I’m a hardcore sugar addict. My addiction waxes and wanes, depending on the level of self-control I’m able to muster. When my addiction is under control, I’ll indulge in a sweet treat once every week or so, or not at all. But I don’t believe in deprivation. I have sugar in my morning coffee, and I employ what I call the two-bite rule. This rule allows me to eat two average-size bites of anything sweet. So if there’s a birthday cake at work, I’ll have two bites of it. Two bites don’t seem to trigger sugar cravings and I always feel as if I’ve indulged just a little. When I can implement the two-bite rule, it works well, and I don’t feel deprived. When I jettison the two-bite rule, I’m always striving to return to it.
My father wrote poetry most of his life. As his cognitive abilities declined, he didn’t give up poetry writing. Instead, he wrote haiku, a short form of Japanese verse. When he was placed in an assisted living facility, I found sheaves of haikus scattered all over his study. They were numbered, and he’d written one hundred of them. I thought Dad’s ability to adapt to his limitation without giving up a pastime he loved was inventive and admirable. It’s so easy to be upset and angry when our bodies fail us. I’d rather be like Dad and try to find creative solutions to those limitations.
In the 1970’s, California State Assemblywoman Marg Fong Eu ran a campaign against pay toilets in California. Her efforts succeeded, and now all public toilets in California are free. I have a medical condition, interstitial cystitis, which causes, among other things, urinary frequency. I use the bathroom more than any other person I know. As a citizen of California, I’m grateful to this trail-blazing politician for eliminating an obstacle to meeting my medical needs. Thank you so much, Marg Fong Eu! Your legacy is not forgotten.
It’s hard for me to imagine being as young and stupid as I was in college. But at least I had an older brother, Charlie, to help me with the profound as well as the mundane. I went to school in Olympia, Washington, a place well known for near constant drizzle. Before I began my freshman year, Charlie helped me buy a small umbrella. So when I opened his gift for my twentieth birthday, sophomore year, and saw he’d given me a huge red stadium umbrella, I was confused. I thought, doesn’t he remember I already have an umbrella? He was there when I bought it!
At the time, I didn’t understand that umbrellas are not usually possessions that last a lifetime. They wear out and break easily. Less than two years older than me, Charlie seemed to know this fact. I don’t remember what happened to either of my college umbrellas, but they’re long gone. Thank goodness for my smart big brother, who knew I’d need at least two to see me through my college years.
I have a bladder condition necessitating a trip to the restroom every hour or two. One week at work, all of the nearby restrooms were out of order. To reach a bathroom, I had to go through seven different doors, some of them locked because I’m employed in hospital ward in which the door to the unit and my office door are always secured.
Sometimes I’m so busy at work that it’s a challenge to break away to use the restroom. The longer jaunt made getting to the bathroom even more challenging. As I counted the doors, I thought to myself, This isn’t so bad. So what if it takes me a few minutes longer? It’s annoying, but not an impediment.
I knew I was getting old when the highlight of my week was being fit for custom-made orthotics. In 2016 I’d developed painful plantar fasciitis in my right foot. With proper exercises to stretch my foot, and store-bought orthotics, my foot healed. In 2018 I developed even more severe plantar fasciitis in my other foot. The store-bought orthotics, recommended by my podiatrist, and the prescribed exercises failed to produce much improvement. Even though I’d have to pay for them out of pocket, after half a dozen months in pain, I made the appointment for custom-made orthotics.
I guess I could be blue that my body doesn’t work as well as it once did. Instead I’m thrilled that there’s a product to ease my pain, and help is on the way. It will be worth every penny. I am getting old, but it beats the alternative.
MSI Press published my new book, 100 Tips and Tools for Managing Chronic Illness, on Friday! Library Journal wrote: “ An excellent resource worthy of multiple reads. For those with a determined spirit during discouraging times.”
There is something profoundly satisfying about snagging the last space in a crowded parking lot. The center where I grocery shop is often packed. Finding a space can seem like either a competitive sport or an exercise in mindfulness in which I have to coach myself through the search, remembering that with time, I always find a spot. But when I cruise through the parking lot and spy one empty space, I always feel victorious as I ease my car into it. This doesn’t make me a good person. I should relax about the parking. But on a day when I’m sick or tired, I enjoy this small victory.
After my mother died, my brother took me aside to give me budgeting advice. He knew I’d be inheriting money from her and wanted to ensure that I used the money wisely. He suggested I spend a little of my inheritance, no more than ten percent, but enough to help me feel that I’d enjoyed myself. That way, he counseled, I’d be less likely to use the other ninety percent on impulse buys or indulgences. I took his advice and used part of the money to fund a low-cost trip to Europe.
I’ve tried to extend his advice to other parts of my life. When something good happens, I don’t go hog wild. I celebrate, but always in moderation, knowing I’ve saved the balance of the resource (time, money, etc.) to use when I really need it.