I GET GIDDY!

 There are no doctor appointments on my calendar for the next six weeks. Alarming. Truly alarming.

Does it frighten you when no doctor on your list of specialists has made a date to see you?

Frankly, I get giddy. Does this mean the aches; pains and surprises of aging have come to an end? Of course not. We all have arthritis, some in places we wish it wasn’t. But there is so much more to fear - if we allow fear into this doctor-free time. Fear of the unknown is powerful. I’ve considered several what-ifs.

What if I fall? A likely scenario even though my daughter removed every rug in my home that I could possibly stumble over. It’s very bare here. Trouble is I’ve been tripping over my own feet since I’ve been ten years old.

But falls are a number one concern according to the experts. One out of every four older adults will experience a fall according to the CDC. Falling once doubles your chances of falling again. Not happy stats!

Falls afflict twenty-five per cent of those sixty-five years and older. Age related muscle weakness, balance problems and sometimes medication side-effects are some of the reasons cited by the organizations that keep track of such statistics. (The afore mentioned CDC & the National Council on Aging.)

What if I catch a virus? I’m up to date on my vaccines, use Azelastine on a regular basis for my sinus allergies and have many mask back-ups left over from Covid pandemic. For two years I didn’t have any colds thanks to those masks! They’re as necessary for travel now as packing my bags.

I could get beamed by a hickory nut. These are hard-shelled lethal little bombs which fall willy-nilly from hickory trees during the fall. I’m thinking they could easily cause a concussion. Or you could break both ankles or worse by slipping on these tough nuts. However, the squirrels love them. They depend on hickory nuts to get them through the winter. (Keeping it positive here.)

Among the many what ifs that might happen? Well, I might throw my back out for the umpteenth time but this time in exercise class.

I could get hit by a bus or an impaired driver. But these accidental afflictions do not usually mean long-term setbacks.

On the other hand, dementia, cancer, long-term heart disease, stroke and lower respiratory disease are the chronic illnesses that may set in before our eighty-fifth birthday. By my count at this point I only have one of these and it does not hinder my daily life. Yet. Back to the stats - ninety-three per cent of us have at least one chronic condition and eighty per cent of us have two or more. (CDC, National Council on Aging sources.)

High blood pressure, arthritis and high cholesterol are the most common conditions seniors and super-agers suffer from and can usually be kept under control with medication. Kindness and empathy from our peers and family help us to endure many of these age related maladies.

Our number might not come up in the statistics but we need to practice kindness and grace with our friends who might be.

Lastly, I could have my internal organs shut down due to overuse…long years of use. (Passing, also known as by natural causes.)

So, yes, anything can happen during the dull lull between appointments, but I am a positive person and tell myself I deserve this little respite between doctors and medical surprises. I choose not live each day fearing some calamity will befall me at any moment. Instead, I’m sure it’s a time to crush as much good living as possible into each day.

And to remember at all times the old saying, Never regret growing old; it is a privilege denied many.

ANOTHER BIRTHDAY

 What do you do when another birthday is just days away? Do you cringe or celebrate? I’m a celebration type person but this time I’m not so sure. I’ve reached a very high number, one I never expected to reach. That alone is cringe-worthy. But then again I may just be a babe. These days you see or read of people aged 87, 95, 100 and more, enjoying life. It’s daunting, but there may be years ahead of me.

If so, I’d better get busy. These will be my top five concerns as I blow out the candles. The numerous candles.

 

1) A new bucket list. I’ve completed the first list andf aged out on some of my original goals. (No Machu Pichu for me. My lung situation is not that good anymore. But I am still breathing!) The new bucket list I’m creating focuses on mild activities like boat tours and train trips. Nothing where I might need to exert myself. And of course an adventure on the cheap side would be welcome.

2) Practicing frugality. Speaking of cheap, I need to cut back on my spending. Because I did not expect my nest egg to last this long…or longer, it’s quickly diminishing. Apparently, I need to eat less and wear my clothes longer. Unfortunately, I never met a budget that I liked. I’m not even sure I know what that means or how to do it.

3) Love and romance. Although I have a record of marriage and divorce, I may have given up on love too soon. A little companionship would be welcome for the next hundred years. I might have to get back in the game. Even if this means only for occasional company, the search requires standing appointments for nails, hair and a new and an awesome wardrobe. And there goes whatever budget I’ve been able to work out!

4) Health care. Yes, my parts are rusty and wearing out but after a few health scares, at least I’m mobile. Self-care is important at any age but if not now, when?  I know I should exercise - something I’ve avoided for several, make that, many years now.

5) A tattoo. I may be the only person on the planet without one. So, I’ve been thinking of getting a sexy tattoo for this upcoming birthday. I think my grandgirls who were going to do it with me have opted out. (They are beautiful, they really don’t need body embellishment.) I may have to opt out as well. I can’t find a spot on my body, wrist or ankle that provides a smooth surface for the artist.

There is one more concern. This struggle is real.

A recent news report stated that anti-aging products are a two trillion dollar business. Two trillion! A variety of colorful tablets promise to put a halt to your body’s aging by months or even years. Mind you, none of these supplements are approved by the FDA. And there are absolutely no guarantees.

I’ve never taken any anti-aging products but now may be the time - what do I have to lose? Except money. And there goes the budget again!

 

SMALL BUT SCARY

 So, several weeks ago I suffered a small but scary stroke. I lost my words, my sight, my hearing, and all sensation. I lost me.

A writer without words.

I was not unconscious but I was not conscious. I spiraled in pitch black space until I woke up in the recovery room over thirty minutes later.

Fortunately, I was already in the hospital, recovering from an out-patient scheduled procedure when this happened. My daughter and I were talking, both fully expecting to be on our way home in an hour. She was driver that day. What ensued so suddenly frightened her too. She told me the emergency team came to the surgery floor and took me down to the emergency room. “Do you remember being in the elevator?”

No.

Although this episode was the direct result of the earlier out-patient procedure it doesn’t mean it’ll never happen again. High blood pressure can cause strokes. High blood pressure is an inherited condition for me and one that as yet is not under control.  

I spent the night in the hospital for observation and testing. The MRI of my brain showed no brain damage, although my brain had been deprived of blood for several minutes - that is one way stroke happens. (I know friends and maybe family may be of the opinion that brain damage happened to me some time ago!)

Now I have a new doctor, a neurologist, new medication and an appointment with the caring professionals at the stroke center.

After my release from the hospital I cancelled a writer’s conference I’d planned on attending. I lost my confidence during those lost minutes. I’m leery of traveling alone in case of another episode. My goal is to get over that fear.

I will never again lightly dismiss hearing about a TIA, transient ischemic attack no matter how long it lasts.

My psychological recovery is almost complete. To say I was shaken is an understatement. But I’m working on regaining my mojo and continuing my adventures in aging.

BAD HABITS

 Do folks over 65 have bad habits? No. We outgrow bad habits. They just fall away in time. Or at least we like to think so. Our senior citizen men and women (like me) are sweet. They are wise. They are not alcoholics.  Nor are they drug addicts.  

Except they might be.

Dependence on drugs happens innocuously…with good intentions, while we’re not looking.

“I’ll have a little red wine before dinner.”

“I’ve heard it’s good for the heart.”

“Blue Zone residents drink wine all the time.”

Beware of when a little wine before dinner becomes a little wine at lunch. And then maybe a celebration. “This whiskey is brewed in my home town…and besides it’s the Fourth of July.”

With enough celebratory beverages the imbiber no longer feels lonely, depressed or isolated. It’s uplifting. For a minute.

Bad habits may even start with doctors. I’ve had an appointment with a new doctor with the end result being a declaration. “Anxiety!” he proclaimed and ripped off a prescription from his pad for a drug I neither needed or wanted. That incident happened in this decade. And it explains how some super agers get hooked on drugs. Doctors. Innocent, well-meaning doctors. As well as innocent, well-meaning friends. Might even be your sister. The man or woman you love. Age is not shield. It doesn’t defend us against questionable thoughts or actions. If it did submachine guns would not be available to grandma.

In my infancy I worked at rock radio stations during the late 60’s and early 70’s. My positions were in Miami and Los Angeles. Drug gateways. Drugs to make a person feel good were easily attainable and many air personalities felt they owed their high ratings, and therefore their jobs, to being…well, yes, high. (I was not an air personality - also known as disc jockeys - but I required creativity to write. In the spirit of confession, I have walked into cloudy control rooms and I gave in to curiosity once and did inhale something that was handed to me at a radio party.)

However, that was then and this is now. Motivations are different but stronger than we would like. Dealing in drugs is in the hope of feeling better, or feeling nothing at all. Drug users are no longer lonely, confused or seeking bliss. Or even youth. They need arthritis relief.

The thought there might be a drug even better than what’s been prescribed initiate experiments. If certain drugs prove to be illegal, well the old junkie rationalizes. ”I’m gonna die soon anyway. Might as well die happy.”  Or “Hey, if I get jail time I’ll at least have someone to talk to in the cell.”

Sneaky substance abuse. Without noticing you start needing and taking more. Age is not an excuse or a defense.

Drugs are drugs, including Alcohol. Folks often forget and ignore the fact they are ordering more or needing a bigger cart at the liquor store. “I’m having a party!”

And yes, a sure sign of big problems is the sign on your porch: It’s Five o’clock somewhere.

A 2023 national survey on drug use and health estimated that over two million people aged 65 and over met the criteria for an alcohol disorder.

Bad habits, i.e.drugs, can claim an older person anytime, anywhere.

Think about these stats. Baby boomers have the highest rate for use and abuse of drugs; drugs used as a coping mechanism for boredom and grief. A 2023 National survey on drug use and health estimated that 2.7 million people aged 65 and older met the criteria for an alcohol disorder. That means they are alcoholics. 

Heavy drinking according to the CDC means fifteen or more a week for men, eight drinks per week for women. Worse, as we age many of us develop increased sensitivity to alcohol, to those eight a week beverages, or even one a day.  One might feel like two in time.

Don’t let new bad habits happen to you. Remember the battle cry of Galaxy Quest…Never Surrender! Never Give-up!

 

 I missed a blog. Because I’ve been away on vacation. There is a common misconception if you are retired you don’t need a vacation. Let me just say, that is quite untrue. Sooo untrue.

Responsibilities continue and even grow during retirement.

I speak, or write, from experience. I am retired. And I work at, and worry about a great many life issues which unfortunately translate to daily stress. Stress that builds to a dire need for vacations.

Have I volunteered for the toy drive? Did I pay the power bill? Have I missed my uncle’s birthday? Is the rent overdue? Obviously, I can worry about these things from anywhere. But it’s so much more beneficial for my mental health to take a vacation. Otherwise known as a change of scenery with purpose.

A vacation for a retired person involves a change in scenery. And let’s be honest here, a change in scenery is the perfect reason to get up off the couch. To explore. To shop.

I love a good change in scenery as long as it’s not too expensive.

Whether you call it, a change of scenery or a vacation, a get-away can do a world of good even for just a few days. For instance, a weekend of being unable to see the terrifying news on television will do wonders. And there is no food shopping or cooking while enjoying a change of scenery. You make dining decisions from a menu.

Often a vacation will offer a new hobby. Just last week, I watched birds dive bombing into the Caribbean Sea. I have no idea what the name of these birds is, but I will by the end of the day. I will research. I may even become a birder.

Meeting new friends is especially wonderful. Like you, so many of my friends have left this good earth. I miss them and they cannot be replaced… but recently I met a woman who had an amazing amount of life in common with me. We laughed as we compared notes. I’m thinking we’ll remain friends and long distance pen pals at the very least.

As our bodies deteriorate bit by bit, we need a vacation from the doctor. Doctors. One doctor is not enough. We are passed from one specialist to another where a twenty minute appointment can - and often does - last a full day. (There’s travel time to account for on these visits.)

Yes, I’ve been away for a change of scenery. And I plainly forgot to schedule a blog in the blogspot. I didn’t mean to forget, forgetful just happens to me now.

My next vacation, er, change of scenery may take me to Europe. I am a fan of a football team scheduled to play in London. I’m also a fan of one of the NFL cheerleaders. I’ve been watching her dance since she was five years old. Ask me how many times I’ve seen her perform The Nutcracker in Miami’s Dade County Auditorium. And then ask me how delighted I’ll be to see her perform in London’s Wembley Stadium as she did last fall.

Retired or no, it may be time for you to plan a change in scenery and enjoy a vacation while still breathing and mobile. Let’s use our time joyfully!

 

Drifting Days

Does anyone know what day it is? 

I haven’t known what day it us since I retired in September ’99 from my nine to five job. Actually, it was more like eight to four or seven til nine. The hours varied. Whatever it took to keep broadcasting - the show must go on, and all that, etc. on the air.

For instance, today is a mystery to me. I have no idea if it’s a Tuesday or Thursday despite having a calendar on my computer, my phone, and a black and white copy taped to the fridge.

The sun is up but without a regular weekly meeting or such to keep me on track it could be any day. Production meetings were on Monday in the morning - so easy to know until sunset. Then it got iffy.

When I was growing up it used to be that when our meals were served with baked beans, hot dogs and black bread, we knew it was Saturday. In Boston. I haven’t had canned black bread since I reached legal age.

Special days meant special food. Christmas Eve was oyster stew.

On St. Patrick’s day we ate New England boiled dinner… corned beef and cabbage (and carrots and potatoes). But this could be confusing. New England boiled dinner was eaten throughout the year so unless you had a calendar you couldn’t be certain what day it was.

The musical group Chicago had a great hit called Does anyone know what time it is? I think the song was written and became popular because the days meld together for so many people. One day just drifts into the next. 

Even “special” days don’t help when you’re retired. Birthdays sneak up or escape you altogether. I’m never sure of the Fourth of July, Mother’s Day, or Memorial Day, until I hear the fireworks.

And then life gets cruel.  I went to the store this morning and there was a big sign saying “Monday Pizza.” A man behind the counter was baking beautiful pepperoni pizza but…it’s Tuesday. I know it is. What’s a woman to do? I pretended it was Monday again and bought two slices.

Yes, it’s Groundhog Day all over again.

THE SOUNDS AND SPILLS of AGING

 There should have been alarm bells. But no. There were no five alarm warnings.

We were never warned about the sounds of aging. However the sounds of aging have become particularly worrisome to me. 

My grand and great grandchildren - plus an unfortunate number of movie makers - seem to think farting is funny. I find flatulence terribly embarrassing. Although it’s a common sound during the aging process, I just don’t find the humor in it. In my twisted mind, women especially, neither fart nor snore. Call me a prudish old fool but to be caught doing either is just plain humiliating. Thus I am often red-faced and mortified. A cough does not cover the body’s release. Loudly accusing the innocent dog of making the offending sound rarely works either.

Asleep, with no way of monitoring my snoring I make it a point to take a nap before venturing out to the theatre, movie, concert, any night time event where I may inadvertently snooze.

 No one cared if my old dog Bob snored but he did have a disturbing indigestion problem. The vet put him on a special restrictive diet. Still, Bob was a great mixed-carin rescue companion for many years who usually slept in my office while I wrote. In time I’d grown more or less immune to the sounds of his stomach gurgling and making all sorts of strange noises. One day, the noises were extraordinarily loud and seemingly non-stop. I looked to where I thought he was on his office bed to see if his noises were keeping him awake. But Bob was not in my office. I was alone. The strange noises were coming from me. Even alone my body grew hot with embarrassment. How does one stop the gurgling sounds that creep up without pain and therefore without warning? What if the stomach serenade happens during a dramatic pregnant pause during a theater scene?  A single cough just won’t cover unceasing sounds.

And don’t get me started on carbonated sounds. We used to burp; now we belch. The sound starts in our toes and gains momentum and power in the belly until a belch emerges, resembling the call of a wild moose or worse a fog horn.

Then there are the spills and ensuing stains. No matter how careful I intend to be, no matter how small the bites I take, I have never spilled as much of my meal as I do now. And usually the spill lands on a new and expensive blouse or pants that will be forever stained. It it’s red wine I spill, I cry.

In his later years my husband never wore a tee-shirt more than once. The spills never stopped. People always wondered why he wasn’t wearing silk shirts. He could afford them after all.

This free fall of food, drink, makeup and anything else I might be holding may be the result of less than acute eye-sight. But I do wear glasses and have my eyes regularly checked.  It’s not a case of cataracts; those were taken care of quickly and simply years ago. (Never fear cataracts!)

My hands were the source of my shaky problem. “A familial tremor,” the doctor pronounced. A sudden case of shaky in different body parts is a common complication among aging men and women. When my hands tremble, I smile and say, “Essential tremor” and shove the offensive body part into a pocket. (I always buy clothes with pockets and I don’t eat soup when dining out. It’s a rule.)  Shakes can be misinterpreted as signs of alcoholism - but not as much if you’re over 85.

Shaky just happens, usually at the least desirable time and that cannot be disguised by a cough either.

If, in some kind of mindless stupor, we raise our hands to our mouths we not only call attention to the tremor but display the raised veins, thin skin, liver spots and crepy wrinkles of our hands. Gloves offer a solution. But you can only successfully hide your hands in gloves on winter days or if you’re a debutant or performer who wears formal gowns with gloves that fit up to your armpits. But if you’re wearing gloves on a warm sunny day they also serve as a dead giveaway to advancing age.  (Forgive the use of the term dead. No one over seventy years of age likes to hear the term. But sometimes it’s the only word.) 

Back to my appreciation for clothes with pockets.

Apparently essential tremors can be the result of DNA. My paternal grandmother’s familial (or essential) tremor resulted in a shaky head. She didn’t worry about spills and she could eat soup in public. Her kindness and sweetness never faltered.

Grandmother knew what really mattered. So I choose to deal with the sounds and spills of aging and enjoy each breath of life!