Sunday Morning Reflections

 

This last day of 2023, I should perhaps reflect on the year that was, but I don't think I can.

Just thinking about the two large wars, the children and everyone else who suffer and die, makes it too difficult. I will leave the writing to those better qualified than me.

On a personal level, I can say that this was the year when my brain got foggy and only recently recovered. Only forgetfulness lingers, but as long as I remember the things I need to remember and my phone can remind me of the rest, I'm not worried.

A scary thought: about 10% of patients 65 and older develop cognitive decline after surgery. 

Fortunately, this didn't happen to me, but I couldn't think as well, manage my money as well, remember things, do cross words and other puzzles, and so on for the year after my surgery. 

I also lost a lot of energy and gained a lot of pain. I'm working to resolve both of those issues.

This was also the year I got old. No recovery from that.

But I'm happy, I learned a long time ago, when I finally realized that I would not have children, to accept and let go. 

Acceptance is a necessary part of a happy life.

 

 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

 

 My grandparents made this Santa circa 1905, so he 

is very old indeed.   He has lived with me for many

years and I take good care of him.  A bowl of

porridge and a couple of cookies on Christmas Eve and 

he's a happy Santa. 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

                                                           

 

Christmas Merriment In A California Suburb

Early in December, my friend Jane came upon this in her suburban neighborhood. 

A bit later, Santa's sled arrived on the roof of the house. 

And here's Santa again, on the ground. I think he's Donald Duck all dressed up, sharing his space with some plastic flamingos. 

Thank you, Jane and I wish you and Vince a Happy Christmas.

 

Celebrating Thirty Years Free of Cigarettes

 

Photo: Pascal Meier

Both my parents smoked, they were of a generation where cigarettes and smoky rooms were very common. 

I was about 10 when I took my first puff off a cigarette, after a boy in our elementary school dared me, as we walked home together. I thought it was horrible and never touched one again for many years. 

But then, as a teenager, going to jazz clubs in the ancient cellars of Old Town, Stockholm, where everyone smoked, or so it seemed, I took up smoking too. 

I was about 17 when my parents found out. I remember them both being upset. 

Years went by, I smoked, then I didn't want to smoke any longer, but found myself unable to stop. 

That's how I learned about addiction. 

I was able to cut back. Somewhere in there, the university where I worked no longer allowed smoking indoors, so that helped a lot. 

But I still couldn't completely stop. I kept trying and failing, trying and failing, to the extent that when I had no cigarettes at home, I could wake up in the middle of the night, needing to have one. I would get so desperate that I would get up and out in the night and drive to the nearest Seven/Eleven store that was open.

Then, finally, help arrived with the Nicorette Gum. 

With the help of this gum, I stopped smoking for good on December 21, 1993. 

I was 53 years old.

I believe I kept chewing the gum for about three years after I stopped smoking, but I never smoked again. 

Sadly my dad died as a result of his heavy smoking habit. He was 66 years old when he passed away from lung cancer. 

My mom continued to smoke, but never as much as my dad did and she survived him by about 15 years. 

Today, it has been thirty years since I smoked my last cigarette. I know the date so well because I wrote it down and made a commitment in writing that day. For my life and my health.

Strangely, I've never thought of or wanted to smoke a cigarette again. 

So a huge thank you to the Nicorette gum developers. 

 

Me:  So Faith, do you think our new blog is really working now?

Faith: I don't know, I'm no blog expert.

Me: Me neither.

Faith mumbles: You can say that again.

Me: I didn't hear that, what did you say?

Faith: Nothing important.

Me: If you look at me when you talk to me, maybe I could hear you better.

Faith: Is this better?

Me: Much better. Now, what do you think about the new blog, will it be a success?

Faith: I don't know, you just have to keep at it, writing away, telling stories, posting pictures. 

Me: OK, that's a plan. As long as I have your support, I think I can do anything. You are such a very, very good dog.

Faith: I know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: It's actually been more difficult than I thought to have to leave my old blog. I started it in 2009 and it has so many years of my life contained in it. 

I go back to settings to try to get the comments section back, but the advice I get doesn't match anything available there. I continue to ask questions, and so on, but nothing works. 

I've always been happy about my ability to let go of things, but this is really, really difficult.