~Upstream and Down~

Here it is again. That turning point called the NEW YEAR, the start of which is considered a perfect moment to try, try again to do whatever it was you’d vowed to do at the start of last year, but failed to maintain for 365 days. Why is it so hard to stick to goals? Especially when they are good for you? And even when you really WANT to stick to them? I don’t know. When I was slim and trim (and young), exercise was a reward in itself. I loved the relaxed feeling after working up a sweat in an aerobics class, the feeling of power after weight training, the slim, trim body with defined muscles. I exercised routinely for years and years. Then, when I was forty-six, I had some minor surgery and had to stop working-out for a while. I discovered how nice it was to come straight home from work and sit with a cup of tea and the newspaper. Somehow I never got back into consistent daily exercise. I'd start and stop, start and stop, with longer and longer times before I started again....

"They thread a thin flexible straw through your cervix," I said, grimacing. "The straw collects the cells." "Relax," my husband told me. "You've popped out three babies. How bad can this be?" He was referring to the endometrial biopsy my doctor had scheduled to rule out cancer. While I'd said little about being worried, I suppose the fact that I was gasping at what I read on the Internet indicated some concern. What is it that turns a fourteen-hour labor into "popping out" a baby? But still, he had a point. Childbirth makes most other types of pain seem pale. The procedure was said to cause some "cramping." Big deal. Cramping. Some women get light headed and nauseous. Some women, not me. Now I was lying on the exam table, "undressed from the waist down" covered with a paper sheet. I'd been shown the "straw,"-- yellow, sealed in plastic-- about the circumference of a glass mercury thermo...

Sometimes in the midst of the serious problems in life, I dwell on problems of less significance-- like a saggy chin. (Maybe I should call it a double chin, but right now it is only double if I look down, so saggy will do for --hopefully-- many more years.) I know it all has to do with the aging process, and gravity. Most of my doctor visits in the past few years have included such comments from doctors and dentists as: "When we get older our (fill in body part) start to (choose from: sag, hurt, fall out, become more abundant). None of which is encouraging. Or attractive. I had a chin wake-up call the other day. I was in my role as "reporter" for the local paper. I'd been asked to come see the town's Emergency Operations Center by its director, a man who is a retired Drug Enforcement Agent. He was in his glory in his "bunker" in the basement of the town office building. He wanted to give me the "25-cent tour." I could put a cat to shame with m...

I got two nice responses from friends to my post on "Renewing My Vows" where I rededicate myself to my former New Years Resolution, now known as Spring Rebirth Wish. I was/am planning to step back onto the treadmill and "watch" what I eat. The old exercise more/eat less theme. The first response was from a woman, Frances, who said in the very first line, "I empathize with this . . .." She used the word feelings-- twice. Frances understood. I sighed with pleasure. The other was from Gary, a guy I respect, admire, and happen to like a lot. And while I'm absolutely positive he doesn't live on Mars, he had either just returned from a party with the guys, or his inherent Mars genetic traits resurfaced at the chance to give advice. He is, after all, a man, God love him. He had just the fix I need; he just knew it. His response was funny, lots of humor. It made me laugh. I sighed with pleasure. Gary started with advice: one rule, and two exceptions. And I...

I stand in the exam room with my Johnnie tied tightly in back. My clothes hang on a hook, underpants and bra rolled and hidden in the pocket of my jeans. I look down at my brown knee-hi socks, trying to decide if I should leave them on. Of course I should, but they look weird, the way socks on a naked man making love look. I pulled them off. Perched on the exam table, feet dangling, I wait for the doctor, flipping through People Magazine and wondering how the heck the two women on the cover managed to loose over 200 pounds each, when I can't even manage to lose ten. The doctor, a slim forty-ish woman enters, and trips over the shoes I'd placed carefully out of the way to make sure she wouldn't trip. We laugh about that as she sits on the little stool on wheels that let her skitter from counter to exam table and back, without standing. She skims the notes the nurse had entered in my chart, commenting to herself: takes multivitamins, occasional glass of wine, doesn...