Aging My Way
On March 31, three days after I suffered a heart attack, the entry in my journal reads Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! The words were written by my granddaughter Shanna because I was hooked up to medical paraphernalia. As an afterthought, she noted that I was in Room 516 at Tucson Medical Center. And I should note that just 11 days earlier, I had a total knee replacement.
The next entry in my journal wasn’t made until May 14, when I recorded a quote from North Woods, the book by Daniel Mason that I was reading at the time. The quote, “Love made the old do the same dumb things as the young.” The words hit home with me because of having seen – and done – just that behavior during my 85-year journey through life.
The next thoughts, which went through my little gray cells after once again posting in my journal, was that not writing about the bad and scary after-effects of my heart attack was a familiar pattern. The many journals that I have kept for over 50 years contain mostly pleasant thoughts and good times.
To my way of thinking, this behavior isn’t altogether wrong, well except for a couple of times in my life when I needed to actually accept a bad situation and move on from it. One of those times was a lengthy period in the late 1970s when the door of the skeleton closet, in which I had shoved over 20 years of unpleasant happenings, burst open.
It took me a year to live through that episode before coming out a happier, more fulfilled person, one ready to grab all the gusto life had to offer, but also fiercely independent believing I didn’t need anyone to take care of me but me. This false notion was flung into the garbage bin when I recently learned that my granddaughter Shanna and her wife Dawn, who live next door to me and who were there for me during my knee replacement and three heart surgeries, were keeping their phones on at night in case of an emergency call from me.
Shit, shit, shit. I cried for three days before finally accepting that I should be more grateful for their love and care then being upset that I wasn’t living up to my own independent expectations.
So why am I writing about this. Well, it’s just what writers do — and because the focus of my recent blogs has been about aging – and that’s what I’m currently doing. While I’ve always felt blessed that Shanna and Dawn were nearby, graciously accepting their help, and that of others, hasn’t been easy for me.
But I’m learning.
Meanwhile, my life is still good, and I’m going to focus on that – and be grateful for all the good things my journals have recorded.
Pat Bean is a retired award-winning journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is an avid reader, an enthusiastic birder, the author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), is always searching for life’s silver lining, and these days aging her way – and that’s usually not gracefully.
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