Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Aging

June 5, 2023

Giving up without letting go

My mind is weary.
My body aches.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.
Things that seemed set in concrete
keep shifting.
People I love are gone
or going.

Even so,
The sun is gorgeous today.
The sky is brilliant blue
dancing with fluffy white clouds.
Birds sing their hearts out.
Children scream with glee
in the school yard.

It all happens so quickly —
this strange thing we call living
while dying.

During the last several weeks I’ve been seeing doctors about my health, including my diet. It turns out I’m part of the 2% population in the USA who have hypokalemia. The percentage does not count patients in hospitals, nursing homes, or other medical facilities where hypokalemia is common.

I have one more doctor to see in the next two weeks. By then I’m hoping to have a better grasp of what this means for my diet, my heart, and my kidneys. I’ve already begun to gain weight, so that I’m now back in the ‘normal’ category. I’m also delighted to be munching on nuts, seeds, and other welcome bits that are part of my new diet.

One more thing has weighed heavy on me these weeks. My remaining two sisters have serious health issues. They live at great distances from each other and from me. Sister #3, Diane, died of ALS after living with it for ten years. In some ways, she was my closest sister. I’ve decided to go back through journals I kept when we were able to be with each other.

Diane made a huge impact on my life. Especially when it came to dealing with approaching death. She was never one to be morose. She was, however, painfully honest from the beginning to the end. Now it’s my turn to deal with whatever is coming my way.

This morning I walked in our neighborhood. The birds were singing their hearts out.  The children on the school playground were screaming with joy. As for me, I was stunned at the bright blue beauty of the sky, and the number of songbirds I saw and heard. Call it food I didn’t have to prepare or measure out in pre-set proportions!

These are trying times for the entire globe. I pray you’re finding ways to do what you must, while also enjoying the surprises of each day and night.

Thanks for visiting and listening.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 5 June 2023
Photo taken by JERenich, Easter 1953; with thanks to Mother for making our Easter dresses.

13 Comments
May 24, 2023

Today | Mary Oliver

Here’s a seemingly simple poem from Mary Oliver. Words are easy; actions are difficult. Which is why I’m sharing it with you today. Not because I think you need to hear this poem, but because I need to hear and live in it more than once in a blue moon. My comments follow.

Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word.
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.

The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.

But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.

Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.

From A Thousand Mornings, Poems by Mary Oliver,  p. 23
Published by Penguin Books 2013
© 2012 by NW Orchard LLC

Dear Mary,

I wonder. Do I have voodoos of ambition these days?  More likely, I’m stalked by voodoos of things I must do whether they seem ‘ambitious’ or not. Think of long lists of things to do. Today, not tomorrow!

So what are you inviting me to give up just for today?

To be honest, I wouldn’t mind being a bee in the garden—provided there’s plenty of sweet stuff to go around. Then there are those fish jumping up out of the water, daring me to come and play with them. Though I’m not sure who wants to compete for gnats anyway.

Okay. I think I get it. It seems you want me to stop ticking off my long list of things I must do so that I can be a productive member of the human race. Though I’m not at all sure what the human race is about.

So yes, I’m going nowhere today. You won’t even know I’m here. Besides, given your lovely poem, I’m not at all sure I’ll ever understand the ‘terrific distance’ this stillness will give me.

I just know that today it’s time to rest, relax, and enjoy letting my ‘voodoos of ambition sleep.’

Gratefully,
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 24 May 2023
Photo taken by DAFraser in June 2019, Longwood Gardens Meadow

8 Comments
May 20, 2023

Crossings of No Return revisited

Well, I can’t say this was the most exciting week of my life. Nor is next week looking great. Not that there aren’t high points. Rather, it’s the other stuff that’s sitting there waiting for resolution of some kind.

These days, it’s all about food. Not what I’m eating, but what I’m not eating enough of. This past week I’ve been awash in information about how to get my potassium level up. Given my strange history with food, this isn’t a slam dunk.

Perhaps you already know about hypokalemia. I didn’t. Last week I saw my cardiologist. This coming week I see my kidney doctor. I’m hoping we can get on the same page, and that I can keep up with the challenge.

In the meantime, this poem from Without a Flight Plan caught my eye. I first published “Crossings of No Return” in April 2017. I don’t have any more answers today than I had back then. In fact, we seem to be spiraling out of control without any clear commitment to living differently on this aching planet. Not just as citizens, but as individuals dealing with unknown or unanticipated health and welfare issues.

Crossings of No Return

Crossings. . . .

The word resonates with finality
Hints of danger and uncertainty
Sorrow and desperation
Weary clothes and
Hungry faces

One foot in front of the other
Backs burdened with life’s necessities
Bodies and bellies heavy
With tomorrow’s children
Silently pleading

They say our world is disappearing
Melting and boiling away before our eyes
Erupting into a chaotic crisis
Unknown in modern times
Are we ready for this crossing?

Bottom line: Many of us face heart-wrenching sorrow and terrifying uncertainty in today’s world. It isn’t new. It’s in our faces. We can’t ignore it or pretend it will go away following our next election. Nor can we set ourselves apart in a ‘special’ category of human beings who for one reason or another are doing fine, just fine.

As for me, my own sense of security has been carried for decades on the backs of people who never asked to be treated as less than fully human beings. I used to think my family of origin was poor. It was not, all evidence to the contrary. It’s a bit like potassium. If I’m not getting enough of it, it’s because I’m turning my attention to other things–hoping against hope that I’ll make it through in spite of my blindness to reality.

Praying you’ll find small ways to make a difference in the lives of people around you. Not in big, bold ways, but in small ways–maybe half a banana?

Thanks for stopping by!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 20 May 2023
Photo found at morningchores.com

11 Comments
May 13, 2023

My Mother’s Spirit – revisited

I still love this photo and the short poem below about my Mother (Eileen). She died in 1999 following a brain hemorrhage that was too much to overcome, given her post-polio problems and other physical ailments.

Mother looked nothing like the woman in the photo above with this exception: She never gave up. Eileen loved her favorite bright red winter coat. She also loved playing the piano, cooking with next to nothing in the larder, turning small bits of this and that into a miraculous feast. She also served as a lifeguard at swimming pools, and was like a child who always loved to sing and play games with her daughters and the neighborhood kids.

Still, she and I didn’t get to know each other from the inside out until late in her life. Her extrovert and my introvert rarely seemed to come together–except when one or both of us sat down to play the piano.

After my 1993 meeting with my parents, we managed to stay in touch. It wasn’t easy at first, but slowly we began to see each other from a different point of view. When she had her last stroke and was taken to the hospital and then hospice care, I began to understand how lonely her life had become, and how much she loved the music that tied us together.

Here’s the poem I wrote several years ago. It goes with the photo above, and still makes me tear up.

My mother’s spirit
came calling last night
I saw her footprints
in this morning’s snow
precise and measured
She passed quietly
beneath my window
step by small-hooved step
down the driveway
before crossing over
into the woods beyond
our house asleep
and dreaming

Thank you for stopping by today. This world continues to be very harsh toward women, especially during times of disorder and disarray. Mother’s Day gives us another opportunity to appreciate what it takes, especially in these troubled times, to carry on as a mother in the midst of chaos.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 13 May 2023
Photo found at fiftiness.com

13 Comments
May 10, 2023

What I’ve Decided

Photo taken by DAFraser at Longwood Gardens, May 2019

This week I had a routine checkup with my cardiologist. Yesterday I read (as usual) his posted notes about the visit. Hence this ‘poem.’

If I am to survive each day and night
If I am to remain reasonably alive
Or unreasonably not so alive
It is best not to ruminate

Visiting my doctors isn’t exactly Fun
Nor is it the Pits
What gets to me aren’t lively conversations
we have about how I’m doing today

Rather, the rumination begins after our
appointment when I review online the
accumulated data of my history with,
let’s say, my cardiologist, a gifted gentleman

If it weren’t for the amazing capabilities
of Computer Land in today’s Medical World,
I would not be reminded regularly
of all things that could or should happen
if I make the mistake of not taking this or that
suggestion to heart, so to speak, and swallowing it

Okay. So it’s not a ‘real’ poem. I just had to get some of my feelings out there—given how many doctors I now see each year, and how many post-visit notes I read from them. Exhausting? Sometimes. Though overall I’m most grateful for their expertise and encouragement.

So that’s it for today! I’m also grateful D is doing well after his health emergency last week. I’ll see my wonderful kidney doctor next week….

Thanks for stopping by!
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 10 May 2023
Photo taken by DAFraser at Longwood Gardens, May 2019

7 Comments
May 4, 2023

A Pretty Song | Mary Oliver

Photo taken by DAF on our 56th wedding anniversary, 2021

Here’s yet another wise poem from Mary Oliver. This one hits close to home. My comments follow.

A Pretty Song

From the complications of loving you
I think there is no end or return.
No answer, no coming out of it.

Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?
This isn’t a playground, this is
earth, our heaven, for a while.

Therefore I have given precedence
to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods
that hold you in the center of my world.

And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song.
And I say to my heart: rave on.

© 2006 by Mary Oliver
Published by Beacon Press in Thirst, p. 22

To love a partner until death do us part is costly. Partly because there’s no getting away from what happens along the way from here to there. No easy exits. Just one unexpected complication after another with which partners must deal. Even when they decide to go their so-called ‘separate’ ways.

And yet, given the sudden twists and turns of life, what rises to the top is indisputable. Especially as the end of life creeps closer every day.

This morning D is having some not-so-wonderful tests to find out what’s going on in his heart. Not the heart that loves me, but the heart that will one day stop beating no matter how much he loves me or I love him.

Mary Oliver’s poem above is about the loss of her life partner, what it’s like to go on living without her, and what it takes get through the ups and downs of grief. Not a pretty picture, but an invitation to another way of loving.

Praying your day is filled with opportunities to let your partner and/or best friends know how much you love them. Now, instead of later.

Thank you for stopping by. On the whole, I think I’m becoming less distressed by the ups and downs of life. Then again….
Elouise♥

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 4 May 2023
Photo taken by DAFraser at Longwood Gardens, 2021

7 Comments
April 15, 2023

What’s happening

Smudge is turning into a movie star…just look at those searing eyes and beautiful coat!

David celebrated his 80th birthday last month–with family members, some we hadn’t seen since before Covid. The gorgeous flowers were from our daughter and her husband.

These days I’m learning (slowly) to accept life without many outings or visits with friends. On the whole my health is good, though my stamina isn’t what it used to be. Still, between Smudge, David, and the birds in our back yard, there’s more than enough to make each day special. Though some days don’t feel as special as I might like.

How are you doing? The news these days is enough to send anyone packing, looking for another world. I pray you’re finding reasons to live, reasons to love, reasons to hope, and ways to help carry–even for a moment–the heavy burden of our growing anguish.

Early this morning a small Carolina Wren was standing on the roof just outside our bedroom window, singing his heart out. It didn’t matter what the weather was like, or what’s going on in today’s so-called news. Here’s to faith sufficient for each day and each night, and ways to connect with each other in these uncertain times.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 15 April 2023
Photos taken by ERF in March 2023

9 Comments
April 3, 2023

Getting back to ‘normal’

Thanks for visiting! I haven’t posted anything since March 11. Here’s a quick rundown.

On February 22 I had surgery to replace pacemaker I Love Lucy I with I Love Lucy II. The surgery went well, though the anesthesiologist arrived about 3 hours late (not her fault). Post-surgery was a nightmare of pain and itching due to use of a strong saline solution that messed up my skin. It’s still healing.

In the middle of March, two long anticipated events occurred. First, D turned 80 years old! Second, our daughter and her husband visited us for the first time in more than 3 years (thanks, Covid). They live in Oregon. Both are superb musicians. Our son-in-law was part of the recent Unwound coast-to-coast tour, playing two nights in Philadelphia a few weeks ago. No, I didn’t get to hear the concert in person. Too late and too much for an old lady like me. Besides, what I most wanted was to spend time with them–which we did, before they flew back to Oregon.

Finally, about three months ago I began taking a small capsule twice a day for pain caused by peripheral neuropathy in my feet. It isn’t a drug, and it won’t heal anything. Instead, it reduces pain in my feet. If you’re interested in knowing about this kind of nonprescription approach to many inflammation problems, here’s a Harvard University article. Long, and incredibly interesting.

Finally, it seems we are in yet another Trump show, whether we like it or not. In addition, climate change seems here to stay, and we have fallen into world war whether we like it or not. What will come tomorrow? I don’t know. So here’s small poem about what I do know—about myself.

Cast onshore
Of a deserted island
Shaking water
From my eyes
Seeing nothing
And nobody
As unanticipated
I wonder aloud
Who am I
And why am I here
Now and not then
When all seemed well
That ended well

Published in Without a Flight Plan, p. 61
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2021

Thank you for stopping by, especially in the middle of trying times.
Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 April 2023

7 Comments
March 11, 2023

Beauty and Imminent Loss

Does beauty become more beautiful as the end draws near?

The last few years of my life have confronted me with a kind of isolation I never thought I would experience. Not isolation from books or music or what’s happening in my back yard.

Rather, this is about isolation from people. People I love; people I’ve never met in person; people with stories about themselves that I’ll likely never hear.

This morning I read through some of my poems. My health is pretty good these days, as long as I obey my doctors’ orders. My spirit, however, feels caught in a web of weariness and sadness. Some is about the state of our country and this planet. Much is about our rush here in the USA to make sure we’re on the ‘right’ or ‘left’ side of things.

I’m keenly aware of how lonely it is to be a people-person who can no longer galivant with friends and neighbors. If you’re not an introvert, you might think I’ve never in my life known what it means to galivant. That would be a huge error on your part, though I’ll admit to this: I had to learn to have a good time. It didn’t come easy.

So….this morning I read through the March poems I included in Without a Flight Plan. This one hit the mark. Not too cheery; not too morose.

Beneath trees of my childhood 

Beneath trees
of my childhood
memories flood my eyes with
dreams and sorrows
packed within
the space of one life
gazing at tamed
and untamed beauty
underestimated
until this moment
of imminent loss

~~~

I pray this day brings peace, beauty, and buckets of kindness to enjoy, and to give away.

Elouise♥

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 March 2023
Photo found at etsy.com, John McManus Fine Art

9 Comments
February 28, 2023

In Our Woods, Sometimes A Rare Music | Mary Oliver

Here’s another lovely poem by Mary Oliver. It caught my eye and my spirit this morning. My comments follow.

Every spring
I hear the thrush singing
in the glowing woods
he is only passing through.
His voice is deep,
then he lifts it until it seems
to fall from the sky.
I am thrilled.

I am grateful.

Then, by the end of morning,
he’s gone, nothing but silence
out of the tree
where he rested for a night.
And this I find acceptable.
Not enough is a poor life.
But too much is, well, too much.
Imagine Verdi or Mahler
every day, all day.
It would exhaust anyone.

From A Thousand Mornings, Poems by Mary Oliver
Published by Penguin Books 2013
© 2012 by NW Orchard LLC

This morning I woke up to a songbird greeting the day. I also woke up to promises of rain and more frigid weather. Most importantly, I woke up. Alive and grateful for sleep, on the other side of last week’s highlight—getting a new pacemaker–Lucy II!

Mary Oliver’s poem reminds me that I don’t need an entire day of bird song, or even sunshine. Just being alive and able to hear one songbird is quite wonderful.

Last week I had Lucy (my pacemaker) upgraded to Lucy II. The hospital experience was distinctly less than I remembered. Imagine waking at 5am and getting to the hospital by 6:30am. We made it! That meant I would be home just after lunchtime. Except I wasn’t. Thanks to scheduling issues, I lay there all prepped, stomach empty since midnight, waiting with everyone else for the anesthesiologist to arrive. As it turned out, the fault wasn’t hers.

On the bright side, I haven’t been in such a lively, entertaining place since Covid lockdowns began. The entire surgery team was just there across the way, talking, laughing, obviously enjoying themselves while they too waited for the magic moment.

It came about 3 hours later. I’m glad to say I was out of it in a jiffy, had a good long nap before I woke up, and have been dealing with post-op instructions for nearly a week. I’m weary, prone to sleep anytime of the day or night, grateful for D and for Smudge, and slowly regaining my bearings.

As Mary Oliver points out, I don’t need a concert. I just need a bird song in the morning, a place to lie down and sleep as needed, a cat who loves to sleep with me, and D who makes a wonderful home nurse.

Thanks for stopping by.
Elouise

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 February 2023
Photo of wood thrush; found at Wikipedia.

21 Comments
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