Such is Life

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I never expected to be skipping along or roller skating or even running from a potential bear attack after hip replacement surgery. I did hope however

• to be more mobile
• to be able to carry laundry from the hamper to the washing machine
• to get down on the floor to play with Elsa-the-Dog
• to stand long enough to peel six cucumbers for cucumber salad and not feel exhausted
• to walk without a limp or a gimp
• to wear pretty little shoes to accentuate my pretty little feet.
• And more.

Such is life however, that after a total right hip replacement done July 16th none of those wishes came true.

Oh, the right hip is pain-free! Let me tell you, it is a miracle of modern medicine. I consider it my “good leg” now! Kudos to my cute young surgeon who did an exemplary job.

I LOVE my right hip now. And I LOVE my cute young surgeon even though I wouldn’t recognize him on the street.

The problem though is my LEFT leg! The BigFoot leg. The one that had been causing problems since 2015.

Maybe in the process of preparing for the right hip replacement surgery, I forgot about BigFoot?

And now that the right hip is happy, my brain needed to send out reminders that all is not well on the other side.

At any rate, I am still gimpy.

The family doc said he is thrilled at my progress “considering your age and underlying factors.” Not flattering but probably true.

Why didn’t anyone warn me about the great bowl of perilous problems that arrive uninvited with the onslaught of age?

Ah well. “Such is life,” said my once aging Mom who transferred all her wisdom to me except her secrets for aging with a smile.

I will see my cute young surgeon for the last time this month. I met him once before surgery when we talked for about 20 minutes. Then I saw him through a haze as I was awakening from the operation. The extent of our conversation at that time was him saying, ‘You have a brand new hip.” He had a mask on so I am not sure it was really him.

“HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR SURGEON?” MY FAMILY DOCTOR ONCE ASKED. “I DON’T KNOW”, I SAID. “HOW WOULD I KNOW IN JUST 20 MINUTES?”

The next and last visit (unless I get knee surgery on BigFoot) will be an opportunity for another 20 minute conversation. WilI I then recognize my cute young surgeon on the street? Doubtful.

But the goal now is to walk normally. Bill went out and bought me a full length mirror to lean on a door at the end of a long hall. I can see myself coming if not going and try to correct my gait.

“Practice makes perfect” but Bill says ,”You still walk like a duck!”

Such is life and the miracles of modern medicine.

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Kit the Wit

 

Kit the Wit

My oldest best friend’s birthday is coming up tomorrow.

She is an old lady now.

But, I suppose I am too.

Still, every year about this time she is older than I am and that lasts until November.

Kit and I were little children when we first met.  She was older than me then too.

She was 12 years old and I was 11.

She wanted to ride my brand new bike and I said, “NO.”  Then I changed my mind and we have been best friends forever ever since!  That means we went through all the joys of childhood, then all the hopes, dreams and traumas of the teen years, first jobs, dating and marriage, parenthood, and now, finally, the ups, downs and mysteries of aging.

Way back then Kit gave us nicknames.  She would be Kit the Wit from that point on and we shortened that to just “Wit.”

And I was Dort the Snort.  Not too glamorous but “Snort” stuck (I have a wonderful sense of humor you know!  In fact I have other friends who call me “Dork” – imagine?).

People do stare when Wit calls out in a store, “Hey Snort, come and look at this!”

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WIT!  I am more grateful than ever to have you as my oldest best friend forever.  Let’s ignore old age and the pandemic and all the other things that might get in the way and plan to spend the night (just one more night) like we did so long ago.

 

 

 

 

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Remember?

 

When the grandgirls were little and came for a visit I remember singing to them.  I tucked them in at night to Mr. Sandman, recorded in 1954 by the Chordettes.  And there was the popular song from the 50’s sung by Doris Day,  A Bushel and a Peck, a happy piece from my own youth.  My best friend Kit and I actually made a recording of us singing, “I love you, a bushel and a peck, You bet your purdy neck I do!” They used to have booths in the old days where for a quarter you could have your picture taken and even make a recording!  The little record we made disappeared over the years, but the song still makes me smile.

Then all of a sudden I was a Grandmother who loved to make her grandgirls laugh.  They knew and I knew Grammy really could not carry a tune so there was always a lot of giggling going on.

My grandgirls are all grown up now and the tucking in days are over.  But last year for my birthday they came bearing a special gift – a pillow!

But it is not just any old pillow.

This one is a pillow full of memories!

And it has a home in the “kids’ room” where we sang those happy songs.  I love the memories of the laughter and the love, and I am so glad my grandgirls remember too.

And Kit, if you are reading this, “Thanks for the memories”!

Published in 2016 by Okmusix

 

 

 

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Notes from the Incredible Shrinking Woman with Big Feet

 

They say, “With age, comes shrinking”.

Gravity is the culprit and I am no exception.

I was once 5’ 4 ½”, but now measure 5’ 3” at the doctor’s office.  This explains why cabinets are higher now and the upper reaches can only be accessed by standing on tiptoe.

The truth is, I am now a shrinking woman.  This is not a huge surprise.

But did you know FEET are also affected by the creeping/creepy years

I have just learned a second truth about aging –

BIGGER FEET!

Because none of my regular shoes fit anymore (which I thought was because of the intermittent  swelling of BigFoot), I was recently fitted for new shoes.

The measurements were taken the old fashioned way you know by an orthotics expert who used one of those metal things you stand on.

Out of curiosity I asked, “So, what size am I?”

And the answer was, “9 to 9 ½.”“WHAT?” I practically screamed. “I have always been a Size 7 ½ to 8!  Are my feet GROWING?  No, your feet are going flat.

Your arches are falling.”

This revelation required some serious mulling over.

No wonder all my shoes are too tight to put on!

The old feet are growing as the arches fall  – a ridiculous/obvious fact with annoying repercussions.

For one thing I have a nice shoe collection.

It does not compete with Imelda Marcos, but includes:

Dress shoes in different colors and heel heights, lace-up athletic shoes (even though I have not been athletic in many a year), sandals in different colors and styles, boots in all their iterations, and all the various sizes of Walmart Specials to help during the BigFoot-Boot-Cane-MRI years.

Should I throw them all out and start over?

And how much more will these feet grow?

Maybe the solution is to stay inside wearing slipper socks until the feet reach maximum growth!

Life is full of mysteries.

It is my sincere hope that these Notes from An Incredible Shrinking Woman with Big Feet will inspire you to buy shoes with “give”.  Although you may not know it, your feet are definitely growing.

 

 

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To Go or Not to Go

Although I think these stories are to be considered “PRIVATE,” the fact is that  age brings a certain loss of privacy.

THE MIGHTY LEAP AND GRAB

Story #1 began with Dor’s BigFoot. 

Due to a lack of exercise maybe, or the fact that I toted  around an extra 4 or 5 pounds of knee high boot for many months, getting up and down in the bathroom became a challenge.

If you are brave, please Picture This:

We could not mount railings in our bathrooms because we have stand-alone thrones.

Therefore, I was forced to make a mighty leap forward to grab a door knob and then hoist to get up.  Fortunately the doorknobs held and maybe you could consider mighty leaps as good exercise, but the very idea inspired a a search for a remedy.

Our local Virginia plumber solved the whole thing!

“Everybody’s got ‘em now,” said he.  “They are the right height even for the young but very helpful for the aging too, and a whole lot of folks are replacing the old 14inchers with 16inchers.”

And so we did just that.

I almost wrote a blog post about it because it was our excitement for the year – waiting to try on “right height toilets.”

There, I have actually said the not-so-private word at last – TOILETS! 

Comfort level toilets are wondrous things and if you haven’t got one, I highly recommend going for it!

TO SLEEP OR NOT TO SLEEP

Story #2 is my upcoming Sleep Test.

I am a wreck preparing for an “in-lab sleepover” at our local hospital.  That is where they test you to see if you stop breathing too much during the night.

Evidently I am under suspicion for “sleep apnea” even though I do not snore, have no problem falling asleep and no problem sleeping 7 to 8 hours a night.

It’s supposedly a private room with its own bathroom but I understand I will be observed all night via a little camera at the nurse’s station.  And if I have to “go” I must holler out and wait for an attendant to come and unhook all the electrodes and wires.

I am packing for this overnight stay as if taking a trip to Australia! Bringing my own pillow, a book, my Kindle reader, several types of sleepwear, cookies maybe, and more.

I do hope they have a Right Height Toilet though!

 

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Occasional Thoughts

Water World

I just started an aquasize class offered by our local YMCA!  The other aging ladies in the group call it “water aerobics.”  This may be wishful thinking but we do jumping jacks midstream in the pool and even cross country skiing (or at least we make motions to that effect).

Sometimes I feel like I am Esther Williams though.  You may not remember her – a film star who was once the center of synchronized swimming.  If I squint a little, I think of my current “aerobics” group as my mininons and I am Esther in all her glory.  Imagination is a wonderful thing.

Social Media for the AgedAging

A charming and dedicated fellow high school graduate from my early days (those days celebrated in history books now) has initiated a new FaceBook page by-invitation-only,  a private group just for us graduates of our particular year.  I was so excited about participating that I immediately heaped a boatload of photos and stories onto the page.  It dawns on me now there are only 21 of us participating.  I think there were 600 in our class.

Rain, Floods, and Vitamin D

It keeps on raining around here in rural Virginia.  Sometimes it even floods and our local Alert System is always warning that soccer team and other sports events have been cancelled.  Bill and I are “hill toppers” so we are not too worried about being flooded.

I do get concerned about a Vitamin D deficiency!  They say, “Twenty minutes of natural sunlight on two thirds of your unprotected body parts is all you need to self-generate enough Vitamin D for good health.”  So in those brief periods of sunshine we now enjoy, I head for the deck with bare legs and arms, and with no SPF protection.

Down with a Cold or is it The Plague?

All that sunbathing didn’t help after all.  I developed a nasty cold the day after water aerobics!  Tylenol worked for a low grade fever, but I am left with a deep gutteral cough, light headedness, and the occcasional sweats.

I have however, found the ultimate cure-all, feel-better-right-away solution.   I am reading “Year of Wonders” – a story about the Plague!

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For As Long As You May Need Me

Over twenty years ago, Bill planted a sapling.

It was a Red Maple that never turned red in the Fall.

Yellow was always her color.

But this summer she is again sporting her beautiful mantle of green.

Other trees managed to succumb to benign neglect or wicked weather;

• a gigantic Bradford Pear who split in two during a storm called a Durecho,
• a Weeping Cherry who never made it past puberty,
• an enormous Crab Apple who nourished our deer but simply gave up.

But the beautiful Red Maple stayed on as if to comfort and assure,

“I will linger long and grow toward heaven for as long as you may need me.”

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How to Keep Your Mouth Shut When You’re Out Cold

It comes as rather a nasty surprise that I am aging.

You too?

Oh, I knew there would be a few aches and pains,

and of course a face with well placed character-wrinkles

and some artfully arranged gray hairs.

But the plan was (and still is) to ignore such minor imperfections and compensate with self deception.

Creams and lotions help (and please try them all like I do).  The commercials might be right after all.

And  maintaining an upbeat, youthful attitude is the way to go.

This means a devotion to nutrition and exercise (if you practise on rare occasions like I do).

But who knew about falling asleep in a chair and waking up

with mouth wide open?

And how can you take charge of keeping

your mouth shut when you’re out cold?

I admit this humiliating onset of age mars my usually proud

and eternally youthful countenance.  And thankfully, I don’t snore!

But

I am now hoping for soulmates out there (those of you with gaping jaws)

to come forward with your learned-from-experience solutions to this ultimate indignity.

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An Aging Adventure Story

The Old Oldie Just Detailed

I discovered it is never too late for an adventure!

Aging is no barrier since there are surprising  opportunities to experience new, wonderful and uplifting feelings that can leave a person dreaming in anticipation.

I suspect you are eagerly awaiting the details.

Bill and I bought a car.

That was fun, but not the dreamy exciting adventure in question.

We  purchased a 2013 used car (with a lot of techie he-man gadgets).  This car is old but new to us.

But no, that was not the adventure either.

To further explain this story it should be known that the new-old car is now Bill’s and I have inherited our 2006 old-oldie.

Certainly not the stuff of dreams huh?  

But just as an aside, surely my giving up the new car will put me on your

list of sacrificing, saintly humans who give more than they receive.

To further qualify this story and to fill you in on the adventure,

It must be remembered that anything Bill touches gets kind of messy – meaning dusty and used-up looking (excluding Me of course).

Anyway, the brand New Used Car is now Bill’s to mess up,

and the Old Used Car is solely and exclusively MINE!

And the Old Used Car has been “detailed.”

AND THAT MY FRIENDS IS THE ADVENTURE!

I am beyond excited!

I have never had such work done before but I now have an old car that

• looks like new,
• buffed to a high shine,
• no dust,
• no pebbles
• and no mud on the floor boards,
• everything organized in the glove compartments,
• ancient papers discarded and only the most up to date easily accessible,
• bugs off the windshield and anywhere else they have collected,
• leftover food from feeding the critters at Safari Park vacuumed out of the window wells, and
• in other words, untouched by you-know-who!

O.K., I didn’t really expect them to organize my papers – or did I? That is a “detail” isn’t it?

I was beside myself with anticipation – like a young girl looking for a new dress to prepare for the prom, I kept imagining things.

Will I love it?

Will it look as good as I think it will?

Will the world see how beautiful it is?

Talk about an adventure!  I know it’s not like rock climbing or skiing or even trampoline jumbing.

But WoooHooooo!  Did you ever think of DETAILING an old car as an adventure?

 

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Old Gifts for Young People

Viola was a local  Virginia “character” who took pride in having an independent streak.  She was forthright and fiercely opinionated, and loved beautiful things.  And she was a beloved friend whose gifts over the years are things I still cherish.  They were old gifts she found in antique stores and one-of-a-kinds for the young me.

Sadly, we lost Viola, but there are wonderful reminders of her all over my home.  She was a friend who put extra thought into gift giving.

• A beautiful scalloped edged platter I still use to serve cookies.

• An art deco bowl that makes bananas seem  brighter and yellower (is yellower a word?).

  

• A lacy edged vase for short stemmed flowers to make into elegant arrangements.

  

I just read an article about how young people don’t like old stuff anymore. They don’t want Grandma’s china or sterling silver that has to be polished.

Who needs gold edged dinner plates for fast food or pizza delivery?  And who wants cutlery you can’t put into a dishwasher?

I concede there is some logic in this thinking albeit the younger generation seems to be forfeiting an atmosphere of beauty, charm and grace.

But do they know about the feelings you can get from holding or using something with a history?

A beautiful old serving dish is never really old.

And an elegant old vase will always complement a spray of  seasonal flowers.

And much like people, some old things age gracefully with the help of a little extra care.

And other things grow more beautiful with little to assist them but age and patina.

I was a young woman when Viola gave me some exquisite old things.  They never required too much care and they are cherished now, almost thirty years later, along with some very sweet memories.

I keep reminding myself that finding the one-of-a-kind perfect gift for someone special may be as easy as a stop at the local antique store.

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