First things first. 12 years ago yesterday a young man's parents had a horrible choice to make. In his death, the gave life and better health to many people, including Babygirl. His kidney bought her 10 years of dialysis-free life. And while transplant patients can never truly be considered "healthy," she did SO many things with that time: Mission trips, hiking, traveling, and being the Best Auntie Anyone Ever Had (I mean, except maybe all of her sisters, who are pretty fine Aunties as well LOL).
Last year this was all very difficult to talk about. The loss of that kidney, the desperate week of touch-and-go, and the subsequent spiral into dialysis? It was a very different ride than the first time, when despite the shocking fact of Babygirl's kidney failure we had TIME (although to be honest, it really didn't FEEL that way!) to choose her transplant center, dialysis type, etc. Two years ago it was more like running head-on into a brick wall at 100 mph while simultaneously needing to keep driving at 100 mph.
Something like that. It beggars description, really.
At the same time, I went from being the mom of one disabled adult child to the mom of 2 disabled adult children, as Curlygirl began her ongoing descent into the horror that is Long COVID.
As a result of all of this, much of my life ground to a halt. I had already slowed down on my walking (winter is tough. I'm too old to fall on ice). When spring came, work, dialysis, traveling with Curlygirl to investigate Long COVID centers and solutions, and helping out with the grandkids took over all of my energy and my coping skills took a nosedive. When you know that self-care matters, but you can't really care that it matters? I mean...
I started counseling and journaling (a good go-to when times are tough!). I'm still crawling up out of that hole.
But one of the ugly consequences of all of this lack of self-care has having to also cope with the fact that my pants don't fit. There's a lot of fluff going on. The last time I spent a few years ignoring my own needs I gained 100 pounds. This time it's "only" 10, and it has stabilized, but I can't, won't, will absolutely NOT buy bigger pants.
I can't remember the last time I walked to work. Ella is Very Sad (as only a droopy-faced hound dog can be) about how few walks she is getting. I walked her yesterday and felt the top of my hamstrings protest like I'd personally invented hills just to torture them. At least I wasn't winded, but to be fair Ella can't walk fast enough up a hill for that to happen.
Recognizing that one needs to stay as healthy as possible to delay as long as possible being a burden on one's children, and taking the steps needed to do that are very different things.
So. One of the oddest things on my bucket list is that I want to climb the bridge in Sydney Harbour. The summit is almost 450 feet above the water and crossing the entire bridge and back takes 3 1/2 hours. Citygirl and Babygirl want to go to Australia but both give a hard NO to climbing that bridge LOL. Citygirl's Beau is absolutely down with it, and he's muscular enough to keep me from dying in the process, so we are hoping to take that trip about this time next year.
Climbing 40 stories twice and staying on my feet for 3.5 hours? Well....that is not a NOW thing. But it needs to be FUTURE thing, so I'm putting it out to the universe that I'm planning on being able to do it a year from now, preferably in the same size pants I'm wearing now without requiring a lie-down to pull up the zippers.
DeeDee
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