A sense of humor?

I’d been there before. Several times. Still, when leaving, I headed in the wrong direction. I do stuff like that — very often.

Andrew and I were at a local hospital where I’d had an appointment with my hand surgeon. I wasn’t sure what the doctor would do about that troublesome hand, so I asked Andrew to come with me ‘just in case’.

As I was leading the poor guy astray, he gently reminded me we had to go in the opposite direction.

Andrew looking serious. (He hates taking pictures.)

‘I told you I have no sense of direction,’ I laughed, ‘You can believe it.’

‘A sense of humor is much more important,’ Andrew responded. He is SO wonderfully clever.

Where am I???

I burst out laughing. I do that a lot. As for a sense of direction, forget it. Turn me around in my bedroom and I probably wouldn’t find my own bed.

Andrew is right. My crazy sense of humor is helpful. I had just had the doctor cracking up because I asked him to marry me. (He said he would except he loves his wife.)

Then he showed me videos of his new baby, born one day before my birthday, and his little girl. He has told me I can ALWAYS get in to see him, which is terrific for me with my  arthritic hands.

My doctor cracked up when I asked him to marry me.

I often get great service because of my nutty humor, bus drivers remember me and smile when I climb aboard and make sure I’m seated before they restart the bus. Busy professionals try to fit me in, and, admittedly, I sometimes take advantage of that.

This year, my wonderful, caring family doctor gave ME a Christmas present! I’ve made her laugh often, but she put up with me in tears when I was very dizzy. I adore her….

During the present crisis, I’ve agreed to not be stubborn and I’m staying in because everyone is reminding me how old I am. Old?

Well okay I AM old! And I tell my loved ones I intend to stick around until the last cheque/check bounces!

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Appreciation for supportive friends….

I met Bill and Nancy Keuntje on a train in 2017. They’re a warm couple who were kind to this old lady and very worth keeping in touch with. (I think they live in New Jersey.) Bill collects miniature toys and promised to send me some — and immediately did so. He also composes beautiful music, some of which I get to listen to on my computer.

Support your friends when they need you

‘I’m just a blue-collar guy who’s made it to age 70 and knows but for the grace of others, I would be much worse off.’ Bill says humbly, but he’s no ordinary guy. So, during his recent chemo treatment for cancer, Bill thought about all those who gave him love and support during the harrowing experience and wrote this for all those who love and supported him:
.
And I don’t know what special is –

Don’t know why it is –

grateful to support during treatment

How just a moment alone or among a crowd,

Can become the why of a lifetime –

How sometimes it appears…. or just happens –

How the solitude of a whisper within a passing cloud

Can become the dominant essence that pervades and envelopes

That which wasn’t there just a thought ago –

But I do know what’s special –

The value that it holds, the power it possesses –

How it can overwhelm and dominate –

Or be the gentle note a bird might sing as glimmers of the

first light of day appear –

The first breath of a newborn today.

And I do know that it’s always there –

Impatiently waiting – biding its time –

Doctors know friends help

Needing to nourish – to be nourished –

Whether by a congregation of souls

Or an unknown entity X-degrees separate,

Alone and distant within the depths of a shadow

But more importantly, I know the Who –

Maybe not by name or familiarity –

Couldn’t pick it out of a crowd, for the crowd might be it –

But you are there – amongst the throng

As a color within a rainbow graced by its hue –

Unique as a dewdrop upon a blossom kissed by the sun.

Yes, you are special!     More so than you realize!

Yes, you are special!   More than you could ever imagine!

YES!

YOU ARE SPECIAL!!!!

You can send Bill good wishes for complete recovery directly to: bkeuntje@gmail.com

What patients need to know….

photo by daughter Susan

Attention Medical pros: What patients need to know….

I should be getting a new hip this month. I’m better prepared than I was six years ago when I had a knee replaced. My lack of knowledge then led to a disaster of an experience. After that debacle, I declared it would be over my dead body I’d ever go through something like that again.

The medical profession sees gray hair and presumes you’ve had numerous hospitalizations and surgeries, and taken dozens of medications and you know all there is to know about hospital procedures and what your rights are and what is usually done. I hadn’t — and didn’t know a thing.

Vital information was not passed on

I had the audacity to presume that questions I answered recorded by a young doctor in my surgeon’s office would be passed on to the necessary recipients of such vital information — like my allergy to sulphites. It wasn’t. My surgeon promised he would not allow me to be sent home, where I’d be on my own, because of my vestibular disorder. The nurse in charge said ‘He has no say in the matter.’ I was discharged. I came down with a severe, long siege of dizziness and nausea the very next day. It was horrible.

Never having been hospitalized in Canada for more than one night, I didn’t even know I had a menu choice for meals, terrible as they are reputed to be. No one told me. I was served rice every day for five days.

Rice every day? Not a happy camper.

I like to learn all I can, and had gladly attended information sessions regarding living with arthritis at the hospital. We were advised to use Tylenol for pain, so I did, but had no idea special Tylenol for arthritis, (stronger dose) existed until a friend told me about it some years later. Why didn’t they tell us while they were at it?

Your surgeon has no say in the matter

I’m not a shopper. I have little patience in stores. I just head to what I want and buy it. Not for me the wandering up and down aisles to see whats on the shelves. I’ve got things that interest me more to do with my time.

I’m writing about this now with the hope some medical professionals will read it and realize that not every gray-haired old woman has had major surgery before, or knows about hospital procedures and medications.

I hope I’m better prepared this time. Wish me luck.

There is no time……

We do  make time for laughter

A friend I like very much, and would love to see, called this week to suggest we meet for lunch. I was pleased. Between her calendar and mine, we were unable to find a day on which we were both free. No time to get together right now. Trudy and I decided we’d like to see “The Jungle Book’, playing now in local theatres. For two weeks we’ve been trying to find an afternoon on which we both can make it. It hasn’t been possible yet. All three of us are retired….

 

 

‘There is no time, no time,

Rafi visited and took hilarious photos

Not even for a kiss,

Not even for this,

Not even for this rhyme.’

These lines were in a poem our class memorized in grade four. I don’t remember who wrote it, but I’ve never forgotten this part. The author must have been, like me at present, in her golden years. It is so true….

Rafi has an app

I thought I was busy when I was a wife and mother of three, with a full-time job, plus being busy with two dogs, one cat, a gopher snake, a rabbit, three chickens, two birds, a lizard and a garden — which held much-loved plants the kids sometimes gave names to. I used to think that after the children grew up and went off on their own — hopefully each one taking part of the menagerie, my life would be simpler.

That time is here. I am comfortably ensconced in an apartment, my only living responsibilities the few straggly plants which refuse to die from neglect. This was to be the well-deserved, less-rushed phase of my life; a time for reflection and repose. After years of driving children to and from classes I’d have given my eyeteeth to attend, I would, at last, have time to pursue my own interests. Ha! Double ha!

Me as ‘Superman’ 8-year old Gabriel’s favorite

It now takes a larger investment of time just to keep my old body going. I am slower. Everything takes longer. Listen carefully and you can hear my arthritic joints creaking. Then there are all those ‘shoulds’. I ‘should’ spend some time on my Exercycle, which now sits in my bedroom taunting me. I ‘should’ do hand exercises for my painful fingers; neck exercises to retain flexibility; rotate my shoulder joints to help lessen their pain; toughen the muscles in my legs by stiffening them and lifting slowly to reduce stress on my oh-so painful knees; and if I were really good, do exercises to strengthen my core, plus ‘Kegal Exercises’ for my pelvic floor. I attend Arthritis exercise classes twice a week, was a loyal member of a weekly Tai Chi class for years until my knees became just too painful. I’m tired just thinking about all of it!

This body of mine is demanding more attention than I feel able to give. If I don’t walk each day, my stiff body rebels. I won’t even talk about the caring doctors who work hard at helping me keep it going and the time it takes for the many appointments I have with them.

Rafi with a beard thanks to the app

How do they do this? .

 

Afternoon naps, which used to be a treat, have now become a necessity.  Zzzzz. Then, there is my determination to reform poor eating habits and lose weight, meaning I must take the time to prepare decent meals. I’m exhausted by it all. Its absolutely hopeless.

Retired friends often say they don’t know how they ever had time to work. There was a time I didn’t understand what they were talking about. I sure do now.

However, we always find time for laughter.