Archives for category: Healthy Living

I’m sipping my morning coffee and thinking my thoughts. The weekend was a pleasant one, comforting, healing, and nurturing. The time spent with my Traveling Partner in his steady comforting presence has gone a long way toward processing my grief over losing my dear friend. I’m still stricken with a moment of sadness when I think about the loss of her presence in my life, but it’s more poignant and less acute, and that’s progress.

A little March snow.

The peculiar March weather continues, with occasional passing snow showers, and strangely icy mornings, and mild rainy afternoons. I never made it into the garden over the weekend. Between the pain of my arthritis, and a rather long list of other shit also needing to get done, and also wanting to spend time with my Traveling Partner, I chose differently, although I did get the compost I need to get started with Spring planting. The days are noticeably longer, already, so perhaps one day after work this week…?

I’m not feeling any sort of regret over not getting into the garden. I spent plenty of time there “in my head”, thinking about flowers, and roses, and vegetables, and Spring. Time well-spent. Time planning the season ahead is still time “in the garden”, and besides, I got quite a lot done this weekend, and I’m coasting on that sense of accomplishment as the new work day (and week) begins. (I finally got all of my laundry folded, hung up, and put away that had piled up – ignored – after my Traveling Partner was injured and needed a lot of my “spoons” to be available to care for him. Laundry in a basket was not my highest priority!) Being able to put so much attention and energy on quality-of-life-maintaining tasks without finishing the weekend completely exhausted was a win. I’ll take it.

…Do the things, when and if you can. Yes, there are verbs involved. Yes, your results may vary. For sure, you may not always achieve your goals, or get the outcome you were hoping for, but the doing itself is a worthy achievement, and the clock is always ticking…

Last night, after a day of doing load after load of laundry, and even putting it all away, and also finally properly and fully unpacking from my last trip away from home, I cooked a proper meal at home. No cheats. No convenience foods. Real home-cooking. Hell, my lunch today will be leftover stir-fry from last night, and it was yummy. 😀 I’m pushing myself harder on the trail when I go walking, too; more distance (a little at a time) and picking up the pace. One byproduct of saying goodbye to my dear friend was the visceral reminder of how fragile this mortal form actually is, and the unfortunate potential to lose an ability over time through lack of continued use. One injury, one prolonged period of recovery, can become a major fitness setback – to the point of potentially losing the ability to do something basic like walk easily, or pick myself up off the floor. Scary. As was the case when my Mother died, I’m feeling a renewed sense of commitment to my own fitness and wellness – and I don’t plan to waste that momentum. I’d like to be around for a long time more, enjoying life with my Traveling Partner, seeing and doing new things, and enjoying the things that I love.

Do something. Keep doing things. Fail or fall, and begin again. And again. It’s just another practice…

…My legs ache this morning, from yesterday’s efforts. I’m okay with this, and I’m feeling it in the context of progress. I raise the sit/stand desk to standing height and get on my feet for awhile – it’s time to begin again.

I’m taking a minute after my walk, this morning, sitting quietly with the sensations of leg muscles taxed by my pace, and skin chilled by wintry winds, slowly recovering in the warmth of the car. Switching back from my boots to my sneakers with fingers numbed from the morning chill felt awkward and clumsy, and being mildly out of breath from the modest uphill bit of trail back to the parking lot was uncomfortable, but I also feel exhilarated by the freshness of the crisp morning air, and the sense of purpose that lingers even now that I am no longer in motion.

The day looks likely to be a chilly one, but the garden continues to beckon me, and as much as I do love sitting around hanging out with my Traveling Partner, it’s not healthy to overindulge in that favorite activity. lol I consider stopping at a nursery on the way home for some bagged compost to add to the garden before I plant Spring seeds… No reason to let a drizzle stop me; it rains a lot around here, and it’s often the wise choice to go ahead and do things anyway.

Do the things! (There is longevity and wellness in the effort, and far too much of who and what we are functions on a “use it or lose it” basis.) I remind myself how much fitness truly is packed into the many small day-to-day tasks upon which good quality of life is built. I remind myself to treat sitting around indulging in sedentary pleasures as I might treat indulging in sugary treats; very sparingly. Do more. Keep at it. Finish something and move on to doing something else. There are verbs involved, and sometimes the effort doesn’t seem “worth it”, but avoiding the effort is potentially a slow slide towards being unable to do when the time comes that I must. These are not new thoughts. I find value in repetition for reinforcing the need to do the verbs, is all.

The crisp damp morning aggravates my arthritis. I’m looking forward to a luxurious long hot shower and clean dry clothes. There’s laundry to do, and I have a plan to make stir fry for dinner tonight. It’s not always easy to push past physical pain to stay moving and active… But it’s worth the effort.

I sigh quietly. Finish my coffee, and get ready to begin again.

It’s March in the Pacific Northwest. I’m sipping coffee at a trailhead, waiting for a break in the… rain? Rain. At least, it’s raining here; a sort of steady drizzle, barely enough to discourage me from walking.

No tears this morning, I’ve got the rain.

When I woke and dressed for my walk, I hadn’t checked the weather. I kissed my Traveling Partner, and went to the door. I was surprised to see everything dusted with snow when I opened it. I stood there rather stupidly for a moment, stalled by my astonishment. I turned back to my partner and commented that perhaps I could not go… I must have sounded disappointed (I was), because he reminded me I could just take the truck; this small amount of snow would be nothing for the truck, at all. Of course. Totally made sense and I grabbed my other keychain and left, stopping to grab my hiking boots and cane from my car.

For a short distance, I enjoyed a basically very ordinary drive, aside from the dusting of white everywhere. Within minutes the snow started falling heavily, filling the sky with fat snowflakes, dense and visibility-limiting, but that didn’t last, and I reached the trailhead safely just as the snowfall stopped altogether, becoming this drizzly rain. It’s a rather ordinary rainy March morning.

I think about the garden and the work I am hoping to do this weekend. There are seeds to plant, weeds to pull, and I’d like to get a fresh layer of compost down on the vegetable bed. Weather permitting. I’m thinking about adding a rose with my dear friend in mind… perhaps missing her will be just a little less painful if I honor her memory in my garden… some lovely spot, where I can “sit with her awhile”, now and then? I think about beautiful roses and which of the many I had grown or shared over the years she liked the most or commented on most often… Or perhaps entirely new-to-my-garden roses that somehow capture my dear friend’s sense of style and creative nature? A splash of contrasting colors… A relaxed informal habit… I think about her fondly with roses, flowers, and fragrant herbs in mind. No tears, just love and fond memories. Progress. Even grief is a journey.

… My dear friend loved my roses, and even more she loved that I love them, myself. We spoke many times about the risk of slowing down and doing less, and the unfortunate “use it or lose it” nature of physical ability as we age. I keep walking, in spite of pain, in spite of “laziness”, in spite of fatigue – and it’s because I am so painfully aware that if I stop, and my fitness falls behind, it will become progressively more difficult over time to get it back. The physical effort in the garden is very much the same sort of thing. I sigh quietly and consider the garden and what I would like to do there this year. It saddens me for a moment that my dear friend, this year, won’t be around to share it with…

The rain stops. It’s daylight. The trail awaits. It’s time to begin again.

I’m packed, except for the laptop. The car is loaded, except for the laptop, and my handbag. Phone is charged. Charging brick is charged (I find it better for “topping off” the phone than the car’s USB port, and I can slip it in a pocket). I feel ready to hit the road, ready to head home. I’ll have a bite of breakfast and a cup of coffee in the hotel breakfast bar, and getting going shortly after, which should put the entire drive in daylight. If all goes to plan (though it rarely does), I should be home before 16:00, and get to enjoy dinner with my Traveling Partner, without hurrying or creating unnecessary stress for myself. 😀

…Funny, the trip down was sunny and mild. The days here were mostly also sunny and mild, with some brief rain showers and coastal fog yesterday. Today? The air is damp, it rained during the night, and the car is icy. The morning air is quite cold. I’ve used up the in-room coffee, and forgotten to ask for more. Definitely time to go home. lol

What a pleasant visit, in spite of the trying circumstances. No one wants to say final goodbyes to cherished friends, but if I’d had to script it, it may very well have gone something like this, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to enjoy my dear friend’s lucid companionship and humor once again. I got pretty lucky. My dear friend was often awake and aware, while I visited. We enjoyed lively conversation, some of it quite deep. I was thoroughly welcomed by her family, gathered to care for her, and make decisions. The only better outcome would likely involve modifications to how mortality works, and some kind of extension of our all too brief human lives, or perhaps some more robust mortal vessel than those we’ve got. Not this year, I guess.

So, I give the room a last look around to avoid forgetting anything. I’m definitely ready for coffee. I guess I’m also ready to begin again.

I’m sitting quietly in my hotel room. It’s well-past any sort of reasonable time (for me) to have a cup of coffee. So… I make a cup of tea. I sip it slowly, hoping it doesn’t cause a restless night, enjoying the warmth of it in my hands, anyway. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wonder how things are over at the hospital? It’s past visiting hours. I stayed with my dear friend for much of the day, after arriving shortly after visiting hours began. It was a good day for both of us, relative to where we each are in our life and circumstances. I took a break at one point to make room for the painful intimacy of important conversations about where and when and things of that sort. I’m not “decision-making family”, so excusing myself seemed the most appropriate way to proceed. Aside from that, we spent the day together, my dear friend and I, while family and her bestie came and went, and even as my dear friend napped, finally getting some restful sleep (she’d been complaining about the sleep deprivation practices that are not uncommon in hospitals and suffering from a lack of healthy deep sleep for some days). Eventually, family and my dear friend’s bestie returned from errands and things that could not be put off for later, and visiting hours began to wind down. I made my goodbye’s all around, and headed back to the hotel.

…I think about something my Traveling Partner said to me in a message earlier today, in response to my bitching about the bare bland beige hospital decor, “Hospitals treat diseases, not people.” I considered the small things I saw not being done (that surely could have created a more healing environment…) the lack of windows with views in patient rooms, the lack of art on the walls, the lack of anything at all to do while… waiting. People in hospitals do a lot of fucking waiting around. People – patients – in hospitals are often incredibly bored. That’s so unhealthy for human wellness, particularly when there is no way to alleviate it. Nothing to do. I remember it from being in the hospital, myself; the endless maddening boredom. Then there’s something hospitals could do without… the fucking endless beeping of various monitors and machinery. G’damn, it was bad. Ceaseless. Inescapable. Nerve-wracking. Through cat-nap after cat-nap, and wrecking every opportunity for deep sleep, I saw my dear friend’s brow furrow with irritation when yet another round of beeping commenced, often in some room several doors down the corridor. Oh sure, those alarms are intended to get attention, but the nurses are human, too, and eventually they tune out the beeping, especially the commonplace beeps that indicate something, but not something urgent. They can tune them out, over time, but how many patients can? The patients haven’t been forced to listen to it long enough to learn to ignore it. If it’s going to get ignored anyway, why the fuck is it being permitted to continue to destroy the rest that vulnerable ill or injured people need so very much?? I admit it – I just don’t get it. It’s fucking dumb, and it’s also rude. While I’m on about this shit, for fucks’ sake don’t let people’s minds just atrophy while they’re struggling with their health! Make a point to engage their minds, and give them a way to entertain themselves! Be patient enough to wait around for the answer to a question you’ve asked, yes even if that patient has trouble speaking or expressing themselves! Wouldn’t you want that? Oh, and also? Fucking let people sleep. I can’t stress enough how fucking annoying it is to finally fall asleep in spite of pain or discomfort to be wakened by a cheery loud voice seeking to take vital signs or worse – to ask if you’re sleeping. Hospitals are not helping with that shit. Good grief.

I’m cross on my dear friend’s behalf. I sip my tea, and think awhile. I breathe, exhale, relax, and then let that go. It’s evening now, and soon enough I’ll be getting packed to the trip home. My dear friend is in the care of family and friends who love her greatly. She is so very loved.

I sit quietly, listening to my tinnitus. My Traveling Partner and I exchange “stickers” back and forth in messages: kisses, hugs, hearts, fun little animated characters showing affection . It delights me, and I feel loved. I’m eager to be home, and back in his arms. Unexpectedly, I noticed how much pain I’m in. The weather turned rainy this morning, and my arthritis flared up. I’ve stay caught up on my Rx’s this entire detour from the routine, which is not always the case when my routine is broken. Health-wise, I’m feeling pretty good, generally, so the pain caught me a bit by surprise (though it isn’t truly surprising). I sit with that awareness for a moment thinking back over the day; did I take my pain meds? Those are not “on a schedule”, and keeping track is very important. I look in my pillbox. Huh. I find myself surprised to see that I hadn’t found it necessary to manage my pain earlier today, at all. I fix that, hoping I got to it early enough to avoid fucking with my sleep. It’s been a long day, filled with “emotional labor”. I’m tired, and it seems likely I’ll sleep just fine, particularly if I don’t let myself get spun up over “what if I don’t sleep?”. lol

I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. Actually? I’m already tired, it’s just too early to go to bed. I send more kisses to my Traveling Partner and pick up the book I’m reading… seems like a pleasant evening to read awhile, before calling it night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin again. 😀