EARLIER THAN THE WORM

A strange thing happened as I recovered from my most recent depression-I stopped sleeping.  I am not tired in the evening, and regardless of what time I turn out my light, I wake up by 3 AM.  It’s really weird being awake when the world(or at least my part of it) is pitch dark, eerily quiet, and I am wide awake.

My doctor asked me if I was tired during the day, and I responded that as long as I was not an airline pilot, I thought I was alert enough to lead my little life.  Last night I listened to the Astros/Dodgers game, and didn’t even attempt sleep until 11:30 PM.

Still, when I woke up and looked at the lighted dial on the watch I keep on my nightstand, the hands showed close to 3 AM.  I am not tired when I awaken so early, but I am hungry.  So I ate some cookies I baked yesterday, a packet of nuts, and made weak decaf.

The problem is that I have nothing to do in the early-morning hours.  Television is unappealing, and I lack the concentration to read.  So, I listen to the radio.  Since I was a young girl, I have always liked to do that.  At sunset(which is ever earlier these days,) the signals change and I can tune in to stations across the country on my transistor.  I listen to talk of snow in Canada, traffic in New York City, and talk on my favorite out-of-town station-WBZ in Boston.  I don’t have to leave home to travel.

I was always a “morning person,” but not this early.  The whole days passes with my circadian rhythm all messed up.  I am ready for lunch at 11:00 AM, and often eat dinner at 4:30.  Fortunately, I live alone so no one else is inconvenienced.

But maybe if someone shared my bed, they would give me a reason to sleep longer.

 

 

 

 

 

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FANTASYLAND

I have been single for about thirty years now.  That is a long time to be alone.  Now that I am feeling better, I decided to try online dating.  Nothing ventured…….

I joined two sites and the results have been interesting.  I don’t even know who I am really talking(writing) to.  Already scammed twice, but no money lost.  Anyway, I am corresponding with several men and I am having fun.

As an introvert, loner, I am not that comfortable with closeness and emotional intimacy.  I sometimes(often) just want to be home alone eating chocolate-chip cookies.  Online “dating” provides the illusion of having a connection with several men without risking anything.  I don’t even have to be dressed well to “meet” with them.  And I even learned how to text-talk about impersonal distance.

But

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FANTASYLAND

I have been single for about thirty years now.  That is a long time to be alone.  Now that I am feeling better, I decided to try online dating.  Nothing ventured…….

I joined two sites and the results have been interesting.  I don’t even know who I am really talking(writing) to.  Already scammed twice, but no money lost.  Anyway, I am corresponding with several men and I am having fun.

As an introvert, loner, I am not that comfortable with closeness and emotional intimacy.  I sometimes(often) just want to be home alone eating chocolate-chip cookies.  Online “dating” provides the illusion of having a connection with several men without risking anything.  I don’t even have to be dressed well to “meet” with them.  And I even learned how to text-talk about impersonal distance.

But

UNADORNED

When I  was a teenager, I begged my mother to let me get my ears pierced.  She denied my pleadings and said “nice girls” don’t have pierced ears or chew gum in public.  Wow, have things changed.  But it was the 1950’s and I listened and obeyed her admonitions, and stayed with my ears untouched.

I spent my first year of college in New York City haunting the jewelry stores in Greenwich Village looking for earrings that looked pierced but were, in fact, matronly clip-ons.  Needless to say, my grades were not stellar that year.  And I am not certain why I acted as if I still needed her permission when I married after my sophomore year.  But it was the mid-1960’s and rebellion was just beginning to emerge.

The year I turned thirty, I decided the time was right for ear-piercing.  I arranged to go to the doctor(no mall…

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UNADORNED

When I  was a teenager, I begged my mother to let me get my ears pierced.  She denied my pleadings and said “nice girls” don’t have pierced ears or chew gum in public.  Wow, have things changed.  But it was the 1950’s and I listened and obeyed her admonitions, and stayed with my ears untouched.

I spent my first year of college in New York City haunting the jewelry stores in Greenwich Village looking for earrings that looked pierced but were, in fact, matronly clip-ons.  Needless to say, my grades were not stellar that year.  And I am not certain why I acted as if I still needed her permission when I married after my sophomore year.  But it was the mid-1960’s and rebellion was just beginning to emerge.

The year I turned thirty, I decided the time was right for ear-piercing.  I arranged to go to the doctor(no mall piercings for me,) with a friend and when the date arrived she backed out.  I went anyway and when he shot through my ears with the piercing gun, I almost threw up.  Another good reason for gun control.

Well, he inserted the non-allergic gold earrings and I was finally a grownup in my own eyes.  I looked at women everywhere, or more accurately I looked at their ears.  I bought more studs, dangles, a few gem circles and loved inserting the new purchases each day.

But a funny(not funny at the time,) thing happened and I was depressed for a long time recently.  During that period, I wore no jewelry, barely brushed my hair, dressed poorly and didn’t care.  If you have ever been depressed, you get my point.

Thanks to G-d and good medical care, I have emerged from my despair and feel much better.  The holes in my ears closed up from lack of use, and I decided not to have them repierced(not a real word.)  I don’t want to feel like a Christmas tree with ornaments hanging off my body.  No offense to anyone who wears, loves and looks great in earrings.  I just like the natural look right now.

I HAVE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE

I used to think I would like to marry a doctor.  I dated two men in high school who later became doctors-psychiatrists-it figures.  One later lost his medical license due to his practice of trading drugs for sex.  The other never responded to an email I sent when his mother died.  I have had relationships with two other physicians, but they were both married.  Yes, I am far from perfect.

But, now, all I have to do is go to Target and purchase my personal doctor-well, sort of. My feet have been aching for weeks-achilles- tendon and terrible heel pain.  I treat the aches mostly with ice and what my personal doctor recommends.  That would be Dr. Scholls.

Every orthotic on the market bearing his name now resides in my home.  I stuff them into shoes, boots and even my slippers.  They provide momentary relief.  I hesitate to see a new real M.D. as I am already getting treatment for back troubles.  My lower extremities are old and tired, and I am not sure how to proceed.

I did hear an advertisement on WBAL radio for a podiatrist in Towson who treats foot pain.  I looked her up online, and will probably schedule an appointment.  So it goes for growing older-spending too much time at doctors and dentists to stave off total degeneration.

As for the doctors I wanted to marry or hook up with.  I am glad I didn’t, and for now Dr. Scholls is all I need.

MEDICARE SPONSORED SPA

About three months ago, my back began aching.  I attributed the pain to old age, poor posture or lack of exercise.  Although not the cause of the discomfort, all those possible causes are true.  I waited for a few weeks, relying on an old heating pad to cure the problem.  I had a back issue years ago, and ended up in traction in the hospital for three weeks.  I actually think at that time, the problem was psychosomatic and resulting from not wanting to attend a relative’s wedding.

So much for the past.  Here I was in early spring, having trouble bending down to tie the shoes which were advertised to help my back, grimacing with pain too often and generally convinced something was wrong with me.  So, I went to see an orthopaedic surgeon.

Secretly, I hoped to receive pain medication, but since the opioid epidemic has spiraled so greatly, none was offered.  Too bad that when we need strong pain meds, we can’t get them anymore.  Well, after the requisite x-ray, the doctor told me I had scoliosis.  News to me, since no physician had ever noticed it before.  But there it was-a curvature of the spine.  I don’t look strange, and can still walk fairly well, but the pain persists.

The physician gave me an Rx for physical therapy instead of Percocet.  For the past few weeks, I have been showing up for my sessions designed to help, if not correct, the problem.  Unexpectedly, I am enjoying the treatment.

I get lots of attention as the personnel guide me through exercises that are very easy and sort of fun.  I ride a stationary bike for ten minutes, and then perform some non-unpleasant stretches and bending.  Then, the payoff.

I get to lie on a table, attached to some wires, on heated pads, with a pillow under my knees.  The tech increases the stimulation delivered through the wires and I get to relax for fifteen minutes.  I feel so calm and peaceful just being and not doing anything, while the treatment continues.  I am sorry when the buzzer indicates that my time on the table is up.

Medicare covers the cost of my spa-like experience, and that program is wonderful  No medical bills since I enrolled.  Maybe there are some benefits to getting older.  I try to view my advancing years positively.  I am grateful to be alive, have a wonderful daughter and grandchildren, and finally the freedom to be authentically me.