Welcome to my blog. NOT MY MOTHER'S 60 began as a celebration of my journey through “Super Adulthood”. In 2018, my beautiful world came crashing down on me with the sudden illness and death of my husband - my Big Kahuna - George. With his blessing I shared his four month battle with a rare cancer. When he died, a part of me died too. My blog is now my new journey – celebrating our love that will never die, and grief that never ends.
It’s official. I am a Medicare card carrying, Social
Security receiving Super Adult. Today marks the 66th anniversary of
that eventful day when my 42 year old parents, and my 19 and 14 year old
siblings welcomed little Paula Marie into the world. I have tearfully said
goodbye to Mom, Dad and my sibs, but I feel their presence always, and know
they are celebrating with me today as I mark another notch in my birthday belt.
The past year was marked with some challenges and milestones
– a debilitating back injury and surgery, retirement, Hubby happily relocating
to a home office, and all of the adjustments that ensued. While I may have moved
to the last age demographic bubble on (almost) every survey, there’s still a
lot of life left in this girl!
I also find myself being more reflective. What have I
learned so far on my journey? Here are 17 Things I Learned On My Route to 66.
I have had a simple, full life. I have reconciled any
regrets with self-forgiveness
I reinvented myself and my careers, choosing always to follow
my heart
I have made lifelong friendships
I have not let the worst moments of my life affect the best
moments
My children are my greatest accomplishment
Grandparenting is my reward for not inadvertently killing my
kids as their clueless mother!
I am happiest when Hubby is by my side
Laughter is the secret sauce of a great marriage
Letting go of toxic relationships is liberating.
Perfectionism is an excuse - and a roadblock to growth
Giving selflessly is reward enough
Fighting against social injustice is ageless
Forget science and technology. Well engineered undergarments
(aka Spanx) are the best invention of
the past 100 years
You’re never too old to dance
Every fashion trend will reappear in time – except, maybe,
shoulder pads
Pie trumps cake
Love trumps hate
Aging is inevitable. Your
relationship with age is a choice. I choose to embrace the physical
reminders and cherish the gifts that my years have bestowed on me. Hubby is taking me to the Happiest Place on
Earth today, where I will proudly wear my “It’s My Birthday” button, enjoy the
people watching, and count my blessings.
Go ahead. Call me “Paula-ana” – I’m excited
for what my next 66 years have to offer! Happy Birthday to Me. Here’s to my Sensational
66!
Everyone can relate to those annoying moments when we can’t pull that byte of information from our human hard drive. What day is Charlie’s vet appointment? Is this the “other” week for taking down the recycled trash bin?What was it I headed to the kitchen for? Life, at any age, is rife with moments of forgetfulness. As a super-adult the memory lapses may become more frequent, but to date I can say my record for timely data retrieval is pretty damn good. Except for that one day…
It began as a Sunday brunch at our home, following a Saturday night shindig in our "always ready for a party" backyard. Out of town friends and family congregated at Casa de Hultman for mimosas, munchies and memories. As usual I channeled my inner Martha Stewart, doing what I love most – entertaining. It was a lovely gathering if I do say so myself! After the guests departed, I felt the satisfaction of another successful social event, and a bit of fatigue associated with the week of socializing with wonderful friends.I decided to take a nap – something I never do – but my bed was calling my name.
Twas the Night Before...it took a day or so to remember, as the video below shows.
An hour before I "lost my mind"!
Six hours later, I opened my eyes as I was being inserted into an MRI chamber! What happened in those hours between my nap and that tube of terror is nowhere to be found in my memory. But Hubby, Son and Daughter have filled in the gaps. Let me set the scene…
As I headed upstairs for that fateful nap, I asked Hubby to run to the store for some Gatorade, my after-party beverage of choice. I had opted out of imbibing that day, but the week of “fun with friends” had resulted in the lower intestinal “gift” that keeps on giving! Son and Daughter-in-Law were at their home preparing meals in advance of the arrival of their first born, due any day. Daughter was with her Mommy and Babies group at the beach, enjoying a beautiful SoCal Sunday. About an hour after I had gone upstairs, Hubby left to fulfill my G2 request. Then the calls started…
According to phone records and corroborating reports from those involved, I called hubby first, but he had left his phone in the car when he ran into the market. I called Son and Daughter-in-Law next. By all reports, I sounded completely normal, and asked if Hubby was there. DIL said no, and I ended the call, but not before telling her, "I can't remember anything." I then called Daughter. “Something is wrong, I can't remember anything," I reported, then I added the kicker! "Dad’s not here and he won’t come home!” Understandably alarmed, she stayed on the phone with me while her friend called Hubby. He was leaving the store, got the call and raced home in record time. He found me sitting on the edge of the bed, coherent but confused, saying I didn’t remember anything. 9-1-1 was called, EMT’s arrived, and I was triaged, then transported by ambulance to the local hospital. I REMEMBER NONE OF THIS!!
I learned in cases like this, the first diagnosis is stroke. Once that was ruled out, the ER doctor and “virtual” neurologist (yes, there was a robo-doctor!) diagnosed Transient Global Amnesia (TGA). You can learn more here, but the cliff notes are:
Sudden onset of memory loss
Retention of personal identity despite memory loss
Normal cognition, such as the ability to recognize and name familiar objects and follow simple directions
Absence of signs indicating damage to a particular area of the brain, such as limb paralysis, involuntary movement or impaired word recognition
Just ride it out, the doctors said. She will not remember any of this and will be herself within 24 hours. To rule out anything more sinister, I was subjected to CT scans, MRI’s and EEG’s, and experienced my first hospital sleepover since giving birth.
For the family, relief replaced panic. Daughter and Hubby stayed by my side, and enjoyed the comedic side effect of TGA - my repetitive questioning – “Why am I here?” “How did I get here?” This was a continuous loop for hours, with my occasional comment, “This is just like “50 First Dates.” DIL and Son showed up to join the party, and Hubby swears he asked my permission to video a TGA moment, as a souvenir of my “mindless” adventure. My comments and reactions to Hubby's news is priceless. You know I love my followers because I am showing you "Paula, unplugged!"
As promised, my memory slowly returned, and about six hours after my “nap”, I was almost back to normal. Follow ups with neurologists confirmed this was TGA. Try as I might, I cannot pull any memory of those lost hours, and in particular feel a little cheated out of recall of that ambulance ride and cute paramedics!
Earlier this week, Daughter reminded me of a momentous event in her life that I had totally forgotten. TGA wasn’t to blame this time. As she shared the memory with a bit of a laugh, I felt guilt. I should have remembered! Thankfully, Daughter filled in some of the gaps and rekindled my memory. Whew!
We all have unforgettable moments in our life, but what about the lost memories? I'm hoping they are lingering in the recesses of my brain's white matter, ready to materialize one day. As a super adult I am learning there is a limit on our mental cellular data.
To my friends who have dutifully kept journals, I admire you. Imagine the joy you will have reading and reliving your history! I am pledging, for my remaining days on this planet, to begin this daily practice of jotting down notes. Perhaps the collected memories will help me answer the BIG questions of life…
I’m a list maker. Always have been, always will be. As a kid, I catalogued my collection of 45’s –those now-collectible vinyl discs that rendered their scratchy tunes on my hi-fi record player – each carefully numbered and neatly indexed in their carrying case (which I still have!). I left page-long lists for babysitters. The family friend who stays with our Golden Retriever gets his “Chillin’ with Charlie” instructions. Even Hubby gets one of my lists when my honey-do’s exceed three items.
Lists have two purposes, to which all “listers” will identify. They’re the hardcopy backup to the oft overloaded mental notes, and more importantly they provide the greatest pleasure of all - the satisfaction of the check mark or confident strike-through of each completed task. I compiled a list on my laptop with new subjects for this blog, and am already pondering how I will ceremoniously give each topic closure – I’m leaning toward changing the font to bold. Yes, I am that
person!
It will come as no surprise that I created a “list” in the months before my retirement date. Personally, I’m not a fan of the term Bucket List – or the Before I Die List, as I see it! In fact mine is likely not what you might imagine, or would have created for yourself. And it’s not one of my neatly typed or carefully penned creations. I wasn’t even in list-making mode when I began writing thoughts on the subject. I was just a girl, with a post-it pad, and an app that calculated how many work days I had left – eighty-eight to be exact…
In a moment of inspiration, I began numbering the corner of each page of that little sticky note pad. 88, 87, 86, 85….all the way to page 1. My goal was to write one retirement to-do per day on one page, then transfer that page to a new stack, thus creating a countdown to R-Day and a lovely collection of super adult activities. Some are grand (book a Mediterranean cruise). Others are adventurous – for me (go kayaking). But most are small, almost insignificant (take Charlie to the beach, anonymously purchase someone’s meal, plant a garden). Each one brings happiness, and I can say that I have succeeded in accomplishing a fair number of my post-it promises to myself. I have since added to the post-it pile as my retirement mindset has expanded.
An equally important accomplishment has been my Chuck-it List (and yes, I do call it something a little grittier). This one isn’t in writing. It just IS! I have used my 60’s to detox my life! Toxic people - gone. Regrets - so long. Cluttered closets –I’m working on it. Maybe it's time to part with those 45's! I am using this decade, and the time retirement allows me, to rid myself of that which does not bring me joy. My commitment to the 3-U’s - Unplug, Unfollow, Unsubscribe - remains a work in progress but I am finding that life is so much more rewarding in its simpler form. Hygge, anyone?
I’m happy with my not too grand, Before I Die list, but my Chuck-it list has probably brought me the most inner peace. And it’s never too early to start your own. Bucket or Chuck-it!
Remember me? Here
I am, thirty days closer to completing another trip around the sun, and 6 years
after I faced my 60th birthday and the angst I allowed it to create
in my silly little brain. While I have blogged only occasionally since then, I can
report that a lot has happened these past six years. Celebrations.Break-ups.Achievements. Health scares. Losses. Even the “R” word –
retirement!
As the Big 6-6
approaches, I have realized that this entire decade deserves as much attention
and reflection as did that milestone birthday. Hell, a few of my nieces and nephews are
turning 60 now. It’s time for me – for us - to celebrate The Sixties – not the era, but my
adventures as a 21st century sexagenarian.
It won't be earth shaking or
life changing, but perhaps my musings will evoke a memory of your own, or
inspire you to reflect on the chapters of your story, and the cast of
characters who have played a role in the person you are today.
Tune in tomorrow for my first in a series of Not My Mother's Sixties blog posts.
