers of yours purchased a zippy sports car when they hit their mid-40s or later?
Many years ago I briefly dated a guy who drove a gold-colored early model Porsche. On my third date with him, I said, “You know what they say about guys who drive Porsches, don’t you?” His response was nowhere near the statement I was going to provide that centered around over-compensation for short-comings. He said, “Yeah, they have lots of money.”
Not even close.
Anyway, Mr. Brooks quotes theologian Karl Barth who described midlife in this manner:
The sowing is behind; now is the time to reap. The run has been taken; now is the time to leap. Preparation has been made; now is the time for the venture of the work itself.
I can unabashedly declare that I can look back on my life with a more refined foundation of wisdom; I can move forward, not haphazardly, but with focus and intent. I know what’s important to accomplish before my time on this earth comes to an end, and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of my doing so. (So watch out publishers, I’m knocking on your doors!)
The people who find meaning at this stage often realize the way up is down. They get off that supervisor’s perch and put themselves in direct contact with the people they can help the most. They accept that certain glorious youthful dreams won’t be realized, but other, more relational jobs turn out to be more fulfilling.
One of the conclusions the columnist comes to is that the mature mid-life folks “are less likely, given all the judgments that have been made, to care about what other people think.”
And that describes me to a T.
See also:
Celebrating small comforts
Every year, a “married” pair of Mallard ducks arrives in my neighborhood and quite frequently, they paddle around in the drainage ditch in front of our home. Now I’m not so naive as to think that it’s the same pair that arrive each year, but I pretend that is the case and I’ve named them Fred and Ethel.
Meet my spring time visitors. I love the constancy of seeing them each spring, or thereabouts. When I came home from an early appointment this morning, they were waiting for me. The delight I felt, and expressed, would have surprised most people … but then again, they probably don’t know how much comfort I find in the predictable and expected. But I’m certain I’m not the only one who doesn’t mind a bit of same-o, same-o now and again. Right?
Small acts of kindness, huge benefit
The other day I showed up ten minutes before my local pharmacy opened, wanting to be sure to get immediate assistance when I brought in a prescription to be filled.
Three extraordinary – yet small – things happened at that early hour when I was feeling less than able to even stand while I waited for the pharmacy gate to open.
- A store clerk that was doing some pricing procedures in the main part of the store in front of the pharmacy greeted me, asked how I was doing, and when I responded, “Not so great, actually” offered to help me to the pharmacy bench.
- Then the pharmacist opened the pharmacy early, 8:55 am, and told me my prescription would be ready in 10 minutes. I then left the pharmacy to go to the women’s room and as I was walking back, the third kindness occurred.
- The store clerk who had greeted me upon my arrival in the pharmacy area took the time to find me at a different area of the store to let me know my prescription was ready.
Big deal, such small courtesies are hardly worth writing a blog piece about, right?
Wrong, they lightened my burden and jump-started my day.
Don’t ever feel your efforts won’t make a difference.
They do, and they have.
The split personalities of a caregiver
Source: ON LABELS, ROLES AND MARRIAGE WITH ALZHEIMER’S This linked article does a fabulous job of putting a spotlight on the roles we take on when we become caregivers. Does our original role as: wife, husband, son, daughter, brother, sister, disappear when that role-shift takes place?
I’ve known numerous caregivers in my life. I was one.
Before I became a caregiver, I was a daughter. Was I still a daughter once my role as a caregiver became a 24/7 occupation?
It didn’t feel like it when:
- I had to cut up my father’s food for him
- I had to pack adult protective underwear when I took him on a walk in the park … just in case
- I had to correct him for behavior unbecoming of an adult
- I took him to a doctor appointment and spoke to the doctor on my father’s behalf
- I tucked him in for a nap so I could get things accomplished without him being tethered to me wherever I went …
Was I his parent? Was I his caregiver?
No. I was his daughter. I took on a variety of roles during the years of my father’s decline with Alzheimer’s, but I was always his daughter. As a matter of fact, never had I felt more like a daughter than during the five years of his illness.
During one of my walks in the park with dad, on his last Father’s Day as it turned out to be, two young men rode their bikes toward us and as they got right up to us, one of the men said, “Happy Father’s Day, Sir.”
That young man saw a daughter and a father, not a caregiver and an old man.
Dad took his parenting role very seriously. By the time I was on my own, he had been actively mentoring and caring for me for twenty-one years.
What’s five years in the grand scheme of things?
A privilege.
See also:
- Baby Boomer + Aging Parent = a changing paradigm
- Adult children who parent their parents
- Ambiguous loss – the experience of caregiver spouses
- When illness makes a spouse a stranger
Necessity is the mother of invention
Source: Sprinkled With Love
Norcalmom writes a blog that tells it like it is when operating as the primary caregiver for a loved one. She has a full household, with children of varying ages, a mother-in-law with Alzheimer’s, a husband whose work schedule pulls him out of the home during many of the caregiving opportunities, and yet this daughter-in-law manages her household in ingenious ways.
Whether it’s purchasing and installing locks so her MIL doesn’t escape from the house at inopportune times (which, frankly, means any attempted escape from the house) or finding activities to occupy her MIL so Norcalmom can get things done, e.g., making dinner for the family, she puts on her thinking cap, listens – truly listens – to what may interest the oldest member of her household, and does what is needed to get the job done.
Her MIL is very much intrigued with sparkly things, specifically, glitter. In her eyes, if she spots specks of gold-colored glitter, it is not glitter she is feasting her eyes on it is the real deal: GOLD!
Please, click on the link provided at the beginning of this mini-post of mine, and feast your eyes on the treasure within.
How to make the best of a New Year, every day
My last post of 2015 talked about making resolutions you can actually fulfill.
This first post of 2016 proposes that every day be treated as one does a New Year.
I’ll borrow sentiments from Dr. Bernie S. Siegel again, providing you with wisdom that might help you get a good start on 2016, and every day you’ve been given. Direct quotes will appear indented in this post.
How can you have a new year? You are the same person, and the world doesn’t start again with a clean slate. Your troubles don’t disappear. People don’t forgive you for what you did the year before…
Your life is anything but new when you awaken on the first day of the year. It is simply a way of measuring the passage of time. Why make such a fuss over it?
We like new starts, don’t we? There’s something refreshing about having the opportunity to start all over again. Not unlike second chances, I treat the commencement of a new year as an opportunity to do better. Unless you’re perfect, you too like the idea of a fresh start.
The truth lies in our desire to be reborn, to start again, to make resolutions and changes we can live up to. Then why wait for a certain date to start a new year? Why can’t tomorrow be New Year’s Day?
Maybe it is!
Wow, instead of waiting 365 days to do better, I can do better in the next minute. I don’t even have to wait until tomorrow. Right now, I can do better. I can think of and speak more kindly towards others and myself. I can promote a healthier lifestyle and make plans to construct a better me and a better world. Why wait?
I see it every day in my role as a physician; people learn they have a limited time to live, and they start their New Year behavior. They move, change jobs, spend more time with those they love, stop worrying about what everyone else thinks of them, and start to celebrate their life.
Whoa, why wait until it’s too late? Quite literally, when you’ve been given a death sentence, it is too late. I’m not going to rely on receiving such a prognosis to get things right, I’m going to make every effort to do better for myself and others, right now.
I have the chance to live my best life now, and so do you.
When every evening is New Year’s Eve and every day you awaken to is New Year’s Day, you are living life as it was intended.
Wow, given the alternative, I’ll get right on it!
Gone but not forgotten
Having completed my second novel, currently titled BRIDGED BY BETRAYAL, I packed up all the research I used for my first novel, REQUIEM FOR THE STATUS QUO.
REQUIEM spotlights a family that struggles with the tangible and emotional elements inherent when battling a disease that is always fatal; a disease that gives you daily – if not hourly – reminders of its devastating effects.
I could not write about the fictional family’s journey without incorporating some of my own stories from my years as Dad’s caregiver. I also included other people’s stories as told to me through my work as an Alzheimer’s caregiver support group facilitator, and as a Washington State certified Long-Term Care Ombudsman. (Names and facts altered to protect those directly involved.)
The research materials I packed away this past weekend consisted primarily of the caregiving journals I kept while being my father’s primary long-distance caregiver while he endured Alzheimer’s disease.
That research also included reams of paper I organized into multi-tabbed folders containing the various doctor’s reports and findings from the seven years of dad’s disease journey.
I was not prepared for the emotion with which I was blanketed when I pulled out the large waterproof chest that had resided in my writing space the past three years. Placing my research in the chest, shutting it, and returning it to its original under-the-stairs location was extremely difficult for me.
In a certain sense, I felt I had betrayed Dad because I wasn’t just packing up some paper, I was putting away the physical evidence of his seven year battle of brain function loss. Read the rest of this entry »
First step for any endeavor: START
You have an idea that turns into a personal goal. You plan for it, making a list of To Dos and To Purchase, or whatever lists are required to put your idea into motion.
Then you’re paralyzed: when do I start? how do I start? You begin to second guess your idea, your plans, your goal.
Paralysis by analysis sets in. You freeze in place. You do nothing for a day, a week, a month, eventually discarding the project about which you were initially very excited.
Doubt sidelined your goal.
For me, taking that first step can be the beginning of failure, and because it is, oftentimes it’s a step I choose not to take.
I signed up for National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo, in August or September, I don’t remember. I purchased book-drafting software called Snowflake, and went through every step needed to prepare an outline and/or book proposal for a novel, my second. I was extremely excited about the novel’s concept.
I kept receiving NaNoWriMo emails, counting down the days until November 1st when that novel writing month would commence. The second week of October I questioned the sensibility of subjecting myself to completing a novel in thirty days. The third week of October, I ceased all preparation. Monday of the fourth week of October, I decided not to participate. Read the rest of this entry »
Isolation after the death of a loved one
I had the privilege of facilitating an Alzheimer’s caregiver support group meeting this afternoon. For several years I facilitated my own caregiver support meeting but retired from doing so in 2013. Earlier this year I was the substitute facilitator for this same meeting and was so very impressed with the group of ladies I met then, a few of whom were in the meeting again today.
One of the gals, Georgina (not her real name) lost her husband to Alzheimer’s in January. She told the group that while her husband was still alive, the two of them were always invited to a Holiday gathering of friends – all married couples – to celebrate the Christmas season. She found out recently that she was not invited to this year’s event.
Quite frankly, she hadn’t yet thought about the Holiday party, thinking the invitation might be forthcoming but certainly wasn’t stressing out about it. Quite innocently, one of her friends mentioned the party in passing, saying, “Looking forward to seeing you at the annual Christmas celebration” not realizing that the host of the party had not included Georgina on this year’s guest list.
The attendees at today’s meeting had these thoughts to say about the situation: Read the rest of this entry »
The past – and the truth – have set me free
Oftentimes we’re told that we should forget about the past. Sure, it’s okay to learn from past bad decisions, but sometimes those years are better left alone.
The other day, I went back twenty-one years to uncover the basis for a mystery that has haunted me since September 24th, 1994. Twenty one years of fear and uncertainty came to an end in just ten minutes time.
My mother died on September 24th, 1994 in my parents’ home in Honolulu, Hawaii. She was 77 years old and she died in her sleep. Although she had some chronic health-related issues with which to contend, no one could have predicted her sudden death because she lived a vital and active life.
Dad didn’t want an autopsy performed on my mother which – at the time – I was okay with; it was his decision to make; he didn’t want her body assaulted just to find out why her life ended on that particular day.
That decision was the basis for my twenty-one years of fear.
Read the rest of this entry »
Pack courage in your toolbox
Whatever you do, you need courage. Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong.
There are always difficulties arising that tempt you to believe your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires some of the same courage that a soldier needs. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
If you are facing difficulties that seem insurmountable, I want to en-courage you to draw on that which lies deep within you.
Oh, sure, you may think you lack what it takes to climb over that speed bump – or mountain – that’s directly in front of you, but I have faith that you will not only do so, but you will rise victorious to the top.
You are stronger than you think.
Believe it.
Tips for helping a caregiver
The latest AARP Magazine had a fabulous article providing helpful ways in which to make a caregiver’s life just a wee bit – or quite a bit – better. Here are a few tips for you to adopt in your life.
- Bring her a low-maintenance houseplant
- Take in his mail
- Do yard upkeep, whether raking leaves, mowing the lawn, shoveling snow
- When you’re heading out to buy groceries, ask him if you can pick some things up for him
- Take her kids or grandkids to the park or to a movie
- Stop by with a board game or a movie to watch – a perfect way to get his mind off things
- Visit her with a pet that has a sweet disposition
- Take his dog on a walk – maybe on a daily or weekly basis
- Do some light housework or repairs: dishes, vacuuming, dusting, ironing, smoke alarm battery and light bulb changing, fixing a leaky faucet
- Return her library books
- Volunteer to stay at home to wait for the cable technician, repairman, etc. while he attends to other more pressing needs
- Bring him a week’s worth of meals in freezable containers
- Send her a greeting card on an ongoing basis. Who doesn’t love to receive real postal mail?
- When visiting, let the person vent, without passing verbal judgment on what they may say
- Do an item or two on her To-Do list – I promise you, her list is extraordinarily long
- Offer to make a photo album with him, using photos that mean a lot to him and the rest of the family
- Give him a gift card to a restaurant he may enjoy, or better yet, take him out to dinner
- Help him decorate for the holidays
- Drop off or pick up a prescription
- Keep in touch with her, even after her loved one passes. Too often, the grieving one has more attention than she can handle immediately after someone dies, then when she could really use some TLC, no one can be found.
Living: the ultimate team sport 