I CAN WORK WITH THAT

I CAN WORK WITH THAT

September 2016

Blogs are meant to reflect one’s relationship with reality; our world as we see it, understand it and relate to it.  For the past two years I’ve periodically put down in writing my thoughts, experiences, lessons learned, missteps, successes and challenges. I chose the blog format to allow me to record my experiences, learn from them, and hopefully help my readers as we jointly face our journey in aging.   I’ve called it Adapting to Age. The timing couldn’t have been more auspicious.  I’ve had an extraordinary two year journey, facing challenges of illness, a broken heel and ankle needing surgical intervention, a car accident that involved my car accelerating and flipping over on its roof:(yes a manufacturer’s faulty system as the cause); shock trauma care for me and my passenger and the anxiety of purchasing and driving a new car.  I’ve also faced and survived an infection in my brain. 

During those two years, I persevered through the incredible support of my children, family and close friends. I also turned 75; reaching that entry into aging as an inevitable stage of life. 

Given the vicissitudes of aging, and the likelihood of future limitations, the next stage was inevitable: it no longer made sense to live alone in a three story house, with way too many stairs, unused rooms reclaimed for storage; patios and decks needing upgrades. Selling my home of almost 40 years, alone without my husband, friend, supporter and realist was a momentous undertaking.

But wait, as they say; there’s more:   moving alone for the first time since my marriage in 1961; selling a second home in Florida and currently in process of purchasing another Florida second home.  (all this in one blog sentence; weird).

My blood pressure needed constant attention, anxiety driving loss of control; my spatial memory for directions, locations of the offices of various doctors has lessened, leaving me feeling lost and even more anxious. And this was way more than the occasional, “what did I come into this room for?” or “where did I leave that piece of paper with directions on it?”  Small things, like a blister on my arch, a small basal cell cancer on my nose, shingles in spite of taking the vaccine, all gained in importance, raised my blood pressure once more, so both needed interventions with rest, other medicines, some of which interfered with current medications, leading to complex med management and often restrictions on activities.  I know you can get the picture. Or you will when you put on your bifocals. 

Just to test how well I can handle stress (yes, it does feel at times like a test); my left ear developed a fluid backup, hearing aide in left ear not at all effective, and the loss of context and meaning in conversations, watching films and plays, conducting the normal life functions (shopping, asking for directions) all slowly float out of hearing.  The most trying experience is loosing the content in conversations with friends: it adds to the anxiety, which raises blood pressure, which causes nose bleeds......ENOUGH!!!!!

The challenge, once I veered too close to emotional paralysis, was how to stop; change the tempo and tension of my days. take deep breathes and new steps.  I took an hour to survey the many books on my bookshelves; on memory and mindfulness.  What a treasure trove, and all on one shelf:  Peace in Every Step( Thich Nhat Hanh; 8 minute meditation, (Davich); the Power of Now( Eckhart Tolle); Keep your brain alive,(Lawrence Katz): Moon Walking with Einstein, (Joshua Foer).  I also spent valuable time with a therapist, testing my assumptions, taking stock of my inner and outer self’s needs, slowing down.

Using these as guides: remembering to breathe, looking for ways to improve my memory, start early planning for my next move to a new winter home in St. Petersburg all are being to help me settle into my newest self:  75, independent, managing to maintain good health, fix what doesn’t work well,( like hearing aides); exercising regularly, accepting limitations:  I CAN WORK WITH THIS.

Now, if only I could control the election, I’d sleep much more soundly!  

technology thy name is ( expletive deleted) but fun to read

INTERNET, I-PHONES, UNIVERSAL CONNECTIBILITY WORLD WIDE.

The transition generation:  unplugged, plugging in, and learning new languages.

We are the last generation who remembers a world without instant communication; (Seniors, over 65, still alive and very much kicking),  without the constant tweeting and tweeking; sending words across hemispheres.  We had to go home or to a free standing telephone “box” in the street to make contact. I remember having to actually write a letter, mail it and wait for a response!

Our home entertainment was a single, small size television screen.  Yes, a BIG change from radio only.  Most stations were filmed in black and white, and to change stories (or channels) you had to walk over to the set and twist the knob.   But there were only a few channels anyway. Remote?  What was that word? Replay? Watch one show while taping another?

I’ve teased my grandkids when I tell stories of our limited connectivity.  It gives me a chance to share with them some old letters written to me by my children (their parents) when they were away at sleep- over camp.  One from my daughter reads:  “I miss you both so much, sing me to sleep daddy!”

Today I sit at my laptop (yes, a portable typewriter, holding the memory of all things I’ve written, or downloaded, or received by E Mail); an easy to carry means of communication that allows instant connectability).  My personal cell phone, too, is by my side available for instant contact across the room, across the street, around the world!  We each have one of course, and often use it for messages to ourselves (don’t forget to pick up the milk, put out the recyclables’; pay an overdue bill). If it should go missing, or lose its battery charge, the sense of emptiness, the confusion reaching for a phone which is temporarily out of order is powerful. 

If I miss my grandkids, I can schedule time and watch them at play through an “app” (application) called face time; they can show me the latest toy they got, or an A on a school paper.  (Just now, in fact, a photo of my youngest (Nick is 6 going on adolescent) and his older sister appeared on my computer screen; they actually made a long distance visit!)

I can “sync” my calendars on my phone, computer and I Pad, and get enough “ping” sounding reminders to drive me to unplug my hearing aids at times.  Yet I use my cell phone to ask the automated voice (My newest friend Siri) to direct me to my destination, and mostly she does, and I don’t have to check maps. 

And so I’ve adapted; enjoying the chance to read a book on line; doing crossword puzzles on a screen, catching up with my friends and family.  And then it happens:  the phone fails; I leave my I pad in the meeting room of our life-long- learning program, the Academy for seniors at Eckerd College, and face a long weekend without it.  I actually had to find a book on my own bookshelves (a bit dusty, but unread).  Worst of all, earlier this year, all my electronic systems went haywire in January. For over a week I had only a land line phone and pens and paper to satisfy my needs to communicate.  Prozac anyone?   Got to go now: the cell phone is ringing, and I’ve got this blog post to proof read, print out a copy, send it off to friends, and take a shower.  No cell phones allowed.

March 25, 2016