18 AGAIN

Anyone who has the empty nest will understand; sometimes it's great...the quiet, the freedom, the time you never had before.  Other times, it's unbearable...the lack of purpose, the endless hours that are suddenly yours to fill, the quiet.  Sometimes that quiet is a warm embrace.  Other times, it's deafening, cloying, unrelenting.

Jessica came home with 2 friends for part of her spring break.  I was warned of piles of laundry, the absolute need for home-cooked meals, for sleep, for time to sprawl out on the couch and just decompress. Within the first few minutes of their presence, there was a tsunami of suitcases, bags and shoes.  Suddenly, our empty nest was full again.  I shopped for a houseful. We made all our  specialties for breakfasts and dinners. I did piles of laundry.

Their days were full of fun, as they went to the beach, shopped at the mall, hiked up our hill, (unashamedly reenacting Lord of The Rings on their journey)! And when they were home, they sprawled.  They sprawled on the couch, on each other.  We have big couches, yet the three of them would stay connected on one cushion, always intertwined. They'd braid each others' hair. Massage sore limbs, and just nestle contentedly like a family of newborn puppies, watching movies, talking, hanging out, laughing.  And how they laughed; at texts, at online posts, at stories. Their presence, their giggles, their beauty filled our lives for 5 days.

And I watched them, longingly, remembering.  The joy in their eyes. The fluidity of their movements. The grace they don't even realize they have. The laughter that freely flows, illuminating their beautiful faces. And for a time, I envied their future...filled with those unknowns, with wondering and with such promise.  Of the road they have ahead of them. Memories to make, lives to live, stories to write.  And I felt appreciated again.  They graciously extended their hugs and their time and their joy to me.  They let me into their wonderful, wondrous world for a time and the years faded away, and I was 18 again.  We sat and talked at the dinner table long after the food was gone.  We watched chick flicks with them. We laughed at their college experiences as we recalled our own.  And we slept contentedly, knowing our house was once again, if only for a short while, full.  And I, for one, relished the opportunity to be a mom again, to three very appreciative young women. 

Today they'll leave for the rest of their spring break, to Jess's friend's sister's place at the University of San Diego. They'll go back to taking care of themselves, and being college girls again.  They'll lay on the beach during the day, go out at night, and have spring-break fun...hopefully not TOO much fun!!

They left, thanking me for taking care of them for a few days.  For making them home cooked meals, doing laundry, giving them a comfortable home and being parents to them.  What they don't realize...what they can't realize, is that they were a gift to me.  I thank them.  For their presence, their light, laughter and love.

Of course, I'm also thankful that I'm actually NOT 18...and I'm glad it's not me who has to go back to classes, showering in flip flops, college food and noisy freshman dorms!  There are some parts of being young that I don't miss at all!!

It's Viral. Of Course it is.

 I learned something about myself today. I’m a little intimidated when I’m in a Doctor’s office.  I went in today, after two weeks of dealing with a cough that just won’t quit, and too many sleepless nights to count. At last week’s visit, Dr. L thought she detected some wheezing, so an inhaler and cough syrup with codeine was prescribed.  Less that a week later, when the coughing was getting worse, we tried a different inhaler along with some antibiotics, along with the instructions that if I’m not feeling relief by the end of the week, come back in.

My cough is so bad, I’ve been banished to my son’s room at the other end of the hallway, so Jon can sleep.  I can’t say I blame him for said banishment.  I’m coughing so hard my ribs hurt.  Whenever I laugh, or eat, or sleep, or breathe too deeply, I cough. I’ve tried every combination of cough and cold medicine there is.  I’m sure I’ve mixed things that should not be combined.  But I’m desperate. I think I’m the only person on the planet who is not knocked out by cough medicine with codeine.  I just cough all night. Yes I’m using 23 pillows. Yes I’m drinking lots of fluids. Yes I’m eating chicken soup and tea with honey. Yes I have a vaporizer going. Yes I’ve gone online and tried every remedy suggested when you Google “how to stop coughing,” (Vicks-vapor rub on the feet??  C’mon).

I went back in today, not sure what the Dr. would find, only hoping it was something less nebulous than something viral.  I hate viral. There’s little you can do with viral. Viral takes time.  I want this over now.  Of course I don’t want it to be anything serious. Just something that will go away with medicine.

Of course, the first thing they do is get your weight.  They weighed me one week ago. I know what I weigh, even though I’d prefer not to.  So right to the scale we went. When I told her we did this last week, she didn’t seem to care. Of course she didn’t.  She’s skinny.  I’ll show her, I thought, and I ripped off my sweatshirt and my watch (in the middle of the hallway, no less), as if those would add some 5 extra, unwanted pounds.  I wish I could convey the look of astonishment on her face when I did this.  Modesty was nothing to me when additional pounds were at stake. 

Next we went into the examining room, where I sat at the end of the table with my feet dangling.  I felt like a 10 year old.  I think that’s done on purpose. You will feel inferior with dangling feet.  After taking all the vitals, the Dr. comes in, and you have to explain for the 53rd time why you’re there.

I know all this is common, but I grew up in an extended family of doctors. It wasn’t unusual while hanging at one of their houses to ask for a look in your ears or in your throat.  Medicine simply appeared.  If you needed something, you went to the medicine cabinet, and there it was.  I remember during Rosh Hashanah dinner, lining up in Aunt Sue and Uncle Sey’s bedroom for our yearly flu shots.  My High Holiday memories are of matzoh ball soup, brisket and flu shots.  I remember before I went away to college I asked if I could have a real physical in a real Dr.’s office. I honestly thought I was missing something.

I breathed and hacked my way through the examination, and was told my lungs actually sounded really good!  Of course they did. I was given a prescription for some new medicines & more cough syrup, and the sage advice to keep doing what I’m doing and be patient.  It’s probably just viral and will take time. Of course. The only good that came from the visit is that I actually weighted 3 lbs less than my last visit.  I guess that’s what happens when all you eat is soup and tea.  The virus diagnosis shouldn’t be a total waste!

 

My MRI

Lately, I’ve been bothered by knee pain.  I didn’t fall, or hurt it in some sort of accident. It just hurts. A lot. When I do a lot of walking, it hurts more. And I like to walk.  I’m not the type of person who can’t deal with pain. I’m a woman, not a man. If my husband doesn’t feel “100%,” he senses that something must be wrong and calls a doctor. I, on the other hand, have no idea what feeling 100% is.  Must be nice, that’s all I know.  I pretty much go at about 84%.  That just works for me.  But after a couple of months of whining about my knee, my family pleaded with me to call a doctor.

So, easy…go see a doctor, you say.  My brother David happens to be a doctor; an orthopedic surgeon who specializes in knees.   The only problem with that is that he lives and practices three thousand miles away in New Jersey.  He’s good, but not that good that he can diagnose my pain from such a distance. My brother David is also a man of great wit.  I knew if I asked him about the pain in my knee, I would also be giving him a fabulous opening line for that great wit.  I approached the subject gingerly, asking him instead, what to look for in a good orthopedist and if he happened to know any out here in California. He was kind, gave me some good recommendations, and I made an appointment.

Off I went to my appointment.  Did you know that they have shorts, made in that same paper material that you have to put on when you get a physical? You know, those “gowns” you have to put on that you don’t know whether to leave open in the front or the back, and invariably you’ll get it wrong and embarrass yourself?  Well, let me tell you, I was rocking these shorts, with one leg wide enough for both to fit in. Even mine.  What would be so wrong with cute yoga shorts? You know, with the tops that fold down in a contrasting color? Would that be so terrible? It’s bad enough that you have to be half undressed in front of someone you don’t know. At least you could look halfway decent with cute shorts.

Anyway, after he poked, prodded, twisted and turned my knee, after a few winces and ouches on my part, he concluded an x-ray was the next step. After a few minutes, we looked at the x-rays, which basically told him nothing. Aside from looking pretty cool, I had no breaks, or spurs or anything in my bones that could be causing my pain. Next step was an MRI.

I thought I had had an MRI before at some point in my life. Can’t remember exactly when or what for, but I think I had one. I certainly saw enough on TV. Maybe that’s what I was remembering.  I’m not claustrophobic and I don’t care about loud noises, so the prospect of an MRI was not bothering me.  Off I went to my next appointment.  Please understand. I get a physical every year. I’ll see a doctor when I have bronchitis and can’t stop coughing and my husband drags me to one. Two appointments in one week is a rarity for me.

I knew the drill.  No metal. So I had to remove my nose stud and belly button ring. Kidding. I rocked some seriously beige scrubs for this test. Really? Why not pink? I’ve even seen doctors in purple scrubs. Jeez.  When I got into the MRI room, I laid down on the platform, and was promptly given a menu of TV shows I could watch while MRI-ing.  This cracked me up.  I couldn’t decide between Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, or the Paul Simon concert. He said I probably could get a whole sitcom in but why chance not finishing Everybody Loves Raymond.  How about music? He suggested a jazz or classic rock radio station. Stupidly, I chose the latter.  Not smart.  When I think of classic rock, I think Eagles, Allman Brothers, even the Stones. Headphones on, I was moved into the tube…and blasted with the loudest, mind numbing guitar solo in history from some live concert of some heavy Led Zeppelin type band, after which the station promptly went to 10 minutes of commercials. And I had to lay perfectly still, thinking longingly about the smooth jazz I SHOULD have requested.  After the commercials, I was treated to some Jethro Tull. Ask anyone who knows me well.  Tull is one of my least favorites bands, despite the flute.  The technician kept telling me how much time I had left and what he was doing…I think.  It was difficult to hear over the dulcet strains of Aqua Lung.  Finally, blissfully, I was done.

I don’t have the results yet…of course it’s a holiday weekend, and I’ll have to wait a few days.  In the meantime, it’s back to icing and Advil. And I changed all of the classic rock stations on my XM radio to Smooth Jazz, and Sinatra.

Aging Bites!

If fifty’s the new 30, as I’m often told

Then what is the reason I feel so damn old?

I used to be able to run like a pup

I now need a forklift, just to stand up.

There’s pain in my knees, my hairs turning gray

I often forget what I wanted to say. 
I can’t find my glasses, and where is my phone?

I no longer have patience…just leave me alone!

My counter resembles Rite Aid’s pharmacy;

Acidophilus, and Calcium with Vitamin D

Vitamin C, and cream for strange rashes

Black Cohosh Root for frequent hot flashes!

I crack and I creek like an old house’s door

My stomach makes noises; I’m told that I snore

I never imagined that I’d ever need

My own granny glasses, just so I can read!

Ignore it, deny it, just don’t give in

Don’t look in the mirror, you won’t feel chagrin.

But all of my tricks are of no avail…

My AARP card just came in the mail!

Ode To The Regiment 2012 Seniors

Ode to the 2012 Regiment Seniors

Twas the morning of comp and all through the town
Backpacks were packed for lugging around
The uniforms hung in the semi with care
The shoes were all shined,
Yes, every last pair.

The Semi was loaded with pit, horns and drums,
Band moms were wiping the last sandwich crumbs.
The coolers were packed, they were ready to go
Time to perform once again this year’s show.

From band camp through practices three nights a week
To 8 hour Saturdays perfecting technique.
And just when they thought they had it all down,
Mr. Peter decided to change things around!

The truck dads were ready, orange shirts all aglow
Time to push the equipment for yet one more show.
From out of the semi through paths of great length
Up cardiac mountain, lord give us strength.

The show was all set, time to march on the field
The hash marks were noted, eyes were kept peeled,
Drum Major’s salute, the crowd gives a cheer,
The opening notes ring out crystal clear!

The music, the marching, the flags and the sound
All come together in ways that astound!
And all too quickly our season is done
And the seniors realize this is the last one.

You’d think they’d enjoy their new-found free time
To catch up on work, and to sleep…ah sublime.
But their conversations are usually about
When the next time is that they all can hang out.

The friendships made here will last through the years
Sweet music to Peter’s, Danielle’s and G’s ears.
As this regiment season fades slowly from sight,
We salute all the seniors, and to all a good night.