My deceased father had a lot of sayings that sometimes still come back to me at the oddest moments. One of these was "Stir the pot and see what floats to the top". Some days, this was a disturbing thought, as he would include the word "shit" before the word "pot" if things were really not happening in a nice way....
But I now wonder if that's what the past couple of years have been about. Perhaps God is stirring the "shit pot" to see what part of my personality floats to the top when I'm under intense pressure.
Not that I haven't been under pressure for most of my life, mind, but the past 10 years have been particularly trying, and with all the medical ailments that come with getting old suddenly coming due within just the past 3-4 years, I'm starting to wonder if the God of my ancestors isn't just a little bit nasty to those who try to be good and obey His words....
Take, for example, the health issues I've chronicled just on myself here in this blog. In less than one year, I've been treated for both a hernia and menopause issues that, until I mentioned to my mom what my elder sister had told me, I was unaware that both were genetic via my maternal grandmother. They've been a pain in my nether regions, but since Memere lived to be 89 despite her problems, I'm hopeful that I can side-step her diabetes, excess weight issues and strokes by the exercise that I've been doing to get myself down to my ideal weight for my height and age....
My hubby, on the other hand, has refused to allow me to hunt down information on his paternal side (he was the product of a nasty divorce and refuses to admit that the man who raised him from the time he was 11 isn't a biological father and therefore isn't the health profile we need) and doesn't admit that the history on his mother's side simply isn't any better than the mess on my mother's side...
Take, for example, the blood clots he had back in the fall that he's just managed to battle off with the help of Xarelto. His maternal grandmother, when I met the woman, was in a nursing home after having a couple of strokes - which are caused by blood clots breaking loose from another part of the body and blocking off important arteries. I've been worried about strokes and heart attacks, but he's been worried about how this will prevent him from going on another paddle down the Allagash....
and just when he got taken off the Xarelto so that he could think again about his big paddling trip, he got the sad news this morning that he's going to have to have surgery on his ankles (which have been bad since before I knew him and getting progressively worse from damage he did back in high school and college, but that were never that important to him until he started having them go weak on ladders he has to climb for his job). From the first part of July until early September, he's not going to be allowed to put weight on his legs except for trips from the bed to the bathroom.
For him, this puts the kibosh on not only his Allagash trip, but also on our Anniversary Week Vacation that we always take at the end of July. If he's not allowed to bear weight on his legs, he won't be allowed to take that trip - and he's more concerned with getting out for our vacation before he has to be stuck at home for two to three months. Having had to practically sit on him to get him to stay down long enough to heal from a black ice car accident in 1989 in which he broke 37 bones, I'm more concerned with finding enough things that he can do from a sitting down position so that he has the chance to heal properly and not end up in a wheelchair for the rest of his life....
and I've been joking with some of my friends that, if things don't go well, I may need to have a good place to hide a body before the end of August, as I'm apt to kill him if I come home (as I did several times during the recovery from the accident) to find him pacing the driveway because he was bored, but didn't have a car available.
So, while I go into my job to tell them the bad news, see if perhaps the vacation I already got approved for at the end of July can be moved up a month, and try to come up with things to keep a man with the personality of a giant toddler amused for two to three months, may I ask that you all pray for me? Please ask whatever deity you believe in to grant me patience, because if He or She grants me strength, I'm also going to need that place to hide the body, or maybe bail money if I just resort to beating him into submission.....*grin*
And for all of you who haven't reached the age of 50 yet, please make this your mantra: Getting old sucks, so live it up while you're young!
Blessed be, my lovelies, and thank you for your visits.
But I now wonder if that's what the past couple of years have been about. Perhaps God is stirring the "shit pot" to see what part of my personality floats to the top when I'm under intense pressure.
Not that I haven't been under pressure for most of my life, mind, but the past 10 years have been particularly trying, and with all the medical ailments that come with getting old suddenly coming due within just the past 3-4 years, I'm starting to wonder if the God of my ancestors isn't just a little bit nasty to those who try to be good and obey His words....
Take, for example, the health issues I've chronicled just on myself here in this blog. In less than one year, I've been treated for both a hernia and menopause issues that, until I mentioned to my mom what my elder sister had told me, I was unaware that both were genetic via my maternal grandmother. They've been a pain in my nether regions, but since Memere lived to be 89 despite her problems, I'm hopeful that I can side-step her diabetes, excess weight issues and strokes by the exercise that I've been doing to get myself down to my ideal weight for my height and age....
My hubby, on the other hand, has refused to allow me to hunt down information on his paternal side (he was the product of a nasty divorce and refuses to admit that the man who raised him from the time he was 11 isn't a biological father and therefore isn't the health profile we need) and doesn't admit that the history on his mother's side simply isn't any better than the mess on my mother's side...
Take, for example, the blood clots he had back in the fall that he's just managed to battle off with the help of Xarelto. His maternal grandmother, when I met the woman, was in a nursing home after having a couple of strokes - which are caused by blood clots breaking loose from another part of the body and blocking off important arteries. I've been worried about strokes and heart attacks, but he's been worried about how this will prevent him from going on another paddle down the Allagash....
and just when he got taken off the Xarelto so that he could think again about his big paddling trip, he got the sad news this morning that he's going to have to have surgery on his ankles (which have been bad since before I knew him and getting progressively worse from damage he did back in high school and college, but that were never that important to him until he started having them go weak on ladders he has to climb for his job). From the first part of July until early September, he's not going to be allowed to put weight on his legs except for trips from the bed to the bathroom.
For him, this puts the kibosh on not only his Allagash trip, but also on our Anniversary Week Vacation that we always take at the end of July. If he's not allowed to bear weight on his legs, he won't be allowed to take that trip - and he's more concerned with getting out for our vacation before he has to be stuck at home for two to three months. Having had to practically sit on him to get him to stay down long enough to heal from a black ice car accident in 1989 in which he broke 37 bones, I'm more concerned with finding enough things that he can do from a sitting down position so that he has the chance to heal properly and not end up in a wheelchair for the rest of his life....
and I've been joking with some of my friends that, if things don't go well, I may need to have a good place to hide a body before the end of August, as I'm apt to kill him if I come home (as I did several times during the recovery from the accident) to find him pacing the driveway because he was bored, but didn't have a car available.
So, while I go into my job to tell them the bad news, see if perhaps the vacation I already got approved for at the end of July can be moved up a month, and try to come up with things to keep a man with the personality of a giant toddler amused for two to three months, may I ask that you all pray for me? Please ask whatever deity you believe in to grant me patience, because if He or She grants me strength, I'm also going to need that place to hide the body, or maybe bail money if I just resort to beating him into submission.....*grin*
And for all of you who haven't reached the age of 50 yet, please make this your mantra: Getting old sucks, so live it up while you're young!
Blessed be, my lovelies, and thank you for your visits.
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