Auntie Mame Nailed It

Mame Dennis nailed it, when she told the hapless Agnes Gooch,  "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

Cannot remember a time I didn't believe that. Was there ever a time the charge of being a Pollyanna wasn't being leveled at me?  Too sunny, too cheerful, too upbeat - to a lot of people, those qualities smack of insincerity, of brown nosing, of being shallow.

Well, fiddle-dee-dee to them!!

And the same f-d-d to those folks who think that my disinterest in getting a thorough check up for my breathing problems is unreasonable, even irresponsible.  While some friends worry I've become a darkly fatalistic Pollyanna, I like to think of  myself as a thoroughly well-grounded, life-embracing one!  

Back when John & I married, our future was assured.  John was a freelance airbrush artist, a job my boss said guaranteed a hefty income. I had every reason to expect I’d ultimately get thrown one of those POG (Prudential Old Guard) 30^th Anniversary parties I helped organize, and another shindig - with John & loving family on hand - as I retired with a hefty bank account, a  well-stocked 401k, and a lifetime of gilt-edged retiree health care coverage.  

Except life set everything on its ear.  Repeatedly.

Our current reality is that we have the paltriest of bank accounts & every penny plus more in it is due to the tax collector.  Again.  Much to our surprise.  Up to a week or so ago, we'd taken pride in having that expense covered.  Thanks to a commission John had on the boards ~ money which would only be in our hands for the briefest of moments before heading to the not-so-patiently-waiting tax collector ~  we were covered.  Then, the commission went pouf! when the client’s husband, on seeing comp art for review, said, “I could get that done by someone online for $250.” 

Did I freak out?  Ring my hands?  Even seriously fret?  No.  We’d done what we were supposed to.  The project was lined up, John had done what he was supposed to do.  

What else could be done?  Strong arm the client into changing her mind? 

Sure, it took me by surprise.  I’d never known a client to back out of a commission at the comp art stage.  John doesn’t bill a client until AFTER the comp art is approved or final changes are made to the preliminary sketch.  No approval – no $$$. 

What could he have done differently?  Nothing. 

Along those same lines, my current reality is that I have a medical condition that causes me to have shortness of breath, both waking & sleeping.  Several times a year, I’ll wake up, on the couch in the den, in abject terror, breathing heavily.  Have slept there for longer than I care to say, in order to sleep more or less upright.  

Last night shook me up so much, I actually went upstairs to sleep with John, even though my breathing usually keeps him awake.  (He assured me it wasn’t, but he went to bed early tonight because he’s tired, so you figure out if he was telling the truth or making me feel better.)  

And then there's my wobble & limp.  When I stand up after sitting for an hour, I have to clutch onto something to get my balance; even then, I tend to wobble about for a bit.  When I've been standing in one spot for a while, I limp.  When I've been standing in one place for a long while, I can limp for a day or more.  (Disconcerting, looking so much like my brother, Peter, when he needed hip work.)  

What's the problem?  An excellent question to which I have no answer.

About four years ago, the school where I taught was informed that Philadelphia required all teachers - including alternative ed teachers - needed to have it certified that we did not have TB.  This was not a big deal for most of my colleagues, as they saw their physician on a regular basis.  Not me.  I hadn't seen a doctor since 2002, the last time I had health care coverage.  Found a doctor, arranged an appointment, had a physical, along with blood work & an x-ray to definitely rule out TB.  

  

It does not bode well when the person reading your chest x-ray says,

 “Call your doctor IMMEDIATELY.”

Which I did.  The x-ray ruled out TB.  That was the good news.  It also revealed a 5 cm “shadow” on my chest.  Not so good.

The doctor explained that the next step was to get a cat scan ASAP. 

Yeah.  

The blood work, which everyone – including my doctor – expected to be $500 was billed at $1500;  when I protested the amount, the billing office informed me, “You're not under contracted care; we can charge you whatever we want.”  Completely true, on both counts.  They can & they do. 

Imagine what a cat scan would be?!

Here comes the broken record part, the stuff that my friends hear every time they make impassioned pleas to get my condition diagnosed - - why would I spend mega bucks on diagnosing something I don’t have the $$ or coverage to treat?  My practical turn of mind says, “Throwing away money.”  

If  anyone wants to underwrite diagnostic care, then please give me the considerable wad of bucks it would take so I can put it to good use LIVING.

Maybe my attitude is rooted in all the years I kept life at arm’s length (if I could have kept it ever farther away, I would have).  Foolish me, I filled it with fretting & fussing over things I wished weren’t instead of embracing & expanding the things that ARE.   

Here I am, finally, actually, fully, joyfully & purposefully participating in my own life and I am NOT going back.  Which is what I’d be doing if, given my realities, I made a priority of finding out what’s up with my health.

Over the past 24 years, I’ve discovered that one of my most passionate dislikes is getting mired down in hapless energies.  Even if someone came up with the $$ for me to get diagnostic testing, there's no coverage & no saved money to pay for treatment.  If someone came up with the $$$ for treatment - even if all I need were meds - the costs would be astronomical, especially for someone w/o pharmacy coverage?  Imagine the $$$$$$$$$$ costs if surgery is advised??  Oh, and factor in the cost of me not working. 

I’d be in the hospital, but John & the cats would be out on the street. 

For years, I've pegged myself as the poster child for health care reform.  Alas, anyone in my situation doesn't qualify for the Affordable Care Act.  As for other aid, you'd be amazed at how much home ownership disqualifies someone.  And I am NOT about to dishonestly "work the system" to get the care.

My life has some really troubling things about it.  If I still had a cushy job in Corporate America, things might be different.  Or might not.  Health care coverage is not what it was.  I have friends whose health care plans carry $3,000 annual deductibles.  Annual.  (A mega advantage is that when they do pay a bill, it’s at the contracted rate.)

My greatest fear isn’t that I will die.  

It’s that I won’t fully live. 

Sad but true, I spent over 50 years of my existence on this planet in a sort of half life, seeking something that could never be.  For 50+ years, I irrationally held onto the slimmest of slim hopes that people who couldn’t relate to me suddenly would. Note, I don't say wouldn't - couldn't.  

What a lot of time to waste.  Imagine taking 50+ years trying your very best to get two male plugs to connect, to generate energy, never realizing it’s never going to happen. 

Wait a sec –  that's wrong.  They weren’t wasted years.  They were invested.  

Over those years, I learned a lot.  About human nature, about family dynamics, about personal strengths & weaknesses (my own & others), about matters of spirit transcending matters of everything else.  I learned to wildly embrace & love the concept of family as an abstract instead of as something tangible.  I learned we’re put on this earth to be our best self, which almost always - with almost everyone - starts with stripping away all the weirdness that got stuck to you but never belonged in the first place.

At this present moment, I am in a place that feels wonderful.  

Yes, there are health issues.  There are money issues.  And if I had been remiss in saving, then I’d beat myself up over being short-sighted.  But I wasn’t.  I’d saved up a nice chunk of change – or so I thought.  John had an IRA.  

Life had different plans.  

But LIFE never had different plans for ME – 

it always wanted me to be the best, fullest expression of all that I am.

Over the past year, that’s happened.  If I can feel shortness of breath & wobbly ankles, I feel even more strongly the thrilling spirit that has filled this past year. 

It’s my pleasure & honor to work with grannie clients, getting them out & about.  I want to grow that work, find ways to reach out to more families affected by the challenge & reward of having older members needing extra attention & the special insights to the elderly that I received through Mom & Mom M., "Grandma" Rose & Miss Cornelia, Viola Ridgeway & Rachel Carlson et al.  I’ll never be someone adept at helping meet a grannie client meet their day-to-day needs ~ my mother & her friends were older but never, in spite of their ages, elderly.  

My gift is not in being a friend, a companion, 

but as a side kick, someone who makes things HAPPEN. 

It’s moot whether my health declines when I am in my early 60s or 80s or 100s – it’s going to decline sometime.  What matters isn’t my health, it’s what I do with my life, as it is. 

For me, that means doing WAY more than I have so far.  First & foremost, it means improving my level of fitness, which is lousy.  It’s true my breathing problems contribute to being overweight & being overweight contributes to my breathing problems, but all that means is it’s going to take an extra effort to improve my level of fitness. 

It means improving my life skills.  Okay, I’ve improved them quite a bit over the past 10+ years, but they're still abysmal.  It will take help from others to clean up & reorder my wretchedly gunked up patterns.  Restoring them to health & wholeness is way more important to me than finding out why I sound like I’m about to expire after 5 minutes of brisk walking.

We are all going to expire.  

My hope is that when I do, it will be swift & with as 

little inconvenience to others as possible.  

But I’m going to expire.

The question is – will I fully live?  

It’s not going to happen if I waste my time & other people’s money finding out information that has no relevance to me. 

Am I a Pollyanna?  Absolutely!  And proud of it!  Who wouldn't chose to be upbeat over the alternative?  But more than Pollyanna, am hoping to be as much Auntie Mame as Aunt Deev,  ready & rarin' to LIVE! LIVE! LIVE!