Change

It is time to make sense of the end of that year and the beginning of this one, of how things have changed and how they have stayed the same.

I do not want to stay the same. I associate change with adventure and improvement. Whatever loss may be involved with change can always bring some positive gain, or at least give me something new to think about. I am easily bored, even—especially—with myself. Therefore, my recent health crisis should provide an opportunity for change and further adventure.

It almost goes without saying that a brush with death should change the way you live your life. So far I don’t see that happening, maybe because it came and went so quickly. I was perfectly healthy. I collapsed on December 7 and could have died but didn’t, partly because of where I happened to be at the moment. I was treated effectively and restored to good health. The regimen for the rest of my life is not burdensome—just some daily medication and monitoring.

So it all feels a little unreal. There is no reason for other people to treat me differently; I am not more fragile than I was before. I am not even in a recuperation period. Over the holidays I was less stressed and healthier than most of the younger generation so I ended up doing the usual lion’s share of meal preparation and caretaking. It’s what moms do. Being waited on hand and foot would have seemed silly.

Or perhaps there is no simple way for my beloveds to express the difference between the before and after. Yesterday my brother offered me his comfy armchair when I walked into the room. That, too, seemed silly but I appreciated the gesture. How can I show you that you are cherished? I feel this from my family and friends, and I reciprocate. I am glad I am still with them.

The changes I do see in myself are not all laudable. My niece, who has fought off a virulent cancer, says she doesn’t sweat the small stuff any more. I wish that were true for me. But instead, I find I have even less patience than before with small annoyances. Don’t make me ask twice for you to do something. I want this kitchen clean and I want it clean now. I could easily become more demanding than I was before. I want my own way. I don’t want to follow anyone else’s agenda.

I think this is partly a result of being more certain of what I want. Over the holidays I realized how much I cherished the warmth and beauty of our home and the woods and the time with family. Meals were simple—maybe I was, in that case, letting go of small stuff. After everybody left Vic and I went out for a lively impromptu lunch with our daughter-in-law’s father and his wife (other cultures have terms for this relationship; we need them). Yesterday we went to a New Year’s Eve party for the first time in years. There was lots of laughter, no alcohol needed. All this was perfect.

On the other hand, I found a request to do a tiny bit of work on December 28 extremely annoying. I was annoyed with a book I was reading that didn’t measure up to my expectations. I find the idea of going to church today totally out of the question—though I happily went three times during Christmas week.

Maybe this is something after all: to know what I want on any given day, at any given time.