Statistics, Studies, Realities

This is really absurd. I have written three opening lines for this post, and they all mentioned the weather, even though after the first time, I said, no, I am not talking about the weather. But each time I tried, a weather reference came through my fingers.

But I shall open with the fact that we love Skip’s bagels and omelette. We went there for years before we moved, and continue to return there each time we come back. We bought a dozen to take home and freeze.

Where we live, bagels aren’t the thing. There is one restaurant that has them, but they are not Skip’s bagels.

Do you like bagels? Just curious.

I was thinking about God and hearts and love and friends and disappointing people and accepting some decisions that must be made. Oh, I also thought about a conversation I had with a friend at my grandson’s basketball game.

We chatted back and forth with one eye on each other and the other eye on the game. It was a life discussion. It encompassed many topics, including health and eating and expectations and even death.

Boing. Boing.

She brought up a good point. She is in her early 60s and I was turning 67 the next day. She mentioned that we had both had good runs, full-life runs. And at this point, she really didn’t want to deny herself the pleasure of things she liked. In moderation.

Both of us have gone through breast cancer. She had more advanced case and had to go through so much more than I did. More surgeries and treatments and after-treatments. She is a trooper.

So, she knows of whence she speaks.

So, I have been thinking about things such as, is there ever a point that we throw caution to the wind or say, ok, no matter what others say, this is what I want to do, consequences accepted? Or, simply put, as Ol Blues Eyes crooned, are we going to go out singing, “I did it my way?”

There is living and there is LIVING.

Is length of time the most important part, or is the choice to live the life we desire, more important? Do we live by studies and statistics or by desire, thoughts, and, without other people’s or companies’ guidelines.

Do we live in the statistical grid or go about the life we see in our own mind’s eye?

This might be why I took my sweatshirt off on top of Jellico Mountain.

There is so much data that is massaged and manipulated to try to make us adjust our behavior. Within my life, I can’t tell you how many times studies have been done, exalted and then a few years later, proven to be wrong.

Boing. Boing.

We should do this. We should do that. Studies say that we should do this, statistics say you should do that.

The really came in my face, yesterday, when I watched one of my medical documentaries about Hopkins Medical Center in Baltimore.

A doctor who specialized in cancers in the female organs, who was wonderful, well respected, tops in his field and wonderful with patients, died a few hears after this episode had been filmed. He was 47, out running, and dropped dead from cardiac arrest.

I was gutted when I read that.

I can let things like that stick in my craw. It is more valuable a learning aspect than a study or statistic made up by people, groups or a company or organization, that most likely, has some sort of agenda.

So, my mind goes here and there and I finding myself in mental discussions with myself … and I ask, what is the way? What is the path of life, at this time of my life?

Does the Big Plan of life fade and be replaced by the one day at a time, mantra? One moment at a time? One life in a day?

If I die today, is this that place I want to be? What more do I want from this life that has already been, in time wise, toward the end of its run?

The statistics say that there are years left, but what if today is my last run? Have I done what I wanted and needed to do, said what I have needed and wanted to say?

I have a half smile on my face as I write this. I am smiling at the life I have lived, the questioning look is about the life that has yet to unfold.

Susan

Prom

There you go, Debbie Simpson. You asked for it, I delivered. My junior prom photo. Larry Schneeman was my date.

I believe he had recently broken up with someone, so he invited me. It was a one-out date.

Larry was a very nice guy. I don’t remember much about the night except he had car trouble and I thought he was trying to bail, but I had my hair done, so I wasn’t going for that out.

As for many things I anticipated in high school, and life, the thought of it and getting ready for it was the fun part. And that had nothing to do with Larry, but with me.

What is a “prom” anyway? You didn’t say you were going to “the” prom. You simply said, “I am going to prom.”

For a girl, the getting dressed up part might have been the best part, unless you were in love with your date and it was all our of “True Romance.”

Prom and HOmecoming dances and soroity formals were never my thing. I went because I like to get dressed up, and hoped that something magical would happen, but it never did.

It was so anticlimatic that I didn’t go to my senior prom. It was in the spring, and my head had been out of high school since I had learned that fall that I was going to Ohio University the following year.

I know we went bowling at Madison Bowl afterwards.

So … that is that, about that.

I have a photo of the back of my hair from another formal. I had the best curls. I loved that hairdo.

My first formal, when I was a freshman, was for the sorority I was in … GBA. We even had a song.

We are the girls of GBA

You’ve heard so much about

K-O hides their faces

Whenever we come out

We are the pride of Norwood High

And we aim to please

We always wear our dressshort

In order to show our knees

As we go walking

through the halls of Norwood High

You can hear them saying

the girls from GBA were number one … Cha, cha, cha.

Or something like that

Why do I remember that and can barely remember the years my kids were born?

Oh, I think part of the reason that I didn’t care for dances was that I was so tall and most of the boys werre short. That got me. Made me self-conscious. And I didn’t feel as though I was pretty enough, not little and cute. So there. That is enough of that trip down memory lane. I spilled part of my guts.

Now, I love being tall. I have loved it for years. It is who I am. I can reach tall cabinets. And leap from building to building in a single bound.

Kerplunk.

Here is a question … did anyone feel pretty enough in high school?

Oh, that’s right, I said I was done.

Yesterday I had a hoot at the eye doctor. I am going to a new one and there is a woman on staff, who does the eyeball pre-check, who gets me. I had her rolling on the floor. We thought we were going to get kicked out.

She is in her forties and still finding her way to herself. I am a good teacher of that. I thought she was going to have a conniption when after my phone made a noise and my stomach was grawling, I said, “Wowo, I am a symphony. Just wait until I fart.”

That was after a bunch of other fun things I was teaching her.

We walked down the hall to the photo segment of the program, laughing like we were, well, in high school and a teacher lost his toupee. She asked if I could stay all day.

Okay. I am down 25 pounds and have started doing the stretches and moving more. Yeah, heay, don’t get excited. Whether I win of lose the weight battle won’t be known until I am dead. My nemesis … but I keep trying.

Enough of the rain and gloom here. I ould use a Carolina Blue sky and Southern sun. This isn’t even for the birds.

I finished my clove covered orange. I love those. It is sitting next to me. And … I put flamessl candles on the silver abouve my bathtub. They are on a remote control. Just call me Oprah (or not) with my new favorite thing.

And this is the way it is on Hedge Apple this morning.

Peace, heatlh and a good bladder, be with you.

Susan

A Non Inflammatory Post

Wrapping it up.

The gift bags, boxes, and random wrapped gifts are stationed at the table in the big room. The wrapping paper has been put away. And the gifts I have to deliver, are on the counter.

The Ohio Express is getting ready to join millions of others on journeys near and far.

Yes, it is over to Asheville, turn right and head northwest. Passing through two sets of mountains, and then into Kentucky, we will have a rented minivan full of Christmas cheer.

Since my Subaru bit the bullet, we have been driving Nick’s old Prius. I haven’t wanted to think about replacing my vehicle. And we are seriously thinking about going down to one car. We might scour the Automall, if we get a chance. But shopping for cars is not my idea of a good time.

It is a creepy game. Time consuming. Expensive. It gives me the vapors.

And I love it when they place their attention on Nick … not realizing that I am really in the driver’s seat on this event.

Does anyone else look at the multitudes of expensive cars, trucks and SUVs on the road and wonder where people get that kind of money?

I do.

How did I go down that road?

There is something that has happened since I was involved in my wreck. I am at heightened alert for cars … where they are coming from, how fast, and the uncertainty of driving.

I used to love to drive, but not as much anymore. There are too many people driving, in a hurry, ignoring laws and acting like jack rabbets wearing asshats.

I still love driving in the country, meandering and moseying, but to go into the “zones” of craziness … aye-yi-yi-yi.

I sound so poo-poo, which is funny because I am starting to fee much better. I am down 20 pounds since my wreck and I have health plans and an agenda for the new year.

From what I have been reading, inflammation is a big health problems. Truthfully, I knew that, but last night, I watched a YouTube video by a cardiologist about things to do to get your heart better.

Since I have entered what shall I say, “Heartland”, I have been learning a lot. I have learned how sleep apnea effects the heart, how inflammation from what you eat can trigger other things to go haywire and that there are things that I can do to get my body back on track.

I did a good job of turning things around a couple of years ago, but I had this battle in my head of “Do I want to live this way … denying many of the eating pleasures.

Caution to the wind, I ate too many good things and then bad things.

After the wake-up call and self flagellation and week of anesthesia brain, I am ready to charge on for a better today and tomorrow.

I am still cogitating what I would like to accomplish and figure out where my purpose will lead me, next year. I really don’t know if it will include FB writing. There are times when I think that I should leave before you tell me to. And FB, with its recent BS going on, it brings my love/hate relationship as a writing venue to the surface.

I operate better with a purpose, but there are times when I wonder if I should find a new purpose, of simply just lied days unfold.

Nah, I stink at that.

See, I am working things through. Oh, there are days when I think I should go be a monk and wear a brown robe with a hood. I like hoods. I also can make fudge to sell at the monastery gift shop. But I would need to be in an order of monks that laughed … a lot. I might also get kicked out of chapel for playing tic-tax-toe on the visitor cards.

How do you ponder and figured out what you want to do with your life? Note: there are many of you in the throes of working and child-rearing, so, you are on your march to survive all that goes on with that.

But for those who have the time, how do you determine what you want your life to be? I am curious.

This post feels like driftwood.

Are any of you heading anywhere for Christmas?

I am glad I don’t have to go to Sandringham for Christmas with the queen, although it would be fun to watch Prince Charle and Camilla get it on.

If we had a queen, who do you think would be a good one? Miley Cyrus might be fun.

Well, I am rails off the rails, now.

Off to go to the backyard to graze on some grass. I don’t think it is an inflammatory.

Susan

PS. My lunch yesterday at Jim and NIck’s/ I drove myself there to pick up some biscuit mixes for gifts, and decided that I needed to sit at the bar and have lunch/dinner. That is the tastiest said … and I didn’t eat both dressings.

Going A Bit Mediterranean

This morning, I had a false start. I wrote one of my stupid posts about groins. Groan.

While on my rest period, I have thought about many things … food,being one of them. Thinking of how I eat, where I eat, what I eat and why I eat.

Why did I do that? Because I believe that part of the way to improving my health, is to be conscious of what I eat.

As you know, food is a love of mine, but it acan also be a nemesis. Many people have a similar situation and may others, don’t.

So, as I have said, I am good at gaining and losing, but not maintaining.

But I will not give up on trying to do better.

I have learned that to go no or very low carb, gets the weight off, helps my joints and other things, but it is difficult to do forever.

So, I have begun another eating path. Eating less, eating few processed foods, and leaning towards a Mediterranean version. Also, I will still have treats, but small amounts and not as often. I will find other things that are healthy and satisfying.

I will be selective. Thoughtful. And live my life while making the changes.

My heart needs my help. It has come to that.

I have to remember that.

I approach this with optimism and hope, faith and patience. I also hope I know how to forgive myself if necessary.

So … that is my real message for today. The struggles of life continue to mix with the joys, successes and laughter. The groin will heal. I want to help my heart heal. Sometimes, you just have to face facts. And that is what I am doing.

So … I will be trying new recipes and making things up and I will share them. I might even try to remember how I made something if it is good.

Actually, this all makes me smile. Change is a huge part of life. I need to make some changes.

Little changes … big results.

My motto for the coming time.

Susan

Our Mediterranean dinner. Marinated grape tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, olives, and hard boiled eggs in olive oil, herbs and balsamic.

And aren’t there Brussel sprouts beautiful?

Seeing The Light

Ho, Ho, Ho,
 
No, I wasn’t calling anyone a name.
 
I was saying that the spirit has risen and is shining in one lit candle and thre fake ones.
 
On my desk, as part of my new enlightenment, I have a lavender oil candle lit. I like to stare at the dancing flame. I find it a marver that, though, we can’t really see the movement in the air, we see a bit of life that shows us that life is there. It is all around us. We just don’t pay attention.
 
I also just blew on my left hand. I felt the breeze, the movement of air. And get this, I just took a piece of heavy paper and fanned it by my face and felt air move.
 
Yep, I am back! Looking at life through any avenue I can take. There is alos a plexiglass container on my desk, that holds The Boy’s treats. I just noticed that there is a reflection of the flame shining on it.
 
Simple, maybe magically simple, explained by science. Yet, it amuses me. It is like being n a cavern and yelling and hearing the echo. This is an echo of light.
 
There were some days this week that I wondered if I would ever look at life as I had before. Those aren’t fun times. Recovery isn’t always easy. It can be work, too. You are told to take it easy, relax, let things go.
 
That can be stressful for me, especially if you have anesthesia brain and are not seeing the forest for the tree sap. Illness and not being in control and having to take medicines that help one thing and mess up another, can wreak havoc on your psyche. Is this the new you? The icky new you? Will you return to the old you, that really had its weirdness, too, or will a new and improved version show up at your door like Mary Poppins, and grow your new life?
 
I have a term for this mental confusion. It isn’t a nice term. It is two words and the first word is cluster. The other one, take your choice of a prime four letter word.
 
So, you try to listen when people say that it takes time and you try not to compare yourself to the 35 year-old guy on YouTube who had an ablation and participated in a race the next weekend.
 
It isn’t that it is “poor me,” … for me it is more like, “Oh, Shitzu,” where do I go from here?
 
And you finally, remember to talk to God and pull pback and stop fighting time and energy and phantoms of imaginary futures that are less than your fancy.
 
“Thank you, God. I am sorry it took me this long to say that.”
 
Silence.
 
“Thank you for the blessings and the people who helped me and, say, (this is in the back of your mind because when you pray and talk to God, you really don’t want to wear your asshat), can you please give me a sign, a sign that says life can at least get back to parts of the way it was?”
 
And then I think, Eh, I was not necessarily in a good place. I was playing Russian Roulette with eating and using my brain more than my body and yep, maybe going back to the old me isn’t the best thing, after all.
 
So then, my boundaries came down and instead of being afraid of the future and looking at this as a permanent position, I breathed deep with my new and improved heartbeat, and gave God time to chew on what I said and to give me that sign. Yep, I sometimes use God as my dumping ground … but usually a bit late in the process … after I have churned things up and made a stew and tried to fix things myself.
 
Sometimes, my name shoud be Half-Ass Backwards.
 
Then like I said, yesterday, I finally got myself quiet enough, took moved my orange collapsible fear canisters andopened my mind and heart.
 
That is when the healing began.
 
I was fighting healing. I didn’t want to put the time, thought and energy into healing. I just wanted to be fixed. But that isn’t how life is. At least, rarely.
 
It can be so easy to look at this moment in time and plant yourself on it and forget about life as a whole, a living breathing organism, like my little flame I am looking at as I type.
 
I am sure glad that God has a bigger plan for me and that I am simply his tool do some good on earth. I can say that if “I ruled the world, it would be better.” But the truth is, if I ruled the world, there would be way too many paintings of weird looking women, words, everywhere, a tidy kitchen but a mess of wars and stupid human stuff that I wouldn’t know how to deal with.
 
The light is not only at the end of the tunnel, but it is right near my face, flickering, warm and kind, saying, “Come on, Susan, let’s dance. You are breathing, life is good. And keep the flame alive.”
 
Susan

All In Good Time

I thought about making up a story about a Finnish Christmas, complete with reindeers and dancing snowflakes and all, but then I started picturing the Flying Monkeys from “The Wizard of Oz,” a movie that scars me to this day, and decided to talk about other things.

This mornng, about 4, soon after Winston came head first onto the bed for his morning moments ot laying with his head on my pillow, I decided to get up and make ssome hot lemon water. I am not doing tea. I am not juge on herbal tea and am staying away from caffeine. I tuened on the hot pot and went through the old bag of lemons … threw out a couple of moldy ones and kept the good ones, then decided to go into the guest room and lie down on the bed.

It is a very quiet room. There was a new blanket that my daughter bought when she was here. I put that over me and thought of her and the kids and grandkids and decided to go into a bit of a relaxation mode. Have good thoughts. Work on it. And enjoy serenity.

There have been so many things that have looked like a scattering of pick-up sticks. Thoughts here, thoughts there, thoughts that didn’t do me any good, which I still think were anesthesia induced, plus fear and unsettledness. Yes, gratitude, too, but that hadn’t been at the forefront.

I was feeling that I was becoming a victim of myself.

I don’t do victim well … or for long.

So, as I lay there, I weeded through the garden in my head. It has gorgeous flowers, spikey weeds and wild flowers that pop up when I least expect them to.

Yes, the reset button was in gear

I figured out what was not working for me in my life, in my thoughts and behavior and habits. And then opened my heart to what could and should take their place. For slots I emptied of residue that just wasn’t cutting it, I fthought of an action or something easy, doable, to replace it.

As I mentioned to my family, of late, I finally know what my breaking point is. In a certain way. The way I have dealt with stress and hard situations , has been to stand strong, get through it, be a warrior.

That is all well and good, but if can also take a toll, if you don’t know how to release it.

So … that is part of my awakening.

It felt good to acknowledge that. The earth didn’t quake. The sun still didn’t come out from the grey. No leopard jumped into our car.

I can’t explain how I will deal with this, but I going to figure it out.

There are some steps I plan to take that will get me where I want to go in terms of health, joy, laughter and engagement. I feel lighter just thinking about it.

This year, I have laid my life into many people’s hands. People have tried to help “fix” me. Through most of it, I didn’t feel broken. I didn’t feel breast cancer. I didn’t get “hurt” in the car wreck. I didn’t have a heart attack. But things were going wrong.

People were there for me. When I think back on how well each of these, plus Nick’s medical problem, went, with people taking our hands and leading us through the medicals system maze, it is very, very life affirming, as far as humands and technology go.

They did their jobs.

And now, it is time for my growth spurt as a human, to begin, again.

It has taken me a while to see that this is a anew beginning. Yes, I see each day as a new beginning, but this is a NEW BEGINING.

It is up to me to write the next chapter of my life … in a new year. Pretty cool, huh?

Here is one for you. I am so into silence. I love peace. I love, love. I love joy. I don’t have time for so much of what is out there and thrown in our faces. I shall choose, more carefully, what I see, hear and read.

I am eso excited about focusing on love, joy, laughter, kindness and good things, that there is nothing but wonder ahead of me.

Oh yes, the shitzu will no doubt fall and I will find myself having to make choices about how will I react. What happens might not be up to me, but my reaction is. And that is what I will work on.

Time, has to be only of this moment. It can’t be projected or controlled or sat upon. I have to keep that in mind.

And frankly, I am glad I don’t have an IV stuck in the back of my hands.

It will be fine. It will all be fine.

Susan