Forgiveness is good for your health. Really. They've done studies on it. People who are 'forgivers' have lower blood pressure and pulse, fewer physiologic stress responses, and more positive emotions. They also sleep better, are more energetic, have fewer physical symptoms and use fewer medications.
Sounds like a no brainer. Let's all be forgivers. Too bad it isn't as easy as it sounds, eh?
What is forgiveness anyway? What does it mean to forgive someone? Say somebody hurts you in some way. They say, "I'm sorry." You say, "That's okay." Have you forgiven them? What if it really isn't "okay?" What if it will never be "okay" what they did? What are you going to do?
"I forgive you" sounds like it's more about what I do to you than what is going on in my own mind. It even has a slightly haughty, patronizing tone to it, as if I'm anointing you or something. But forgiveness isn't something you do TO someone. In reality, forgiveness has little to do with the other person.
If you forgive someone, that doesn't mean you condone what they did. It doesn't mean you excuse it, or even that you think it was "okay." It doesn't mean you will forget what happened, or even necessarily that you reconcile with them. Forgiveness happens in your own mind, and is a process of letting go of the anger and resentment you have. How do you do that? You make a decision that you will not allow those thoughts to dominate your well being or mess with your peace of mind. We control our own thoughts, after all. You can decide what you will or won't think about or dwell on. Our thoughts create our experience to a huge degree.
Thoughts can open the back door for unwelcome feelings to come in. If you hurt me, I can decide to stew about it. "How dare she? I can't believe what she did! That really hurt me. Ow! She's such a *&^%!" etc etc. If I start thinking like that, anger and resentment will soon be invading and before I know it I'm hogtied in my own kitchen. Who wants that? Not I.
You cannot count on someone who hurt you to apologize, to try to make amends, or even to recognize that they hurt you. If you hold your breath for any of that, well, you'll suffocate, that's what.
Let it go.
Showing posts with label random musings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random musings. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Lessons from Fence Wrecking
This past week I've been spending some time wrecking fences up here at RMBL. The old fences, while picturesque in places, are thoroughly falling down in others. Nowhere do they do much any more to keep the cows, expected in July, out of the townsite. So down they must come. It is highly satisfying work. Not only did I get to take any aggression I had out on rotton logs, but, even more important since I can't seem to drum up much aggression up here, I got to see progress, and an end point.
As I worked today, I thought of some of the life lessons that can be learned and relearned when one is doing something like fence wrecking:
As I worked today, I thought of some of the life lessons that can be learned and relearned when one is doing something like fence wrecking:
- If you focus on one pole at a time, before you know it you've done a whole section.
- Work with the forces of nature when possible. Gravity is your friend.
- The right tool can make a big difference.
- Watch the experts. They know what they're doing.
- Sometimes getting the right angle works better than force.
- If someone offers to help, say yes!
- A little bit of rest goes a long way.
- Plan ahead or you might have to move the whole pile.
- You'd be surprised at the load you can carry if you have your balance right.
- Share your snack!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Suffering is when you want the pain to stop.
Thus spake Natalie Goldberg, at a book signing I attended tonight. Her talk was about writing memoir, and she mostly read from her new book on the subject, Old Friend From Far Away.
Suffering is when you want the pain to stop. The sentence sprang out at me from the milling sidewalk throng. Ambushed, a part of me spent the rest of the evening struggling in a dark alley. What? How can you have pain without suffering? Aren't they one and the same? Why wouldn't you want pain to stop? Who wants pain?
I remember a Peanuts cartoon from years back. Lucy has to go to the dentist and she's complaining to Charlie Brown. He says to her, "You're not afraid of a little pain, are you?" Her retort is classic. "Of course I am! Pain hurts!"
Goldberg practices Buddhism. Buddhism urges us to look at life honestly, to accept what is. Sometimes life is painful. Everyone knows that. Suffering, by Goldberg's Buddhist definition, is wanting something other than what is. It could be applied to anything. As soon as we start wanting something different from what we have, we are somewhere else. We are distracting ourselves from the present, and the present is the only starting point we have. You've heard the saying, "You can't get there from here?" The truth is, you can't get there from anywhere else. The only way out is through, and the only place to start is here.
So if suffering takes me away from the present, and accepting pain is a way to avoid suffering, I'll accept pain. It's kind of hard to ignore, after all. Accepting pain doesn't mean it won't hurt. But, unlike Lucy, I know that not all that hurts is Bad. Au contraire, in fact. What is beautifully ironic, in my experience, is that the more I allow myself to feel pain, the sooner it passes. The more you hurt, the quicker you heal.
Suffering is when you want the pain to stop. The sentence sprang out at me from the milling sidewalk throng. Ambushed, a part of me spent the rest of the evening struggling in a dark alley. What? How can you have pain without suffering? Aren't they one and the same? Why wouldn't you want pain to stop? Who wants pain?
I remember a Peanuts cartoon from years back. Lucy has to go to the dentist and she's complaining to Charlie Brown. He says to her, "You're not afraid of a little pain, are you?" Her retort is classic. "Of course I am! Pain hurts!"
Goldberg practices Buddhism. Buddhism urges us to look at life honestly, to accept what is. Sometimes life is painful. Everyone knows that. Suffering, by Goldberg's Buddhist definition, is wanting something other than what is. It could be applied to anything. As soon as we start wanting something different from what we have, we are somewhere else. We are distracting ourselves from the present, and the present is the only starting point we have. You've heard the saying, "You can't get there from here?" The truth is, you can't get there from anywhere else. The only way out is through, and the only place to start is here.
So if suffering takes me away from the present, and accepting pain is a way to avoid suffering, I'll accept pain. It's kind of hard to ignore, after all. Accepting pain doesn't mean it won't hurt. But, unlike Lucy, I know that not all that hurts is Bad. Au contraire, in fact. What is beautifully ironic, in my experience, is that the more I allow myself to feel pain, the sooner it passes. The more you hurt, the quicker you heal.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Talk About Sex
I do, every day. It goes with the territory when you're a doctor. Sex matters. Having it, not having it, who you have it with and how, what you do and don't do; it can all affect your health, so, for better or worse, we'll be asking about it.
There are ways and ways to ask patients about their sex life. In med school they taught us the phrase "sexually active." We were supposed to ask the patient, "Are you sexually active?" It sounds silly to me now, but it was presented as Standard Of Care. In other words, everybody does it that way. It was deemed an efficient use of time. One question, cut to the chase.
I even did that for a while, until I realized that many people had no idea what I was talking about. I'd get the blank look far too often, and end up having to ask some other way. Or they'd focus on the "active" part of the question. One of my colleagues got the answer, "Not really. I just lie there." And I heard the opposite extreme when a young man bragged, "Oh yeah! I break condoms all the time!"
So I quit asking it that way. For a while I asked, "Do you have a sex partner?" That seemed to work okay. If they answered in the affirmative, I'd follow with, "Male or female?" and then questions about how long they had been together, whether they used safe sex practices, etc. It took a lot more questions than the one, efficient, "sexually active" query, but it got the job done.
(By the way, we don't say "safe sex" anymore, did you know? Now we're supposed to say "safer sex." Nothing, after all, is 100% safe. Or 100% anything. G-d forbid someone should sue us when they get chlamydia having "safe sex!")
Another of my colleagues tried this one out: "Are you having sex?" Until one of his patients gave him a look and said, "Well, not right NOW!"
The open-ended question is a great way to ask about most things. "Tell me about your back pain," for example. But even I would feel a little weird saying, "Tell me about your sex life" to a patient.
No matter how we ask, there will always be a way to misinterpret it. Some of the medical literature uses the term "sexual debut" for someone's first time. "A woman should have a PAP smear 3 years after her sexual debut." Isn't that priceless? It sounds like there should be a huge party with gauzy dresses and tuxedos. "Introducing the sexual debutantes!"
I finally hit on an opening question that works for me most of the time. "Do you have sex with men, women, both, or neither?" Most people seem to be able to hear that one, and respond without rancor. Interestingly, I have never seen a woman act offended by this question, whether she is straight or gay. On the other hand, quite a few straight men act appalled that I would even consider the idea of them having sex with men. "WOMEN! Only WOMEN!" they huff. I wonder: is homophobia a sex-linked trait?
The other day, I finally got "Neither" in response to my question, which made me realize it isn't quite the catchall I thought it was. Was this a virgin (not as rare as you might think at the university)? Nope. On further questioning, the person revealed that they had in fact had their sexual debut some years earlier but were currently single. No sex for...hmmm lemme think...two whole weeks now!
That brings up another whole arena: sexual definitions. "Monogamy," "long term," "sex;" you'd be surprised at some of the concepts folks have. Fodder for another post.
There are ways and ways to ask patients about their sex life. In med school they taught us the phrase "sexually active." We were supposed to ask the patient, "Are you sexually active?" It sounds silly to me now, but it was presented as Standard Of Care. In other words, everybody does it that way. It was deemed an efficient use of time. One question, cut to the chase.
I even did that for a while, until I realized that many people had no idea what I was talking about. I'd get the blank look far too often, and end up having to ask some other way. Or they'd focus on the "active" part of the question. One of my colleagues got the answer, "Not really. I just lie there." And I heard the opposite extreme when a young man bragged, "Oh yeah! I break condoms all the time!"
So I quit asking it that way. For a while I asked, "Do you have a sex partner?" That seemed to work okay. If they answered in the affirmative, I'd follow with, "Male or female?" and then questions about how long they had been together, whether they used safe sex practices, etc. It took a lot more questions than the one, efficient, "sexually active" query, but it got the job done.
(By the way, we don't say "safe sex" anymore, did you know? Now we're supposed to say "safer sex." Nothing, after all, is 100% safe. Or 100% anything. G-d forbid someone should sue us when they get chlamydia having "safe sex!")
Another of my colleagues tried this one out: "Are you having sex?" Until one of his patients gave him a look and said, "Well, not right NOW!"
The open-ended question is a great way to ask about most things. "Tell me about your back pain," for example. But even I would feel a little weird saying, "Tell me about your sex life" to a patient.
No matter how we ask, there will always be a way to misinterpret it. Some of the medical literature uses the term "sexual debut" for someone's first time. "A woman should have a PAP smear 3 years after her sexual debut." Isn't that priceless? It sounds like there should be a huge party with gauzy dresses and tuxedos. "Introducing the sexual debutantes!"
I finally hit on an opening question that works for me most of the time. "Do you have sex with men, women, both, or neither?" Most people seem to be able to hear that one, and respond without rancor. Interestingly, I have never seen a woman act offended by this question, whether she is straight or gay. On the other hand, quite a few straight men act appalled that I would even consider the idea of them having sex with men. "WOMEN! Only WOMEN!" they huff. I wonder: is homophobia a sex-linked trait?
The other day, I finally got "Neither" in response to my question, which made me realize it isn't quite the catchall I thought it was. Was this a virgin (not as rare as you might think at the university)? Nope. On further questioning, the person revealed that they had in fact had their sexual debut some years earlier but were currently single. No sex for...hmmm lemme think...two whole weeks now!
That brings up another whole arena: sexual definitions. "Monogamy," "long term," "sex;" you'd be surprised at some of the concepts folks have. Fodder for another post.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
The doctor is out sick
I'm sick! Started with a sore throat, progressed to body aches and fatigue, then the sinus pressure and congestion kicked in. I'm miserable! All I want to do is sleep, but my nose is so stuffed up that I have to breathe through my mouth, which dries out my throat, which hurts worse and wakes me up. If I take a decongestant pill, the nose clears up, but I can't sleep because the decongestant is a stimulant. My sinuses hurt unless I press on them constantly and take enough ibuprofen to endanger my kidneys. This is the weekend I was supposed to do all my Christmas shopping, and I don't even want to leave the house. Not only that, I'm falling behind on my training for the half marathon in January, mere weeks away! Boo hoo and waaah!
Why am I moaning out loud on a blog? Because I think there's a lesson in all this. For me and other docs, that is. I'm usually very healthy, and manage not to catch most of the germs that are coughed in my face daily. But every so often something gets me. When that happens, I invariably find myself surprised at how miserable I feel, and humbled thinking of how miserable all the patients must feel. No wonder they came in! No wonder they couldn't do their homework or sit for their exam! This sucks!
We docs tend to get a little numbed by numbers. When we see ten people with respiratory infections in one day, they blur together, and the process becomes rote. Listen to the symptoms, swab the throat, recite a list of comfort measures, make a sorry face, then go on to the next patient. Part of rote-ness is remote-ness. Distance from the feelings of the patient. I hear them moan like I did above, I see their lips moving, but it doesn't really land after a while. I nod and smile, but I don't really, well, honestly, care as much as I should.
Now I know I'm just talking about a cold here. But as I have relearned this week, even "just" a cold can be devastating in its own way. More serious illnesses are more devastating, but those can be subject to the same doctor numbness if we're not careful.
The Universe is offering me an opportunity to share an experience with my patients in order to be a more compassionate physician.
It's not an illness; it's an opportunity! Yeah, that's it! A Universal lesson.
Okay, I get it already. I'm miserable. They're miserable. Can I please get better now?
Why am I moaning out loud on a blog? Because I think there's a lesson in all this. For me and other docs, that is. I'm usually very healthy, and manage not to catch most of the germs that are coughed in my face daily. But every so often something gets me. When that happens, I invariably find myself surprised at how miserable I feel, and humbled thinking of how miserable all the patients must feel. No wonder they came in! No wonder they couldn't do their homework or sit for their exam! This sucks!
We docs tend to get a little numbed by numbers. When we see ten people with respiratory infections in one day, they blur together, and the process becomes rote. Listen to the symptoms, swab the throat, recite a list of comfort measures, make a sorry face, then go on to the next patient. Part of rote-ness is remote-ness. Distance from the feelings of the patient. I hear them moan like I did above, I see their lips moving, but it doesn't really land after a while. I nod and smile, but I don't really, well, honestly, care as much as I should.
Now I know I'm just talking about a cold here. But as I have relearned this week, even "just" a cold can be devastating in its own way. More serious illnesses are more devastating, but those can be subject to the same doctor numbness if we're not careful.
The Universe is offering me an opportunity to share an experience with my patients in order to be a more compassionate physician.
It's not an illness; it's an opportunity! Yeah, that's it! A Universal lesson.
Okay, I get it already. I'm miserable. They're miserable. Can I please get better now?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Intensity
In the past five days I have felt deep joy and deep sorrow. Equally intense feelings, opposite poles. It got me thinking about the very nature of intense feelings and how, regardless of which pole they originate from, they invigorate us. Feeling anything with your whole self is being alive, painfully, exquisitely alive.
My family had a birthday party for me last weekend. The big five-oh. We finally celebrated officially, with bells and whistles. Dear friends gathered, from work, soccer, neighborhood, book club, even childhood. My kids showed a retrospective slide show they had put together. I felt lucky and loved, intensely happy, warmly alive.
Yesterday, I hugged my friends Patch and his wife Cookie, knowing it could be the last time I see Patch alive, or conscious, or talking. He'll have brain surgery on Monday to remove a recurrent tumor. Last time he came through it with flying colors. We all know it could be very different this time. Or it could be the same. I felt fear and sorrow, hope and pain. Again, intensely alive.
It seems odd to be grateful for heart-wrenching fear, yet I am. Right along with happiness and hope. I want to live this life, all of it, to feel all of it, to have every experience with my very bones. And that means being open to all of it. If you're open to deep joy, you'll get it, and the sorrow that may follow. And that is rich living. Give me no other kind.
My family had a birthday party for me last weekend. The big five-oh. We finally celebrated officially, with bells and whistles. Dear friends gathered, from work, soccer, neighborhood, book club, even childhood. My kids showed a retrospective slide show they had put together. I felt lucky and loved, intensely happy, warmly alive.
Yesterday, I hugged my friends Patch and his wife Cookie, knowing it could be the last time I see Patch alive, or conscious, or talking. He'll have brain surgery on Monday to remove a recurrent tumor. Last time he came through it with flying colors. We all know it could be very different this time. Or it could be the same. I felt fear and sorrow, hope and pain. Again, intensely alive.
It seems odd to be grateful for heart-wrenching fear, yet I am. Right along with happiness and hope. I want to live this life, all of it, to feel all of it, to have every experience with my very bones. And that means being open to all of it. If you're open to deep joy, you'll get it, and the sorrow that may follow. And that is rich living. Give me no other kind.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Professional Distance
I have this patient. I wish she were my friend. But, of course, she cannot be my friend, because that would violate the principle of professional distance.
You know what that means, right? A doctor isn't supposed to get "too close" to her patients. Although that phrase is not well defined anywhere, there is a tacit understanding that getting "too close" or "too involved" is bad for both parties.
Bad for the doctor because you lose your objectivity and can't think straight. Not to mention, you might end up getting hurt if there's a negative outcome. And, of course, there's the time-honored practice of putting ourselves on pedestals, which is hard to do if you're down in the muck with the patient.
Bad for the patient because the doctor loses her objectivity and can't think straight. Not to mention, it's hard to fire a doctor if they're also your friend. And, of course, there's the possibly comforting traditional role of doctor as boss, abrogating you, the patient, of responsibility, which is hard to maintain if you're equals.
All that said, albeit somewhat with tongue in cheek, I find it hard at times to maintain this distance. This patient is a case in point. She came to see me a couple weeks ago. We clicked immediately. She's friendly, casual, comfortable with herself, funny, smart. I am seeing her for a minor but persistent problem that has required her to come back several times, and each time I have a really good time, as if we were meeting socially for coffee or something. Don't get me wrong: I am treating her, and successfully too. But the treatment gives us time to chat. I even told her the story about the time I spilled trichloroacetic acid on...but that's fodder for another post.
I know we'd be really good friends if circumstances were different. It makes me feel sad.
She's moving away soon, to the other side of the country, taking dilemma and possibility with her. I wish her well, and I'll miss her.
You know what that means, right? A doctor isn't supposed to get "too close" to her patients. Although that phrase is not well defined anywhere, there is a tacit understanding that getting "too close" or "too involved" is bad for both parties.
Bad for the doctor because you lose your objectivity and can't think straight. Not to mention, you might end up getting hurt if there's a negative outcome. And, of course, there's the time-honored practice of putting ourselves on pedestals, which is hard to do if you're down in the muck with the patient.
Bad for the patient because the doctor loses her objectivity and can't think straight. Not to mention, it's hard to fire a doctor if they're also your friend. And, of course, there's the possibly comforting traditional role of doctor as boss, abrogating you, the patient, of responsibility, which is hard to maintain if you're equals.
All that said, albeit somewhat with tongue in cheek, I find it hard at times to maintain this distance. This patient is a case in point. She came to see me a couple weeks ago. We clicked immediately. She's friendly, casual, comfortable with herself, funny, smart. I am seeing her for a minor but persistent problem that has required her to come back several times, and each time I have a really good time, as if we were meeting socially for coffee or something. Don't get me wrong: I am treating her, and successfully too. But the treatment gives us time to chat. I even told her the story about the time I spilled trichloroacetic acid on...but that's fodder for another post.
I know we'd be really good friends if circumstances were different. It makes me feel sad.
She's moving away soon, to the other side of the country, taking dilemma and possibility with her. I wish her well, and I'll miss her.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Stereo Mammograms
The other day, our local paper had a story about a new and improved, up and coming technique for imaging the breast. See, the way they do it now, a mammogram, is two-dimensional. And the breast, of course, is three-dimensional. Yes, in spite of all their efforts to squash it into one less dimension, it remains stubbornly round. Well, once it recovers from the mammo, that is.
This new technique involves taking two mammograms, from two slightly different angles, so as to create a stereoscope of the breast. The result is two pictures, slightly off kilter from each other. The radiologist, in order to read the two mammograms as one round image, will don a pair of those weird stereo glasses like from the 60's. I kid you not. Remember those things? Or the plastic binocular-shaped gismo that you'd pop a round slide card into and look through, to ooh and ahh at the 3-dimensional image inside.
I had to laugh. And, at the same time, shake my head. Why on earth didn't someone think of this sooner? We had higher technology for our toys 40 years ago than we do for our breasts today. What is wrong with this picture?
This new technique involves taking two mammograms, from two slightly different angles, so as to create a stereoscope of the breast. The result is two pictures, slightly off kilter from each other. The radiologist, in order to read the two mammograms as one round image, will don a pair of those weird stereo glasses like from the 60's. I kid you not. Remember those things? Or the plastic binocular-shaped gismo that you'd pop a round slide card into and look through, to ooh and ahh at the 3-dimensional image inside.
I had to laugh. And, at the same time, shake my head. Why on earth didn't someone think of this sooner? We had higher technology for our toys 40 years ago than we do for our breasts today. What is wrong with this picture?
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Give me an "A!" Give me another "A!" Give me an "R!" Give me a "P!"
On the way back from Crested Butte, I stopped for the night in Gunnison, Colorado. Little motel on the edge of town, one of the few not filled up by the softball tournament that had packed the area for the weekend.
The plump young woman behind the desk said, "Two queen beds, $59."
I nodded, "Okay."
"Got any discounts or anything?"
"No." I never have discounts. If I ever manage to clip coupons, I always leave them wherever I'm not. "Oh, wait! I'm a member of AARP! Does that count?"
"Sure does," she smiled.
I was psyched! My first discount as an Elder American! Woo hoo!
I felt like I had made a rite of passage. Small, but significant.
You see, for years I heard my friends complain, "I got an invitation to join AARP! Man, do I feel old!"
As each of them passed the fifty year mark, we'd razz them. "Did you get your AARP card yet?" Ha ha ha.
So, when it came my turn to see the big 5-0 on the horizon, I decided to get pro-active. I joined them before they could recruit me. I had my membership before my 50th birthday. Embrace the change! Be proud of your age! Bounce right out of your 40s and into AARP!
And here I was, reaping the benefit already. I signed my name with a flourish and strutted down to my room.
The plump young woman behind the desk said, "Two queen beds, $59."
I nodded, "Okay."
"Got any discounts or anything?"
"No." I never have discounts. If I ever manage to clip coupons, I always leave them wherever I'm not. "Oh, wait! I'm a member of AARP! Does that count?"
"Sure does," she smiled.
I was psyched! My first discount as an Elder American! Woo hoo!
I felt like I had made a rite of passage. Small, but significant.
You see, for years I heard my friends complain, "I got an invitation to join AARP! Man, do I feel old!"
As each of them passed the fifty year mark, we'd razz them. "Did you get your AARP card yet?" Ha ha ha.
So, when it came my turn to see the big 5-0 on the horizon, I decided to get pro-active. I joined them before they could recruit me. I had my membership before my 50th birthday. Embrace the change! Be proud of your age! Bounce right out of your 40s and into AARP!
And here I was, reaping the benefit already. I signed my name with a flourish and strutted down to my room.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
More about my 50th
(This post is from our book blog)
Last Sunday, the 1st of June, 2008, I officially left my own 40s behind.
Happy My Birthday to you!
I have to admit, in spite of coauthoring a whole book on the subject, I had some trepidation about reaching this particular milestone myself. I mean, we wrote a lot about how wonderful this time of life can be, how celebration-worthy, how joyous. And I do believe all that. I also got a little short of breath when contemplating my own passage. And I wondered: I can talk the talk, but can I walk the walk?
I'm happy to report that so far it has been just fine. I woke up that morning wondering what 50 would feel like, and was pleased to discover that, of course, it felt just like forty-nine and 364/365ths. I felt no different from the day before. *forehead smacker* Of course I didn't! We change in increments, after all, and 50 is just a number. I left my 40s the way I live my life: fairly quietly and one day at a time.
The day of my birthday I played in a soccer tournament for women over 30, and I am very proud to tell you that we won second place! Not half bad for a half century, eh? The team insisted I take the trophy home for my birthday, so now I have a daily reminder of how I started out Leaving My 40s like Way #8: Play Ball!"
Later that day (after a delicious nap a la Way #7: Pause) my wonderful husband and kids took me to dinner at my favorite gourmet pizza and salad place, then we came home, ate chocolate (an absolute necessity on any of my birthdays) and watched a feel-good movie (August Rush) together. No big deal. No fireworks. The day wound down and imperceptibly slipped into June 2.
We are planning to have a big party later in the summer, but even if we didn't, I'd be happy. I'm healthy; I have a great family; I love my work. What more could I want at any age?
Last Sunday, the 1st of June, 2008, I officially left my own 40s behind.
Happy My Birthday to you!
I have to admit, in spite of coauthoring a whole book on the subject, I had some trepidation about reaching this particular milestone myself. I mean, we wrote a lot about how wonderful this time of life can be, how celebration-worthy, how joyous. And I do believe all that. I also got a little short of breath when contemplating my own passage. And I wondered: I can talk the talk, but can I walk the walk?
I'm happy to report that so far it has been just fine. I woke up that morning wondering what 50 would feel like, and was pleased to discover that, of course, it felt just like forty-nine and 364/365ths. I felt no different from the day before. *forehead smacker* Of course I didn't! We change in increments, after all, and 50 is just a number. I left my 40s the way I live my life: fairly quietly and one day at a time.
The day of my birthday I played in a soccer tournament for women over 30, and I am very proud to tell you that we won second place! Not half bad for a half century, eh? The team insisted I take the trophy home for my birthday, so now I have a daily reminder of how I started out Leaving My 40s like Way #8: Play Ball!"
Later that day (after a delicious nap a la Way #7: Pause) my wonderful husband and kids took me to dinner at my favorite gourmet pizza and salad place, then we came home, ate chocolate (an absolute necessity on any of my birthdays) and watched a feel-good movie (August Rush) together. No big deal. No fireworks. The day wound down and imperceptibly slipped into June 2.
We are planning to have a big party later in the summer, but even if we didn't, I'd be happy. I'm healthy; I have a great family; I love my work. What more could I want at any age?
Sunday, June 01, 2008
My 50th birthday is today!
That long-awaited day has arrived. It has carried extra significance for me, given the book I just finished co-authoring. 50 Ways to Leave Your 40s. So I should be an expert at this particular transition and sail through it without a ripple, right?
Right. However, I will admit, I had some trepidation. Fifty sounds so OLD! Yes, even after I spent two years working to co-write a book which hopes to soften that number and help people see midlife as a fine old time. I was still nervous about actually doing it myself.
I'm happy to report that I awoke this morning feeling like just exactly the same person I was yesterday. Yeah, I know, you'd think after this many birthdays I'd get it. One little day does not a big difference make. Still, I was relieved. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Happy Birthday, me. I'm fifty." It didn't hurt a bit.
Spent the day so far playing soccer in an Over-30 women's tournament. Not only that, our team won second place! I was psyched! They made me bring home the trophy, since it was my birthday and I had organized the team. I think it's pretty cool to have a soccer trophy to commemorate my 50th birthday.
I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my mind (and my mouth) around the words "in my fifties," but I figure that'll come. For now, I'm thrilled to be alive and healthy enough to play soccer.
Happy My Birthday to YOU!
Right. However, I will admit, I had some trepidation. Fifty sounds so OLD! Yes, even after I spent two years working to co-write a book which hopes to soften that number and help people see midlife as a fine old time. I was still nervous about actually doing it myself.
I'm happy to report that I awoke this morning feeling like just exactly the same person I was yesterday. Yeah, I know, you'd think after this many birthdays I'd get it. One little day does not a big difference make. Still, I was relieved. I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "Happy Birthday, me. I'm fifty." It didn't hurt a bit.
Spent the day so far playing soccer in an Over-30 women's tournament. Not only that, our team won second place! I was psyched! They made me bring home the trophy, since it was my birthday and I had organized the team. I think it's pretty cool to have a soccer trophy to commemorate my 50th birthday.
I'm still having a little trouble wrapping my mind (and my mouth) around the words "in my fifties," but I figure that'll come. For now, I'm thrilled to be alive and healthy enough to play soccer.
Happy My Birthday to YOU!
Friday, August 18, 2006
Marathon Man to the Max
Have you heard about the 50-50-50 Marathon Man?
This guy, Sam Thompson, is running 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days ! His purpose is to raise awareness and money for Katrina relief.
Yeah, sure, you say. Nice lofty goal, but he'll never make it. Well, guess what? He only has ONE MORE to go! Tomorrow he does his final 26.2 miles, ending up in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, where he and his group of 100 volunteers help rebuild homes destroyed by the hurricane.
He even has a blog, though how he can find time and energy to write while he's running 1310 miles in 50 days is beyond me.
I'm impressed.
Addendum, Sunday August 20: He made it! Finished his last marathon yesterday. There's a nice account of it on his blog, including the fact that he'll be on The Early Show on CBS tomorrow morning. Thank you, Sam, for your inspirational journey!
This guy, Sam Thompson, is running 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days ! His purpose is to raise awareness and money for Katrina relief.
Yeah, sure, you say. Nice lofty goal, but he'll never make it. Well, guess what? He only has ONE MORE to go! Tomorrow he does his final 26.2 miles, ending up in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, where he and his group of 100 volunteers help rebuild homes destroyed by the hurricane.
He even has a blog, though how he can find time and energy to write while he's running 1310 miles in 50 days is beyond me.
I'm impressed.
Addendum, Sunday August 20: He made it! Finished his last marathon yesterday. There's a nice account of it on his blog, including the fact that he'll be on The Early Show on CBS tomorrow morning. Thank you, Sam, for your inspirational journey!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Writer's Blogk
I told myself I'd never be one of those bloggers that disappeared from the blogosphere long enough to have to start a post with, "I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while." I'D keep up. I'D blog at least twice a week. I'D do better than THEM!
Ahem.
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while.
What, Peg?
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while!
Give me a break. I had PMS. Plus, the summer soccer season has started, and I coordinated two teams, both of which I know play on (co-ed and women over 30). (Alas, there's no league for "women WAY over 30" ). Plus, I was busy getting ready for the Komen Race for the Cure with team Los Globos! That's fodder for my next real post. Plus, I have been working on Real Writing. I have been asked to co-author a book! It's reeeeally exciting.
Enough excuses. I'm back.
Next up - Los Globos race for the cure!
Ahem.
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while.
What, Peg?
I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while!
Give me a break. I had PMS. Plus, the summer soccer season has started, and I coordinated two teams, both of which I know play on (co-ed and women over 30). (Alas, there's no league for "women WAY over 30" ). Plus, I was busy getting ready for the Komen Race for the Cure with team Los Globos! That's fodder for my next real post. Plus, I have been working on Real Writing. I have been asked to co-author a book! It's reeeeally exciting.
Enough excuses. I'm back.
Next up - Los Globos race for the cure!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Almost 50
In two days I’ll be 48 years old. Almost 50. How do I feel about that? Truth is, it varies from day to day.
Some days I feel puzzled, as if I’m in a foreign country listening to a language I don’t understand. Fifty can’t be right. It’s not possible that I’ve lived that many years. I don’t feel 50! What is 50? Last I noticed, I was thirty-something! Anybody around here speak English?
Some days I feel depressed. I’m OLD! That means I’m unattractive! I haven’t DONE enough with my life! I’m stiff and weak, and getting more so! Wait, slow down! I’m not ready for this. Give me time to catch up! Can I get a body lift, please?
Some days I feel calm. Accepting. It is what it is. I am who I am. The number isn’t important. More important is how aware I am, how much I’ve grown. Personal and spiritual growth doesn’t happen in a linear fashion, can’t be measured in candles and calendars. I’m still me, at the core, have been since birth. Ommmmmmmm.
Some days – well, okay, some times, some hours- I feel open and glad. Fifty means maturity. Maturity means wisdom. Fifty means I don’t ever have to be twenty again. It means I’ll be hanging out with more people who have The Answers than I did ten or twenty years ago. People over 50 tend to have a pretty solid sense of themselves, and often have trimmed their lives down to the meaningful essentials. I’d like hanging out with people like that. Maybe it’ll rub off on me.
Most days I do the old one-two on my own mind. I’m not fifty! I’m “forty-something”. Way different from 50. Fifty is YEARS away! Besides, 50 is the new 40, right?
Well, I’ve got two whole years to get used to the idea of fifty, and figure out how to arrive there in style. Meanwhile, I’m healthy and whole, and a birthday, whatever its number, sounds like a good excuse for a party. So pop the cork and crank the tunes! It’s my birthday!
Sunday, May 28, 2006
Memorial Day
Tomorrow is Memorial Day. It was originally called "Decoration Day" because it was the day the living decorated the graves of those who had died in battle.
I heard an interesting opinion piece on NPR yesterday, suggesting we redirect our memorial day energies from big sales and barbecues back to honoring fallen servicemen. I've always been a pacifist. I was raised in the Quaker tradition of nonviolence and conscientious objection. I don't like war, and believe it should be avoided if at all possible. I believe we will someday evolve beyond using violence to solve our differences. Having said all that, I have huge respect for the young men and women who voluntarily join the military and put their lives at risk, and lose their lives in the line of duty. Being against war does not mean being unsupportive of the men and women in uniform, at least in my case. I hold the leaders responsible. I am in awe of what the servicemen and servicewomen are willing to do. And I grieve for those who have lost their lives so young. On this memorial day, I will thank and honor the fallen and pray for greater wisdom for the rest of us. This is a poem written by an American soldier and poet Brian Turner, who served for seven years in Bosnia-Hezegovina and Iraq. Mr. Turner reminds us that war has more than one way of taking life. Eulogy It happens on a Monday, at 11:20 a.m., as tower guards eat sandwiches and seagulls drift by on the Tigris River. Prisoners tilt their heads to the west though burlap sacks and duct tape blind them. The sound reverberates down concertina coils the way piano wire thrums when given slack. And it happens like this, on a blue day of sun, when Private Miller pulls the trigger to take brass and fire into his mouth: the sound lifts the birds up off the water, a mongoose pauses under the orange trees, and nothing can stop it now, no matter what blur of motion surrounds him, no matter what voices crackle over the radio in static confusion, because if only for this moment the earth is stilled, and Private Miller has found what low hush there is down in the eucalyptus shade, there by the river. PFC B. Miller (1980-March 22, 2003) |
| |
Monday, May 22, 2006
Team Name Update
A while ago I asked for help coming up with a good name for a team that will be walking to support breast cancer research. You all had some wonderful suggestions, so I thought I'd let you know the final outcome.
One creative person here suggested "The Golden Globes". I added that to the list at work, and one of my creative colleagues took it a step farther.
We are now "Los Globos".
This has multiple layers of meaning. The obvious "globe" analogy to the Body Part of Interest. The play on the musical group "Los Lobos". And finally, the allusion to the University of New Mexico's mascot, the lobo! Brilliant, eh? (It means "wolf" en espanol)
We're now brainstorming costume ideas. I'll post pictures after the event.
Peg, proud leader of the pack
One creative person here suggested "The Golden Globes". I added that to the list at work, and one of my creative colleagues took it a step farther.
We are now "Los Globos".
This has multiple layers of meaning. The obvious "globe" analogy to the Body Part of Interest. The play on the musical group "Los Lobos". And finally, the allusion to the University of New Mexico's mascot, the lobo! Brilliant, eh? (It means "wolf" en espanol)
We're now brainstorming costume ideas. I'll post pictures after the event.
Peg, proud leader of the pack
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Too Hot to Think
"The time is 6:54 pm. Current temperature : 87 degrees. "
I wonder how hot it was at noon, when I was up on the roof in the sun. Pulling the old cooler pads off, brushing out the cooler box, sneezing and coughing as the dust rose and the brittle straw splintered in my hands. Must have been near 100. My sun-kissed cheeks betray my laxness with the sunscreen. It only takes minutes to burn here in Albuquerque, a mile high in the desert sky.
Every year we try to make it to Memorial Day before we turn the coolers on. Used to be a friendly contest between us and our nearest neighbor. Who was the toughest? Who could stand it the longest? Who could "live naturally" without "wasting" water and electricity to cool down? Some years she "won", some years we did.
I don't think I can make it to Memorial Day this year. In fact, as soon as I post this, I'm going back up there in the (relative) cool of evening to finish the job. The heat makes me cranky. I bark at my kids and hiss at the pets. I drink never-enough water to feel saturated in this dry desert summer. What I really want to do is sit on the verandah all day sipping -what is it they sip- mint juleps, delicately fanning my damp ringlets. Or, better yet, fill my tub with cool water and lie there like a turtle, only my head poking out as I wait for the sun to pass over.
Thank goodness for modern technology and whoever invented the Swamp Cooler.
How's the weather where you are?
I wonder how hot it was at noon, when I was up on the roof in the sun. Pulling the old cooler pads off, brushing out the cooler box, sneezing and coughing as the dust rose and the brittle straw splintered in my hands. Must have been near 100. My sun-kissed cheeks betray my laxness with the sunscreen. It only takes minutes to burn here in Albuquerque, a mile high in the desert sky.
Every year we try to make it to Memorial Day before we turn the coolers on. Used to be a friendly contest between us and our nearest neighbor. Who was the toughest? Who could stand it the longest? Who could "live naturally" without "wasting" water and electricity to cool down? Some years she "won", some years we did.
I don't think I can make it to Memorial Day this year. In fact, as soon as I post this, I'm going back up there in the (relative) cool of evening to finish the job. The heat makes me cranky. I bark at my kids and hiss at the pets. I drink never-enough water to feel saturated in this dry desert summer. What I really want to do is sit on the verandah all day sipping -what is it they sip- mint juleps, delicately fanning my damp ringlets. Or, better yet, fill my tub with cool water and lie there like a turtle, only my head poking out as I wait for the sun to pass over.
Thank goodness for modern technology and whoever invented the Swamp Cooler.
How's the weather where you are?
Friday, May 12, 2006
Universe-al Mantras
"Whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should." (Kahlil Gibran)
"Let go, let God." (Alcoholics Anonymous?)
"Don't push the river." (Barry Stevens)
"Trust your life" (Peg's therapist)
Just thought I'd share these simple but profound statements that I try to remember and live by.
"Let go, let God." (Alcoholics Anonymous?)
"Don't push the river." (Barry Stevens)
"Trust your life" (Peg's therapist)
Just thought I'd share these simple but profound statements that I try to remember and live by.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Pearls from the Blog
As I gradually become a more experienced blogger, I learn things I think might be useful to others. If you're an old blog-hand, just ignore this post. Or add more suggestions and pointers. The more the better!
One really useful site is bloglines . This site lets you list your favorite blogs all in one place, and you can see at a glance which ones have new posts, and go directly to them by clicking on their link right there on the page.
Another recent discovery of mine (thanks to dribear) is the weekly Grand Rounds, which is a compilation, by a different host each week, of various blog posts from around the world. It's loosely medical, meaning it can have scientific posts, medical news articles, creative writings, personal experiences, whatever. If you click the Grand Rounds link above, you'll get to a page on the blogborygmi site, hosted by a generous ER resident who is willing to coordinate grand rounds, and you can see a schedule of hosts for upcoming Grand Rounds. These are the folks you send your submissions to, and the sites you visit for Grand Rounds. I've also noticed that many blogs I visit will put a post up each week linking to the week's Grand Rounds, as a courtesy to the host. This week will be hosted by polite dissent. It's a good way to link to a bunch of sort-of related posts all at once. Also, if you're a blogger, it's a good way to increase traffic to your site.
Lastly, just so's ya know, those of you who comment here, your comment also gets emailed to me, so I can be alerted when it's happened. I'm usually pretty good about going to the blog and responding to comments, but sometimes I get enthusiastic with my delete key and then forget that I had comments (see my "middle aged memory" post). Also, the email doesn't say which post you have commented on; it just gives me the text of your comment. So if I don't respond, I apologize, but please know I do read every comment, at least once.
Oh no, there is one more thing. I don't know if anyone pays attention to the ad banners down there on the left. If you do, you might have noticed that when my "vaginal discharge" post was up top, the green square ad was all about "vaginal odors". Now, since the post about the gal at Wendy's is up, the ad is for Wendy's. This is because blogger has a feature that allows "bots" to "crawl" over my blog and find key words and create ads. Then, if people click on those ads, I get a percentage. I signed up for this, and for the Amazon, Barnes & Nobles and Google Search boxes, in a burst of optimism, in hopes that I'd eventually be able to quit my day job and just blog for a living, supported by my commissions from clicks. FYI, I have to date netted a whopping $2.59 in three months. So much for bursts of optimism. Good thing I like my day job!
'nuff. Apologies if I have bored you. "Drug Whore" post coming soon.
One really useful site is bloglines . This site lets you list your favorite blogs all in one place, and you can see at a glance which ones have new posts, and go directly to them by clicking on their link right there on the page.
Another recent discovery of mine (thanks to dribear) is the weekly Grand Rounds, which is a compilation, by a different host each week, of various blog posts from around the world. It's loosely medical, meaning it can have scientific posts, medical news articles, creative writings, personal experiences, whatever. If you click the Grand Rounds link above, you'll get to a page on the blogborygmi site, hosted by a generous ER resident who is willing to coordinate grand rounds, and you can see a schedule of hosts for upcoming Grand Rounds. These are the folks you send your submissions to, and the sites you visit for Grand Rounds. I've also noticed that many blogs I visit will put a post up each week linking to the week's Grand Rounds, as a courtesy to the host. This week will be hosted by polite dissent. It's a good way to link to a bunch of sort-of related posts all at once. Also, if you're a blogger, it's a good way to increase traffic to your site.
Lastly, just so's ya know, those of you who comment here, your comment also gets emailed to me, so I can be alerted when it's happened. I'm usually pretty good about going to the blog and responding to comments, but sometimes I get enthusiastic with my delete key and then forget that I had comments (see my "middle aged memory" post). Also, the email doesn't say which post you have commented on; it just gives me the text of your comment. So if I don't respond, I apologize, but please know I do read every comment, at least once.
Oh no, there is one more thing. I don't know if anyone pays attention to the ad banners down there on the left. If you do, you might have noticed that when my "vaginal discharge" post was up top, the green square ad was all about "vaginal odors". Now, since the post about the gal at Wendy's is up, the ad is for Wendy's. This is because blogger has a feature that allows "bots" to "crawl" over my blog and find key words and create ads. Then, if people click on those ads, I get a percentage. I signed up for this, and for the Amazon, Barnes & Nobles and Google Search boxes, in a burst of optimism, in hopes that I'd eventually be able to quit my day job and just blog for a living, supported by my commissions from clicks. FYI, I have to date netted a whopping $2.59 in three months. So much for bursts of optimism. Good thing I like my day job!
'nuff. Apologies if I have bored you. "Drug Whore" post coming soon.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Call for Team Names
Since you all were so creative and prolific with your naming suggestions for "vovey goo" (sorry, that one is stuck deep in my psyche ) I thought I'd recruit your brilliant minds for a real life naming dilemma.
The Susan B. Komen "Race for the Cure" for breast cancer is coming up. Last year, one of our staff was post-op from her own case, so I organized a team to walk/run in support of her. We called ourselves The Brassieres (in support, get it?). I ordered a bunch of white baseball caps and went to the thrift store and bought the gaudiest bras I could find. We then decorated the caps with the bras [arrgh, here's where I wish I had more cyber-smarts: I'd insert a photo], augmented a bit with craft stuffing, glitter, etc. They looked totally ridiculous and hilarious. We had a great time, and we won the Team Spirit award.
Sometimes once around is enough for a good idea, so we're looking for a new name for this year's team. We'll need a new costume or gimmick to go with it. Some of our ideas so far are:
Boobles
Lumpettes
Bosom Buddies
Chemo Sabe's
Jogging Jugs
Falsies
Sarcastomas in Situ
We welcome more witty suggestions from any and all smart alecks.
This year, I will be holding in my mind a relative and a patient, both recently diagnosed. The staff person who was benched by surgery last year is back in the game and on the team, so we'll be celebrating too!
The Susan B. Komen "Race for the Cure" for breast cancer is coming up. Last year, one of our staff was post-op from her own case, so I organized a team to walk/run in support of her. We called ourselves The Brassieres (in support, get it?). I ordered a bunch of white baseball caps and went to the thrift store and bought the gaudiest bras I could find. We then decorated the caps with the bras [arrgh, here's where I wish I had more cyber-smarts: I'd insert a photo], augmented a bit with craft stuffing, glitter, etc. They looked totally ridiculous and hilarious. We had a great time, and we won the Team Spirit award.
Sometimes once around is enough for a good idea, so we're looking for a new name for this year's team. We'll need a new costume or gimmick to go with it. Some of our ideas so far are:
Boobles
Lumpettes
Bosom Buddies
Chemo Sabe's
Jogging Jugs
Falsies
Sarcastomas in Situ
We welcome more witty suggestions from any and all smart alecks.
This year, I will be holding in my mind a relative and a patient, both recently diagnosed. The staff person who was benched by surgery last year is back in the game and on the team, so we'll be celebrating too!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
