Tag: Life after 50

Are my arms not long enough, or is my eyesight getting worse?

Are my arms not long enough or is my eyesight getting worse?

I have worn glasses since I turned 20. My favorite pastime in the university’s library’s old book area  finally  took its toll. I always loved reading. I started reading early and as a bilingual child I had a lot of reading material – I had books in two languages to read.

In Haifa, there was a tiny book store that held treasures galore and when my parents took me there to choose a book I was so happy, I usually finished the book by the time we got home.

Libraries were my other favorite place, books , books and more books.

Over the years my library expanded and took a lot of space, I took 3 boxes of books with me when we moved to the USA many years ago.

These days I have a Kindle, but I still go back to my leather bound old Damon Ranyon book every once in a while. There is something magical about a real book.

I always needed glasses for seeing, never for reading. And then something happened in the  last year. My arms got shorter – that is my only explanation for why I could not read  on my cell phone or why it was getting harder to read on the laptop unless I moved them both a little farther from me.

There was no way I needed reading glasses, I am not old!

So I scheduled an Ophthalmologist appointment, and I got the good news and the bad news. The good news- my eyesight was getting better, I really do not need glasses to see. I blame my hearing loss. I had a virus attack my ears six years ago and I lost my hearing.

Losing one sense fixed in a way another sense. My eyesight got better and so did my sense of smell.

The bad news – I need reading glasses.

When I lost my hearing I was in my mid fifties and since I lost it overnight and have to wear hearing aids, I did not see it as a sign of getting older despite everyone telling me stories about their grandmother and her hearing aids.

But reading glasses is something completely different, it is admitting that I am getting older. Not an easy thing to admit even though I know technically that I am getting closer to sixty.

I have a new pair of glasses and it is helping with the reading. But if you ask me it is not the glasses, it is the pilates classes that I am taking that are helping my arms get longer.

The Joy of Making Things That Aren’t Amazing

When I was in elementary school, we had an optional ceramics class. My parents signed me up, and I gave it a try. Unfortunately, ceramics was not really my specialty, but I did make many, many ashtrays. This was back in the 70s, when smoking was still everywhere.

My ashtrays were not particularly good—or even round—but my parents displayed them all over the house, and I was very proud of my artistic capability.

I never took ceramics again, and my crafting and art misadventures continued through adulthood. Every once in a while, I would try something new and quickly discover that my brain does not really function that way, and crafting tends to frustrate me. There has always been a big disconnect between what my brain imagines the outcome should be and what my hands actually create.

This past year, I started looking for a stress-relief hobby and tried a couple of easy DIY crafts. Most of them were… not amazing.

Then I found soap making.

I discovered that I really enjoy making soap. Creating new shapes, colors, and scent combinations is really fun for me—and my soaps are actually pretty!

Soap making became a creative outlet and a great way to relieve stress. As an added bonus, my house smells amazing despite having a dog.

From soap came resin. The mixing and creating process is similar, but my resin creations are not quite as amazing as my soaps—and my house now has more than enough coasters. These coasters remind me of my ashtray-making years. They really are not amazing, but I am still happy to display them around the house and post them on social media.

Our achievements are not always grand or impressive, but we should be proud of them anyway—especially if they make us happy. At the end of the day, that is what really counts.

So let’s agree to display our achievements and our art projects. Who cares if others think they are not amazing? What matters is that we do.

Confessions of a 58 year old pirate!

At the ripe old age of 58, I finally achieved my goal of becoming a pirate.

Not the sea-faring, world-traveling kind. Not the eye-patch version — my eyesight is still fine. Not the wooden-leg type either, although I did break my leg a couple of years ago.

No, I’m the scurvy kind.

Yes. Apparently my vitamin C levels are low.

I take a GLP-1 medication to control my insulin levels. I should also be following a healthy diet. But me being me — which apparently means modern-day pirate — I don’t.

I forget to eat.

It’s a problem I’ve always had, even before the GLP injections. Being hypoglycemic never helped. The GLP-1 just made it worse.

And if you think forgetting to eat sounds like a good thing — it isn’t. I get severe stomach acid, my blood sugar goes wild, and I feel nauseous all day.

You would think being an adult and a mother I’d know better.

I do know better.

I just don’t follow my own advice.

When I started bruising easily and healing slowly, I finally spoke to my endocrinologist. Now I drink half a glass of orange juice a day and take supplements.

So pirate it is — at least until my levels are back to normal.

The upside? I don’t need to choose a costume for the next party.

It’s built in.