This is the first year and a  half of my husband’s retirement, for now.  I encouraged him to become a Lyft and Uber driver.  There are hoops to jump through to do these to make a little extra cash.  One son does this in Los Angeles as well as working full time.  I can’t do this.  I have no sense of direction, I talk too much, and I don’t want to drive people around when I have my best friends pick me up once in a while to remind me that there still is life after raising children, and in some cases, grandchildren.

What we do, now, is going to a variety of doctors and dentists.  Teach your children to take good care of their young bodies.  Eat right, exercise, and do not let yourself “go.”  I did do these things, but when we had four kids I let myself be at the bottom of things to do.  I now have fat where I had lean muscle.  I have dentures that need to be changed to implants.  I have to fight with my hair, which is fine and flyaway.  My skin is dry. I have arthritis. I also have a cardiologist, psychologist, psychiatrist, dental professional, gynecologist, urologist, orthopedist, and a few more…I cannot spell at all.

I am my husband’s major hobby this year.  He wears a gym membership t-shirt to guilt me into struggling into stretch exercise wear that I don’t own.  He does not go TO the gym, he just wears the shirt and I could as well.  It is the “I know I am fat, but at least I am doing something about it” shirt. No one is fooled by this. It is a major task for me to put lotion on all major parts of my body. After that I do not shower every day.  I want the lotion to have time to sink into my skin.

Walk into any doctor’s office and you will see us in the wrong kind of jeans and the comfortable shoes.  We wear ugly tops, or the same top until the seams give out. Husband and wife sit side by side and watch the television loop about health care services we already do, or need to do.  These appointments  are right up my husband’s alley.  He ran from sun up to sun down to meeting after meeting when he was working. It was an all day task for me to take a bevy of children to the grocery store.  I once came home with a whole ham I had not intended to buy. The youngest would climb the cereal shelves.  The others used my inattention to grab something and put it in the cart.  I took them for appointments:  doctor, dentist, orthodontist.  I was always wearing mom clothes.  I needed warning if I needed something “nice” to wear.  I shopped for kids’ clothes all the time, but never for me.

I thought he would do something else besides schedule me into a purgatory of medical and dental offices. My kids are grown and racing around large cities to work and live. None have children of their own yet. They all live out of my reach and out of my area code.  I now have cats that walk across my computer keyboard while I’m typing, biting me when they want treats, and shedding vast clouds of fur daily. Cats are fur children.  I have one fur grandchild, also a cat.

My husband loves water and does dishes, and laundry.  That keeps him busy for a period of time when he’s not on the phone with a doctor’s office.  The more I go to the doctor, the more “sick” I am.  A test will show that my vitamin D is too low, or I need to use moist heat on a muscle that I injured slipping on wet tile in the bathroom. It will take another entry to discuss the relationship my husband has with the pharmacist…and how much time he spends putting a trail mix of medications into little plastic sections well labelled and on display in the bedroom. I think I look fairly good for my age until I catch myself looking at those medications by the mirror.  Then I get a glimpse of my “real self.”

OOPS…he’s home!