47

"In your own life, you should take particular care with endings, for their color will forever tinge your memory of the entire relationship and your willingness to reenter it".

Martin Seligman, Authentic Happiness


I usually don't have too much trouble with getting older. Really. But I should qualify that by saying that until this year, I've had really good health, so it's been easy to say, "Getting older? Piece of cake." (Pun definitely intended.)


46 started out as usual, except, as you know, it didn't stay life as usual, and by January, I was down for the count. 3 months in bed. Not exactly fun, but I did finally get some much needed rest.

The interesting thing about 46 is that I forgot I was 46 and started telling people I was 47. Now, I have NO idea how the wrong age got into my brain, but it did, and so, for about 6 months, I told people I was 47 when I WAS NOT. Talk about losing part of your life. Then, in March, as DH and I were trying to figure out which birthday this would be for him, we discovered that I was in fact 46 and that I might even enjoy being accurate when I told people my correct age.

I must admit, I felt a little cheated. What, only six more months to enjoy being 46? I didn't get the entire year back? Oh well, stuff like that happens, just like the rock that hit my windshield the other day and put a sizeable crack across it, so S, just deal, okay?

BUT, 47 did not start off well. I had an appointment with my rheumatalogist who had ordered x-rays and then MRIs and I was off to see him that morning to get the news. The news was: possible (meaning probable) neck surgery due to cervical spinal stenosis. Hmmmm. Well, that news coupled with the fact that it was delivered on the morning of my 47th birthday, on top of the fact that this doctor does NOT have a great bedside manner, as they say, and all I could think as we ended the appointment was "I can not get out of here fast enough." My chest felt tight, I wanted to cry, and I admit to being probably the biggest wuss you have ever met. Physically, that is. Really, I have to look away when the nurse draws blood. And now, neck surgery? Are you kidding me?

I got out of the building and to my car as fast as I could. Then the floodgates opened. I'm not going to question those emotions .... whatever sadness/vulnerability/disbelief I felt had a right to be there, at least for a little while. I came home, and rested my head against DH's chest, sobbing, barely able to get out the news. And he handled me beautifully. So loving and caring and reassuring in ways I am sure I have not been when he needed it. I was grateful for that. The tide abated, and sensible thinking soon returned. Thoughts like, "You have access to great medical care," and "People have surgery like this all the time and they recover and live productive lives." (Told you I was a wuss. Of course, it didn't help that I almost died last time I tried to have minor elective surgery, but I'M SURE that wasn't coloring my thinking.)

Well, if I was going to have to have surgery, I was going in there strong, so off to the gym. And when I got home, DH had EXACTLY what I had asked for my birthday sitting on the kitchen table, along with some lovely flowers. Life was good again.

Over the past few years, I have begun to really think about what I want when the occasion calls for it. So,instead of waiting and wondering if or what I would get from my family for my 47th birthday, I told my husband to tell the kids EXACTLY what I wanted.

And what was that, you may ask? Simple: I wanted the kids to each write down two of their favorite memories with me. That was it. And they did. Well, all except my oldest, but he left a most lovely jar of chocolate covered toffees on the table, so I'm not going to complain about that. Even my youngest, who never says - let alone WRITES! - more than two sentences in one go, wrote something for me.

Then DH said, I am taking you out to dinner, so we went down the street and had salad at one of our favorite little places, then came home and watched a video and the day turned out to be a rather lovely day. So, 47 is okay and if you ever think it doesn't matter what you do for folks, whether it is their birthday or no, think again.

Oh, and I don't have to have neck surgery. Just thought I'd add that in case you were wondering ...