Sun City observations

I realize a "senior community" is not unique. There are probably more areas filled with AARP members in the country than I could ever imagine. Still, this is the first time for Russ and I to be living in a community which, by law, you must be 55 or over to permanently inhabit. We are having some difficulties adjusting. We have gotten so we usually use the self-checkout registers in the grocery store. The times we use the regular lines, I struggle with the natural tendency to want to "help" the person bagging my groceries because they are usually older than I am. Since our first time ever coming here to visit my parents, we have suppressed smiles at the sheriff posse cars that drive by with two white haired people, bent over in their seats but looking intently ahead, male or female, in uniform. They don't carry weapons and are mostly just to check on suspicious events or vacant homes or businesses. Still, I'm not sure what they would do if ever faced with a criminal. There must be a record number of health care professionals per capita here. There are countless hospitals, medical centers, doctor offices, and medical supply stores on nearly every street.
Our church is different than any we have ever attended. The front of the chapel during sacrament meeting is basically a "parking lot" for walkers, all lined in a row along the knee-wall in front of the podium. Today I was startled by the voice coming over the speakers when I bowed my head for the sacrament prayer. It was a YOUNG voice! Apparently someone's grandson was visiting and was old enough to offer the sacrament prayer. There is no primary or young men/young women organization. However, we have a primary president who has a counselor and you notify them ahead of time when you will be having a grandchild visit and they are very happy to prepare a lesson for however many students they end up having. There are no "dead spots" during fast and testimony meetings. These people have lived long enough that they have quite firm testimonies and are not shy about sharing them. Sign-up sheets for anything are about the same. Russ and I are accustomed to feeling like we need to volunteer for anything and everything because we are some of the rare ones willing to commit our time and efforts. Here, if you are not in the front row when the sign-up sheet gets started, it may be full by the time you get it. We have a bus chartered to go to the temple once a month. There is some concern that it isn't very full. That is because, at least in part, lots of our ward members are already at the temple early or will be coming later because they work there at least once a week every week, not just once a month.
There are sad things about living here. The number of funerals is not nearly as sad as the endless care centers (formerly called nursing homes) full of people who are just basically waiting to die. Most of the residents rarely leave the buildings, except maybe on a stretcher to go to the hospital for some procedure or other. Many of the residents have few visitors. In fact, the longer they survive, the fewer visitors come to see them. Russ and I wonder why their lives are prolonged. If I were God, would I simply go ahead and zap with a fatal heart attack the old man with the colostomy bag and catheter bag who can't even sit up straight anymore and can't carry on a conversation? Who is learning something from this and what is being learned? Patience? Endurance? Tenacity? Loving kindness? Since I don't yet have the wisdom God has, I just continue to read, study, pray, and serve whomever I can whenever I can. That's what the church members, and some other community members here are doing. When I can't do any of those things anymore, maybe I'll understand things I can't understand now..... maybe.

Nurturing

I don't consider myself to be a weakling in any way. I may not lift weights but I can defend myself in tickle fights with my grandkids and I can haul a bag of cement. I may not watch tragedy in the news without tears but I have gotten through some major stress and trial and trauma without collapsing. But everybody, I mean EVERYBODY benefits from a little human concern and reassurance. I got a phone call from a couple of my aunts today. (The one standing and the one to the left of me in the above photo.) They were just checking to see how I was doing and wanted to remind me to let them know when I'm ever up in the area of my roots (upstate NY) because they would love to see me. It really made me feel loved.

I am so incredibly grateful for the women in my life. As I was struggling through my teenage years, I wasn't sure if I would grow up to have many friends. I was afraid of the jealousies among females and didn't want to be a part of it. What I didn't fully understand was the soul-feeding available from other women. Men can be good "listeners" and even express sympathy, but they just don't quite have the healing touch of women. My daughters and daughters-in-law have been good, supportive friends to me, despite the fact that I'm supposed to be older and wiser.
After my son's death, I posted a blog about my sisters. We haven't always had just tons of stuff in common or lived close by each other to have lunch on a regular basis. But I know my sisters care about me and would be right by my side if I ever needed them. I am grateful for the e-mails, phone calls, letters, visits, and prayers of the good women in my life. I haven't even mentioned yet the many wonderful friends I have! Women truly do have a way of nurturing. I'm so grateful to be a nurturer and to have the blessing of being nurtured.

Changing dreams

Russ and I got into an interesting conversation one of the times he was visiting me in the hospital. We were talking about how difficult it is for families to juggle their schedules, determine priorities, and stay determined in sticking to what they decide is best for THEIR family. I commented that I remembered the "women's lib" movement and my efforts to define for myself what I wanted for my life, what my dreams were. For the first decade of my life I had brief dreams of being a nurse because I thought it would be nice to help people. I soon realized that, although a nurse does indeed help people, there is a lot of blood, gore, and other nasty aspects of the career that I didn't think I could handle. The 2nd decade of my life I was enjoying performing. I loved to sing and dance and act and be on stage in whatever form I could. Music was a major joy for me. By my 3rd decade I was married with a child and just put into an envelope all my programs, newspaper clippings, ribbons, certificates, etc. and sadly labelled it "Mary's career that went nowhere". By this time I had decided that what I really wanted to do was teach. I love school. I love learning. I get a rush from feeling somehow enlarged or improved by learning a fact, an insight, or a skill that I didn't know before. When I got married I had a full scholarship to go to school but I soon realized that it would take money to travel from home to school and back, purchase basic school supplies, pay for child care as well as the stress of juggling time and energy. We had not intended in the beginning to start a family right away but I wouldn't have been able to continue in school right after the wedding without being separated from my husband who was serving in the Navy. Then having a baby right away further complicated the issue. Although I have never stopped loving learning and teaching, I have changed my dream again, just a little bit. I firmly believe that each child born into the world needs someone who loves them passionately and unconditionally. It provides the foundation to venture out into the world, independent and determined to succeed. I would have loved my children even if I had been working full time but I have never regretted being at home so I didn't have to send a sick child to a willing neighbor or relative when they were sick. They got to stay home in their own bed and whine at their own mommy who loved them and knew what they liked or didn't like. I have never regretted that I was home the day my teenage daughter came home distraught (although she dealt very well with it at school in the moment) after witnessing a teacher pass out. I have never regretted being at home available for the neighbor kids whose mothers weren't home and they had forgotten their key to get in their house. I have never regretted having time and opportunity to make cupcakes or fresh bread or cookies to share with my family or others. I have never regretted being able to have the time to teach my own children whatever things I could learn and pass on. I have had opportunities through church, scouts, and even schools to teach others. I have never gotten a "degree" that says to the world that I have received the accredited education to legitimately impart information to others. But I have loved every opportunity to teach whatever I learn. I love helping others to understand whatever I can help them to understand and I appreciate others doing the same for me. I will not spend the time or money to get a degree at this point in my life. I just continue to read, ponder, discuss, listen, and learn all I can. My dream no longer involves a "title" for a career. My dream is one that every human being can have. I just want to be the best person I can be. I want the world, at least some tiny portion of it, to be just a little better because I have been here.

All things are for our experience and can be used for our edification and improvement, if we so choose. I just returned from a 6-day stay in the hospital. I entered feeling really great, other than the yucky way you feel after being purposely emptied for a procedure on your bowels. A polyp had been discovered during a colonoscopy and it couldn't be removed during the procedure due to its size, shape, and location. The decision was made to simply cut out a small section of my colon and get it cleaned out for sure. I spent the first evening after surgery pretty much relaxed (with the help of chemicals called drugs) in bed. The next day I was ready to get up and walk. I felt really swollen but not too awfully sore. By the end of that day, I was starting to feel some pain and was happy to accept some "happy juice" through my IV. By the 3rd day I was on a liquid diet and glad to have something more than plastic foam soaked in water on a lollipop stick to rub around in my mouth. The 4th day I got cream of wheat for breakfast and was glad to have something more substantial than just juice or water. Not long after I ate it, though, I felt my insides gurgling more and more until, as I sat on my bed, I could feel stuff gushing out of me! I sent my husband after a nurse and didn't dare move because I had a puddle forming between my legs, distressingly dark and menacing looking. The nurse called in others to counsel with and ultimately I was surrounded by a small army of medical professionals. The nurse had also put in a call to my surgeon. The ICU nurse was there prepared to wheel me away when the surgeon called back and said that he thought I would be okay; to just clean me up and keep me comfortable. Later he visited me and explained that when the two ends of the colon sections are stapled together, there is no way to see exactly what is happening inside and sometimes and open blood vessel is stapled in and will bleed temporarily into the colon. My hemoglobin level had taken a dive and I was pretty lightheaded. On the 5th day I passed another large but even darker and gooier mass of "old" blood that had been inside my colon and was slowly pushed out as my digestive system starting working more and more. My hemoglobin level finally started to go back up a little after receiving 2 units of whole blood and as I ate some real meals and was really glad not to feel nauseous. On the 6th day I was finally released to come home. I feel pretty bloated and swollen and gurgly inside but am happy to be out of the hospital.
The medical people in the hospital were all very pleasant. I can't legitimately complain about anyone or anything. However, there are very real reasons to not enjoy being in a hospital. Sleeping is not much of an option there. Until my last night, when I got to sleep uninterrupted from 10:30 pm until they brought in a "new roommate" at 4 am, I never got more than 1 1/2 hours of undisturbed sleep time between lights turning on and being poked or having to adjust my bed so a bed for another patient could be moved in or out. I'm sure there is a reason why the lab chooses to collect blood samples at 2:30 am every night but it certainly wouldn't be the first choice for the patient! Whenever people are in pain and things are not going the way they would like, we tend to be ready to raise our voices in loud complaint. I just couldn't do that because everybody was sincerely trying to keep up with all the needs of all the patients and do all the procedures to check and double-check and record everything going in and going out of the doors and the patients.
As I have expressed before, I am grateful for medical personnel. I am glad there are people where my mother is living who are willing to clean up after 70 or 80-year old "infants" who can swear and complain and make bigger, smellier messes than any tiny human. I am also grateful for the aides that check vitals and will get the attention of a nurse when something is needed. I'm grateful for the compassion of nurses who really try their best to have you be comfortable when, under the circumstances, it just doesn't work out that you CAN be truly comfortable. I'm grateful for the doctors who may have to rely on the notes and observations of the nurses to know who you are and why you're there and what you might need. They have the courage to call for tests, make decisions for care or release, and the knowledge to feel fairly confident in doing it.