70 - I'M BACK!
As time flew closer to leaving Ottawa, I made an important health decision.
As I enter my ninth decade, quality of life is more important to me than quantity. I had been prescribed meds but I didn't like the side effects so I stopped taking them. Within days I began to feel like my old self again.
My doctors agree with me about quality of life, but qualified this by saying that if I was 30 years younger, they would think differently.
My kid brother (the 87-year-old who plays 9 games of hockey a week) phoned me on my birthday October 30. After telling him my medication story, he said I should have talked to him before I started the meds. Apparently, he had the same experience as me. He stopped his meds after a month of feeling lousy from them and feels great again. After a three-month layoff to recover from a broken ankle, he began playing again this week.
I certainly don’t recommend this decision to everyone, but it seems doctors today want to medicate us. We need to assess the reasons for the meds, their side effects, the stage of life we are in, and our willingness to accept the possible outcome, having given ourselves up to fate.
At 90 years of age, if I live another 6 months or 6 years, I’ve had a great life and want to continue to do so until my heart one day says “enough” and quits. (A perfect way to go, by the way.)
On to pleasanter subjects....
So much has happened in the past week – thank goodness my old self was reemerging! My 90th birthday on October 30 had come and gone, with Dee and I celebrating this milestone in my life - just the two of us.
The big family celebration was coming up on Saturday, November 2, in Markham. Dee, Tony and I set out for Markham on Friday, November 1, with his car filled with my luggage – what I was taking to Mexico for the winter, and what I was leaving In Creemore with Di until I return next May to an Airbnb on the shores of Georgian Bay.
Saturday, November 2, was a lovely, sunny, unseasonably mild, autumn day. The entire family (almost) met at the Buttonville Cemetery at 12:30 to finally bury Don’s ashes (five years after his death) in the plot containing the ashes of my son, Michael, and my parents.
We spent a beautiful half hour at the grave. Everyone hugging and greeting family members that hadn’t been seen for ages. We played three pieces of music, with everyone joining in with the lyrics to “The Unicorn” – Don and my “love song” believe it or not.
Everyone had been given a dime by Di. Individually we went to the grave and threw our dime in with a silent personal message or wish.
You probably aren’t familiar with our family story of the dimes that we find in totally unexpected places at unusual times in our lives. We believe the dimes are messages from Don letting us know his spirit is still with us and things will turn out well! Without exception, they have.
With a lightness in our hearts, we then headed to Donna and D’Arcy’s house to celebrate my birthday. Everyone brought something for a late luncheon buffet. It was a fabulous feast. An afternoon enveloped in an embrace of love, good will, and joyfulness at being together – which doesn’t happen often enough.
One sadness was the absence of my granddaughter, Laura, who couldn’t make it from London, England. Her brother, Ryan, his wife, Michelle, and 3-year-old Maddie came to the grave but, unfortunately, Michelle came down with a bug after driving for hours to be with us. They came to the cemetery but stood apart from the rest of us, not wanting to infect anyone, and then headed back home immediately after.
It was especially sad for Dee who had been looking forward to spending time with her granddaughter, Maddie, an opportunity she doesn’t get very often because of distance and work.
Otherwise, the day brought all of us closer again. “Love was in the air”, as the song goes, and a good time was had by all.
Sunday was a quiet day for me after all the excitement. I was feeling so much better, my month-long cough seeming to be under control at last, my med symptoms gone and my energy returning.
Monday morning, Donna and D’Arcy drove me to Pearson Airport to catch my flight to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Yes, my flight was changed once again by AeroMexico, so I decided to go the least stressful way - via Puerto Vallarta!. My experience at Pearson that morning did nothing to change my dislike of the place, but I survived the experience. Having an uneventful flight, which is what any traveler wants, I arrived mid-afternoon at my hotel at the Puerto Vallarta marina. After a perfect margarita and a tasty steak dinner I went to bed.
Marcus picked me up Tuesday morning, driving me four hours to Manzanillo and my little piece of Paradise in Club Santiago. There I will enjoy the next six months in glorious warm sunshine, strengthening my body and soul.
I’ll save the rest of this story till next Sunday – see you then.
