How long will the search go on?
The one to discover me.
The one that started after birth
and keeps showing up each morning.
Surely seventy plus years is enough time to devote
to this scramble of facts and figures
that recalculate each time
I think I am finally on the right road.
I am trying to pinpoint where this feeling comes from, if it is an external or an internal source. I take a pill daily for depression. Actually two pills. The second one is to help the first one do its job to the best of its ability. My body doesn’t utilize the first one so good without the second one which is enough to raise my hackles. Why don’t I behave so I can get by taking one pill instead of two? See, already I am getting testy.
In this, my 70th year, a large increase of twisted situations, external sources, keep life challenging. I once was described as calm and unflappable. No more. Some of the small things that should dissolve minutes after happening stay with me longer. Like yesterday’s visit to Comcast.
In April I answered a call from a sales rep who explained that my rate would be going up to $88 a month unless I took advantage of this new plan which included getting HBO and other stuff.
I worked my way through the jabber and had her say in plain English that I could have a plan for $74 ($19 more than my present plan) or I could pay $88. Even though I do not have a tv, I would have the bundle of cable and internet with either plan.
Several days later UPS delivered a box from Comcast. I knew it had to do with the new plan but just let it sit there while my housemate searched for a cheaper alternative, without losing HD Wi-Fi.
Then the next Comcast bill came–$81.We had no better alternative and now I couldn’t explain for love nor money what it was I had access to and what the box had to do with it.
I girded up my loin and took the box to the Comcast office. I told the customer service person that I needed help understanding what was going on with my account. Which she explained to me without either one of us losing our composure.
I did feel that little hot flush feeling (blood pressure, hormones??), but managed to content myself with snippy sentences instead of all out sarcasm. Because you know you are not talking to the person who controls the labyrinth of new plans, additional channels and speed, partial charges and partial credits; the reps are just the messengers. Bless their hearts.
I did find out the box’s involvement–it had to do with cable and tv. “We don’t have a tv so do I leave it here?” “No, you need to have it.” “I need to have this, even though I am not going to use it?” “Yes, if you don’t take it then I’ll have to charge you $88 for your plan.”
I knew I would be erratic in writing my blog; the determination and drive to stay on a schedule eludes me more and more. The big lapse in posts this time happened because my computer going funky on me. I couldn’t stay connected to the internet for more than an hour at a time plus I had to reboot to get back on it. Alex, the middle grandson, came to my rescue and can tell you just what was wrong.
I am still thinking about the Women’s March on Nashville and the people I met that day. Our lives followed very different paths in the 60s and 70s. I married in 1964 at the age of 20 and by 1969 lived in a small neighborhood of young white families with working dads and mostly stay at home moms. Planned pregnancies, housework and volunteering were the hubs in my life At the same time they were protesting, marching, and getting arrested for standing up for integration and women’s rights and being against the Vietnam War.
Now in 2015 I find myself on a bus with these women and I am thankful I have been given the time to think outside my little box and learn, learn, learn.
On July 4, 2014, I began my 70th year of life. It is December now. What have I been doing with my time? That is a more difficult question than it seems.
I can’t tell you what I had for breakfast yesterday, where my car keys are, or what it is I am suppose to do this Wednesday. Some, mostly the very young, will find this forgetfulness an oddity, as I can remember the words to Pinky Lee’s theme song and what I named kittens born in 1956. I do notice people in their forties having the same problem. While their forgetfulness is caused by busy lives involving work, children and relationships, mine can definitely be traced to an old brain.
No serious deterioration yet and hopefully there never will be. I look at it in the same way my hearing was explained after an auditory test. The results showed that I was not getting hard of hearing, but rather that what was said to me was not getting processed by my brain as quickly as in younger years.
Great help. I still say “Huh?” which produces the same effect, people speak louder and pro-nounce as dis-tiNCt-ly as possible.
Next my eyes jump on the bandwagon by developing two conditions caused by aging. After 54 years of wearing contact lenses, these are replaced by progressive glasses. I loved my contact lens and I really would like to whine about having to wear glasses. I am constantly pushing them back on my nose, trying not to fixate on the bridge portion of the frame which is always in my sight. They seem to need a lot of cleaning, or is that just floaters I am seeing?
Joint aches and pains must be the most common, constant and controlling issue of an aging body. At least I am not alone. A gathering of friends entails grunts and groans as we sit or stand. Time is devoted to talking about ailments, but we still follow our rule: No discussion of bowel movements. That is to be saved for the nursing home.
Most phases of life–childhood, marriage, career, parenting, empty nest, retirement–had beginnings and ends. Few of us can even pinpoint when our aging process started, although the need for reading glasses after the age of 40 is a tell. After that it is a toss of the coin, God’s choice, or how much yoga you practice as to what hits you before that last breath.
Knowing that state of the mind is important, I accept aging as a matter of fact most days. Then someone’s innocent remark about it being 50 years since our high school graduation sends me flying to the mirror. As I study my face with its wrinkles and neck sags, I am in disbelief. I look old or older than I imagine myself to be. The way I look is not about vanity as much as what others see when they look at me. I want to cry out and say I am the same as always, don’t look at me differently.
My thoughts are on the future, sex, and fashion along with everything else that has been on my mind throughout the years. Would that surprise young people? I sure couldn’t imagine my grandmother thinking of anything beyond cooking and her television shows when I was a teen.
I use to think life would get easier with age; that it would be quieter and less complicated. Instead each day still has the ability to surprise, challenge and change me. If I am smart I will be open and feel and experience what every day brings. Watch out world! Carpe diem, indeed.