Did I Say That Out Loud?

When I wrote about getting invited to a new neighbor’s house for a night of “fellowship and a Christian movie” one of my blogger friends asked if it was a monthly Bible study. Ohmygod that thought never occurred to me and it should have since they’re common in my part of the state. At least it gave me time to think about what I’d say to excuse myself if I found myself in a prayer circle and I was the only one without a Bible in my lap. “You’re sitting here with a heathen,” was the first thing that came to mind but I doubt I would have voiced that out loud. At least I hope not. Some of the words coming out of my mouth lately shock even me. Thankfully, there was no prayer involved when movie night rolled around and I was introduced to Chonda Pierce via a DVD, a Christian comedian. I’d never heard of her but her Wikipedia page is impressive---Daytime Emmy Nominations, the “Queen of Clean”, Opryland for six years imitating Minnie Pearl, etc. She’s a beautiful singer, too, and the daughter of a southern minister. 

The DVD was titled, Did I Say that Out loud? Right away I was intrigued since that’s a question I’ve asked myself a quite a few times. Chonda’s humor could be called observational comedy, defined as poking fun at everyday life. Aside from a half dozen 'churchy' jokes that went right over my head, I enjoyed the video. At one point Ms. Pierce used the term, “My friend is a shrink” and one of the ladies attending movie night asked, “What’s a shrink?” and another woman answered, “I think she means a psychiatrist.” I added, “Yup, that’s the slang word for them” but I was thinking, I cannot believe an adult didn’t already know that! She didn’t look like she’d been living on a Tibetan mountain top or in a French convent with no contact with the outside world. When I got home I couldn't resist googling the origins of the slang and I learned it’s been around since at least 1950 when a Time Magazine article said, “…anyone who had predicted the phenomenal success of the television Western ‘Hopalong Cassidy’ would have been sent to a ‘headshrinker’” and a footnote explained that ‘shrink’ was Hollywood slang for a psychiatrist. 

Not much chic-chat came with movie night but I did learn that my neighbor taught high school drama, music and literature for 22 years before her Parkinson’s made that impossible. I like her---at lot---but even with my hearing aids in I have too much trouble hearing her whisper soft voice so I was glad to learn that she does do email. (Last night while listening to the local news I couldn’t figure out how someone could die from “loading porn.” Jeez, how is that possible? I thought, thinking the porn was downloading on a computer. Turns out the reporter was saying “loading corn.” That's a typical egg-on-my-face hearing mix up I'll make.)

By the next morning my neighbor had already emailed me a thank-you-for-coming message and we’ve exchanged our whole life stories via emails that rival the length of the blog entries I write. In my last reply I included this: “I must tell you, I'm not a religious person or a church goer but I do consider myself to be spiritual---Oprah style if you know what I mean. If I did ever consider going to a church it would be the Unitarian Universal Church because they believe there are many paths to God.” Okay, the ball is in her court and depending on which church she’s affiliated with, she’ll either cool to me or be open-minded and I will have acquired a penpal I can literally see if we’re both at the right windows at the same time.  

This week was also the last of The Matter of Balance classes (that is taught the same way nationwide). Eight weeks, two hours a session. I still think the material could/should be presented in half that time and their videos need updating to this century but the exercises we learned are good and the comradery and laughter experienced made it worth going, even though I had to drag myself kicking and screaming a few times. In my postmortem on my often negative reaction to this class I must acknowledge that the timing was poor. In October/early November I was already over-scheduled with getting my health-related appointments out of the way and house, yard and car ready for winter. While I knew that going in I felt I had to take this class (on preventing falls) because it’s rarely offered. I’m scared to death of falling and I’ll end up laying on the floor so long the dog will get hungry enough to eat my dead flesh. 

On that morbid note, I have a Thanksgiving luncheon to attend today. I haven’t been able to find any turkey legs in the grocery stores so this might be the only turkey I get this year. Boo, boo if I get served white when I love dark. Do you think if I cried loud enough someone would trade with me? ©

Around the World and Back to Old People Land

This month’s presentation at the travel club was titled, “The Best of the Hawaiian Islands.” I always thought if I ever take a trip with this group it would be to Hawaii or Alaska, their only U.S. destinations to date but I just found out they’re adding a Western National Parks trip by train and an Eastern Seaboard trip in 2018, the latter appealing to me if it goes to Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard. Those places have been on my Bucket List since before the moon landing. The two sisters who run this travel escort service markets mostly to seniors and I know many widows who have traveled with them. I trust them to take care of their clients. Unfortunately, the sisters prefer two week trips to places like Peru, China, Russia, Scotland, Iceland and other interesting places but in this age of international terrorism and long, security checks at airports they would over-tax my physical endurance. But going to travel club presentations is a great way to “see the world” and I should thank an old boyfriend from the early ‘70s for introducing me to the concept, even though as a dating destination back in my early twenties travelogues were a bit odd. He, as it turned out, was a deep-in-the-closet gay back in those days but, gosh, I loved that guy. To this day, he still goes on a yearly adventure aboard while I’ve only been to Canada, Mexico and the Bahamas. Boohoo. It’s too bad we can’t take the best qualities from our past relationships and build ourselves a new playmate.

The Hawaiian Trip cost $5,375 for ten days and nine nights, all-inclusive if you don’t mind only eating ten breakfasts and five dinners while you’re gone and having three days---one in Honolulu, Kona and Maui---to plan your own adventures on your own dime. (The other days are group excursions.) The bottom line: If you’re widow yearning to travel there are clubs and escort services around for us. It just takes a little time going to travelogues to build up your confidence in a service by meeting their repeat clients. Who knows, maybe one day I'll lose my head, plunk down a down payment and joint the cool people with colorful stickers on their luggage.

Have I mentioned balance class lately? No? This week we got a demonstration on how to get off the floor if we fall. Not sure if I can do it with my fake knees and I’m not going to try it until someone visits that can help me up off the floor if I can’t. We also had a dorky role playing session where one person had to read positive responses to negative statements read by another person in the group. The facilitator wanted me to go first but I shocked myself when I replied, “No! I’m dyslexia and I don’t read out loud.” I’ve thought it many times and but this is the first time in my entire life that I've ever said that. Usually I just stumble through, feeling embarrassed if my reading doesn’t come out fluidly. The facilitator went to the next person without missing a beat and I thought, Wow, that felt good! But it does worry me that over the summer I’ve been hearing myself say things that my younger self wouldn’t have said. That filter in the brain that keeps me from blurting out the first thought that comes to mind is starting to deteriorate which seems to be fairly common as we age, but I don’t have to like it.

Aging is not a spectator sport. Old people issues take up a lot of time and energy, don’t they. This week I had to see the audiologist for the yearly check up on my hearing aids---cleaning and adjusting the volume. I’ve been wearing them for three years, now, which means at the end of the month the warranty no longer covers them if they get broken, damaged or lost. Insurance costs $350 a year, but if you don’t get the insurance it costs $350 to send one back to the factory, if needed. I opted to take my chances and not to buy a policy from the I-Don’t-Give-a-Rat’s-Ass Insurance Company. I don’t have an ear wax problem and I don’t lose things or leave the aids down where the dog can turn them to chewing gum like my husband used to do. The biggest problem I have is my ears itch inside with the aids in. The audiologist told me I have very dry skin inside my canals and to get some hydro-cortisone anti-itch cream, put some on a Q-Tip and put a thin layer inside my ears at bedtime for a week. One more cream, one more potion or old people powder and I’m going to need a bigger medicine cabinet.

On the way home I took myself out to lunch and my turned-up hearing aids allowed me to eavesdrop on a conversation going on two tables away. One woman was telling another how she fell for the scam where someone calls and tells you your computer is being attacked by a virus. She ended up giving them her credit card number and access to remotely control her computer. Long story short she was lucky she told her son about it immediately afterward who knew it was a scam. He helped her close her credit card, file a police report and clean up her computer. It’s a scared world out there and you don’t even have to leave your house or the country to be in harm’s way. ©

Two Days into a Busy Week

Time moves fast when you’re busy. Only two days into the week and already I’ve done more than I usually do. It’s the season. Fall means extra work and more appointments. Take Monday, for example. My bi-annual appointment with my internist was in the morning and when I got home I spray painted one of my deck chairs which turned into another job. I had saved the cardboard box my sleeper chair came in last winter to use as a “paint booth” but it wasn’t quite as big as I thought it was and I ended up with a fog of bright blue paint on my gray deck, outlining one edge of the box. I’ve made a lot of cardboard paint booths over the years and never had that happen before. The over spray looked god-awful! Thankfully, using a grease and oil cleaner, a scrub brush and a lot of manual labor I was able to get the fog off. 

And did I mention that in between doctor and the chair disaster the dog upchucked on the library floor---a foot from the place he threw up just after the carpet cleaners left last week? I’ve never had a dog who vomits as much as Levi. Recently I bought him some Science Diet food for sensitive stomachs, hoping that would help but he’ll pick around those kibbles and won’t eat them until everything else in the dish is gone and its midnight in the old corral. 

I like my doctor but he actually takes too much time with his patients. He's always running 30-45 minutes late but when he’s in the room with you he’ll never rush you even when you’d like to tell him, “Let’s move this along, time's a wasting.” He’s nice guy, easy to talk with and he’s always got a student doctor tagging along after him who occasionally gets invited to weigh in with opinions. This time the student looked just like Pee Wee Herman. You’d think when a guy looks like a convicted pervert someone would tell him not to wear a Pee Wee classic bow tie and his slicked down black hair style. I hate to judge a person’s entire future by his or her looks but I can’t imagine going to a Pee Wee Herman look-a-like for a doctor. But then again, perverts might be "in" now, if our election cycle is any indication.

I asked my internist what kind of doctor I’d see for my thumb and toe joints that get stuck and he ended up using his vibrating tool and stick pin on my legs and feet and feeling up the bones in my thumbs. More osteoarthritis damage. If my joints get stuck in place too often for too long, I’ll have to see a hand specialist to get shots in the joints. But he told me not to stop knitting or using my computer mouse, which is when I’m bothered the most. "Use those joints!" Yes, sir! You don’t have to tell me twice. He also ordered some blood work to check on my thyroid and vitamin B-12 levels as possible causes for the needles-and-pins feelings I get in my foot at bedtime and my fingers being cold all the time. For a septuagenarian, I don’t have a lot of health issues other than bad bones and joints, and even though I was dreading getting weighed-in at this appointment I only gained two pounds since last April. “Surprise, surprise!” as Gomer Pyle would say. 

Tuesday I got up at the crack of dawn again, to go to the blood lab and to my third ‘Matter of Balance’ class. Every one of these classes has had some drama involved. Last week it was the car that tried to join us in the classroom. This week the facilitator couldn’t get the movie to play right and we ended up in a dark room starring at a blue screen for 20 minutes while listening to old people on the video talking about the importance of making time for exercise. I’m almost sure it was better without the visuals. The videos for this government sponsored class were made so long ago that the old people/actors’ clothing and home decor remind me of Aunt Bee and her friends from Andy Griffith’s Mayberry. 

The rest of our two hour class was actually helpful. We learned how to do a series of exercises and the facilitator said the most important one in the entire workbook was “foot circles” to strengthen the ankles. Regaining balance in a trip comes mostly from the strength in our ankles, she says. The book describes the exercise like this: “Sit with both feet on floor. Raise one foot and gently circle (rotate) your foot in a clockwise direction five times. Change directions and repeat. Switch to other foot and repeat.” Of the twenty-five exercises we learned, for homework we were told to pick one to commit to doing every day and next week we have to report on how we incorporated it into our routines. It annoys the heck out of me that this class moves so slowly. One exercise out of twenty-five? Why not five or ten? Let’s get this show on the road! But I’ll keep going because I really want to get to week six when a therapist from the hospital will come in to teach us how to get up after a fall, and maybe by week eight I will lose my strange, resentful attitude regarding the class. Where is that coming from? I can’t figure it out. ©