Revising the Dreams

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They say getting older is not for the faint of heart. It’s true. You discover that the things you dreamed about doing when you were young, things that you’ve carried over decade to decade, are suddenly no longer within your reach. So now what? Do you persist in going after them, do you give up on the dream entirely, or do you try to find a compromise so you’re still getting some of the experience even if it’s not all it was meant to be?

I find that I have a stubborn streak that holds on to the dream for months and months, reworking it in my mind a dozen times with tiny little concessions each time, so I can still pursue the basic dream. But somewhere along the line, I realize it’s time to let it go and then I start looking at ways to make some of it happen.

One of my dreams was to have a house with enough land to create a garden retreat, a place replete with trees, flowers, vines, grass, and at least one little nook where I could hang out with a good book and enjoy the view and the quiet – sort of like the picture I chose for this post.

Getting close to retirement, I refused to give up this dream and looked only at houses with spacious back yards. But little realities kept creeping in and I must say, they really annoyed me. I have a friend who pointed out that the cost alone of all the foliage would kill me. Then I’d probably have to initially employ a landscaper to till the soil and prepare the beds. Not being much of a horticulturist, I’d probably have to get professional advice on designing my perfect retreat. All of these costs are difficult, if not impossible, when living on social security.

That was my first reality. Then there’s the annoyance of old age. At 65, I’m in relatively good health but my aches and pains have increased and I notice that they do so at an accelerated pace. Perhaps that’s the problem and everyone faces it: You go for decades being in tip-top form and think it will stay that way indefinitely and then one day you discover you need back surgery for the increasing difficulty you’ve been having with what you thought were pulled muscles that were just taking longer and longer to heal, or you have a strange bout of symptoms that mimic heart problems and find you need a medication for GERD, or bounding up the stairs two at a time becomes a slower progression on a daily basis, etc. To top it off, these new issues are not things that are going to return to that 20s physique; they are permanent and likely to get worse.

I didn’t bargain for that when I was younger and, stupidly, didn’t anticipate it, either. Although aware of the possibility, when I was younger I sort of figured they always happened to someone else or that I’d see them coming and make appropriate adjustments (although what those adjustments might have been is anybody’s guess). And now, it’s too late to back up and tackle that garden with the stamina and non-creaky joints of my 20 or 30-year-old self.

So, reluctantly, I’ve realized I would never be able to keep up with the daily maintenance of a garden of that size. That acceptance, oddly, happened almost overnight. I registered the growing list of problems I might encounter but stubbornly stuck to my original plan for months. Then one day, I woke up and instead of talking about buying a house, began talking about renting a condo or townhouse with a small space off a back patio or a balcony where I could put a few potted plants. Just like that, I’d come to terms with a new reality.

And just so you know, the hardest part of this whole thing is moving forward without looking back at the things I could have done, and should have done, when I had the time, the resources and the stamina. People tell you it’s never too late, but sometimes it is, and I hate that.

Hemorrhoids Aren’t for the Faint-Hearted

Hemorrhoids. Horrible word. Not talked about. Embarrassing subject. Who me? Happens to someone else. Pretend it’s anything but that for as long as you can. Any of those sound familiar?

Well, they do to me. Although I’ve since learned that the majority of people develop hemorrhoids at some point in their lives, I managed to make it to 65 before it invaded my every waking hour. It all started about five months ago when I ended up in the hospital overnight with what turned out to be GERD. That’s another Who Knew? moment for me. That I could end up in the ER and subsequently overnight in the hospital because GERD mimics heart attack, was quite a surprise. It took another few weeks of tests to discover that I have no heart problems and a trial (suggested by the heart doctor) of using Mylanta to discover that it did indeed stop the burping and tummy rumbling.

Fast forward to five months later. I’ve now been on a blood pressure pill and a GERD prescription and now I have extra issues: not only has the burping not gone away (although it seems better), but now I have this horrible pressure at the other end that makes me uncomfortable all day, every day. Of course, working in hospice, we have a tendency to “awfulize.” Every day we have a family member comment about how healthy and happy their loved one was just the week before and now they’re dying in hospice. Because of this, we have this tendency to advance our symptoms into terrible things. Have a headache? Glioblastoma. A tickly cough? Must be throat cancer. Back pain? Surely it’s kidney cancer. And so on and so on.

That brings us back to pressure all day every day in an area that most people don’t want to casually discuss with anyone else. Must be colon cancer. I made an appointment with a gastroenterologist, had an endoscopy and colonoscopy and was relieved to find out I have acute gastritis (a diagnosis I don’t mind discussing with fellow workers) and hemorrhoids (a diagnosis I do mind discussing with fellow workers).

Why is it that gastritis can be kept under control with a swallowed medication but hemorrhoids require suppositories? Can’t they come up with something a little more palatable? Truthfully, I hate the remedy almost as much as the problem. In any case, it has taken the suppositories almost a week for me to notice much of a difference so I put my herbal skills to work and created a salve that worked instantaneously and has continued all day.    I infused Evening Primrose, Avocado, Safflower and Olive oils with Witch Hazel Bark, Yarrow leaves, Plaintain, Chamomile, Calendula and St. John’s Wort and then added beeswax to get that salve consistency. I applied it topically this morning and it’s still working almost half a day later. You can bet I’ll be adding this product to my web site, Scentsibility. Maybe there are tons of other “closet” hemorrhoidians out there who could benefit.

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Hopefully, this will not be a retirement issue but just a diet and lifestyle issue that I can manage. However, I’m not pleased to have made it all the way to 65 and then get slapped with this indignity!