I recently asked readers to give me a reason to be optimistic, and they did! Often, kids were mentioned, their own, their grandkids, or kids in general. And then “Charlie” and I saw a tiny tot at an outdoor cafe, four months old, bouncing on dad’s knee, mom nearby, all smiles. We chatted a bit about having a baby during Covid and the optimism that required. And yes, a bit of hope crept back into my mind.
Charlie and I are both without primary care doctors this summer. One left for a teaching position, the other for a research position. I’ve been known to take doctor departures as an excuse to take a break from the tedium of health care appointments that seem to dominate the aging process. Of course, we need to see someone eventually as we both have medications that require oversight, so this is just a temporary reprieve, but I’m reveling in the open days on my calendar.
A new thought occurred this week when Charlie had a specialist appointment, and the first step was an interview with a Physician’s Assistant. As it turned out, the MD was called into surgery, so we never met him, but we were both super pleased with the PA. As we were heading home, I wondered if we might find PAs for our primary care needs. PAs seem to have nothing better to do than listen at length to whatever you want to say. In this week’s appointment, she answered every question we had, gave useful, down to earth advice, and scheduled a follow-up appointment. What’s not to like?
Things That Blow Up When You Crash
How’s your word-finding ability when you need it most? Aging, of course, tends to affect our ability to find just the right word as we’re engaged in conversation. And, guess what, I’m aging. I also live in a retirement community, so conversations here can get quite “spaced-out” as we all struggle to find the word we want. Example: Last week, I was chatting with friends in the lounge, and one recounted the details of an accident in which “those things that blow up when you crash” had been activated. The speaker waited, hopeful that the correct word would come to mind. It didn’t, so she looked at the rest of us, who looked at each other and threw up our hands in frustration. Not one of us could get the right word to surface.
At some point, we went on to other topics. Another person joined us, so we asked her the name of that thing that blows up when you crash. She stared at us blankly. And so so continued our meandering conversation. About 20 minutes later, completely unrelated to the topic of the moment, I blurted out “air bags!”
It’s so weird how that happens. It’s as if we have an extra set of hands. Our visible hands move on to keep our project in motion, but some hidden set of hands keeps rummaging around trying to find that thing that we really needed a minute ago. When we’re lucky, the hidden hands shove aside enough detritus and uncover the exact word we wanted. I love it.
Trees as Therapy
We bought a tiny camper van this spring, and it’s working! We are getting out and about in nature, which I think is the best therapy there is. Hope you’re able to get out also!