Too Soon Old

It is amazing how gradually loss of energy creeps up on one.  I have tried to do too much recently, and I find myself exhausted.  The whole aging thing is such a sneaky process.  One day I was running through life full tilt, not feeling the need to sit down and take a break, and it seems like only a day or two later, I do a simple task and then sink into a chair.  Doing several loads of laundry used to be incidental to doing numerous other tasks during a day.  Now it is the whole project for the day.

A couple of nights ago, I woke up having slept like a log after an exhausting day.  I lay there awake thinking with amazement of what I used to be capable.  It amused me to think that as a nurse the summer I was 21, I worked at a large hospital in Buffalo, NY, and sometimes I was the only RN for six units.  There was an LPN and aide on each floor, but I was responsible for medications, procedures the LPN couldn’t do and decision making.  One night I had two patients dying at the same time, and they were two floors apart.  I wasn’t satisfied with the speed of the elevators that night and spent the night running up and down the stairs, in order to be on top of the situation.  I confess that now walking up two flights of stairs sometimes tires me, especially if I am carrying something.

On another occasion, I was working as a float on the night shift at hospital from which I graduated.  I was a full-time college student and was paying my own way by working on weekends.  When I checked in before 11, the supervisor told me that they were really short staffed and asked me to cover the orthopedic unit.  It was a very large unit with two separate nurses’ stations.  The hospital was the length of a city block and the ortho unit was about 2/3 or ¾  of the length.  I ran from one end to the other all night.  When I clocked out in the morning, the supervisor said, “You are the only person I know who would have agreed to do that.  Anyone else I asked would have turned around and walked out of here.”  I have no idea where that energy came from….except YOUTH.

So there my old bones were laying in the bed with my old brain pondering my fatigue.  We old people watch toddlers run around, and we feel tired just watching them.  Where does that energy come from? we wonder.  Here we are with the storehouse of knowledge and painfully acquired wisdom of old age, but the energy to utilize it is beginning to fade.  We would like to impart some of the knowledge and wisdom to the younger generations, but some of them think what we have to offer is outdated and irrelevant.

My Dad used to say, “We are too soon old and too late smart.”

Sometimes we encounter younger people who are interested to learn from us.  A young lady sitting in the plane with us recently asked us what the secret of our long happy marriage was.  It is nice to be able to share what one has learned with a younger person and feel they are genuinely interested.

But, whether or not they are interested, I will try to share what I have learned with those who still have the energy to implement it.

Very important piece to pass on:  The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. 

Proverbs 9:10

Not Ready for the Rocker

Not ready for the rocking chair,

Motion in one plane,

Forward and backward,

A monotonous refrain.

 

My life is not a neutral,

A gray or beige or buff.

Nor is it full of glitter,

An accent is enough.

 

It’s not a quiet whisper,

Nor a blaring horn,

Not a jittering staccato

Or dirge with which to mourn.

 

But a palette of all colors,

A symphony of sound.

Never dull or boring, but…

On new adventure bound.

False Prophets

Deuteronomy 18:22 

If what a prophet proclaims in the name of the Lord does not take place or come true, that is a message the Lord has not spoken. That prophet has spoken presumptuously, so do not be alarmed.

Back in February, Dr. Sherri Tenpenny predicted that the COVID vaccine would be used to depopulate the country and that a massive die-off would occur between 41 and 365 days in the future.  I do not know whether she believes in the Lord or views herself as speaking for him, but I think the concept in this verse applies.  If someone makes a prediction and it doesn’t come true, we should not continue to give that person any credibility or to allow them to make us fearful.

It is now over 180 days past the time she made the prediction and the massive die off did not begin at 41 days nor has it since.  The deaths now occurring from COVID are over 90% in the unvaccinated.  Tenpenny meanwhile has gone on to declare that the vaccine makes people magnetic…that metal objects will stick to their skin.  She claims there are pictures all over the internet showing this phenomenon.  I have looked and can’t find any…just the usual tricks people do with spoons dangling from various body parts.  My husband and I are vaccinated and neither of us have metal objects sticking to us. This is also not happening to the over 2000 people in our retirement community who are vaccinated.  It is actually rather whacko!  The vaccine contains nothing metallic.  Her claim has no basis in science or in observed facts.

She is a FALSE PROPHET.  Do not believe her and do not be alarmed.  Please don’t allow her or any other false prophet to keep you from being vaccinated.

If you are hesitating, please stay aware of the results of ongoing studies.  Perhaps at some point, you will have your fears allayed and feel secure in getting the injection.  You don’t have to admit that you were previously “wrong.”  Just quietly go have it done.

The vaccination is way past being able to be viewed as “experimental.”  Even if it was, I was willing to be a guinea pig.  I have been vaccinated for 6 months and have, thus far, had no ill effects.  If I had, well, I am expendable.

I also don’t understand why people view vaccine mandates as loss of liberties.  Laws require us to wear seat belts, put our children in car seats, wear helmets on motorcycles, license our cars, get building permits, pay taxes, etc.  We are in a crisis.  Of course, I’ll get the jab.  If you go get the vaccination of your own free will, the government won’t have to force it on you.  No need for another law.

What of all these worries about it being RNA?  RNA does not go into the nucleus and change DNA.  Rather DNA is a template on which RNA is formed.  And by the way, as state after state legalizes marijuana, cannabis does cause gene mutations.  Don’t be smoking weed if you are really worried about your DNA being altered!

There is way too much fearmongering going on from people who are not as informed as they think they are.  Too many among us are listening to the wrong “experts’ who are, in fact, false prophets.

If what they predict doesn’t turn out to be true, don’t be stubborn!  Jump ship!   

How to Tether to an O-2 Tank

About 4:30 this morning, I was lying awake when I heard a sound distressing to my nurse’s ears.  Our bedroom is at the back of our apartment.  The window was open a bit and faces the driveway of an adjacent apartment building.  The sound I heard was a man coughing, but not just any cough.  The cough exhibited the telltale sound of constricted airways.  I wondered if he was having an asthma attack.  I thought perhaps he was on the way to his car, but there was never the sound of a car door, and the concerning cough continued.

Eventually I got out of bed and peeked under the shade.  A man was standing on the small back porch of the building behind our apartment complex.  I watched for only a few seconds when I saw the flash of a lighter being used.  He was smoking.  Ah!  That was the explanation for the horrible cough.

I wanted to shout out the window…”Oh, please, mister.  Stop smoking!  Don’t you know you are already showing signs of COPD?  You will soon be tethered to an oxygen tank.”  But it was 4:30 AM, and I wasn’t sure who else I might awaken in our complex.  I was certain one of those disturbed would be my husband.  I also was fairly certain the guy wouldn’t think I was the voice of God or an angel giving him a message not to be ignored.  I was just a busybody old woman peeking out of her bedroom window.

I went back to bed thinking about the whole notion of smoking.  I grew up in a family with many smokers.  My paternal grandfather smoked cigars and died at 69.  My Dad smoked cigarettes until I was about 7 years old.  He quit and living to be almost 91.  My maternal grandfather smoked and died at 65.  My mother’s three brothers smoked and died at 50, 61 and 70.  Two of her brother’s wives smoked.  I am uncertain how old they were when their health deteriorated.  But, there certainly was a pattern in our family between smoking and not living to a ripe old age.

I saw so much smoking when I was little, that it is somewhat attractive to me.  The whole notion of having something in one’s mouth and manipulating the cigarette is something I can almost feel myself doing.  I certainly “smoked” candy cigarettes as a child and imitated the motions I had seen.  I have, however, never tried a single cigarette in my life.

I wonder if no one has worked on the idea of developing a cigarette than is pleasant to inhale, but which also delivers medication to open airways without filling the lungs with black goo.

Things to ponder when awake at night.

KTS Dre is Dead

KTS Dre is dead.  I had not heard of him before his name appeared in the news today.  He was released from Cook County Jail wearing an ankle monitor, and immediately gunned down in the street.  He was shot about 60 times.

KTS Dre was a rapper known in the Chicago area.  He probably had ambitions of being known more widely.  I guess now he is.  I wondered what KTS stood for, so I went internet searching.  KTS is a gang acronym for Kill To Survive…only he didn’t…survive, that is.  I suppose his murder was related to gang affiliation.

It makes me incredibly sad that there are young people in this world who have no hope, who see no future.  Their minds are filled with the chaotic noise of despair. They never make the connection between education, honest work, and success. They are looking for shortcuts to fortune and fame.  Do they really believe that one must kill or be killed?  That taking another’s life is the only way to guarantee one’s own survival.

 I wonder…did he grow up without a father?  Did he have a single mom who struggled and brought him up in poverty?  Did he see no way out?  Did he never hear the name of Jesus as anything other than a curse word?  Did he never have the opportunity to know Jesus and the freedom that relationship brings?  Was he unable to make wise choices…too overwhelmed by the tyranny of surviving in the moment to see the big picture?  Who taught him that KTS was an appropriate mantra?

How does one break the awful cycle of poverty, despair and violence?  The BLM movement is not going to accomplish it.  Regular infusion of money from the government is not going to accomplish it.  Free housing, education, and healthcare are not going to accomplish it.  The problem is in the heart of mankind. But fewer and fewer people believe that, and those of us who do are labeled as lunatic fringe.  I am not saying that we should abandon programs which meet human need.  I am saying that they do not touch the greater need of finding meaning and purpose in life.

I wish this young man had had a moment of mental clarity, had seen the possibility of being set free, had known Jesus.  He was busy wasting his life, but He was a black life that mattered to Jesus.

The Underboob???

I could never be accused of keeping up with the latest fashion trends, but I am surprised that I am just now hearing of something which has apparently been around for months, if not years.  Evidently it is popular with fashionistas, participants in sexy reality television shows, and, of course, the Kardashians.  It is called the “underboob.”

The idea is for someone who has perky boobs that stay mostly in place to display the underside below the nipple.  Allowing the upper boob to bulge out above one’s bra has been in vogue for centuries, but the underboob has come into view (pun intended) more recently.

Clearly this is for the young…very young…who are endowed adequately, but not overly.  I’m pretty sure it would not be deemed attractive for sagging double or triple Ds.  Underboob does NOT mean they sag so low that they can be tucked “under” the waistband of one’s slacks.  They must still stay within the normal vertical range of a boob, but they are allowed to peek out below a crop top or bulge out of the bottom of a bra-like top or band of fabric.  I assume if one goes for the crop-top peek, one must be careful not to raise one’s arms too high lest the underboob become an entire-boob exposure.

There are actually bras and bikini tops for sale that advertise they are intended to show underboob.  I probably live a sheltered life, but I haven’t seen one of these in public yet. If I do, I will be tempted to offer advice on how to find a bra that fits well and is comfortable.  I have spent years in that pursuit.  Clearly, they are not meant for comfort.  If combined with a thong, it would be double torture.  Having had the experience of an ill-fitting bra that allowed some sneakage below the band, I can testify that this is not pleasant.  Why someone would do this on purpose is beyond me.

But then, the older I get, the more that is beyond me.

Living Close to the Edge

Today I saw some people who I think are living “close to the edge.”  Close to the edge of what….illness, homelessness, disaster of some kind?

I had to pick up a few things and went to a local Walmart.  In the store, I passed a woman standing still and leaning heavily on her cart.  She was making a strange sound as though she was clearing her throat with every breath.  She did not look as though a collapse was imminent, so I walked on by listening for a worsening of the sounds.  Had I heard such, I would have turned around and asked her if she needed assistance.  I thought to myself, “this woman is teetering on the edge of a major physical problem.”

I had driven to the Walmart following Google maps over some back roads which I had not taken before.  On the way, I passed a strange sight.  Out in the middle of nowhere, I saw a young man with a cart heaped higher than he was tall.  The cart was not a grocery cart or a wagon.  I could tell by the wheels that it was a very sturdy cart, but the wheels were all I could see.  The mounded-up contents of the cart were covered with a large sheet of black plastic. The guy was just standing by the roadside as though he was waiting for someone.  When I passed him on the return trip, he was still there in the same place.  He had a large shaggy dog with him, which I hadn’t noticed earlier.  What was his story?  Was he homeless and the cart contained all his earthly possessions?  Was someone coming for him?  Had he slept in that field last night?

It has been a gray, dismal, rainy day here at the cottage.  So, when I discovered that my husband had forgotten to bring the medications he is supposed to take before bed, I said that I saw no reason for us not to drive back to our apartment and get them.  It is about an hour and 15 minutes each way, but we had nothing special we needed to do anyway.  Just before getting back to town, we passed through a very small hamlet…pretty much just four corners, although it has a convenience store and a bar.  I was driving, and I noticed a very frail elderly lady standing beside the road as though she wished to cross the busy highway.  She was wearing shorts and a scarf and had a purse hanging from her arm.  She walked so slowly that I was worried about her finding a big enough break between cars to cross.  We picked up the medications at the apartment along with a back rest pillow since Bill is having a lot of sinus drainage and being propped up might help.  We turned right around to head back.  The elderly woman was still at that intersection.  She had crossed to the other side and was standing in a parking lot near the highway looking confused.  Where does she belong?  Is she safe out on her own?  Why is she hanging out at this intersection?  I’m thinking she is a person in need of supervision.

As we go about our lives, we rarely know the story behind the people we pass.  Which ones need our help?  Which ones would accept our help?  We can’t reach out to everyone we meet.  Who is teetering on the edge? 

I guess there is a sense in which we all are “close to the edge.”  Some of us are just oblivious to it.