My skin stopped itching when I cut eggs from my diet
But after I turned 50 things started to change.
If I ate a heavy meal after 7pm - or even 6 pm - I would wake up in the night with a feeling of drowning. My throat hurt and swelled, so much that I finally consulted my GP who sent me to a specialist. Acid reflux, he said. He prescribed medicine and early, light dinners, and after about a year things settled down again.
But then there was the rash. My skin started prickling. Hot showers only made it worse, with an itching so intense it was nearly impossible to resist scratching. Sometimes, especially after breakfast, my stomach swelled and hurt. I thought it might be the bread and tried to avoid toast (which I loved). But the swollen, uncomfortable feeling and the itchiness just got worse.
I was getting frightened. Imagining terrible, perhaps fatal diseases.
A dermatologist said not to worry and gave me some cream. And an antihistamine.
When the itching went away on my forearm it popped up again on my thigh, or on my shoulder, or my stomach. Tiny bumps that turned red when, unthinkingly, I scratched them, bruising.
I didn't know what to do.
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The blaring alarm shattered my sleep. I groaned and cracked my greasy eyes open wondering when five-thirty in the morning had gotten so damned bright. I pulled the pillow over my aching head and tried to figure out a way of not going into work. The night before I had gone out drinking at Shy’s with Scott and Justine for their anniversary and had overindulged. Yesterday, my boss, Gregg, had asked me for five more names for layoffs and it was easy to drink more than I should have. God, I hated my job.
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Yearning to be Free at 50 by Mabel Albright
Most of us want to take off our “game face” and let our true selves emerge. Never is this more true than in middle age when we are rediscovering who we are, what we love, our passions, our interests, our beliefs, our long held, subterranean goals.
This yearning to be free grow stronger after the death of a beloved parent, one we wanted to impress. Or the departure of our children, to lead their own lives.
They are free. Why shouldn't we be free too? Why shouldn't we lead the life we want? Be who we want? Act how we want?
They are free. Why shouldn't we be free too? Why shouldn't we lead the life we want? Be who we want? Act how we want?
And yet something holds us back.
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WHAT I LEARNED IN BECOMING A WIDOW by Joan Strommen
Losing my husband unexpectedly last summer was like a merry-go-round that suddenly stops! Our marriage ended when he didn't wake up from his afternoon nap. I've been on an emotional roller coaster; wandering through financial mazes and unknown pathways into this world of widowhood.' You cannot start a new chapter unless you stop re-reading the old one' the saying goes. And yet I cannot put the story of our Great Adventure down. Over and over I revisit the memories and what might have been. Nothing prepares you for having your life interrupted and forever changed, but over the last six months I've learned to be a little braver and move a bit more forward as I face life on my own.
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SOLILOQUY
THIS IS MY QUEST, TO FOLLOW THAT STAR
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SOLILOQUY
by Jane M. Handel (with apologies to W Shakespeare)
To be … old or not to be … old, that is the question
Whether tis nobler to stick around longer even if you’ve lost the plot
To carry on battling with your arm in a sling or the wheelchair of outrageous agedness
Or to throw in the towel, give-up and bugger off.
To die, to sleep. To be no more
(continue reading)
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THIS IS MY QUEST, TO FOLLOW THAT STAR
by: Roz Warren
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