MAINTAINING THE BOD: FULL TIME JOB

It takes a lot of time and energy and a team of highly trained medical professionals to stay healthy at my age.  In the next 2 months I have appointments:  dermatology to keep my pre-cancerous skin suit from erupting into anything deadly; dentist to replace a crown (not on my head); audiology to see if my "mild to moderate hearing loss" has worsened or if everyone has just begun to whisper behind my back (increasing my paranoia); mammogram to see if "the girls" are still perky (not) and not trying to kill me; and now a brain MRI to see if my migraines are caused by something horrific .

Also, I fell up the stairs recently.  On the very day I filled out a pre-physical form for my annual check-up that asked if I'd fallen in the past year, and by fallen I take that to mean NOT on the muddy slippery Kauai trial, which would trip up anyone, but just in my house moving around normally.  I said no.  Cuz it was true until 12 hours later when it became a lie I didn't correct.  

The front of my bulky slipper caught on the lip of the top stair.  I was not holding the handrail because I had my hands full with my phone, a half finished can of LaCroix, and my Kindle.  I flew forward at a force great enough to smack my forehead on the wall, wrench my neck back in whiplash fashion, and crash hard onto my right elbow, rib, hip, and knee.  I lay there, stunned, feeling a little tingle down my arm.  Hub came running and wouldn't let me move until he'd checked me out.  We determined there was no permanent damage, and he helped me up.  I'm still sore, over a week later.  It could have been so much worse.  New vow: wear shoes and hold the handrail every time!!!  (I also contemplated whether I could have drowned in my spilled LaCroix had my face been smashed into the wet floor and no one around to save me... Thoughts?)

So, I had my annual physical yesterday.  My doc was accompanied by a young man -- seemingly 12 years old, but maybe a bit older since he was introduced as a "pre-med student" doing an observation stint with a real doc.  Only later did I think to question why a PRE-med student was hanging around oogling my unclothed bod and listening in on my stories of creaky knees, migraines, panic attacks, and sexual exploits.  Shouldn't one at least have been accepted to med school to get to the good stuff?  Well, anyway, there he was, watching from the far corner of the room looking very uncomfortable like he was at the Junior Prom in the gym and might be expected to ask a girl to dance.

My doc declared me as "doing great!"  No big scary things going on, that we know of.  So that's good.  Cuz my platelet count that I'd seen on my lab report the previous day was low-ish and I had gone into a bit of a 24-hour tailspin over that and wondered if it could be something deadly and beyond my control to, well, control.  She said not to worry -- we will just re-check it in 6 months.  Nothing life-threatening happening now.  Whew.  But I'm sure my BP was sky high as I felt the familiar anxiety tipping into panic, with rapid breathing, slight light-headedness, and tears just at the surface.  But I didn't want to upset the 12 year old, so I held it all in.

We moved on to my now diagnosed "vestibular (dizzy) migraines" and she decided to order a brain MRI.  I've done that before and it takes all my meditation expertise to not completely lose it inside that machine.  Claustrophobia, anyone?  So that will be fun to look forward to.  I could have had it done as early as next week, but opted for later in May, after Son Two's upcoming wedding celebration and then another vacation, just in case the news is bad.  I don't want to ruin fun times with a deadly diagnosis.  

When we got to the girl parts exam portion of the visit, Master Pre-Med averted his eyes.  So cute. I was ready for his Mardi Gras beads should he have had some in his pocket, but my breast flashing netted me no reward.  Since I'd just had a colonoscopy in January, she offered to skip the rectal exam (always good news) and also skipped the pelvic this time since she asked if I was having any problems and I said, "No.  Nothing going on down there."  Then I amended, "Well, there's a lot going on down there...just nothing bad."  LOL   I noticed a slight upturn of a smile on the young man's face, so I said, reassuringly, "See?  Even in your 70's you can still have a great sex life!"  My doc and I laughed.  He did not, but I think he was amused (or appalled) nonetheless.

All of this to say, it takes a lot of maintenance as one grows older to keep the bod in good working order.  I am incredibly grateful to modern medicine, practitioners, scientists, and my daughter-in-law for being the practice manager (boss) of two branches of the big multi-speciality clinic I go to, for keeping it all in working order.  I saw her on the way out as she waited for a team to arrive on a PR visit of some kind where one of them was dressed like a mascot dog or bear or something.  It might have been the 12-year old pre-med student doing double-duty -- or perhaps I scared him out of the medical profession into a less stressful career where he could wear a disguise.

At least, that's the view from here...©

P.S. Next we will move on to the mental health portion of my upcoming appointments, wherein I will explore why I used the word "panic", "kill" and "deadly" so often in this post.  

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

THE WHOLE TRUTH

What people post on Facebook is usually the "highlight reel" of their lives.  I have posted some real reels at times, but I too mostly try to post personal things that are palatable and perky.  (Except for politics, which is generally neither.)

I've posted a daily log with photos of our current Kauai vacation.  It's been fun.  I love to travel vicariously when others post their trips, so I posted mine for those who care.  It's also a bit of a travel diary.

But any true diary must also dive into the depths and not every picture is perfect.  Here is the whole truth as I recall it anyway.  Truth is a momentary thing; everything changes moment to moment, and details get lost or buried under more recent events and memories.  Still...

This has been a GREAT trip overall (3 days to go, so I'm being optimistic about the rest of the week).  Hub and I have been super compatible, loving and easy with each other.  We've been through a rough patch over some period of time, as astute readers have surmised, but we are good now and incredibly grateful for it.  We learned so much about ourselves and each other at this age and stage of life and we are recommitted in a new way in our 70's decade.  Onward!  This trip has been honeymoon quality -- even as we approach our 50th anniversary.  So there are no qualifiers on that part of the highlight reel.

Still, living in a 320 square foot studio condo, (not counting a small balcony with a killer view) with only a refrigerator, a microwave, a table, two chairs, and a Murphy bed, is quite cozy.   We've more than managed (thanks to nightly grilling on the grounds), but we've both mentioned it would be nice to spread out a bit.  Things get cluttered and there is no privacy and if one of us is awake, we both are...you know, that sort of thing.  It gets a wee bit claustrophobic, but we are outdoors most of the time, so there's that.  We live in a tiny house here!  All the rage!

Our location has seemed noisier to me this time.  We are not out in the boonies -- there is a commercial area not far away; a couple of restaurants; a smaller adjacent beach used by mostly locals at all hours of the day/night with someone's booming bass blaring from their cruising cars at times.  The grounds are beautiful and that doesn't happen by magic: there are times of mowers, blowers, and trimmers making noise.  Planes fly over on their way to land at the nearby airport, but this is not as big a deal as you might think -- the airport is close, but flights are few and the pounding waves mostly drown out the engine noise thankfully. There are frequent overhead helicopter tour flights though.  And people. Turns out we are not the only people here.  The beach is not crowded, but it can get noisy with voices, yelling, laughter, kids screaming, music playing.  It's just people having fun, but I'm just noting it's noisy.

And did I mention the waves?  I know, it's crazy to complain about the beautiful, supposedly peaceful rhythm of the waves hitting the shore, but you guys!  It's loud!  And relentless!  We are super close to the ocean. We've had particularly high waves in the bay this time and they don't lap at the sand, they crash!  At first we left the balcony doors open at night but after the first 10 days, I started to close the doors.  I found I was less distracted by the occasional hum of the air conditioner.  I slept better.  (I'm very noise sensitive, which I am learning more about in some work I'm doing with my therapist -- another blog post!)

Speaking of sleeping...the pillows are too lumpy and the studio Murphy beds, which used to feel great, are in need of replacement.  I mean, it's not terrible, but it's not great.  I'm putting a word in to our Board of Directors to use some of our maintenance fees for a studio update on the bed front.  Bad pillow = sore neck.

Here you are wondering...Murphy Bed????  Yes,  this entire timeshare is a "hotel conversion", not purpose-built full amenity condos.  We knew that going in and if I have any complaint it's that. There are inconveniences.  But we keep coming back for all the things that make up for it.  

The unit we have is a one bedroom with a "lock off".  If we stayed in the whole unit we'd have a King bed in a separate room with another bath along with our current living area (couch without pulling the Murphy Bed down) and kitchenette.  BUT that would cost us a bunch of timeshare points that would mean a shorter stay.  We can stay over twice as long if we use only the "parlor" side (I call it the studio) which eliminates the King bedroom/second bath, but gives us the Murphy bed side with kitchenette and full balcony.  The bedroom side is "locked off" for use by another guest, similar to adjoining hotel rooms and theirs is basically just a hotel room with a mini-fridge; no balcony.  So we like our arrangement fine.  Except for the lumpiness I'm experiencing this time.

We make way too many trips to the grocery store.  Granted, Hub goes alone at times, but we also try to combine this chore with other outings so I have to set foot in Costco, Safeway and Times (local supermarket) too often, which at home I rarely do, leaving grocery shopping to Hub who seems not to hate it and in fact enjoy it. Not my thing. He's weird.  Anyway in the quest for fresh fish, bagged salads, ripe fruit, and sunscreen it seems we always need to shop.  

And there is lugging -- towels, paddle board, backpack to the beach; groceries and excursion equipment from the parking lot to the building (a good 1/3 mile!), long hall to the elevators and a walk to the beach and pool -- getting lots of steps and it's fine, just at times inconvenient.  We try hard not to forget anything and have to go back.

This has been the most active vacation I've ever done.  I've recently lost weight, gotten in better shape, and have enjoyed challenging myself and my new body as well as my less hesitant, less fearful mind.  That said, my body hurts.  The mud hike (previously documented in this blog) sent me into a tailspin of PTSD and migraine for a day.  Then a few days later another half-day migraine with nausea.  My feet have been sore, my knees have ached.  I stubbed my toe on a hunk of lava rock and scraped my hand on a piece of coral.  Both still hurt a week later. I've taken more Ibuprofen in two weeks than I usually take in months!  And throughout all of this trip I've had nagging queasiness on and off.  Maybe different routine? Food? Activity?  Anxiety? Not sleeping great? Just feel a wee bit "off" at times, even when I'm having fun.  It's not stopping me; I'm just noticing and breathing through it. But I don't like it.  

So, today I started packing, if not in my suitcase at least in my mind.  I can tell I'm turning toward home even while still here.  It's cold and rainy at home; there will be all the same old chores to do and responsibilities to meet. Once there I'll look back on this trip with great fondness and probably even longing for lazy days at the beach and pool, for the sun, the warmth, even the waves.  But I'll have Hub with me (the best part of this trip), will return to my familiar routine, and will see my family and get ready for my son and daughter-in-law's long-Covid-delayed wedding celebration for which I have to buy a fancy dress...my life will return to "normal".

We've been coming here for almost 25 years.  We love it.  All of these observations are just to document that Paradise can be less than paradisiacal at times, especially if one is a bit hot, cranky, tired.  The Facebook highlight reel doesn't tell the whole story, but hopefully it tells the story of how grateful we are to get to spend time here.

Still, travel -- even fabulous, fun, exciting, relaxing travel -- is stressful for me and at a certain point home beckons every time.  At heart I'm a homebody.  And I'm ready.

At least, that's the view from here...©

ROCKIN' HOT BOD ON THE BEACH

At the risk of sounding insufferable I'm about to write a motivational piece you will either love or hate.  At various times in my life I, too, would have read this either way.  Now, proceed, and see where you fall on the love/hate spectrum...and why.

Readers may recall I've been using the Noom app to guide me toward the goal of a healthier weight for my diminutive height (5'2").  I've long said that my weight is fine; it's my height that needs improvement.  No amount of standing tall in Mountain Pose has been successful in gaining vertical inches.  I've been reduced to reducing my girth.

I've been on Noom for a few days over a year.  I have LOVED it.  It's the first program with which I've found lasting success and the desire to keep up my new habits.  It's all based on introspection, psychology, nutrition, habit awareness and change, and constant positive reinforcement.  Right up my alley.  And with any program there is no substitute for determination and commitment, so there's that too.  

At the very beginning clients are encouraged to figure out Your Big Picture -- the big WHY one wants to change.  My Big Picture is to grow older with health and vitality so I can be an active part of my grandchildren's lives.  That has motivated me consistently, where lesser desires have not.  I've always rationalized my way around other goals and have not been able to sustain my plan.  There is no rationalizing my way around this one.  So many unforeseen things can happen to us -- illness, accident, a tragic diagnosis -- but if something is within my control, I want to use my powers of mindfulness, determination, and commitment to mitigate foreseen factors in ill health.  At least that's the plan.

So, yes, I've lost weight. I've spent decades hiding from the camera, or behind other people, or hitting the delete option until I was nearly erased from documentation of family life.  This trip to Kauai I seem to be hogging the camera.  I'm proud of not feeling embarrassed at how I look.  Hub is having fun taking photos of me without me scowling or protesting.

Does this mean I have reached Perfect Body Image Land?  Is there such a thing?  No.  I'm still chunky around the middle -- it's genetic!  Look at photos of my parents!!!  My legs are skinny and I have no booty to speak of.  I tried a series of yoga poses on the beach and the resulting photos are not super great.  My tummy hangs down in Plank Pose and projects out in all the Warrior Poses even though I was going for a strong core.  I'm almost straight up and down since I don't have a very pronounced waistline from boobs to hips (notice this in Tree Pose).  I rarely post photos of myself here on the blog, but I'm posting this one -- with trepidation -- so you can have a field day critiquing my less than perfect body.  It will help you feel better.  I'm no swimsuit or Yoga Journal model.  Hardly anyone is.  

BTW, the tan is fake -- thanks to Jergens Natural Glow tanning lotion.  I'm not letting the sun touch my lily white Northern European skin any more after indiscretions of my youth that have come back to haunt me and my dermatologist.  But I like a little sun-kissed look when in Hawaii, so I use the lotion which gradually darkens the surface layer of skin temporarily and will fade in a few days if I don't reapply.  I guess that's vanity.  You can judge.  But as vanities go...  And if "tan" isn't your thing, that's perfect too! You be you!

We can all self-criticize to death -- sometimes literally as those with eating disorders have done.  Body image is a thing Noom focused on in our lessons last week with the encouragement to stand in front of the mirror either clothed or unclothed and focus on all the things you like about your body.  Try it.  It's hard.  We are so programmed to find fault.  Our culture tells us how to look and if we don't (no one does) we feel shame.  

Here's what I'm noticing...I can paddle, walk up hills and over rough terrain, hike, climb over rocks, get up and down from the chair or the floor, or the ridiculously low-seated car we've rented,  twist and turn, stand on one leg (for a second or a minute depending on the day).  My poofy belly has nothing to do with my ability to be mobile and sorta agile, on a good day.   (Yoga has A LOT to do with it!)  Losing weight has helped with my stamina, yes, and for that I'm grateful.  

But judging myself by how I look and not how I move through the world is silly.  My granddaughters have healthier body image ideas than I do!  They love who they are and what they can do and neither of them is "perfect" except in the way we all are.  Self acceptance, doing our best, taking a risk, being mindful, and being gentle with ourselves in the process all serves us no matter what our goals in life.

No matter our limitations, from injury, illness, genetics, or self-imposed judgement (the worst limitation!), we can define Our Big Picture to motivate us toward a goal of self-discovery and self-acceptance and maybe even a small, but mighty change in the body's ability to support us as best it can going forward.

At least, that's the view from here...©

P.S. Just as I'm ending this post... I skipped our walk today and Hub just got back.  He took a fall on a slope on loose red rock and his Apple Watch asked if he fell and if he was OK.  He is...just a scraped knee like a 6 year old.  But see?  Technology has our backs even when we are fit, agile, and in great shape, like he is.  So, yes, anything can happen.  But our Big Picture goals can see us through and the nice people at Apple will call an aid car if you need one. Win-Win!

HIKING HYSTERIA IN THE JUNGLE

Hmmm...usually I just sit on the beach or walk around the ginormous pool here at "our" resort on Kauai on our annual visits.  I have gone on a few hikes over the past 25 years of coming here; mostly hated them.  Swore them off at one point.  But this past year, motivated by fully entering my 70s decade, I've lost a bunch of weight and got myself into fairly decent shape and decided maybe hiking could come back on to the itinerary for this visit.  Easy-breezy. 

So we perused the guide book and decided to follow the advice that "if you only do one hike on Kauai, let it be this one"... up at Waimea Canyon (the Grand Canyon of Hawaii), along a boardwalk trail through the "highest elevation swamp in the country".  8 miles RT.  Sounded fun!  And flat!  We just had to take a 1.8 mile other trail to get to the swamp trail that would then take us to an amazing vista point.  We packed plenty of water, snacks, lunch, bug spray, sunscreen, the "10 essentials" and off we went, feeling maybe a little over-prepared as we saw others in flip flops, little kids, older folks heading out too.  

The sun was shining.  The sky was blue.  Weather report promised "zero precipitation" for the afternoon.  Immediately we headed down a rough rocky track as wide as a road, our hiking poles providing some steadying support, but barely needed actually.  On our left was a huge and breathtaking view of the ocean at the Napali Coast.  There was a precipitous drop off on that side, but only a fool would get that close to the edge of the earth.  We are not fools and have a healthy fear of heights. No problem. Most folks only went this far and turned back to the parking lot.  That was the flip flop crowd.  But we journeyed on.

Soon we entered a tranquil forest, the flat walking path cushioned with leaves and we had plenty of shade.  This was short-lived.  No sooner had I had a moment of gratitude for this lovely easy trail, it opened onto a steep rocky climb through roots and rocks that required planting my poles and hoisting myself up to the the next rock, and the next, and the next.  It was steep!  But I figured this was just a little rough patch and once up top (I couldn't really see the trail above me anymore) all would even out again and be a breeze.

This was wishful thinking.  The next mile or so was a horror show of constant up and down rocks and roots and ruts, poles helping in some spots, and just in the way in others where hand holds on roots, limbs, and rocks provided more assistance in pulling myself upward and hanging on to keep myself from falling/sliding downward.  Hub was there to steady me as well, but he had his own path to forge and often we just had to stop and consider the best (safest) way to navigate the boulders and slippery red dirt pebbles that undermined every foothold that looked stable but wasn't.  It was hot, sweaty, dirty, exhausting work.

One would think it wise to just turn around and go back, but we passed folks who said "this is the worst of it...it gets easier and so worth it!" so we kept going.  And going.  And going.  

We finally reached the area that was on the forest floor, wet and swampy, so there had been boardwalks laid -- some decades ago.  The wood was rotted in places, broken stairways left huge gaps, navigating was a bit of challenge, but it was so much better than what we'd traversed that it felt easy.  Except where there was a huge overhanging branch above the trail.  I kindly warned Hub to duck and promptly hit the top of my own head on the damn thing!  We laughed and kept going to the junction of the next trail -- the one we actually had wanted to be on to get to the vista point.  We were hungry, tired, and surprised that we'd spent far longer on that stretch of the hike than we'd planned. That treacherous mile had taken an hour or more.  We sat down on a log and ate lunch, encouraging each other that the next stretch would be a piece of cake.  (But knowing what we were in store for on the way back.  I tried to stay in the present moment and not live in dread.)

As we sat enjoying our PBJ's and apples, the sky overhead turned a bit gray.  Then we felt the mist.  Then we felt the sprinkles.  We both got very quiet.  I was already pretty tired and Hub had already suggested we might not make it all the way to the vista point.  As the rain fell harder, he said, "I'm making a unilateral decision -- we are going back.  This is socking us in -- there won't be a view; it's getting late; and that area we have to navigate is going to become a river of slippery mud."  Truer words were never spoken.

We turned around and headed back in the rain.  The broken boardwalk was slippery wood; I never looked up from my feet concerned I'd step off the planks and into the muck.  So, when I got to the place where that branch overhang was, I didn't see it.  I ran smack into it with the top of my head at such force it knocked me off my feet backwards -- on my butt and back in the very muck I was trying so hard to avoid getting on my shoes.  I think that's the point where I gave up.  The hike back was not going to be pretty.

We ran out of boardwalk and into the rocks again but now everything was wet and muddy.  Every foothold was full of murky brown water.  Every bit of earth was soaked and had turned into slippery, famous Kauai red mud, making every step feel like I was slipping on ice.  My poles helped in some spots, but mostly I dragged myself up by grabbing roots and branches.  I held myself back from slipping down the same way.  At one point there was a wire fence along one side of the ascent and I grabbed onto that and used it to pull myself upward.  Somewhere along this stretch we missed our turn off and got lost.  Of course.  We reached the top-most point along this fence and nothing looked familiar.  Hub figured out where we were and all was well, except for being on a "point" that had steep drops on both sides and nothing but fog and drizzle to stop us.  It was a large enough piece of land not to feel precarious, but we did have to climb down from this point to where we should have turned off, so that added more descent treachery.

I think I blanked out here.  All I can report from here on out is that it was wet, muddy, slippery, steep (VERY steep) and I was soaked with rain, covered with mud, had scrapes and scratches from sliding on rocks and being stuck by brambles and twigs.  Hub was amazing at scoping out the route on each stretch -- where feet and poles and hand holds should be used.  And he was also amazing at keeping me calm and supported as best he could using his own body to stop my slides and his strong steady grip to pull me up when I went down -- falling another couple of times in the slippery mud.  I finally stopped trying to stay upright at the steepest places and just sat down and slid on my butt.  

I'm known to be a Championship whiner on hikes; at some point I get so tired and frustrated that I actually cry.  I swear a lot, or go steely silent, seething with resentment that "somebody" talked me into this.  Here's the good news.  I did not whine.  I did not cry.  I did not blame anyone.  I did panic slightly a couple of times, imagining the worst, but Hub was right there to "center me" back to present moment reality with steady encouragement.  The best thing he said was that this was among the 2-3 most challenging hikes he's ever done and he was amazed at my ability to keep going with great stamina and relative good humor.  (Only three F-words!)

And we made it.  Back in the now nearly empty parking lot we took photos of ourselves covered in mud.  I was shivering cold, soaking wet, and laughing hysterically.  We used Hub's handkerchief to wash off in a puddle the worst of the mud on our shoes and legs.  We changed into much appreciated clean, dry shirts, put the floor mat from the car on my seat to protect it from my caked-on muddy butt, and hightailed it out of there for the hour drive to our resort and a hot shower that felt like Heaven.

I will say, I found it all rather surreal: simultaneously traumatizing and a source of pride.  I do feel like I did a "thing", an endurance test I've never experienced before.  I'm not naturally athletic and I don't seek out or generally enjoy physical challenges.  And this won't change that.  But I do feel some sense of accomplishment that I did it and was relatively unscathed in the end.   We saw a sign hanging on a fence, post-hike, that described the trail as "difficult and potentially dangerous".  I wish I'd known that! 

However, when I looked up the hike on the Google Machine, others persist in saying what a terrific "moderately difficult" hike it is;  They noted it's steep in places and "you might get a little muddy" but totally great anyway.  I have to think they are far more adventuresome than I.  Also taller.  My short legs simply could not stretch into the slippery footholds worn into those rocks and I had to resort to butt sliding to prevent a head over heels tumble.  I can just hear them:  "It's just a hike!  Not a feat of death-defying bravery!"  Sure, easy for you to say. 🙄

Next week we are taking the Stand-Up Paddleboard up the Wailua River to "dock" at the shady inlet leading to a forest hike to Secret Falls.   Never did that before either.  I'll let you know how it goes...

At least, that's the view from here...©