I have written three blog posts about cancer. The first was about the shock and adjustment in the first 10 weeks. The second was about making getting healthy the number one priority. The third was about the liberating feeling of going around bald. Now I feel ready to talk about the deeper effect of cancer.
“You will probably lose your hair in about two weeks,” the nurse casually remarked. I was furiously taking notes in the chemo class.
Like most of the women reading Sixty and Me, I have always been the matriarch and doer. Looking back at my old journals reminded me I always used to have a million balls in the air, projects with the community and with my family.
Over the last few years, I’ve led the greatest life. Writing, making films, traveling, blogging and gardening. My husband and I have traveled to Europe, Alaska, Yellowstone, and often to our Nicaraguan jungle reserve. I mothered an orphaned monkey for two years and released her.
Turning 65 sets a person thinking and looking at the discussions taking place in the world around us. It is one reason I love reading and writing the 60 and Me
“You are three strong women who are both nurturing and courageous and that has been such an inspiration for me.”
Recently, I was looking at old pictures with my friend Susan. We have been friends since college and I mentioned when looking at old photos that I looked better than I remembered. “Yes, me too,” said Susan. “I was pretty cute back then. Why didn’t I think so at the time?”
As I turn 65 this year, my mother has been gone for 17 years. Yet, I still feel her presence in my life in many ways. Also, as time passes, I come to have more appreciation for her and a better understanding of her ways.
Do you have a checklist in your mind that ticks off what counts? I do. It’s a proverbial one.
Let’s see, I get a point for working long hours, another point for making money, a point for having a day when I did not overeat and did my exercises. I get points for visiting a sick person, but not as many as I do when I get a new job contract, especially one that affords status.
Leonard Cohen died this November at the age of 82. He recorded his final album from a special chair in his living room two weeks before his death despite his body being wracked with cancer and suffering from severe back pain.