Category: health

I should have lied.

Sometimes being good is annoying.

Being good has its disadvantages.

I lied, once. Twice in one week seemed a little much.

My son once complained about getting caught for some minor infraction. I explained to him that we are people who get caught. Maybe we aren’t devious enough. Maybe as obedient children we didn’t get much practice in covering our tracks because there are rarely tracks to cover. The signs of disobedience are obvious.

Perhaps my first lie led to the need for a second. But Life had taught me a lesson, so I informed my surgeon when I learned that I was positive for COVID.

A few weeks ago, my A-team of travelers had left the Midwest winter to seek sunshine here in the Southwest. Mike and I led them on a tour of Puerto Peñasco, Mexico, followed by three days in Phoenix. Before they left to burrow their way home, I had started a pre-colonoscopy white diet, which seems to be prescribed for high-risk patients.

“White diet” is not a medical term. I coined it to describe a diet with no vegetables, a few canned fruits, no grains or legumes, and otherwise white foods to reduce fiber in the colon. After three days, I crave salad! The day before the procedure is limited to clear liquids, no red. The night prior is sleepless as the patient drinks an abhorrent concoction designed to clear the digestive system. Often from both ends.

I always schedule my colonoscopy first in the morning, so I can roll out of the recliner into the car in minimal consciousness. One of the COVID screening questions was, “Have you traveled in the past two weeks?” Considering Rocky Point (Puerto Peñasco) a suburb of Phoenix, I replied in the negative. That was on Monday.

On Tuesday I awoke with a mild runny nose and sore throat. The home test affirmed COVID. Crap! (I have permission from a friend to use that word or worse.) Did the stress of the colonoscopy impair my immune system? No one else on the trip was afflicted.

Feeling slightly guilty about my first “lie”, I called the surgeon who was to perform a hernia repair on me next week, to report the diagnosis. Yep, I must postpone for at least two weeks.

I spent most of the day in bed on Wednesday, exhausted with a mild headache. By Thursday, I felt like my normal lazy self, and by the third day, Friday, totally back to normal. I’ve been more debilitated by mouth sores.

Should I have not informed the surgeon? I blame my Midwest upbringing, good old Lincoln returning a penny in change. Knowing that many people have ignored the safety of others by refusing vaccinations, discarding masks, and yes, entering the hospital without revealing their exposure to the virus, I decided to do the right thing. The virus had little impact on me other than to increase my immunity, but for people like my friend Larry who could not be vaccinated, it could be deadly. Sometimes being good is annoying. Crap.

The Eyes Have It

So now I am frustrated but not alone. These stories abound, often with dire consequences.

The eyes are windows to truth.

The camera focuses on the actor’s face in time to register a barely perceptible movement around the eyes. Like a squiggle of paint that adds depth to a wall-size mural, a slight contraction of the occipitofrontalis muscle twists the plot of the play.

But this is not a play. After I inquired if my abdominal discomfort could be attributed to my ventral hernia, the gastroenterology physicians assistant replied that only a protruded hernia would be considered a risk. I affirmed it protruded. This PA, a model of calm, asked to see it. And the eyes told me: it was a risk. 

This despite my PCP’s assurance that it could not strangulate. That assurance despite my former PCP’s warning that it could.

My friends and I are at an age when we are deeply involved in medical care. We find ourselves at the mercy of insurance companies which have no mercy. Our PCPs do little other than refer us to specialists who do not communicate with each other. Electronic medical records are locked within impenetrable systems which caregivers will not or cannot access. While warned not to rely on Google, we are expected to choose our care options based on limited information because we don’t know the questions to ask.

I would have had this surgery when first suggested if I had known. I was in much better physical condition then. Having undergone multiple surgeries, I was reluctant to jump into another. I was thrilled when my new PCP assured me that it wasn’t necessary. So now I am frustrated but not alone. These stories abound, often with dire consequences.

I made the appointment with a surgeon, and another appointment with a new PCP since mine has left the state. I will watch the eyes.

Thank you, Technology

Another prayer of thanksgiving: for the technology that assures that I can stay connected with those I love, no matter the condition of my body.

Love technology!

Earlier this week I tackled the annual task of formatting mailing labels for our Christmas cards. Each year I relearn the steps while repeating the multiple errors I conquered in the past. In years past, I could have hand-addressed the envelopes in the same amount of time. Arthritis renders me incapable of writing my name legibly, never mind addressing stacks of envelopes for our 80+ nearest and dearest.

I used to include a personal note on each mass printed letter. My letter now fits on the back of our card courtesy of Shutterfly. Personal notes will be included on a very few if any. Many locals will receive egreetings.

I observe this Christmas greetings downsizing among my friends and family. Our news is succinct. (If you want to know about my life, follow my blogs. 😊 ) But with each label affixed, I offer a prayer of thanksgiving, for the history and friendship, the memories of those I love. Eighty plus cards, but how many hundreds or thousands of relationships have faded through death or neglect? Although I realize that no one can maintain a relationship with thousands, or hundreds, of people, I feel a loss when I think of them. And whenever they return to my thoughts, I am grateful for their presence in my life.

I meant for this to reflect on technology compensating for the disability growing in my hands. Another prayer of thanksgiving: for the technology that assures that I can stay connected with those I love, no matter the condition of my body.

Scrap that idea–for now

Our plans have been scrapped. We are willing to travel, but a trip to Nashville for a group of music lovers anticipating extraordinary music in crowded bars would be wasted. We are not willing to take the risk. We will consider something more isolated.

Well, that won’t work.

On the road again

The plans were taking shape, the spread sheet filling with details of mileage, events, sites, and reservations. We were joining our Chicago travel buddies (SOAR) on a road trip to Louisville (distilleries) and then on to Nashville (music), celebrating the opening of society following 18 months of COVID isolation. This would be cathartic, our group of six now down to five.

We had watched the COVID numbers decrease as the vaccine took effect in millions of people around the world. We were hopeful. Society was opening up. SOAR was ready to hit the road and celebrate Life and friendship in honor of Larry.

We managed these past 18 months patiently and bravely, meeting via Zoom, limiting travel until safe. Tragically, Larry succumbed to COVID, leaving us numb and heart-broken.

Reminding us that death and disease do not consult our calendars, another good friend, healthy and robust 15 months ago, quickly became thin and weak because of non-COVID health conditions. And glioblastoma took Frank’s life.  

Not

The vaccine holdouts surprised us, allowing the deadly Delta variance to take hold. While the numbers rise dangerously, we are more than a little annoyed at people who refuse the vaccine out of ignorance, jeopardizing the health and quality of life of their neighbors.

Our plans have been scrapped. We are willing to travel, but a trip to Nashville for a group of music lovers anticipating extraordinary music in crowded bars would be wasted. We are not willing to take the risk. We will consider something more isolated.

Restlessness overwhelms me

I have always been restless. I recall many times in my life when I felt as if I were waiting, shackled by health, family, or social norms that restricted me. Miraculously, opportunities offered fulfilling experiences to carry me through the years.

RestlessRetirement.com was born from an internal drive to fill my retirement not with busy-ness but with meaningful endeavors. Although the isolation of 2020 offered me opportunities to stretch some creative wings, I remain restless, as if I am to begin something new, as if my work of 2020 was a holding pattern.

What if there is nothing new?

I need to keep my finger on the patience button a little longer.

I want to walk

I want to walk to meander and dream, to work off frustration and despair of daily news, to connect with the divine. I need to walk, to calm the restlessness of retirement.

There is no better way to relax than a walk in the woods.

The theory here is that walking allows the brain to focus on something it already knows how to do, which gives the rest of your mind free rein to wander. Which is all to say that if you are stuck in the middle of writing a book or trying to figure out your life, perhaps the best thing you can do is walk.

House Lessons: Renovating a Life by Erica Bauermeister

I like to walk…

…especially when frustrated or simply between tasks. I am not surprised that creative meandering springs from neuronal firings (see quote above).

The temperature has dropped to double digits, but the air retains the oppressive heat of the summer desert. I am not walking outdoors in this heat. Nor am I rising at 4 am to join my family and friends committed to their routine while avoiding the worst of the day. At one time a morning person, I have come to appreciate my late risings while retired. Late meaning 8 a.m.

I joined a few friends virtually to follow a Leslie Sansone Walk at Home video. Caveat: get out the towel; you will sweat. But that is not walking outside, rambling in nature, where the brain keeps the legs moving while allowing the mind to wander.

Although our current neighborhood…

…is similar to the community we left seven years ago, I find this one less satisfying for walking. It might be more a reflection of my life situation than the setting itself.

The neighborhoods of the north side of Chicago are made for walking, streets lined with trees and gardens, shops offering interesting products and enticing window displays. Surroundings definitely affect the mood of the walk.

It was close to two years…

…following hip replacement that I achieved a level of walking that allowed me to let my mind wander. A few months later, a torn meniscus aggravated by arthritis forced a partial knee replacement, throwing me back into a conscientious gait. Now, one year later, I can feel my body ready to wander in body and mind.

But it is hot!!!

My tolerance for the heat has diminished with age and retirement. When working in AC all day, a few hours of heat in the evening were bearable, relieved by a dip in the pool. The freedom to go out at any hour, although a benefit of retirement, accentuates the unforgiving temperatures, urging me to stay inside.

I want to walk…

…to meander and dream, to work off frustration and despair of daily news, to connect with the divine. I need to walk, to calm the restlessness of retirement.  

What now?

One of the psychological tasks of my age group is to come to terms with mortality. It is all around us. This year has provided us the time to contemplate it. We have no time to waste.

Time to go Somewhere!

Safe at last

Our closest friends and family are vaccinated, as are we. As restrictions are easing, we are feeling safe, especially outdoors.

Except for our cross-country road trip, we have visited restaurants rarely. Each time, we felt precautions were sufficient.

Last Sunday we attended the final drive-in worship service at our church. From now on, the service will be offered indoors with social spacing. Fellowship time between the services is joyful, a sense of relief permeating the community. Soon, masks will be optional.

The pandemic has taught us how to worship online, as well. The pandemic forced many into the tech world.

Ready to go

Much of the world is opening up. We are ready to go. Our hooves dance in the dirt, waiting for the shot to signal go.

But. . .

We have no plans. We had canceled our travel reservations and put our dreams on hold. For over a year we have anticipated this moment. But while we revel in embraces with loved ones and mourn for many friends and family who died this year, leaving their family and friends to grieve alone, we are unsure what the next step should be.

I return to exercise and tentatively plan social events. My postponed visit to the doctor reveals the repercussions of my year of sloth.

Now, we are older. Some of us more decrepit. We will never recover this year.

So, what now?

Per Isaac Newton, an object will stay in place until a force sets it in motion. My friend Diane has tasked us to offer some travel dreams to start the motion. We will stay within the continent for now. But we need to start moving. And soon.

One of the psychological tasks of my age group is to come to terms with mortality. It is all around us. This year has provided us the time to contemplate it. We have no time to waste.

Making history

With a sense of relief and happy to take part in history in the making, Mike and I enjoyed a breakfast in the park, proudly wearing our vaccine badges for no one to see.

Magic potion

STRENGTH GROWS IN THE MOMENTS WHEN YOU THINK YOU CAN’T GO ON BUT YOU KEEP GOING ANYWAY

– unknown

The threat

Threat to life, loss of jobs and income, increase in mental illness, anxiety throughout the world. The COVID-19 pandemic has generated great suffering, disproportionately affecting people of lower incomes and racial minority.

I humbly acknowledge that, for me, the pandemic has been more inconvenient and annoying than life-threatening. Well-fed, housed, clothed, and in contact live and virtual with family and friends, we are fending well. We draw from the well of patience and hope engorged during previous trials of life.

History

We encourage our grandsons to take notes: what did you do today? how did you feel? what is different during a pandemic than normal times? They are living history, creating stories to tell their future grandkids. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

It is too late to ask my parents about the flu epidemic. I sense rather than recall the polio epidemic of 1952. The iron lung was our Boogeyman, a very real illustration that Life is dangerous. A friend retells how a child was transported to Catholic mass each week in the lung, instilling trepidation in everyone in the sanctuary. Were confessions up that week?

Victory

Although relatively young when mass vaccination against polio took place, I recall the excitement surrounding its distribution. My brother and I claim injections, although many references point to sugar cubes. In any case, there was optimism in the noisy school gym where lines of children received their protection from the Boogeyman, freeing us to play outdoors and go to the public swimming pool.

Polio did not take as many lives per year as COVID-19 but had affected people for much longer. The epidemic in 1894 was repeated in 1916 and then 1952 when there were 57,628 cases reported and 3,145 deaths. After-effects continue today as former victims present with post-polio syndrome. Ultimate bummer: survive the initial onslaught only to be struck down when the body is already failing due to age.

Jubilation

With a sense of historical significance and a look toward a healthy and freer future, Mike and I drove to State Farm Stadium in Glendale, AZ, to get our first dose of the Pfizer vaccine. Arizona is remarkable for its ability to place at the low end of rankings when the higher rating is preferable, and vice versa. It has been reported that Arizona’s vaccination availability is poor. I have heard little good news about any state.

Scheduling an appointment in Maricopa County is difficult. However, the distribution is remarkable for its efficiency. With our hard-won appointment confirmation in hand, we drove into the stadium lot at 8:45 and out at 9:15, never leaving the car, moving leisurely through the checkpoints, chatting with the attendants. The drive allowed time to schedule the next appointment while lingering for the 15 minute post injection recovery

With a sense of relief and happy to take part in history in the making, Mike and I enjoyed a breakfast in the park, proudly wearing our vaccine badges for no one to see.

As my friend Nancy observed: who would have imagined celebrating after getting a shot?