Aging just sucks, there’s not much else to say about it. We are often faced with responsibilities which can wipe out that sense of freedom we’re supposed to experience in our golden years. I’ve come to accept that I live on a rollercoaster, one that has not slowed down the least bit. I get in that long stretch, lulled into complacency when suddenly I feel the world tilt under my feet and a lurching in the pit of my stomach.
It’s one of those times, 18 months worth. A week from today I’m having a minor throat procedure to widen a narrowing esophagus. It’s not really a big deal though I’m dreading it totally. The problems I’ve been experiencing, gradually intensifying this last year, have not been spasms but rather a passageway that wouldn’t allow a 2 millimeter pill to pass to my stomach. I’ll be knocked out for this little ‘procedure’, where they stick a wire down my throat and “tear” (the nurse used that word) the tissue, and will walk out of my own accord. Figuratively. I’m sure they’ll ‘wheelchair’ me out to my mother’s awaiting car. This revelation is paired with blood work indicating low white blood cell count-unexplained and probably no big deal. It means more blood work in a month and maybe a trip to the hematologist. My fear? Well, aside from the mysterious diseases I found in an internet search. All this medical crap will cause the insurance company to raise my premium, the one I pay out-of-pocket. The one that is already $713 a month.
I think I need to find a husband.
Which takes me to the ex-husband who I care for, as in caregiving. Sunday I went to visit him in assisted living. I brought coffee and a cherry turnover-his favorite, because I was there to tell him I was getting him qualified for Medicaid and moving him to a nursing home. He took it pretty well, though I cried unexplainably through much of it. Little tears, no sobs. It had been a long stressful week of acknowledging the truth of my choices and the consequences and a week of admitting that I can’t adequately provide for his health care, or my own, in this semi-employed state I live in. Two part-time jobs isn’t enough.
I’m looking for a job as a 56-year-old woman in a young job market. I want to maintain my dignity, i.e. I don’t want to wait on tables. I don’t want to give bj’s in the alley behind some bar. I’ve given up an amazing number of luxuries and even a few necessities-and the truth is that I’m not really missing them. Though I do long for the occasional massage. But, I can’t give up much more-well, I could give up wine. But… really? Choices, again.
My personal life has been a mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly–I’m slowly working my way through that. But it also hit a messy place recently. So, as I came to the blank page this morning the first thing that sprang to mind, was Warren Zevon. What a musician. I didn’t really discover him until I was about 52. Werewolf in London was all I knew of the man and even then I couldn’t tell you his name. The one CD I own is full of poignant songs. This is one of my favorites, right along with Don’t Let Us Get Sick. That song always makes me cry; it triggers that longing for a companion to share this rollercoaster ride.
If you saw me in person you wouldn’t see any of this. I look healthy, a bit overweight (and believe me right now that’s on the top of my get fixed list) but basically I look pretty good for a mature woman. And, I’m not dragging my sorry butt around looking like the messy, melodramatic hag you’re seeing this morning. But things are shifting in my body-as with all of us aging souls. My aorta is getting smaller, or was already small? And, now my esophagus. And, heavens let’s not forget the fucking broken bone in my foot that may or may not be completely healed. I think of this time as one where I should be expanding, not contracting. If I were a Baptist, I might say that God was calling me to …something? Or punishing me for my sins. But, I’m not. It may just be that The Universe is gently suggesting I start making better choices.
For now, I think it’s fair to say that my shit’s fucked up.
I found some great tunes on youtube by Mr Zevon – thanks for the headsup on him.
If things are contracting, perhaps there is some expansion right around the corner for you?
Along with the esophagus I wonder what else you will be opening (up to).
The CD is Life’ll Kill Ya, should have mentioned that earlier.
As for expanding, one can only hope so. I’m afraid I’ll wake up tomorrow with a claw-like hand or something… Joking.
We’re each of us tougher than we think, DD – and you’re a tough old bird
You’ll come through this bad spell because you’re a fighter.
And you’re never as alone as you might sometimes think you are. You have many online friends ready to lend you the support and strength you need.
Take care
xx
I’m not sure whether I’m insulted by the tough old bird reference or not? But, thank you.
I know it’ll all be fine, but sometimes a girl’s just gotta let it all out!
You are right about my online buddies-you are a great group, even if some of you are across the pond. And, by the way where is NobblySan? I don’t think he’s come by with offerings?!
Thank you.
I’m here… just.
Unfortunately, I’m still ‘off’ the whole blogging, FB and general online social interaction thingy. I just don’t seem to be able to be arsed with it all at the moment. Things that I used to find entertaining now annoy me, and that fact annoys me further. What a sad old git! As my Mum would have said to me, “Och, ye need puttin’ in a bag an’ shakin’ up!”
But enough about me! Here’s something for you to think about….
Your oesophagus is struggling to pass a 2mm pill, and you complain about being overweight, yet you are having the bloody thing widened?!?
Boy…. you’re in trouble, missus!
Have fun, and keep smiling…. there’s scope for humour in every situation, so never pass up the chance to find it.
There he is!!!!!
I get it, life over at your place is pretty touchy at the moment. I was afraid to even comment for fear of attracting attention!
Scottish?
Believe me, if I could avoid this widening thing I would! There’s a sexual joke in here somewhere I’m sure, but it’s really an issue about what I can and can’t swallow. Don’t want me to choke to death, right?
Humour huh? We’ll see. Actually, I manage to handle all this shit pretty well and no ulcers yet.. but some gray hair. You bring a smile to my face, so thank you.
I don’t know where to begin. First I was experiencing my throat closing up, reading about yours. Then I totally flipped to why your ex is in an assisted living and your part in his care (have you talked about this before?). The your job hunt. By then, all of my brain cells were completely occupied and I couldn’t read about Warren Zevon or the rest of your physical ailments. I feel like we should be having a long lunch or dinner about all this, not a blog comment.
I have not mentioned the ex here on this particular blog. He has progressive multiple sclerosis, is in his late 50′s and has been in assisted living for 5 years now. And, yes you’re right this is a lot to just dump out on a blog, and for some reason this morning it seemed like the thing I needed to do. Probably a little too much to handle, huh?
I had problems last year with a certain coated pill making everything else for a week feel like I had something stuck in my throat. Changed medications and when having a endoscopy they widened my throat too. Felt great ever since so don’t fret.
hmm.. interesting. Glad to hear you’re clear and ‘open’… I am sure this will be fine, it’s the thought of it that seems so icky! But, I will be heavily sedated and they give you an amnesia producing drug in the mix as well.
For now, I’m chewing everything very, very thoroughly.
Thanks for the reassurance.
When it rains it pours (I know that’s so cliche-ish, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.) There will be a time when you’ll be able to look back at this time period and realize it was just a phase in life you had to suffer through. It will get better! (Keep repeating that mantra!)
yeah, I’m sure..I’ve already had more than my fair share of ‘this too shall pass’ and I”m ready for something new. Thank you for the kind words
You have simply forgotten who you are DD …. for the moment
Ha! Divine can be a transient thing….
Dang, I’m behind again and just reading this. I’ll keep you in my prayers for your surgery and for a job. I know exactly what you’re talking about – I’ve faced giving up my wine, too, and I’m just grateful it hasn’t come to that yet. You’re so talented – you’ll find the fight thing, I’m sure. But keep writing!
Thanks Barbara.. I’ll take in renters before I’ll give up my wine!
And, thanks for the reminder to keep writing!
All well said, Ms. Divine. Most people over 55 can relate to everything you’re saying. Everyone over 50 who’s in need of a job can relate. This economy is no place for older workers. As for swallowing a little pill, I’ve had that problem in recent years, but I think it’s mostly caused by anxiety, for me.
I’ve stripped my life down to simplicity, but still struggle to make ends meet. Don’t give up the wine. You deserve some relief! As for the massage, that could be arranged.
My first chuckle of the day.. you’re offering massages! Are you any good? I guess I need not ask if you do in-home massages.
Well, I thought the swallow thing was anxiety related as well and thankfully an astute Dr. pushed me to get testing. I saw the x-ray of that little barium pill lodged in my throat and have had the experience that when it happens not even saliva can get by sometimes! So, be careful.
I hear ya on the simplicity bit and the ageism. I feel pretty certain I’m competing against much younger people and a employer who wonders why someone my age is looking for a job. I’m not terribly optimistic here.