Every silver lining has a cloud.
I went to the doctor and got my stitches out yesterday. She said she was very happy about this surgery. The muscle was not severely damaged and she was able to use a less traumatic repair which means recovery will be speedier. The very good news is that I may only have to wear the sling for 4 weeks – tune in on Sep 18th and we will know for sure.
On a humorous note, I asked the doctor if I could drive myself to physical therapy and maybe the beach for beach walks, but she said no. She couldn’t accept the liability. So I then asked if walking on the treadmill would be OK, figuring it was controlled and safe. She scrunched up her nose and said, “Couldn’t you just like – walk around?” She has had patients that broke ankles and otherwise hurt themselves on treadmills. So she doesn’t want to take any risks. To put this in perspective my doctor, Dr Silberberg, is a petite women (5’1”-100lbs?) with long brown hair who looks like she could be one of my daughters friends. She is very nice and personable. About the beach walks, she said she really would like to say yes, but just can’t – and she looks sincere.
(WARNING – The remaining portion of this blog article is depressing. If you are, have a tendency toward being, or don’t feel like reading something depressed - stop here, smile about my cute little doctor and close the window. I will be back to writing my incredibly witty and thought provoking blog articles next time. 8>))
This past year has been full of significant events and with our family history of depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and suicide I have to monitor and have Penny keep an eye out for any indications of trouble. Significant life events are known to play a part in these conditions. This past year has contained a number of significant life changes for me. Retirement, the death of my Dad, 2 major surgeries, the trip up to Connecticut for the Memorial Service, Penny’s health and managing a title-winning fantasy football team have all marched through my world. A number of my experiences are ones of hope and opportunity. The freedom of retirement and the repair of the body all open new and exciting opportunity for my life. I don’t feel anything like depressed and I am more relaxed than ever.
But, as I sat here in my recliner waiting to heal, way out on the periphery of my feelings a feeling of hopelessness and futility creeps in. You know the feeling, we struggle through our everyday lives – but what good does it do? I’m pretty sure it is caused by the trauma of surgery and the exposure to anesthesia and painkillers. It scares me, though. I don’t understand why these very illogical feelings should even be there. I also thoroughly understand that they are not reasonable feelings or thoughts but you can’t stop feelings.
The best I can figure is that at this stage of life I am no longer building for our future or learning for advancement in my career. We’re not teaching our children about life or saving stuff in case we find a need for it later. We are beginning to reap more than we sow. Some would say that it is well deserved, and I have to admit I do like it. Some would say it is selfish. But without work our social circles have shrunk, and for me since the surgery, I’m doing very little of what could be considered productive work and not getting out of the house much. I don’t have to do anything but sit around and heal and get better. Penny is taking good care of me and being very understanding. The up side is that there is that hope and real possibility for next year to be better both physically and mentally. If that weren’t there I probably would be giving up.
It gives me a little bit of understanding for why my Dad just gave up the way he did.
I can remember trying to convince Dad that each day was still worth living. He had only his belongings in a room he shared, but he was physically healthy. He had his books, his jokes, his family, and his friends. From his perspective, however, he didn’t have any reason to be here. The most significant people to him were gone and he was back into his depressed state. Each day held the same lack of promise, the same routine. So, if I can have these feelings creep in with my positive hopeful situation how much more would they affect him?
It does, however, raise the question of how I am going to handle the upcoming challenges of aging. When things go wrong, when ability is lost forever, when I am more dependent on others how well will I react?
I am fortunate to have Penny in my life. Without her influence I think I would be much closer to how my Dad was. My faith is also stronger than what Dad had. I have a loving family watching out for me. That’s the silver lining!
Can you imagine us
I went to the doctor and got my stitches out yesterday. She said she was very happy about this surgery. The muscle was not severely damaged and she was able to use a less traumatic repair which means recovery will be speedier. The very good news is that I may only have to wear the sling for 4 weeks – tune in on Sep 18th and we will know for sure.
On a humorous note, I asked the doctor if I could drive myself to physical therapy and maybe the beach for beach walks, but she said no. She couldn’t accept the liability. So I then asked if walking on the treadmill would be OK, figuring it was controlled and safe. She scrunched up her nose and said, “Couldn’t you just like – walk around?” She has had patients that broke ankles and otherwise hurt themselves on treadmills. So she doesn’t want to take any risks. To put this in perspective my doctor, Dr Silberberg, is a petite women (5’1”-100lbs?) with long brown hair who looks like she could be one of my daughters friends. She is very nice and personable. About the beach walks, she said she really would like to say yes, but just can’t – and she looks sincere.
(WARNING – The remaining portion of this blog article is depressing. If you are, have a tendency toward being, or don’t feel like reading something depressed - stop here, smile about my cute little doctor and close the window. I will be back to writing my incredibly witty and thought provoking blog articles next time. 8>))
This past year has been full of significant events and with our family history of depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and suicide I have to monitor and have Penny keep an eye out for any indications of trouble. Significant life events are known to play a part in these conditions. This past year has contained a number of significant life changes for me. Retirement, the death of my Dad, 2 major surgeries, the trip up to Connecticut for the Memorial Service, Penny’s health and managing a title-winning fantasy football team have all marched through my world. A number of my experiences are ones of hope and opportunity. The freedom of retirement and the repair of the body all open new and exciting opportunity for my life. I don’t feel anything like depressed and I am more relaxed than ever.
But, as I sat here in my recliner waiting to heal, way out on the periphery of my feelings a feeling of hopelessness and futility creeps in. You know the feeling, we struggle through our everyday lives – but what good does it do? I’m pretty sure it is caused by the trauma of surgery and the exposure to anesthesia and painkillers. It scares me, though. I don’t understand why these very illogical feelings should even be there. I also thoroughly understand that they are not reasonable feelings or thoughts but you can’t stop feelings.
The best I can figure is that at this stage of life I am no longer building for our future or learning for advancement in my career. We’re not teaching our children about life or saving stuff in case we find a need for it later. We are beginning to reap more than we sow. Some would say that it is well deserved, and I have to admit I do like it. Some would say it is selfish. But without work our social circles have shrunk, and for me since the surgery, I’m doing very little of what could be considered productive work and not getting out of the house much. I don’t have to do anything but sit around and heal and get better. Penny is taking good care of me and being very understanding. The up side is that there is that hope and real possibility for next year to be better both physically and mentally. If that weren’t there I probably would be giving up.
It gives me a little bit of understanding for why my Dad just gave up the way he did.
I can remember trying to convince Dad that each day was still worth living. He had only his belongings in a room he shared, but he was physically healthy. He had his books, his jokes, his family, and his friends. From his perspective, however, he didn’t have any reason to be here. The most significant people to him were gone and he was back into his depressed state. Each day held the same lack of promise, the same routine. So, if I can have these feelings creep in with my positive hopeful situation how much more would they affect him?
It does, however, raise the question of how I am going to handle the upcoming challenges of aging. When things go wrong, when ability is lost forever, when I am more dependent on others how well will I react?
I am fortunate to have Penny in my life. Without her influence I think I would be much closer to how my Dad was. My faith is also stronger than what Dad had. I have a loving family watching out for me. That’s the silver lining!
Can you imagine us
Years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange
To be seventy.
Old friends,
Memory brushes the same years.
Silently sharing the same fears.
-Paul Simon
------------------------
After reading this I must make a postscript. Those bad feelings of hopelessness, futility, etc. have not lingered. They were there for a day, maybe 2, hanging around on the outskirts of my feelings, but never really moving in. Today they are nowhere to be found.
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