When Bad Knees Happen to Good People

 Fifty-eight, and life is great!  Today is my 58^th birthday.  That’s right, I’m a Cinco deMayo baby (though I never heard of that holiday until I was in college).  I can’t believe I am actually that old.  My young brain has a hard time coming to terms with that fact.  That’s really close to 60, and you only have to be 35 to be over the hill.  Where does that put me?  Down in the gully, some might say.  My friend (and famous "older" fashion model), Cindy Joseph likes to turn the "over the hill" thinking upside down.  She talks about aging being more of a "V" shape than a ^ shape.  We are just hitting our stride at midlife, and it only goes up from there.

I agree with her, at least in my mind.  Unfortunately while my mind may not know I’m getting old, my body sure does.  Apparently I inherited my mother’s arthritis.  It’s in my knees.  Every once in a while I feel it, but not often.  I’ve learned that about once or twice a year I have to go to the doctor to get a series of Synvesk injections.  It’s amazing how well that stuff works.  In fact, the last time I noticed any knee pain was over 18 months ago.  That is, until last Wednesday.  I banged my knee cap really hard on the metal drawer handle of my desk at work.  Hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, and to bring all life to a screeching halt for a few minutes while I regained my composure.  My boss suggested I ice it for a while, but when I finally felt like it didn't hurt so bad, I just went on about my business.  The next day my knee was stiff, a bit bruised looking, and definitely painful when I touched it or tried to stand on it.  The doctor looked at my x-rays and said I had developed bursitis from the inflamed arthritis, and that the desk drawer injury ruptured a bursa sac, which meant painful inflammation resulted.  He said I would probably want to consider knee replacement surgery sometime in the next few years.  I had heard knee replacement surgery is like getting your youth back.  So I told the doctor I’m ready for it, when the time comes.  The doctor ordered me to stay off my feet for the next three days.  That was hard, but it gave me time to think.  Seems like replacing old body parts is part of my life now. 

Last month I met with a Lasik Surgeon to see if I might be a candidate for that.  I’ve been wearing reading glasses since I turned 48, so you’d think I’d be used to them by now.  But I hate them.  It is a pain to balance reading glasses AND sunglasses on your head, and trying to read the medication bottles in the middle of the night, without your glasses on is downright dangerous.  So, I decided to look into Lasik.  Turns out I AM a candidate, but given my lens shape and my family history of cataracts, the surgery might have to be redone and/or I’d need cataract surgery in 6-10 years.  He said I'd probably still need reading glasses, and getting rid of them was the whole point. He said I could have a lens replacement surgery done, and it would guarantee I wouldn’t develop cataracts later.   I probably wouldn't need reading glasses either. The only catch was, I’d have to learn to live with mono-vision lenses, which meant I’d use my right eye for distance and my left eye for reading and close vision.  Some people's brains just couldn't handle that. He had me do a 2-week trial of contacts that work that way, to see if I could handle it.  I had no problem, and truly loved the freedom of no more glasses.  And since they were the type of contacts you slept in and left in for up to 30 days, they were no hassle at all.  Well, until the second week, when I found my eyes drying out and itching often.  I really wanted the surgery, but the $6,000 price tag was out of my network.  So I told the doctor I needed time to think about it.  He said I could continue to wear the contacts, but he would suggest I get a new prescription (not just a trial) and get a new pair of contacts.  My insurance company said I couldn’t get a new eye exam covered until September, so I decided to try to wait it out. About a week later I agreed that the 30-day limit for the sleep-in contact should, in fact, be changed to 2-weeks.  I went back to wearing glasses since then. . .at least for now.

So, like many other “old” ladies, I have bad knees and bad eyes.  Oh yea, and bad teeth too.  Actually, I don’t have my own teeth anymore.  I had a full mouth of implants put in about 7 years ago.  I guess all the radiation treatment I undertook in my late 20’s for thyroid cancer did a number on the bone structure that held my teeth in place.  I started losing teeth quickly, until it was getting embarrassing.  I remember going to work with a blackened (dying) tooth in the front of my mouth, thinking it was the worst thing in the world.  Wrong.  A big gap, where the dead tooth had been, proved to be worse.  It was quite an ordeal, but I have beautiful teeth that are completely disease free now.  I love it!

Okay.  I got glasses at age 40, new teeth at age 50.  I’ll probably get new eyes (lenses anyways) at age 60, and new knees at age 70.  Anything else?  Last year I decided to try wearing hair extensions, and that was fun.  But my hair is thinning, and you have to have hair to extend, so I don’t think that’s a long-term answer.  It’s also not in my (income) network any more.   I know a lot of old folks are having hip replacement surgery too, these days.  My dad fell on his 90^th birthday and had to have surgery.  I think I’ll follow his suite and wait until I’m 90.

So how do I really feel about all this?  I say, isn't it great that we live in an age where we can buy replacement parts to extend the warranties on our old bodies?  Our parents and grandparents didn't have all these options.  Nor did they have good (and very affordable) insurance like I am privileged to have, thanks the US Navy (and my late husband’s military service).  So, even if the technology was there, the resources were not.

I just feel really blessed to be this age.  As part of the ‘Boomer Generation,” I know I am in good company.  The marketing companies, healthcare institutions, travel/recreation fields, and even social media are clamoring for our business.  We are the generation in power, no matter what our children think.  Power on fellow boomers.  Power on.

And if any of my fellow boomers are starting the second acts of their lives alone, like me. . . I raise my wine glass to toast us.  Cheers! May we always see the rainbows and possibilities. I am looking forward to experiencing some more “second firsts.”  Everything is new, now that I am doing it as a single woman. I told you already about my second first job interview.  This weekend I’ll experience my second first solo camping trip. (The first one was in a tent, many years ago.  This one will be in an RV).  Next will come my second first solo (fine) dinner out.  (Haven’t gone to a nice restaurant alone in 30 years).  Soon I’ll go to my second first movie.  Maybe next year I’ll take my second first trip out of the country.  But first I’ll have to take my second first weight loss journey. (We won’t talk about how many times I did that before my new single life.)  And yes, eventually I’ll venture out to take my second first date with a man.  What an adventure.  Everything old is new again (and it isn't just our teeth, eyes, knees and hips).

Signs of Progress

Why am I so impatient at times?

3/19/14

5/3/14

Trying to focus on progress made in the yard redo, rather than on what’s still not done.  Notice how much the grass plants and the new lawn have grown in just two months?  The lawn is so lush I just want to roll in it.  Only problem is, it has to be mowed every 3-4 days or it gets too tall.

You can’t tell in the photo, but there’s about a hundred flowers planted all around, waiting to take root and pop up out of the ground.  Can’t wait to see it all done.  Waiting is the hardest part.  When I decide to do something, I do it immediately.  I want to see immediate results. If patience is a virtue, then I’m full of vice (the opposite of virtue, per Wikipedia). There’s going to be an arbor gate where the path in the photo starts at the street.  It will be attached to a white picket fence that will (finally) start being installed on Monday.  This is what it looks like today.

Notice Bella checking it out.  She is never more than a few feet away from me.

By the way, I got my first Peace Pole installed in my back yard yesterday.  Actually, I just plopped it there temporarily, until another one or two are done and I can decide where I want them permanently.  It looks rather lonely, I think.  And it’s a bit gloomy and wet today, so that doesn’t help.

The best part about my new backyard is this:  No more landmine dog holes!  The sandboxes are awesome.  Bella gets it.  She knows she’s supposed to dig there.  Denali just thinks it’s a cool place to catch Bella off guard and attacks her playfully.  The first box the guys made me was too small.  It’s in the first photo below.  Picture proof that two big Berners barely fit in it.  The second one is much bigger (second picture below), and it’s in the far back of the yard, where Bella likes to perch to watch the landscape crew work.  It’s a safe distance away from anyone who might want to pet her.

I am an Artist

I came in “first runner up” for two different job interviews last week.  In both cases, my competitors were very impressive, so it was truly an honor to be one of the top two both times.  But that fact didn’t keep me from feeling rather depleted by it all.  After the last one was announced, I found myself on the verge of falling into a negative mindset and probably depression.  I was complaining as I drove my daughter and me home after work.  I didn’t want to go back to work.  I just wanted to quit.  I was probably too old to compete with the younger generation.  I was used to getting any job I interviewed.  Why was I suddenly now “second best?”  When my daughter reminded me that she went through a similar spell of being in the top two, but not selected, it made me remember that it was my job to set a good example for my daughter.  It would have been easy to join her in a whiney, complaining mode.  But I decided that wasn’t me.  In fact, I was reminded of all the work I’ve done this year on being intent-ful and focusing my mind on what I WANT  . . . not what I DON’T WANT.  That’s a big part of the Law of Attraction (LOA).  The more we think about the negative, the more likely we are to attract that.  The same is true in reverse.  The more we think about positive things, the more likely we are to attract those things in our lives. 

All this caused me to ask myself what it was that I truly wanted.  While both those jobs would have been nice, I had a nice job already.  Of course I NEED more income, now that I lost half of our household income with Scott’s passing.  But given no employee raises are in the state budget for the next couple of years, I wouldn’t have a higher income from either of those jobs . . . at least not until a new budget comes out.  So what is it I truly wanted, related to my career?  Everything I thought of I had (respect, friends, etc.) already. 

It is my dream to retire in May 2017 (three years from now), when all my debts are finally paid off . . . except my house.  So I decided what I really should be focused on is, what will I do next?  What would I do, if I didn’t have to get up and go to the office every day?  I know the answer is this; I would go to my art studio in my sweats and paint all day.  That’s what makes me happy.

Jenessa and I went to Arts Walk last week, and throughout the evening, Jenny kept saying “Mom, you really should sell your art.  You are as good or better than this artist.”  And I had to agree.  When I saw the prices on some of the pieces, I just had to say, “Really?”  I could have painted that . . . and made a killing on it too. 

The art I’ve done over the last couple of years has either been gifts for friends, something for my yard/house, or just a page in one of my art journals.  I haven’t made anything to sell for many many years.  I have enjoyed exploring different mediums this last couple of years. I spent much of the time caring for Scott, in my art studio, which is right off the room where his hospital bed.  It was a good way to relax and distress.  But do I want to do art for profit?  And can I?  I never really felt comfortable calling myself an artist.  My mom was an artist.  She painted beautiful landscapes, especially ocean beaches with beautiful waves and skies.  Blue was her favorite color.  And she could draw people really well.  I could never really draw.  Luckily I can trace what others draw, and I can use rubber stamps too . . .but I cannot draw.  And yet, people seem to really like whatever I create.  They call me an artist.  I just thought of myself as someone who likes to create.

I decided I want to explore that idea of “going pro” more, over the next year or so.  Maybe I can supplement my retirement enough to keep my house after I retire.  That would be my dream. 

To that end, I have decided to take a weekend course that I’ve always wanted to take.  Donna Downey has a studio in North Carolina, and she is an awesome teacher.  I simply love her work, and adore her as a person. She does some online workshops (donnadowney.com), if you want to see her in action.  Anyway, I am going to attend her next “Paint Like An Artist” workshop (in late June).  She works one-n-one with a small group of wannabes, and their work has truly inspired me.  She teaches techniques and tips that I am really excited to learn. I can hardly wait.

For most of my life, when I was asked the typical question, “How do you see yourself when you grow old?”  I always had this visual of a pudgy old woman with long flowing grey hair in a messy knot on her head, with glasses perched on her nose, with lots of wrinkles around her smiling eyes, wearing an apron covered with paint, and flip flops.  I dreamed of having a studio with lots of light shining in it. I’m not sure WHEN I became the woman in that dream, but here I am.  It just reaffirms the old adage that you become what you think.

Proverbs 4:23 says, ^“Be careful what you think, because your thoughts run your life.”  I used to quote the following to my kids all the time:

“Be careful what you think, because your thoughts lead to your actions.

Be careful what you do, because your actions become your habits.

Be careful of your habits, because they become your character.

Be careful of your character, because it becomes your destiny.”

So I’m thinking I am an Artist.  This blog is about starting over, as a Widow.  I no longer have anyone else to please but myself.  What an opportunity!  I can be anything I want . . . go anywhere I want . . . do anything I want.  And I want to be an Artist.  I want to FEEL like I really am an artist. So I’m going back to my art studio now to have fun.