“Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent into retirement, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and your Medicare application is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins.”
That’s kind of how it feels lately, like the calm before the storm. Or maybe it’s more like the proverbial “elephant in the room.” The presents of the impending retirement elephant is acknowledged, but is still a big unknown. It seems to be headed this way with the speed (and options) of a jetliner on final approach.
I went in for the EKG and treadmill stress test as the heart doctor requested. They shave your chest for that! Well, they shave stripes on your chest. The treadmill is a four minute rodeo, with the Arena Director and Flagman standing close by.
My legs were getting heavy and my arms were getting longer (hanging on), but I made it to the horn. I haven’t been back to the heart doctor, but his office called soon after the tests and seemed urgent about setting me up with a prescription. I looked it up online, to sum up its benefits: “It is also used to treat or prevent heart attack.”
My little brother turned 60 last month. I made some pictures to help celebrate the milestone.
The kitchen was the first room we remodeled when we moved into this big old house over 40 years ago. My wife, Diane, recently had a great idea, “Let’s do it again.”
Our kitchen when we first moved into this house (1974)
I suggested that if we wait, wood grain Formica laminated cabinets and green Formica counter tops and full back-splashes will be in style again – and we will have the genuine article. But, we decided we will remodel anyway.
It’s looked like this for a while now
We enjoyed our excitement and the anticipation of a new project. We began listing great kitchen ideas. If I do almost everything myself, the money we have budgeted will stretch quite a ways.
I can do the project, when I worked in my dad’s cabinet shop we remodeled kitchens and bathrooms.
It wasn’t long, though, before I realized that I don’t have time to remodel a kitchen. I work full time, every evening is short, and every weekend is full.
Every weekend has unfinished carry over from the previous (a life blessed is a life busy!). I don’t want to pay someone to do it, and I don’t have time to do it now, but…….
I’m reminded by the daily delivery of junk mail that I’m “nearing my normal retirement age.” It will arrive about a year from now and at the rate my clock is ticking, it will be here in no time.
I’m tempted to consider working past retirement age, but cancer may be the deciding factor in that decision.
If we could wait until I retire, I would have nothing but time. The new kitchen could be my new job. But, waiting does have a risk.
If the cancer makes a move before I retire, I won’t be much good at remodeling kitchens for a while; but if it comes back and kills me, Diane should get enough insurance money to pay someone to make a new kitchen.
In March, my three month Multiple Myeloma cancer tests said no change, and I can live with that. At my 6 month visit with my Pulmonologist (my sleep apnea doctor) I mentioned how easily I get out of breath.
I asked if it could be a result of the Chemo treatments, or the radiation treatments, or the cancer, or the fact that I went to high school with Moses?
He recommended I see a heart doctor because of “my age and my condition.” I did, and he listened quite intently with a stethoscope and said he could hear a leaky valve.
He asked if I’ve had radiation treatments. It appears the cause of my shortness of breath could be heart related, could be radiation related, or, I could just be out of shape. He scheduled more tests.
Although our grandkids live far away, their parents generously include us in their lives through emails, pictures, videos, video chats, cards, finger paintings, and more.
We get to peek into their activities and watch them grow. We get to celebrate achievements. I love to see the ways our kids love their kids.
I wondered out loud recently to my wife – if our kids, while enjoying a developmental milestone with their kids, ever realize that what they are feeling is the exact feeling we enjoyed again and again as we watched them grow from babies to children.
“Will they realize through their kids, how much we loved and enjoyed them as our kids?” She answered, “No, why would they? Did you think about your parents when we were new parents?”
I grew up in a family that never said – never heard – never felt, “I love you.” I guess I should never say never. That day in 1962 when mom surrendered the five of us and transferred our custody to the Juvenile Detention Hall in Vancouver, Washington, she was crying when she said, “I love you,” and walked out the door.
I’d heard of love, is this it? That was the beginning of another chapter in this life adventure. In a week, we were in a foster home, and in a couple more weeks we were in another where three of us served about a year.
I would later brag that before graduating from high school, I lived in 27 houses including JDH and those two foster homes. That might be material for another blog.
I answered my wife, “Yes,” as a new parent in self training, “I actually thought about my parents once or twice.”
I so loved our babies, I held, hugged and kissed, and told them so every day. It felt very natural to me, and caring for them became my highest priority. I would do anything to protect them.
The times I thought about my parents, I wondered why they didn’t feel the same about me. I thanked them in my mind for showing me what not to do.
I love my memories of Christmases past. The ones when our boys were little are the ones I cherish most.
This Christmas, after a snow cancelled flight and driving a rental car through the night with friends we just made at the airport, Diane and I arrived for a week’s stay at our oldest son’s house in Michigan’s UP.
It was our first reunion with our grown up sons, their wives and kids (is it a re-union if it’s the first time?).
One Christmas morning years ago, Diane gave me a 1957 Chevy . That’s a Christmas memory that’s hard to beat, but this year was our best Christmas yet. Holding and interacting with our little grandchildren was priceless.
Witnessing how our sons love their wives and kids was rewarding. Diane got to snow ski again after many years, and I got to take pictures with my new camera (shot hundreds, shoulda taken more). We played in the house and we played in the snow.
My younger son, Robin, gave me a flying camera, a drone. My first flying lesson began by launching it from the ice covered snow in the garden.
Robin took this shot through his phone, from the camera on the drone, before a take-off
I hope it’s a good memory for my three year old grandson, Kellen, when he hugged the gate for protection like I told him, as the nearly controlled drone buzzed over his head to awkwardly touchdown behind him in the back yard.
This Christmas could have only been better if, on top of being with our kids and grand kids, I received another classic Chevy. Well, actually, my oldest son, Brandon, did give me a 57 Chevy he made with his computer and router.
I hope this gathering was a preview of Christmases future.
A few weeks after returning home, I was in Portland to help my brother, Mark, prepare to move. Later, we drove over to see our brother Dan at his Alpha Stone Works shop. While Dan was showing me the new stone cutter (he went to Germany to buy), he asked how I was and if my cancer was gone now.
I explained that Multiple Myeloma doesn’t go away, but I’m doing okay right now, and that I get tested every three months to monitor the cancer. I told him, “I can live with that….. Get it?While I’m alive – I can live?”
Because, next time the cancer activates, or the time after that – one of those times will be the last time, and the following result will be my life ending.
Usually quite stoic, he let out a hearty chuckle. He appreciated that dark (rest of my life) humor enough to recount it later at the restaurant with all five of us at the table. We all enjoyed a good laugh (though some politely tried to resist), not over the inevitable end of my life, but from stumbling upon a little sarcastic humor in the situation.
On our last visit to the shore of Lake Superior, we were burning our bare feet on hot sand just a short walk from here.
I remain thankful to God for a life full of blessings.
