The Lessons of Aging

I’m taking some time out to heal after successful rotator cuff surgery last Friday. Here, in my stead is my friend and fellow memoirist, Kathy Pooler, who like myself is taking the time to spread the word that the aging process isn’t as bad as many others lead us to believe.

 

Age has given me what I was looking for my entire life—it has given me “me”. It has provided time and experience and failures and triumphs and time-tested friends who have helped me step into the shape that was waiting for me. I fit into me now. “~ Anne LaMott

 

I don’t think anyone really relishes the thought of getting older. Visions of incapacitated, crumpled bodies in nursing home wheelchairs is enough to set anyone on an age-defying track.  Unfortunately, many things are not within our control. While we still have our mental and physical function, I’d like to offer a perspective on the aging process, gained from my own lived experience.

Anne LaMott’s wise words remind me that the challenges that confront us can serve to mold us and make us stronger. And we all have our stories of conquering mountains and slaying dragons, especially as we age.

Is it any wonder that we relish our quiet time in our “Golden Years”?

At seventy-two and with a lot of chronic medical issues, I am embracing this time in my life where I can sit in solitude and stay out of the fray of daily life. I recall those days of frenzy when I rushed off to work after getting two kids fed and going. That was after refereeing their kitchen table debate, “He’s looking at me”, Leigh Ann screamed while Brian sat quiet and smug across the table. By the time I got to work, I felt I had put in eight hours.

So, I’m looking at all the ways that aging is good. I’m still here for starters and that wasn’t always a given. I remind myself often of the night I was diagnosed with Stage Four Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in December of 1996 and wondered if I would survive.

Twenty-three years later, I am here—aging, dealing with limitations, and grateful for the second chance at life. So, as the hot breath of aging breathes down my back, I’m finding reasons to embrace the passing years…

Here are some of the best things about growing old

Grandchildren—I am blessed to have ten grandsons and one curly-topped, feisty three -year old girl who all bring much joy to our lives. They pile in for pizza after playing paintball in the woods then gather around the table for laughing and sharing stories. Or I watch one grandson stealing the show at his basketball tournament and another winning his cycling race.

Studies show that seniors are among the happiest groups of people. Perhaps that’s because we finally develop better coping skills after being tested and we feel better about ourselves.

The Gift of Time with loved ones or time to pursue dreams.

Some people choose to volunteer. The point is that you can do whatever you want and need to do as long as you are physically able.

Wisdom. Don’t you feel you have gained wisdom in the fine art of living and being?

Because we have been through so much in our younger years, we can develop better social skills and endure hardships better. There’s no time or energy for drama.

Guaranteed Monthly Income, Medicare, Social Security. There’s a sense of security in getting that monthly paycheck.

 

Given this perspective, it’s time to embrace the lessons of aging. Let’s face it, some days are better than others but if I keep a spirit of gratitude for my second chance, I can make the most of the time I am still here.

 

When I think of aging with grace, a vision of my eighty-eight-year-old father pushing a walker and hooked to a portable oxygen tank as he walked around the track at the YMCA pops into my mind.

 

Or I think about my ninety-five-year-old mother who always made sure she was dressed to the hilt until the end—with make-up, matching silk scarf and jewelry.  Oh, occasionally, she would say, “Aging is for the birds” but the next day she’d chirp about how grateful she was.

If we’re lucky, we’re all going to age and with that comes the onset of major and minor maladies and declining function but let’s keep moving forward and make the most of each day.

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How about you? Do you have any thoughts to add about aging?

 I’d love to hear from you. Please join in the conversation below~

 

Follow Kathy on her blog, “Memoir Writer’s Journey.” 

Her first memoir, Ever Faithful to his Lead: My Journey Away from Emotional Abuse, is available where ever fine books are sold.

She is currently at work on her second memoir, Just the Way He Walked: A Mother’s Story of Healing from Cancer and Her Son’s Alcohol Addiction. 

Relearning How To Rest

Over the last few years whenever I’ve gone away to take a break, I’ve taken all kinds of work to do with me. Last week was no exception. Bill and I spent four nights in one of our favorite places listening to waves rushing the shore, watching Pelicans flying overhead and eating delicious seafood. I had my to-do list with me. I planned on getting ahead by writing a few blog posts in advance, and catch up on reading the blog posts of those I follow and haven’t had time to get to in a few weeks. There were also a host of things on my computer desktop that I needed to file away.

The first day went by and I didn’t get any of that done. The day was dark, with rain showers, and very humid. The famous Outer Banks Midgies, small, gross, flying insects, were everywhere. They don’t bite but they arrive on days when there is a land breeze. When the wind shifts to an ocean breeze they quickly find shelter elsewhere. I’m not one of those people who absolutely hates insects freaking out when I see a spider or stinkbug coming my way, but these guys really got to me. At one point there were so many of them on the screen doors to our deck, that they obstructed our view of the ocean. And they covered almost every square inch of the deck chairs. Really! I took a brief walk on the beach, did some reading, and slept. We went out to dinner and tucked ourselves in early.

It’s been a crazy few months at our house with Bill’s hugely successful production of Death of a Salesman, my unsuccessful attempt to clean out my studio, and figure out what to do with the rest of my life. I’d really been looking forward to getting away … no phones ringing, no meals to cook, no place to be. But I felt restless. I didn’t feel like doing anything, yet part of me wanted to be busy. I wasn’t interested in doing any of the things on my to-do list or doing much of anything else either. I read some more, watched some of the daily insanity on cable news, and slept.

On day two I was still restless. Over the last few years while I was engaged in getting my book ready for publication there was always something that had to be done, keeping me from spending time simply being. When I did take a nap, or sit in the garden and to simply enjoy the day, I felt guilty and overwhelmed by what was waiting to be done. Back to work I’d go.

Over the last year, especially, I’ve found myself longing for time to just be without a list of things I had to accomplish. And there I was last week at the beach, suddenly realizing that I was there to just BE … to REST … and to let the world take care of itself without my needing to help. I had forgotten how important it is to have days when I don’t have to do anything. And I’d forgotten how to do that.

In this strange world we’re living in we rush around hoping to get what we need to do done and living in angst over where this country of ours is going. For many of us self-care flies out the window and we forget that in order to help bring about the change we want to see in our world, we need to slow down and really, really rest. We can’t help bring about that change unless we take care of ourselves first. I’m taking time for that now. Are you?

So, How Is It?

I’m in the process of remaking myself. Somewhere along the line I’ve lost my inspiration to write or make art. What gives? I don’t know, but I’m allowing myself plenty of time to do the things that seem most important to me right now. Like taking better care of my body. During the book writing process, I let my fairly strenuous exercise routine go down the tubes. Now I ache a lot and have gotten quite lazy. The result is a very tight body that isn’t terribly flexible. Though I still do my morning walks with the dogs, I haven’t kept up with longer walks by myself. I have added a restorative yoga class to my week and still go to my regular yoga class, and pilates workout. That’s all well and good, but if I don’t practice this stuff every day and continue to walk, it doesn’t help much. So moving, straightening out the kinks, and stretching muscles I haven’t used in a while is what I tend to do these days.

I love this poem my brother, Zed, recently wrote. I resonate with it because as I get older and try to clean up some of the stuff in my life, like finishing pieces of writing or paintings, I get distracted by the littlest things. Like watching a pair of catbirds feasting on Oregon Grape berries just outside my window. Moments like that are captivating.

I don’t like rushing around like a chicken with my head cut off. It isn’t good for the soul, my connections to other people, or the natural world. I’m moving more slowly like a tortoise.  Didn’t she win out over the hare in their race even though she was very slow?

Here is Zed’s poem:

So, How is it ?

How is it ?
I have a long list
Of letters never sent?
Combing through old emails
I learn to stuff them into multitudes
Of electronic departments of this life we have.
As if this helps me learn life’s lessons.
So, how is it?
The door knocks, dog barks, phone rings,
Or siren wails through the window.
Easy distractions with important moments to reflect or forget.

Zed Zabski
To Joan, April 26, 2017

So, how is it with you?

Promise And Possibility

Doing simple knee exercises in the kitchen.

Doing simple knee exercises in the kitchen.

It’s mid-January in a brand-spanking new year and oh my, I smell promise and possibility in the air. The aroma of pine left over from the holidays is gone. In it’s place is a freshness I haven’t been aware of since Bill started having knee problems eleven months ago when he was rehearsing for a role in a local production of the Fantastiks. Because of his pain he had to give up his role at the very last minute. Needless to say it was a big disappointment for my Sweet William, and 2015 became The Year of the Knee filled with frequent long waits in doctor’s offices with little to show for it.

After a week at the Duke University Diet and Fitness Center in Raleigh, North Carolina, last August, it became undeniably apparent that the knee would need to be replaced. At seventy-five years of age, Bill had never been in a hospital except to be born and as a tiny kid to have his tonsils out. So for him, spending time in a hospital and being cut open was a frightening prospect. October and November found us checking out two surgeons who came highly recommended, one at UVA Medical Center and the other at our new, private, award-winning hospital, named for Thomas Jefferson’s wife, Martha.

We made appointments with both doctors and saw the one at UVA first. Even though Bill really wanted to go with Dr. Swanson at Martha Jefferson, he signed up for a December first surgery date at UVA because the pain was getting worse and interfering with his ability to be completely involved in his life. We also knew that getting a surgery date in the near future with Dr. Swanson would be difficult because of her sterling reputation.

But in early November we saw Dr. Swanson and even though the earliest surgery date she could give Bill was in late January, there was no question as to who would do the surgery. Dr. Swanson, is known for her success with replacing knees and how quickly her patients get back to living life to the fullest. Because she doesn’t cut any muscle, and the knee replacement parts are custom made for each person, there is less time spent in the OR than there would have been had he gone to UVA. As the holidays approached and Bill was having more difficulty than ever moving around, and Dr. Swanson’s team called with a new date: January 4th.

We arrived at the hospital at 7 AM on that given day. In the OR at 10 AM, Bill was awake and in his room by 1:30 PM. Bill was smiling and relieved when I found him in his room. That afternoon he walked to the bathroom with the aid of a walker and nurse. The next day, he took a good walk down the hall, before participating in an hour-and-a-half long physical therapy session. He did all of that again in the afternoon and afterwards was told he could go home. Exhausted, he decided to wait until the following day, and after repeating the same two PT classes came home to his own bed the next afternoon.

A visiting nurse came once a day for three days to check his wound and a physical therapist came for seven days to keep him moving. Last Wednesday when that service ended he went out for physical therapy and greatly impressed the therapist, with whom he’d checked in before surgery. He’ll be doing that twice a week for several more weeks. At home he’s moving about the house with a cane, but still uses his walker when he goes out. The therapist said that he’s doing great and that maybe he’d be driving sooner rather than later. Watch out world. This guy has been down for almost a year. The places he will go!

I’m doing well, and happy to be getting back into a routine in my studio. PTSD comes back to haunt me now and again when I’m stressed and this occasion was no exception. Memories of my mother’s hospital visits and her behavior colored my thinking. But now at least I know what is happening and know what I have to do in order to stay on the bright side of things.

I’m back to posting my usual Tuesday morning blogs again, along with a newsletter on February first. The book is in good hands. I’ve selected the cover and will reveal it later when everything is completely certain. I plan on revamping my website and finishing the filing of extraneous papers that are still sitting around in various piles around the studio.

In the meantime I’m enjoying the very early blooming of the beautiful hellebores in myIMG_0094 garden and taking walks in the neighborhood earlier in the morning as the days lengthen. My sympathetic knee pain is gone and with Bill being a Super Hero and doing most things for himself again, I returned to pilates and yoga classes this week. I also had a massage.

Even with all the cold and possible snow later in the week, Spring is on its way. The best is yet to come!

The Necessity Of Water

“Happy is he who is awakened by the cool song of the stream, by a real voice of living nature. Each new day for him has the quality of birth.”
Gaston Bachelard

The South Fork Rivanna River

The South Fork Rivanna River

I’ve always been drawn to the water. Living on Long Island as a kid I was at the beach almost every day during the summer months. My last home there was located on a high tide inlet where, despite my difficult teen years, the presence of the water helped with my constant anxiety. We had a small skimmer with an outboard motor, behind which I learned to waterski. We gathered clams, oysters, and mussels that thrived in the sand, or the rocks along the shore. My youngest brother, Reid, a born naturalist, constantly wore a life preserver before he could swim. He caught tiny crabs and any other creatures he found in tide pools. We filled a glass tank with salt water from the sound and populated it with starfish, barnacles, clams, snails, small fish, and a host of other creatures we caught in our own watery back yard.

When I moved to Vermont after I graduated from high school, I missed the salt air, but there were plenty of lakes, ponds, and streams to jump into. And later here in Virginia I would spend ten years living on the banks of the South Fork Rivanna River. My mother spent most of her last seven years living there with Bill and me. Watching the daily movements and moods of the river, the birds, beavers, and otters kept me from totally losing my mind as I tried to help make Mom’s life as painless as possible. I know it also helped her and Bill as well.

Getting out on the water in my kayak was always a blessing. Alone in the sunshine, I often just drifted along, taking deep breathes. Some mornings found me totally overwhelmed not knowing how to manage my own life while taking care of Mom. I’d simply sit in my tiny yellow boat, head bowed to my lap, crying. Back on land, I felt peaceful, and knew the steps I had to take in order to make things somewhat easier, at least for the moment.

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Last week I heard a fascinating interview with Wallace J. Nichols, author of Blue Mind: The Surprising Science That Shows How Being Near, In, On , or Underwater Can Make You Happier. He proves what I’ve always intuitively known about water, but always thought it was just me … that the activity of our brain actually changes when we are close to or on water. Just listening to waves crash to shore can be a cure-all.

I was reminded of the week I recently spent on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Bill and I stayed in a rental home directly on the sound where I watched a great blue heron fishing each morning. We saw magnificent sunsets in the evening and twice a day, I took my dogs, Sam and Max for an ocean side beach walk, where they explored and rolled in all of the luscious, smelly things that had washed up on the shore. There were no deadlines, no phone calls, no have-to-do-now-things to keep me from just letting go. Without any effort, I slipped into a completely relaxed mode. I took naps. I ate seafood. I read books, and sat on the shore watching the water. I wanted to stay there forever.

It had been several years since our last vacation by the sea and I’d been feeling a pressing need to get to the water where I knew I’d be able to let go and untangle my thoughts and feelings about what was happening in my life. When I returned home, I was a completely new person, full of energy and ready to jump back into life.

Now reading Nichols’ book, I know that being on the water is a basic necessity for everyone, even if it’s only for one day or an hour. Just as our bodies need to rest, we absolutely must allow our brains to switch channels and rest. Nichols shows that soaking in a tub, or swimming in a pool can do the same thing for the brain as the ocean.

We spent 9 months adrift and growing in our mothers’ watery wombs. Without it we wouldn’t be alive. If we don’t continuously hydrate our bodies, we die. Taking time  to be near or in the water is the natural thing to do. Without that we’ll certainly have a much more difficult life.

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I finished up this visual journal piece while I was at the beach and later posted it in my first newsletter. I had painted the pages before I left for the Outer Banks, not knowing that they were illustrating my overwhelming  need to be near the water.

How does water fit into your life?

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