Oh, Phlooey!

The other day, I attended a Good Friday service at church and washed the tile floors in my house.  All in the same day.  Without a nap.  This may not seem like a huge achievement.  However, it had been a week since I had been able to manage more than one or two tasks a day, including taking a shower, without spending an hour or two in bed afterwards. 

You see, I flew home from California the preceding Friday.  I also flu home from California the preceding Friday.  After a delightful trip (more about the trip itself in the coming weeks), I came home with the flu. 

In retrospect, maybe I was coming down with it even sooner.  Around Wednesday afternoon during our trip, I lost my appetite.  Losing my appetite is not something that happens to me very often, unfortunately.  I didn’t stop eating or feel nauseous exactly.  I just didn’t feel hungry and nothing sounded appealing.  I put it down to the fact that I had been eating everything in sight since we got to California on Saturday.  I’d eaten more red meat in the first five days we were there, thanks to the accessibility of In and Out Burger, than I typically eat in five months put together.  I figured my body was just politely advising me that it was satisfied, thank you very much.  On the way home on the plane, I felt bone-weary.  I don’t think I read much or did anything to stave off boredom on either of the two legs of the trip.  I kind of just stared into space mindlessly, too exhausted to form an idea.  Oh, I did form the idea that I hated the fact that I had to drive home from the airport through the dark and rain when we finally landed in Orlando.  Again, it didn’t occur to me that I was sick. I figured it was just the travel and not sleeping well on vacation that was creating my lethargy.  When we finally reached Orlando and got the car out of valet hock, I sucked it up and got us home safely. 

I fell into bed and slept for about twelve straight hours.  The next day, I felt okay but still tired and without an appetite.  Saturday night, I didn’t sleep.  At first, I thought it was because I slept so much the night before, but I realized aches in my body were keeping me awake.  I went to the Palm Sunday service that morning, but I was definitely off.  The weather inside my body seemed very unstable and bore no resemblance to the temperature experienced by the rest of the world. I felt exceptionally confused.  I am not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I can usually find my way to church and recognize people I know.  Not so much on Palm Sunday.  I felt like I had somehow entered a novel or movie in mid-chapter. Nothing looked or felt familiar.  Yes, I did recognize people at church I know well, but there were people I see all the time that just baffled me. 

That afternoon, the chills and aches started the battle cries.  I faced the fact.  I was sick. 

After sleeping the sleep of the dead again on Sunday night, I dragged myself out of bed long enough to call the doctor on Monday morning.  Max drove me to the doctor’s office since it finally sunk in that I probably should not be driving. I was too sick to even get giddy over the fact I had lost five pounds since before I left on vacation (loss of appetite has some benefits!).  The doctor took one look at me and asked, “didn’t you get a flu shot?” When I responded that I had not, she conducted a brief examination.  I left with a diagnosis- the flu, a prescription for Tamiflu, a warning that I was probably too far along in to the flu infection for the drug to do much good, orders to rest, and advice to eat whatever I wanted.  Never, ever in my life has anyone advised me to eat anything I wanted.  It would happen at a time when I didn’t want to eat anything. 

I spent the next several days in a fevered haze of sleep, trashy tv, and not much else that I recall.  I remember telling my brother I had the flu and he mocked me for not getting a flu shot, at my advanced age. 

I’ve never had a flu shot in my life. I have not had the flu since I was 14 years old.  It isn’t that I have any philosophical objections to vaccines or anything.  I just have a philosophical objection to needles.  As a diabetic, I punch holes in myself several times a day to test my blood sugar.  I think I do my duty in the needle department.  I did flirt with the idea of getting a flu shot when my mom was in the skilled living facility because I didn’t want to infect the residents and staff if I got the flu.  I looked at my past history and decided, if it isn’t broken…. Don’t break it. 

Thursday, I got a little cocky.  I did my food delivery route, went to the grocery store, cleaned the kitchen, and went to the Maundy Thursday evening church service.  I did not take my requisite nap between activities. I ended up having to leave the church in the middle of the service, convinced that I would not make it home in one piece if I did not act quickly to get to a bed.  I did make it to the bed and once more set a new personal best for sleeping. 

I’m better now.  I am starting to feel hungry again.  I am still sleeping rather a lot, but I am making it out of bed before the clock strikes “pm.”  I think I may live.

Getting sick on vacation is no fun and is major inconvenient.  It does happen, however.  So far, I’ve been pretty lucky and have managed to get through most of my travels unscathed.  Unfortunately, not this time. Oh, phlooey!   

Do you get a flu shot?  How long has it been since you got the flu?  Do you think vacation has a way of opening you up to sickness?  Please share your perspective by leaving a comment.  In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com

Have a healthy day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

PS Now that I have returned to the land of the living, I have a lot to share about my trip.  I will be blogging more about it over the next couple of weeks. 

Facing My Fears

I don’t like to brag, but sometimes you just have to stop and celebrate successes. I’ve conquered my fear of tablecloth origami.

That’s right.  We’ve concluded the Alpha program at our church and I’ve managed to fold and hang the ten tablecloths we’ve been using for our weekly dinners since January.  You may remember that I’ve been taking them home to launder each week, but I’ve steered well clear of attempting the intricate process by which the tablecloths are supposed to be folded and hung in the linen cabinet because I was paralyzed by fear. The other day, I took a deep breathe and faced my fear.  Now, seven round and three rectangular tablecloths are hanging, relatively neatly, in the parish center linen closet.  I may not have done the task perfectly, but the end product is a reasonable facsimile of what it is supposed to be.  I call that a victory.  I’ve vanquished my tablecloth demons!

I do think it is important to not let our fears cripple us.  On the other hand, nobody has to run around doing everything just to prove a point.  

I’ve never been what you would call a thrillseeker.  I’m not going to lie.  I am afraid of stuff.  I have avoided doing some things because I was afraid.  I believe most of my fears are rational.  I admit that some are not.  The thing is- I really don’t have that much FOMO.  I’ve never felt the need to do things like skydive or wrestle crocodiles or stick my hand in a badger’s den just for the sake of it.  I understand that some people like the adrenaline rush they get from doing such things, but I just never saw the point.  I think my body makes quite enough adrenaline on its own without me priming the pump. 

I don’t really think there is any need to do stuff just to do it.  I never got that whole concept of “climbing the mountain because it is there.”  I think opting out of doing something is a perfectly reasonable decision. I remember a conversation I had once with my mother about six months after my father died.  She called me and, in a strained and sob-sodden voice, told me that she was going to a play with a friend of hers.  I knew immediately from her voice that the play was Guys and Dolls. My parents attended a performance of this musical on their first date.  When I asked her about it, she confirmed my suspicion and started crying in earnest.  I asked, since it was obviously upsetting her so much, why she was going.  She haltingly said, “I have to go sometime.”  I pointed out that, in fact, she did not have to go.  It was my humble opinion that she could easily go the rest of her life without ever seeing Guys and Dolls again. 

During our conversation, my mother started to realize that she actually wanted to go see the play.  She wanted to have a fun night out with her friend and she wanted to feel normal.  On some level, she believed that she was missing out on a certain joy in her life because she was afraid to do something that might increase her grief.  For her, I don’t think it was so much the play itself that she was afraid of missing.  She was afraid that her life would be consumed by grief if she allowed herself to hide from doing normal things that she would have done without hesitation if my father was still alive.  Her FOMO over what she might miss in her life because she was afraid of her grief was much bigger and scarier than her fear of facing her grief.  She saw value in facing a risk. Unlike the hand-in-a-badger-den thing, she saw a chance of reward.

So, I guess facing fears is a good thing.  I’m not sure my life is any better because I have slayed the tablecloth dragons.  I’m not sure I’ll ever decide to fold tablecloths again.  I may opt out of tablecloth folding.  But I’ll decide not to do it on my own terms.  I’ll decide not to do it based on my own desire and inclination, not based on fear. 

P.S. After my foray into the world of tablecloth origami, another lady suggested in the nicest possible way that I was doing it all wrong and taught me another way to fold the tablecloths. It seems I was correct in thinking my natural talents do not lie in this direction. Still, I did my best and did not allow my fear to prevent me from trying something new. That’s what is important, right? Anybody? Help me out here!

What fears have you faced and what was the benefit? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a fear-free day!

Losing Myself

You know how people always talk about “finding themselves?” This week, I am off doing exactly the opposite. I am on a quest to lose myself. That’s right. For a few days, I am hoping to lose myself in different surroundings, different activities, and different dining experiences (I’m talking about YOU, In-And-Out Burger!) I am also hoping that, in the process of losing myself, I will find a decent pizza.

At any rate, I’ll be back next week with new content. In the meantime, talk amongst yourselves. Better yet… if you are pining for me, consider toddling on over to your favorite online bookseller and ordering a copy of my book, Changing My Mind: Reinventing Myself In Retirement.

Have a purposeful day! It is always good to have a goal, even if that goal is losing yourself.

Terri/Dorry 🙂

Blooming

Max and I went to the Flower and Garden Festival at Epcot the other day.  I love Epcot and I particularly love this event. There are huge topiaries of Disney characters.  There are spectacular floral designs carpeting the grounds.  There are creative and unusual playground gardens where children burn energy.  There is a butterfly garden, filled with light, lazy aerial ballerinas dancing nonstop through the air.  There are different sights and smells all over the park to entrance the senses.  It is no coincidence that we think of Paradise as the Garden of Eden and Epcot during the Flower and Garden Festival definitely evokes paradise. 

Now that spring is here, the Flower and Garden Festival got me thinking about blooming.  There was a lot of blooming going on in Epcot.  I’m thinking of another kind of blooming, though.

I think we all go through spurts of spontaneous creative energy periodically in our lives.  We all experience times when the momentum of our lives become sweet and fertile.  We seem to experience one amazing epiphany after another, each feeding on the one before it.  The pieces are clicking together almost automatically.  It seems as though our lives are enrichening moment by moment.  We may or may not experience success in all our endeavors and I don’t mean to suggest that it doesn’t take hard work to make something wonderful out of all this impetus.  However, even in our failures during these times, we are usually happy and satisfied and confident.  There is an excitement and lushness about living that is completely independent of traditional success.  We are luxuriating in the moment, thankful for all the unique miracles in our lives. 

What spurs these periods of renaissance in our lives?  I’ve seen it happen when people fall into a healthy love relationship.  It can also happen when people become parents.  Sometimes it happens when people have careers that reflect their intellectual passions and work with colleagues who are likeminded.  Maybe it boils down to love.  When love is in the mix, whether it be love for a significant other or love for a child or love for an idea, people may feel safer pushing their boundaries and believing the dreams they normally wouldn’t even dare to dream.

However, it seems that loss can also be a catalyst for these periods of exploration and awakening. Since my mother’s death, I have been experiencing my own personal renaissance.  I’ve changed so much.  I am so much more engaged with people and with the world.  I am much more confident and secure than I’ve been in my life. My spiritual life is more exquisite. I feel physically healthier than I can ever remember being.  I feel like that health shines from the inside out and makes me a more attractive person.  I’m still not traditionally pretty, but I just don’t care anymore.  I no longer worry about being attractive enough or good enough or anything enough to be “worth” other people’s attention and approval.  I am just me and I trust that is enough to attract the right people in my life.  There is a sort of centeredness and peace in my spirit.  I try things that I never would have in the past- publishing the book, singing in the choir, acting in a play, reigning as Alpha Hospitality Princess, creating art, and many other activities.  I am blooming.

If I am honest, I think I have to say that some of this blossoming is the result of the crushingly sad journey I took with my mother during her illness and death.  During that time, I found out that I am much more complex and multi-faceted than the “me” I always thought I knew.  I also had to learn, through the grieving process, how to let go of parts of my life that were no longer blooming.     

Now, you all know how much I loved my mother.  I still miss her sharply and deeply every single day.  I would give up every blossom I have gathered in the past year and a half if it could bring her back- healthy, happy, and living life with me.  Since I can’t bring her back, I know she is happy that I am using the life and love she gave me to create something wonderful in my spirit. 

As painful as it is, maybe sometimes you have to prune to bloom.  Especially if the pruning is accompanied by love.

Have you experienced a period of personal renaissance? Tell us about it!  Please share your perspective by leaving a comment.  In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a blooming day!

Terri/Dorry 😊