Cipher

I’ve been a teenager

and I’ve been old.

I’m sorry to say that

being a teenager is a piece of cake

compared to being old.

And I haven’t even endured to the end.

Maybe if we lived in a culture where

old age is revered

and old people are considered wise,

it wouldn’t be so challenging,

but we don’t.

So why does the Church focus so much attention
on the young people
while virtually ignoring the old?
(except to clean the church and pay alms)

I’ve long admired the way the Church
has added meaning to the lives of older people

with Family History, Missions, and Temple Work.

Unfortunately, even those don’t work for everyone.

Eventually the time comes

when you can’t do them anyway

and you are still alive.

A cipher in the snow,

so to speak.
So where, dear Church, is the program for us?
We once had a Relief Society President
who sponsored a Christmas Social
for all the older sisters.
We found out that we still can talk,
laugh, share, connect, and enjoy. 
We thought the younger sisters
were the only ones who could do that.

...but he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved. Matt. 10:22 Mark 13:13

"The Lord clearly declared, 'If you keep my commandments and endure to the end you shall have eternal life, which gift is the greatest of all the gifts of God.' "Therefore, enduring to the end is not just a matter of passively tolerating life's difficult circumstances or 'hanging in there'."  "Enduring to the end is remaining faithful to the laws and ordinances of the gospel of Jesus Christ throughout our life, is a fundamental requirement for salvation in the kingdom of God."--Dieter F. Uchtdorf

H E L P

Halloween

The gym where we swim

had a Halloween Costume Contest.

I went as an old crippled Hawaiian.

I don't know if I won.

Probably not.
 Because that's the way

I go to the gym everyday.

Minus the leis.

We got those at a Hawaiian Party

last weekend.

The Awakening

About three weeks ago

I gradually got the feeling

that I was becoming myself again.

I was sensing normalcy for the first time

since January 2, when the malignant tumor

was found in my uterus,

nothing but bad news from there.

It was like I was living in a blurry dark shadow;

or this was happening to someone else.

I was just observing.

Then I awakened.

I liked being myself.

It felt right.
“Who were you before?”
“I don’t know.
I just know it wasn’t me.”
I made little goals each day

like cleaning the fridge a few shelves

at a time.

It’s been a week since I cleaned the rest of the fridge.

All I had left to do was the door.

What happened to my awakening?

I loved it so.

Fulfilling the Goal

The Goal 

was to get back to normal activity. 

I ride my adult recumbent trike

again;

not as often or as far or as long or as fast

but I ride it.

I swim three days a week

not as far or as long or as fast

but I swim.

I do stretches every morning.

I do the laundry, some dishes,

Am I back to normal activity?

OK, so I've been selective.

I don't do yard work or shovel snow.

I do limited housework.

I cannot get cooking back on the agenda.

I worry that I'm becoming a spoilt brat.

Selfish.

Yet I need some perks,

wouldn't you say?

I hasten to make the goal a reality

while I can

because even I know

it won't last.
Not only because of the cancer
throughout my body,
but also because of my advanced age.
At least, I thought it was advanced
until we helped Sylvia
celebrate her 99th birthday.

Jeanette 83 October 3 - Sylvia 99 October 9

This is the Time of Year

when you see some people walking

with a hat, scarf, warm coat, mittens and boots;

while others are walking

in a short sleeve T-shirt.

Some kids are riding bikes or

skipping to school in shorts.
Riding my trike with a coat on,
I freeze going downhill and
cook peddling back up.
Perfect on the level.

When all in the same day,

clouds fester and darken,

the wind whips up,

a few drops fall.

The next time you look out

the sun is shining brightly.

Of and on all day.

The autumn leaves are in various stages of change

from green to red to yellow.

Sometimes all on one tree.

Some trees are bare.

Note Ed's new car with him inside.

Also note the blackened hills from our BIG SCARY FIRE.

Snow covers the mountain tops.

It’s the time of year when

riding trikes, soaking in the scenery,

fills our souls with warmth for the coming winter.

I love this variegated season.

My Personal Faith

Faith

is spending $2,500

on new hearing aids

(actually one hearing aid and one crossover in the right ear

that transmits the sound to the left ear)

when you have Stage 4 Breast Cancer

in your breast, bones, and cervix.

(She got 95% of the cancer when she did a hysterectomy

but she couldn't get it all.)

These hearing aids have rechargeable batteries;

so you just plug them in every night

with your iPhone, iPad, vacuum.

Trouble is our house was built
 before all these things that need to be charged.

We're outlet shy,

especially when the plugs
 in the bathrooms don't work.

I was Hoodwinked

When I first found the lump on my breast

I went to the University of Utah Hospital

where my primary care doctor was.

Except, of course, I couldn’t get in with her

on short notice,

so I went to the guy who was available.

He thought I needed a biopsy

and since it was Friday afternoon

and a holiday weekend,

he suggested I go to

the Lakeview Hospital in Bountiful.

I still waited until Tuesday.

Why didn’t I just wait for the U?

Without asking,

when I went back to get the results

to find out I had cancer,

they had me lined up with the four or five

different procedures and doctors

in four or five different locations

until I was cured.

They gave me a large loose-leaf

with all my appointments and instructions.

It was an ordeal to change and

get in with the Huntsman Cancer Center.

More waiting and anxiety.

They don’t care.

I specifically went to the Women’s Center

so I would have all women doctors.

Women surgeons, women anesthesiologists,

women oncologists, women gynecologists and obstetricians, women radiologists, technologists.

Women running all the machines:

MRI, CAT scans, X-rays, bone scans.

Women power!

Yesterday,

I got hoodwinked.

When I went in for my regular appointment

with Dr. Catherine Beck,

her name was on the door,

the same nurses came in and out taking vitals.

Eventually in walked a brown young man with an

accent

followed by his nurse.

He explained that he is doing a pre-check.

Since this is a teaching hospital, this was not

unusual.

I still expected Dr. Beck.

Finally I asked: “Isn’t Dr. Beck coming in?”

“No. I’m Dr. Beck.”

And there I was with a new doctor.

He had to use her name

because he’s not cleared to handle Medicare patients.

A man-boy breast cancer doctor!

After all my efforts.

Update Nov. 5, 2019

His name is Christos Vaklavas

Where would a name like that originate?