Relentless Time

Time marches on - the year is in it's last quarter and I'm still trying to remember to write 2010 on my checks. I can't believe how busy this year has been and how quickly it is going, going, gone.

I am still struggling with back and leg pain and am hoping that Thanksgiving will work out without too much effort on my part. I did Rosh Hashana for 9 people this year and it was a week before I could walk without too much pain as a result.

I'm looking at the possibility of another back surgery - not that I'm looking for surgery, but I am looking for some relief of the pain so I can function at some level above a cockroach.

There are so many things I want to do, places I want to go and people I want to see and I have neither the energy or the physical ability to do them. I spent some time - about 20 minutes - in a book store the other day and it wore me out. This used to be one of my favorite pastimes - spending time with books; deliciously figuring out which ones I'll buy to read and enjoy etc. But now it's an ordeal.

My very dear friend and her husband and my husband and myself went on the Wine Train yesterday. You basically sit and watch the vineyards go by and eat a very NON OA lunch. Taste a few glasses of wine. Not a high energy day. But the walking the short distance from the train and through the winery was exhausting.

Gosh, I hope this entire blog isn't going to be whining!

Anyway, I have an MRI coming up. And my husband has cataract surgery and retinal surgery coming up. So that will take care of any events in the next few weeks.

It's always a surprise to me to find how much my brain lives a seperate existance from my body.
In my head, I can go and do stuff; I was fantasizing about travel on the Danube River and in my fantasy I forgot that I have trouble getting around. I was thinking we could rent bikes at the various stops along the way and explore a little that way - like I can ride a bike? I thought it might be fun to go on one of those travel tours that take you to archeological sites and you can even take part - although I doubt that crouching in a hole reached by rough travel is going to happen any time soon. I guess what I'm noticing is that my options are narrowing down. Waaay down.

I realized quite a few years ago, that it was too late to become a ballet dancer, concert pianist, or cellist. Not too long after that, I realized that it wasn't going to work out going back to school to become a doctor - nor a historian, nor for that matter a psychologist specializing in problems of aging!! That, at least, was familiar territory to me. So when they say at Yom Kippur, the gates are closing, slowly closing for another years - I worry about whether or not it's too late to do anything - even living comes into questionable - pretty basic stuff.

I read the papers, often the obituaries. In a small town like this, it's not unlikely that you know someone in the obits. I'm happy my name hasn't shown up yet, but I notice a lot of those people are younger than I am. And my husband's age numbers give me the heebie jeebies - he's OLD.
Really , OLD. OMG!

So whether you notice or not, whether you regret it or not, time marches on. Time may well be an illusion but it's one we cannot ignore at will. By the time you figure it all out, it's too late for it to be of any use to you. And your kids don't give a shit! Because they know it's not going to happen to them. Good luck!

I guess the real message - oft repeated - is to enjoy what you can while you can. Be grateful for being here and mentally alert enough to appreciate life with all it's pitfalls and mousetraps. And if you can make the most of those moments left to you - for me, it's the hugs and kisses of my children and grandchildren. It's the snuggle with my husband when I'm not hurting too much to let him near me. It's the sense of spiritual connection when services hit just the right note. It's being with friends and family to share in special events, to eat, to laugh and to hug.

It's all good stuff. They say in the temple "Choose life" - so even as life is slipping by me like an eel in water, I choose life.