Old Age @66: How it snuck up on me and whacked me over the head
66 will go down as the year that Old Age snuck up on me and whacked me over the head. The year I Officially went from being a Hottie (at least in my own head) to a Sprightly Oldster. The last 7 years, since my husband, Dan, started battling cancer, (spoiler alert: he won, but not without complications), have been Very Rough, but 66 took the cake. 66 was the year all the Old Age chickens finally came home to roost. When I turned 38, and was depressed because I was, then, Officially Pushing 40, I made the mistake of telling my 75-year old mom how bummed I was. Her immediate reaction was to snap back at me: “It beats the alternative!”. My jaw hit the floor, but it was totally true, and I have looked at birthdays differently ever since. Yes, getting old beats the alternative, and I am super-blessed, because I am getting to grow old, which a number of my friends- and all of Dan’s- didn’t. But getting older is Not for sissies, as the expression goes, and it periodically depresses the crap out of me. Inside I am still in my 20s, 30s, or 40s, (depending on the day, LOL), but outside I very definitely am not. I also used to be cute, (and have the photos to back that up), and now I am So Not Cute that I literally avoid all reflective surfaces- and have for 6 solid years. I am blessed because, as far as I know, I’m in good health, thank G-d, and take no meds for anything, while most of my friends, aged “50 to G-d”, as they say, are on a cocktail of Rx meds, and experiencing an horrible array of side effects as a result. Every doctor I’ve been to since I hit 50 has asked me what meds I’m taking, and when I say “none” they usually ask me again- sometimes 3 or 4 times- because “everyone your age is taking something”. No, we aren’t. My response is always: “I’m not on any medication, and I don’t have memory loss, either”. 15 years ago my husband was put on a cocktail of meds he didn’t need with horrific results that mimicked Alzheimer’s. It was only when his neurosurgeon, who I called in panicked desperation, told me to “throw them all in the trash, wait 3 weeks, and pray you get him back”, and I did just that, that G-d and I were able to save him. The neurosurgeon also told me that sleeping medications, including Ambien, taken with anti-depressants, cause “instant Alzheimer’s symptoms”, including short-term memory loss, and I have seen that result in several friends. I now thoroughly research every Rx either of us are given- and have caught some very dangerous things in the process. My online research saved both my life (from MRSA, after I was sent home to die in 2012), and my husband’s (finding him immunotherapy oncology after he was sent home to die in 2019), so I do a LOT of it. The moral of this particular story is to do your own medical research, and be super-proactive and vigilant with regards to your health.
As I mentioned above, one of the “things” about getting older is that you get to bury your friends and loved ones who didn’t get to do that. One of my father’s favorite expressions- his response to basically anything bad that anyone told him about- was: “That’s what happens when you’re over 45!”, and I always wondered where that expression came from. When I was in my 30s, and commented to him that it was “weird” when your friends started having babies, he replied, “It’s even weirder when they start dropping dead on you”. He went on to explain that when he was in his 40s and 50s he lost many of his friends, mostly to heart attacks, but that the ones who made it past 55 were “usually in it for the long haul”. I remember the first good friend I lost- he was all of 47, and died on the job from a heart attack- and it shook me up bad. Then others died, and it continued to shake me up bad, and still does. I am losing more and more friends, faster and faster; I recently lost three more, all to cancer. Some people, Dan being one of them, are able to deal with death better than I. Dan, being US Army Ret., with 3+ combat tours in Vietnam under his belt, and having lost everyone he ever served with decades ago, is inured to it. I’ve surmised that he essentially puts people who die in a “box” in his head, shuts it tight, and files it away… He never mentions them, and I have no idea if he even thinks about them. I, on the other hand, am a blubbery mess much of the time, who has all the people I’ve cared for and lost in my head all the time. I think about them, I say their names, and write them in my journal… I pray for their souls to have an Aliyah to the highest place in heaven. I have regrets. I miss them. I won’t delete them from Facebook, because that would mean they’re “really” dead… (But I do, now, check, when I get a Birthday Message from Facebook, to make sure they’re still alive, before I send them congrats on having completed another trip around the sun…) I think the death of friends hits me so hard because I have no children, and so I know that the memory of me will remain only in the minds of the friends I leave behind, for as long as they live… This part of getting old Really sucks. Big time. “The good die young” is no lie, and yeah, that’s what happens when you’re over 45…
When my husband got sick in 2018, while we were on vacation, and was diagnosed with stage-4 colon and liver cancer in 2019, my total focus became saving his life. I put everything else on the back burner, with the result that I, in many ways, went to hell. But I was so focused on getting him lifesaving treatment, (immunotherapy oncology at Johns Hopkins and a clinical trial vaccine), that I really didn’t notice- or care- about what was happening to me. He responded amazingly, wonderfully, well to the immunotherapy, and we had a friend who drove him back and forth to Johns Hopkins every 3, and then every 6, weeks, for most of the 2 years he was on it. But I wasn’t able to get to my doctors or dentist for years, with the result that my teeth, among other things, went totally to hell. It started when my bridge broke, and, when I couldn’t get to the dentist to have it replaced, everything shifted, and I began to lose teeth. When I finally did get to the dentist, he told me that my dental situation had deteriorated to the point where it was beyond the scope of regular dentistry, and I now needed implants. Once the proud bearer of a big, toothy grin, I haven’t been able to smile, open-mouthed, for 6 years, which depresses the crap out of me on a daily basis. In and out of ERs with dental infections, in pain much of the time, and finding it harder and harder to eat, the final straw came when I bit down on an olive pit and lost my front tooth, during the flood disaster that hit southern West Virginia on Feb. 15, 2025. We had no water for 2 months that winter, thanks to the snow/ice storms in Dec. freezing our pipes, and then the flood disaster in Feb. destroying waterlines throughout our county, and submerging our water heaters under 7 feet of creek water and mud. And we didn’t have a vehicle… Everything again went on “the back burner”, while I started making the immediately necessary repairs to our home- which went on all year, and are still underway. Teeth? Doctors? A salon appointment?! Surely you jest… Repairing the roof and every room on the 2nd & 3rd floor of our building, and getting our water back, took priority. Then there was the woodwork and furnishings and appliances that had to be replaced, and the 5 downspouts, and the outside brick and concrete repair, and the 3 feet of flood-mud that covered the entire garden, and the partially destroyed retaining wall, and the damaged septic system…
One very important thing that happened to me when my husband got sick, was that I rediscovered my faith, my Judaism. It started when I began posting about Dan’s immunotherapy treatments on Facebook, because I didn’t have any friends or family to share it all with. Almost immediately, my posts became a group of true friends, of all faiths, many of whom I only know from Facebook, who I dubbed my “Prayer Warriors”. A very dear, old friend, who found me on Facebook after 30+ years, and who was quite ill himself, suggested I read Tanya, a book written in 1796 by the founder of Chabad, Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, known as the Alte Rebbe, that’s essentially a philosophic guidebook to living a good life. I bought it, but couldn’t get “into” it, and wound up back on the www.chabad.org website, my “go-to” site for all things Jewish, which led me back to Facebook, where I began to study it every morning with Rabbi Fine on Facebook Live and YouTube. Rav Fine is great- he breaks down the Tanya into 15-minute, daily, chunks that are comprehensible even to the likes of me! And, most importantly, perhaps, he provides ways in which you can apply the Tanya to daily life. I then joined his “Tanya Rabbi Community”, “TRC”, which meets on Zoom every Sunday evening, and has been Way more helpful to me than “therapy” ever was. TRC also gave me a circle of new friends, both Jewish and Christian, that I call my “Chabadnikim”. We chat on Messenger throughout the day, pray for each other and for our friends and loved ones, buck each other up when things get bad, cheer each other on when things are good, share cool stuff we run across… In short, they’re my lifeline, and I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them these last 6 years. When people glibly state that there’s no redeeming value to Facebook, I respectfully beg to differ…
My husband, who beat cancer, thank G-d, hasn’t, unfortunately, beaten recovery from the surgery he underwent in 2022- the surgery that proved he was, miraculously, free of cancer. The hospital messed something up, and the day after they sent him home in an ambulance, he had to be rushed back to the hospital in an ambulance. He spent a month back at Johns Hopkins, recovering from the recovery- and hasn’t been the same since. He’s weak, and in constant pain, and suffers from short-term memory loss and personality issues now… and I am his caregiver- which he thinks he doesn’t need, and which pisses him off. In case anyone asks, there’s no help available; I’ve called everyone and his mother. I haven’t been able to hire anyone who will turn up for work for 6 solid years- an issue every small business owner I know is facing, and has faced, since the Covid-19 “pandemic”, when the work ethic totally bit the dust, nation-wide. So I’m on my own dealing with this- and everything else. Since we met, during the FEMA 9/11 response and recovery operation in 2001, it was always just the two of us- and that was fine- as long as Dan was in good shape. But now he’s not. The flood disaster last year was simply the icing on a very difficult, depressing cake. The good news- a Revealed Miracle- from the flood disaster was that we were blessed with incredible help from volunteers, and that, through a friend of a friend I “met” on Facebook, I finally found- after being ripped off, repeatedly, for 23 years!- a trustworthy contractor to hire for repairs. But I, again, went on the back burner. I get about 400 emails a day touting “self-care”, and they never fail to make me laugh- a sad, hollow, little laugh. A scented candle in the bathroom and an aromatherapy diffuser just ain’t cuttin’ it, kids. My “self care” last year was making myself a “partial” for my missing front and side teeth from a kit I got on amazon, as I had to deploy, and I couldn’t go on a business trip looking the way I did. The temp wasn’t great, by any means, but it was better than being an Official Toothless Wonder. But it was still horrible; I had to eat in private where I could take it out, as I couldn’t eat with it in at all. Or smile. But at least, with it in, I could speak intelligibly…
Another Revealed Blessing of the flood disaster was that I learned that our county’s Commission on Aging could provide transportation to doctors and dentists! I learned this when I called them to try to get some bottled water after our pipes froze, and thanked my lucky stars that, having just turned 66, I was, at last, An Official Old Person who qualified! That there was at least one, tangible, benefit to being a Senior Citizen! (Paying $202 a month now for Medicare doesn’t qualify). And so I finally started playing “catch up” with my long-overdue doctor and dental appointments. I was scared to death… but the absolutely wonderful news was that all my tests (colonoscopy, mammogram, CT, blood work) have come back great, and I really am in pretty darn good health, thank G-d. But my teeth were another story. By the time I finally got to the implant surgeon, I had no choice but to have all my remaining teeth pulled, 2 infections surgically removed, excess bone ground down, & 10 implants put in to hold the “snap-in” dentures I’d decided on. This entailed 10 hours of major, horribly painful, surgery in mid-December 2025, something I wouldn’t wish on an enemy. The Extremely kind medical transport driver, who took me to the surgery at 7am, thought I’d be out of there by 2pm; I even told him that if I felt okay we’d stop for a bite to eat on the way home, LOL. I truly had No Clue what I was in for. This was probably for the best, as if I had, I might have put it off, again, and wound up in an even worse situation in an ER. At 5pm, after it was already pitch-dark, I was rolled to his car in a wheelchair, with a mouth full of bloody gauze on top of my “healing dentures”, doped to the gills, and semi-conscious. CVS refused to fill my Rx, and after I got home at 7pm I made the unwitting mistake of taking a pain pill that interacted, badly, with the Novocaine I’d been injected with, and had An Absolutely Terrifying Night From Hell… But, thank G-d, I got through the surgery successfully, and I got the 10 implants, and they are healing well. I spent years of savings on those implants, (instead of buying a vehicle…), which I had to pay for up-front and in full, so I could get “snap-in“ dentures, as the bumpy, excess bone I have would have made regular dentures impossible for me to tolerate. But I do have to tolerate the “healing dentures” for at least 4 months before the “snap-ins” can, please G-d, go in, and they are Horrid. I honestly don’t know how Anyone can stand dentures, and, to be frank, with one exception, every single person I know with dentures hates them and doesn’t wear them. (The one who told me she Loves her dentures is over 80, and got them as a teen). And I have yet to meet anyone who has the snap-in ones. Going toothless, for me, with a public-facing supervisory position, was not an option, and, as I couldn’t afford $50,000 for the “4-on-X” permanent procedure, (aka “teeth in a day”), snap-in dentures were my only option. I have been Monumentally depressed about losing my teeth, and I’ve literally cried over it. I never- not in a million years- dreamed I’d be toothless at 66. Growing up, I didn’t know anyone who had dentures, save one cousin, who used to pop them out as a “party trick” of sorts. My parents passed away with their own teeth at the ages of 79 and 98. My only experience with anything denture-like was my dad’s removable back bridge, which he kept in a glass of water by his bedside, and it creeped me at as a child. I’d had some major dental work done over the years, but it was permanent work, and everything was under control… until “life got in the way”, as the expression goes, and it wasn’t anymore.
When my dad was failing in the mid-1990s- he got irreversible, short-term memory loss from years of Beta Blocker eye drops for glaucoma- I remember sitting with my mother at her dining table, where we tried to make ourselves laugh by designing appropriate products- slippers with lights on the toes “for nighttime wanderings” was one of them. Then I began to see the things we “designed” for sale on the internet, and it wasn’t funny any more. It was a “there, but for the grace of G-d, go I”, hard-core, wake-up call.
As everyone knows, the internet tracks you, and one of the more amusing things (I am choosing to be amused here, rather than totally pissed off…) to have occurred since I hit 55, and started researching things like “DIY temporary teeth” online, is that I have been- and am continually being- inundated with ads on every website I visit for the very things my mom and I “designed” in jest- and then some: Teeth In A Day, Affordable Dentures, Low-Cost Dental Implants In Your Area, Jewelry Clasps For People With Arthritis, Oldies For Boomers, Pants Extenders, How To Avoid Alzheimer’s, IQ Tests For Seniors, DIY Dark Spot Removers, Hair Removal Solutions, How To Lose Belly Fat, The Cost of Installing Chair Lifts and Walk-In Tubs, How Mixing Salt With Gelatin & Lemon Juice Will Cause Dramatic, Instant Weight Loss, I Love My Grandchild and Grandpa Is A Badass tee shirts, Heirloom Keepsake Lockets, Vietnam Veteran hats, pins, and Challenge Coins, Casket Flag Display Boxes, Memory Box Kits, “When I Die” Organizer Files, DIY Cheap Wills, Puzzles To Keep Your Memory Sharp, Tai Chi For Old Men, Chair Yoga For Seniors, Japanese Walking To Lose Weight, Kegeling for Urinary Incontinence, Makeup For Older Women, Red Light LED Masks and Caps for Hair Loss, Cheap Online Glasses, Building Muscle After 60, Laser Treatments For Sagging Skin, Pee-Pads, Wrinkle-Removing Serums, Facial Hair Removers, Thinning Hair Solutions, Denture Cleaner, Affordable Drugs By Mail, Do This For Baldness, Menopause Supplements, Memory Supplements, DIY Fixes For Macular Degeneration, Invisible Hearing Aids, Knee Joint Braces, Orthopedic Insoles, Walgreens Hides This $1 Generic Viagra!, Walkers, Golf Carts, Building Muscle After 60 Requires This One Thing, Slip-On Shoes, Compression Socks, The 15-Second Ritual That Saves Thinning Hair, Get Beautiful New Permanent Teeth In Just 24 Hours, Cruise Deals For Seniors, Affordable Life Insurance With No Medical Exam Required!, Back Supports, The Best Bras For Older Women, Pain Relief Gel and Patches, Stylish Reading Glasses, Glare-Cutting Sunglasses For People With Cataracts, MediGap Plans, 29 Discounts Seniors Only Get If They Ask, Car Insurance For Seniors With No DUI Arrests, Jett Jeans Loved By Men Over 50, How To Invest A Million Dollars For Your Retirement, Final Expense Insurance To Protect Your Loved Ones, and come-ons for Meet Attractive Seniors In Your Area! dating sites. And obituaries for almost every pop-culture star of my youth. Facebook now constantly presents me with AI-generated video shorts of dead stars from the 1960s through the 1980s; if you’re anywhere near my age, I’m sure you’ve seen them. Each star is shown as they were in their prime, and then greeted by themselves right before they died, wearing white, and festooned with giant gold or white wings, with the date they died, and both versions smiling and waving at the camera. Or the stars are shown next to their gravestones, smiling and waving. To top it off, there are also shorts of Dead President’s Dead Dogs, each one wagging his/her tail next to their gravestone. If that’s not enough to either make you cry or give you nightmares, I don’t know what is. From Bewitched, the Andy Griffith Show, The Mod Squad, Mr. Ed, and The Waltons, to M*A*S*H, Star Trek, The Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore Shows, Three’s Company, and The Golden Girls, they’re all there, in living- or should I say dead?- color… YouTube knows me, too, and continually pops up the Music Of My Wild And Crazy Youth, and video shorts from Way Back When, which make me both laugh and cry, sometimes simultaneously. Dan and I personify the Baby Boom, as he was born in 1946, and I in 1959, and so we share the same music- we were just in different places when we heard it: In 1969 I was 10, and he was in Vietnam. I am Meat Loaf, and he is Paint It Black… The postal mail brings a daily pile of similar, age-specific BS: insanely expensive life insurance and “final expense” policy solicitations that strive to prey on guilt, and Medicare Supplement Plans out the wazoo.
So here I am now, with my “healing dentures” sitting next to my computer. My wonderful, kind, dental surgeon, who adjusts them every few weeks, listens to me whine, laughs at my lame jokes, tolerates my periodic crying, and tells me how fabulously I speak with them, knows that I. Hate. My. Dentures. Like my Rabbi, he told me to rephrase that negativity into joy; to keep reiterating “I Love My Dentures” until it becomes a reality. You know- “manifest” it; that’s what all the Cool Kids do now. LOL But I can only really stand to wear them when I’m asleep, and have the bottom one “glued in” with a Seabond strip, as I can’t even drink coffee with them, and my life right now basically revolves around sitting at my computer sipping at a bottomless cup of coffee all day and night. If I put Anything in my mouth at all, the bottom denture pops right out- Seabond be damned. I am supposed to keep them in all day, and practice speaking with them, too, but I don’t: My Bad. I do practice speaking with them when I recite Tehillim (Psalms) each day, and make it a point to cement them in before I pray, but that’s about it. When I smile in the mirror I look like I’m wearing Clown Teef I bought at the dime store, and I can’t speak normally with them, and so have to take them out whenever I answer the phone or make a call. And so, for most of the day, they sit on my desk, an extraordinarily depressing paperweight that constantly reminds me that I am, for real, a Toothless Wonder. The truly good news is that my dental surgeon tells me I am healing up amazingly well, and ahead of schedule, to which I sarcastically suggested that smoking and drinking must be good for me, LOL. Given my history of MRSA infections, that is a true blessing bordering on the miraculous. My mom (who quit smoking at the age of 91) lived to be 98, her cigar-smoking brother to 100, and their mother, my grandma, to 96, so I’ve always hoped and prayed- and counted on- having those fabulous Mesirow/Rivkin genes… and so far it looks like I do, thank G-d. My dental surgeon told me that at the rate I’m going, I might have “only” 4 months before I can get the snap-ins, meaning, G-d willing, shortly after my 67th birthday, and that they will be life-changing, and I will Love them… and I am praying to G-d he’s right.
The upside to the 10 hours of gawdawful dental surgery, (I’m grasping at straws here…), was that I literally couldn’t eat anything for several weeks, and so, for a brief and shining moment, I thought I might lose some weight. Nope. Once I could put something in my mouth again I lived on- and am still, more or less, living on- pasta and rice, with the result that I initially became so ungodly constipated that I bled- and almost went to the ER one night. (What stopped me was the realization that if I called 911 for an ambulance I’d have no way to get home from the hospital). I ordered laxatives from walmart.com, but they took a week to arrive; in the meantime I “toughed it out”: I took hot sitz-baths, stuffed TP in my undies, slurped applesauce, drank prune juice I found in the pantry that we’d had there since the year dot, and prayed. Eventually my system adjusted, thank G-d, but, as I wrote above, I wouldn’t wish this experience on an enemy. As my gums have begun to heal up, I’ve been able to add things like poached salmon and canned Hormel Tamales to my basic diet of rice and pasta, and even a bit of soft fruit, and I can now dissolve small pieces of Reese’s PB cups in my mouth for joy. Fortunately I’ve always been a Pasta Queen, and I make- and buy, online- a lot of really great pestos and sauces, and have a ton of spices and condiments in the pantry with which to jazz them up. (I give thanks, daily, for the UPS and FedEx Guys, who, G-d bless them, make my life in the boonies as enjoyable as it can be). Yes, I take solace in food. Good Food. Authentic, international food. I remain an unrepentant, NYC foodie in that respect- my husband was our Historic Inn’s chef- and since there are no restaurants where we live, for the last 23 years, if we wanted Vietnamese Pho, or Israeli Melauach, or Korean Kimchi, or Puerto Rican Maduros, or Tortellini con Pesto e Panna, or Japanese Maki… we had to make it. When I was really broke, many years ago, I lived on rice for about 6 months. Depending on what condiments I added to it, I convinced myself (“manifesting” circa 1983) that I was enjoying Chinese, Italian, Moroccan, or South American cuisine… And now, thanks to having to gum my sustenance, I’m having, as Yogi Berra so famously said, deja vu all over again.
In the midst of dealing with My New Denture Reality, we discovered that Dan had been ripped off- yet again- and his newly-purchased 2002 Jeep had a cracked frame being held together by a chain, couldn’t be driven safely, and had to be sold for scrap. So we’re again vehicle-less in the boonies- a place with no public transport, that is so remote that Uber and Lyft won’t service it; we’re an hour from a Walmart. Dan getting ripped off by local people is an old story, as taking advantage of the elderly seems to the “in” thing nowadays- I get at least a dozen fraud spam calls a day from criminals attempting to defraud the elderly- and I am the one who pays for it, literally. I believe it’s called “elder abuse”, and no one will do a thing about it. I try to be as vigilant as I can, and protect him to the best of my ability, but, despite his military career- or, perhaps, because of it- he’s a soft touch who trusts everyone, and it’s a losing battle… and I have a growing list of people who I pray will eventually get what they richly deserve.
To top this off, we had another crazy cold snap here, and our pipes froze- again. As I type this, we have been without running water for 3 weeks, and won’t be able to do anything about it until it warms up to the point where we can go around the building playing “hunt the busted pipe”. With no vehicle, we are, again, dependent on the good graces of volunteers, who, G-d bless them, have delivered bottled water to us. (No stores will deliver to our rural county, and it’s often impossible to order water online; many of my orders were canceled, and others took 3 weeks to arrive). It depresses me no end to be dependent on charity, and have people pity us, when, for almost 2 decades, while we had our historic inn running, Dan was everyone’s “go-to guy”. People would call, or turn up at our door, at all hours of the day and night, for everything from wanting a ride to the supermarket or the doctor, to gas for their vehicles, or help changing a tire, or fixing an engine- and he’d help them. And now I literally have no one to call, save charities- and thank G-d they came and helped us.
Killing time, and attempting to “de-stress” via el-cheapo Retail Therapy, I found myself on walmart.com the other night ordering pee-pads- I mean “Poise”. Pee-pads are what I buy for the dogs… and it hit me that now I have something in common with my “furry kids”- we all need pee-pads. I do online surveys to make PayPal “pin money” for tzedukkah (charity) donations, and to treat myself to fancy foodie stuff online, and since I hit 60 I’ve been deluged with surveys asking what “drop level” of incontinence pads I use, and if I have any other “menopausal symptoms”. At first I laughed my tinkly, bell-like laugh, and rolled my eyes, because I’d never had any menopausal symptoms at all, and had no clue what a “drop level” was. Like my mom, my periods just petered out and finally stopped- for me, early, around 47, as I had giant uterine fibroids- the reason I couldn’t get pregnant- and that was that. No sweats, no mood swings, no headaches or “brain fog”, no nothing. No sex drive, either, but that, frankly, was the least of my worries. Periodically Facebook and Google pop up old photos of me, and I’ll remember when I was a true hottie, who thought, pretty much, about nothing But sex, but most of the time that me seems like someone who lived a million years ago, on another planet, far, far away. And so, back to pee-pads: “All of a sudden” I found myself stuffing TP in my undies at night so I could make it to the can in the morning without “dribbling”. And then I did a couple of the surveys, and was sent padded briefs to sample and review… and found I really liked them. Hello, 66! And so I finally broke down and ordered a box of Poise. So now I had dentures AND pee-pads. And then it hit me- I also had facial hair, which I’d been dealing with- poorly- using a disposable razor, for the last 10 years. So I broke down yet again, and ordered myself a $15 Facial Hair Remover on amazon, which, I must say, works splendidly, and does eyebrows and nose hair, too! LOL And then, because I was now in “fill my cart!” wotthehell mode (apologies to Mehitabel…), I treated myself to Korean Fiber Eyebrow Gel, and a Chin-Lifting Neck Mask that hooks over your ears, LOL, and has 5-star amazon reviews.
And then there were the gray roots I’ve been dealing with for a decade… I remember, vividly, discovering my first gray hair, in my 40s, while I was deployed, and primping in a reflective door, (back when I was super-vain and used to primp…), which I thought was a “highlight”, LOL. Because my hair is naturally a dark, mousy brown, the gray roots are striking- strikingly hideous, IMHO. In NYC I was, for several years, a Double-Process Blonde, which I became while I was single, and heading to Washington, D.C. on a work assignment. With a pocket full of dough from winning a Superbowl Bar Pool, I told the salon to “make me look rich and Republican”, LOL, and by gum, they did! When Dan and I met, during the 9/11 Disaster Response Operation in NYC, I was still a blonde, and I even had “I Dream of Jeannie” clip-on hair pieces I wore for fun; Dan called me his “hot little blonde”, and the cops and firemen I hung out with treated the new, Blonde Me a Lot different, LOL. But being a Bottle Blonde is a Very High Maintenance Thing to be, and the mountains of rural southern West Virginia are Not the place for High Maintenance Anything. For many years there was an Aveda salon an hour from us, and I had my hair cut and colored there, or went to a salon while I was deployed. Highlights, lowlights, red & gold, or auburn & purple… I liked to keep it fun and youthful… The last time I had my hair cut and colored properly was in Florida, at the end of a deployment in Oct. 2023. It has literally been impossible for me to get to a salon since, and so my hair joined my teeth, and went to hell, as well. I have had to periodically cut my bangs, and trim the scraggy split ends, but that was all I could manage to do, and I didn’t do it well. At the moment my hair looks and feels like straw- and my bathroom looks like a Sephora Outlet, as I have tried every orderable hair product known to mankind, from Olaplex on down. And my eyebrows went gray, too, and my lashes thinned out… In NYC when I had my gallery I did a “full face” every day. I also had designer outfits, 6” spike heels, and ballgowns for charity affairs at The Plaza… most of which I still have, upstairs in a closet room, as I can’t bear to part with them. Here, on my 60th birthday, I treated myself to some nice Laura Geller makeup “made for older women”, (hey- if Fran Drescher uses it, it’s good enough for me!), eyebrow gel, lip and eyeliner, and magnetic false eyelashes… which I put on once, for a selfie on my birthday, to buck myself up, and “prove”, to my 786 Facebook Friends, that 60 Is The New 40- or something. Now I’m 66, and the last time I put on makeup and slathered curl gel through my hair was last October, when I deployed for a training… Why even try to do it when no one will see it? And when I cringe and want to cry when I look in the mirror? No amount of makeup or curl gel helps at all.
To add to all this joy, 2024 was when, after 10 years of not being able to get to my eye doctor in NYC, I lost a contact lens while on a deployment, and finally got to an eye doctor he’s affiliated with. I learned that, although I still, thank G-d, have 20:20 with my contact lenses, I also have the beginning of cataracts. Hello, 66! They have to “ripen” before anything can be done about them, so I will have to live with them, as my mom and grandma did, for years. At the moment, the only issue I’m having is glare from car headlights when I drive at night- something I hate doing, of course, like, basically everyone else I know over 40. So yes, I ordered those orange “glare-cutting” glasses for night driving I mentioned above- and can’t Wait to test them out. Not. Literally not owning a pair of glasses since I got life-changing contacts at the age of 16, and went from being geeky “little four-eyes”, with pink-tinted glasses as thick as Coke-bottle bottoms, to a certifiable, 36C Bombshell, for whom the high school hallways parted like the Red Sea did for the Israelites, LOL, I decided that I really should, finally, get a pair of glasses to serve as back-up, in case I lost a lens again. But the eye doc wanted over $900(!) for my Very Special Prescription, so that didn’t happen. When I got home, while shopping for Cheap Online Glasses, as mentioned above, I discovered ReSpectacle.org, a fabulous website where you put in your Rx, and it matches you up with $4.99 donated glasses that are close to your Rx! Bingo! I got myself a pair of 91%-match glasses, which got broken, and then a couple of other pairs for backup… and stopped wearing my contacts, because glasses were too easy, and I’m lazy as sin… which was a HUGE mistake. I don’t get the perfect vision with them that I have with contacts, And I look like a total dork- more deja vu all over again. But that didn’t really matter to me, at the time, because I looked like hell anyway.
And then there’s the 40 lbs. I put on after I’d been ill at the age of 47 that would not come off no matter what I did. I am 4’10”, and was 112 lbs. and a size 4 – 6 almost all of my adult life, with no dieting. I actually wore Spandex in public, LOL. But the ecoli blood poisoning I got while deployed on the Hurricane Katrina disaster response op in 2005- which had me on life-support for 5 days- changed my metabolism, and not for the good. My weight ballooned up to 150lbs, where it finally “stabilized”- making me very definitely obese, and “pre-diabetic”. For years I went to doctors and nutritionists, and spent a fortune trying all sorts of weight loss programs and supplements… to no avail. When nothing worked after years of trying, eventually I just gave up. So from a size 4 – 6, I went to a 12 -14. And from a 36C I went to a 40DD. Once I hit 150 lbs., I stopped buying “good” clothes. For years I shopped only at Goodwill or the Sallies; I wouldn’t buy any “good“ clothes in large sizes, convinced that I would, really, lose the weight… But, eventually, that bit the dust, too. The woman who grew up in the fashion industry- my mother was a NYC fashion illustrator- and who (may G-d forgive me) made fun of shapeless “muumuus”, and slacks with elastic waists, has found herself not only with a closet full of shapeless muumuus and elastic-waisted slacks, but actually preferring them to uncomfortable, constricting clothes with buttons and zippers. The gal who literally laid down on a bed to zip up her too-tight jeans, (yes, we really did that), now prefers pull-ups. Hello, 66! Even my khaki uniform slacks have an elastic waist now… Recently my local doctor suggested Ozempic, which it seems like “everyone” is taking now, and which there was a slim possibility my insurance might cover, at least partially, due to my high BMI and “pre-diabetes”. But the same day we talked about it, up popped a news article about a major class-action lawsuit over Really Serious side-effects from it- including eye strokes and blindness- and I decided to give it a pass; I have enough problems right now, without waking up blind. I continued my online weight loss research, and found studies done by the Mayo Clinic on the herb Berberine, which sounded quite promising, especially coupled with cinnamon, which appears to make it work better.
And then there’s my skin: Where I once had my grandmother’s fabulous, highly defined, Ukrainian cheekbones, I now have no visible cheekbones at all, and saggy, blotchy skin, full of deep lines and wrinkles. I have bags under my eyes, and a pouch that borders on a double-chin. My hands have age spots. And none of the endless anti-aging serums, lotions, and potions I’ve tried have done anything but burn a hole in my wallet. I remember So clearly being and feeling attractive when I met Dan; I was 42, and he was 55. Body-builders stopped me in Central Park- twice!- to ask me where I worked out, as my legs were so great. Bikers at Fleet Week posed with me! I was photographed fly-swing dancing in lower Manhattan with my dance partners, like in that famous GAP commercial, and even had “real people” model auditions. And I kept it together, pretty much, through my mid-50s. At 60 I could still doll myself up for a selfie I wasn’t embarrassed to post on Facebook. But now I’m 66, and literally can’t bear to look at myself in the mirror.
The shopping spree I went on, wherein I got the facial hair trimmer, neck mask, and eyebrow gel, was in preparation for a two night “ski-spa getaway” at the Glade Springs Resort and Winterplace that I booked for myself in the hope I would actually get there. I learned to ski in Germany when I was 30- and was considered “old” then, as I learned with a bunch of 18-20 year old “hell bent for leather” US Army guys. When Dan and I moved to West Virginia in 2002, and now lived only about an hour from Winterplace, I was All Excited, as I thought I’d get to go skiing every year, but most years it didn’t work out. Dan’s knees were messed up so badly by long distance running in the Army that skiing was impossible for him, and so I tried, for years, to find a “ski buddy”, to no avail. Not only would no one I knew- of any age- go skiing, they were all terrified I’d “break a hip”, G-d forbid. Two years ago I finally got to go skiing again, took a private lesson to get my ski legs back, and discovered I could still do it, and that it was still fun, which was great; it truly lifted my spirits. I enjoyed 2 lovely nights at the Glade Springs Resort, a “day of beauty” at their Orange Spa, and a day of skiing at Winterplace. Last year I booked a 2-night ski-spa getaway again, but had to cancel it, thanks to the frozen pipes and flood disaster. This year I held my breath and booked it again, and this time I did get to go, and (spoiler alert) it was wonderful.
In making the reservations, I knew that People- strangers!- would see me, and there might be unavoidable reflective surfaces… and I wanted to look half-way decent- as good as I possibly could, given all of the above. I dug out my make-up and skin care collection, used the Facial Hair Trimmer, and started putting serum on my face again. I went through my “good” clothing, much of which I’d bought in hope, and then never had the opportunity to wear, and set aside Way too many outfits for 3 days- all of which smelled of mothballs; I basically haven’t worn anything but layers of sweats topped by a humongous Comfy for months, donning an elastic-waisted, black, “travel outfit” I bought on amazon for $30 for business flights, and trips to the doctors and dental surgeon. I cut a whole mess of Seabond strips to fit my bottom denture, knowing I’d be taking it out and putting it back in constantly, and started packing my new denture crap and pee-pads in my toiletries bag, which heretofore held only makeup and beauty stuff.
Four days out I decided to color my hair with the Deep Red Garnier Olia dye I’d bought on eBay, Olia being the only home hair color I’ve ever used that didn’t turn my hair to straw, and eBay being the only place you can still find Deep Red. Not having running water, thanks to the frozen pipes, I washed it out in the sink by pouring a pot of bottled water I’d heated on the stove over my head, and the result was that my hair looked… Less Bad. My silver roots went Bright Red, while the rest of my hair went a dark, reddish-brown, which didn’t look like “highlights”, or “streaks”, or “balayage”, but, though it was still frizzy and straw-like, it was actually better than it’d been prior. Packing for my trip, I found my contact lenses, and put fresh solution in the cases, as I really wanted to get back to wearing them, and this “getaway” was the perfect excuse. My $4.99 ReSpectacle glasses aren’t what you’d call a “style statement”, and they fog up at the slightest bit of steam, as I discovered washing dishes- I literally can’t wash dishes with my glasses on, which is Nuts. I also found, and threw out, all the temp Teef I’d made w/my amazon kits, and am in the process of tossing electric toothbrushes and replacement heads, toothpaste, dental picks, floss, whitener gel and strips, and all the other dental paraphernalia I’d amassed that I will never need again in life. Depressing? You betcha.
The day before I was set to leave it finally warmed up… and 5 minutes before my driver arrived I went into the foyer and found water pouring through the ceiling. I started screaming, and Dan went out on the balcony and discovered that the 6 inches of debris-encrusted ice there had started to melt, jammed up the drains, and was now pouring through the drywall ceiling below it. My reservations were not cancellable, and Dan told me to go, and that he would, somehow, deal with it. And I suspended disbelief and went.
The Good News: My Ski-Spa Getaway was wonderful, and I got my ski instructor to take photos (see one below), and a video of me, so I had proof to post on Facebook & Insta to show the old girl’s still got it. (If it’s not on FB, it didn’t happen…) I did spend all weekend worrying about what was happening at home, because Dan says everything is “fine” no matter what, and, being US Army Ret., he only tells me things on a “need to know basis”, and after 25 years of that crap I don’t believe a word he says, including “a” and “the”. I pushed it all out of my mind to the best of my ability, determined to enjoy myself as much as possible, because I had- and still have- no idea if and when I’ll get to do it again. As soon as I arrived at the resort, I had a lovely Hydrofacial at the Orange Spa, which was gloriously pampering, but didn’t do a darn thing about the way I looked. I also had a delightful pedicure, two Mimosa’s, (which knocked me for a loop, LOL, as I’m now a “cheap date”, as my mother liked to say), and a hair cut, style, and blow-dry. Even with a “hair mask”, my hair is still thinner than it used to be, dry, and straw-like, but the cut was good, and “layered”, so it appears to have more volume. The stylist blew it dry with a Moroccan Oil product to give it some body, and made me look as good as I can look at this time; the photos my ski instructor took of me the next day were good enough that I wasn’t embarrassed to post them on Facebook & Instagram. I kept my “healing dentures” and contacts in almost the whole time, and wore my Good Clothes and heels to dinner and the spa, along with the stack of “energy charged” crystal bracelets I bought when Dan got cancer. I skied all the next day until 7pm, had drinks in the bar, and talked to people! I wore, as I always do when I ski, my 30-year old “lucky” ski jacket, which is covered with the military patches from the units I illustrated as a USCG and IDF military artist; it’s a fun conversation-starter, as lots of people like it and ask me about it. I was pampered. I enjoyed cocktails, and soft, tasty food, such as blackened salmon- taking out and reinserting my “healing dentures” as discretely as possible. I reveled in the resort’s cafe, sauna, and hot tub. I actually read a book I’d been meaning to read since I ordered it on amazon a year ago. I spent a stupid amount of money, and it was worth every, single cent. I now have something nice to think about for the rest of the year.
When I got home I discovered that half the drywall ceiling had come down in the foyer from the balcony leak, and half the dining room’s plaster ceiling from burst pipes- and Dan didn’t notice either. Fortunately, and thank G-d, the falling ceilings didn’t damage anything, and puppies and kitty were fine- and Extremely happy to see Mom, and cover her with Puppy and Kitty Kisses. I thanked G-d for my many blessings, and cuddled my furry kids; if dog spit- which does cure depression- could also firm skin and smooth wrinkles, I’d be all set! I calmed the F down, pulled my act together, updated my To-Do List From Hell, and called my contractor- who, I pray, will eventually turn up and fix everything. I changed back into my “winter uniform” of sweats, Comfy, and Uggs, took out my contacts and Teef, made myself a ginger-scallion rice pilaf, and poured myself a shot of M&H single malt. I pinned my New Hair up, and spent 15 absolutely glorious minutes in the hot tub- which Is working, thank G-d- and then went back online to continue my never-ending research into anti-aging products, as I’d promised myself I’d do after I was made to look as good as possible at the spa, and to distract myself from upset, worry, and falling ceilings. (Note: Retail Therapy works- and at least that way you have something nice- and tangible- to show for your angst and expense, as opposed to simply the pile of tear-soaked tissues you get from “regular” therapy). I dug out the light-up makeup mirror I’d bought when I was teaching myself how to put on magnetic eyelashes, and pinpointed my Worst Issue as the purplish under-eye bags, followed by my fat, creased, saggy, blotchy, face, straw-like hair, and obesity. I’ve decided to try Nutrafol hair vitamins for 6 months, along with Codeage’s Multi-Collagen capsules, and Berberine/cinnamon drops, and treat myself to Il Makiage’s under-eye temp fix, which has glowing reviews online. I have a list of skin and hair products I would Love to try, but I’m going to use up the collection of hair products, serums, and masks I have on hand before I indulge in anything new. My thought is that after I get all the repairs done- if I find a steal on a re-sale site, (and can truly commit to using it daily)- I might get a CurrentBody Skin LED Light Therapy Mask, Series 2- the best thing I’ve seen so far for “anti-aging” results- as a 67th Birthday Gift to me. Tune in again in mid-April, to see how I feel once I hit, G-d willing, 67!
And PLEASE let me know if you have any suggestions in the “anti-aging department”- I’m all ears!
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