SOLSC '26 Day Ten: Mandatory walking

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Well, I survived the yeeting of my reproductive system, as the kids would say.  

Thank God for anesthesiologists.  When mine came to my pre-op bed to go over the details, I told him what I've told every anesthesiologist that's ever worked on me or my children: "You're the most important person in the operating room.  You're the one who's going to make sure I (or they) don't feel a thing and keep breathing, and you're the one who's going to make sure I (or they) wake up afterwards.  This surgery isn't happening without you."  He appreciated the compliment; maybe that's why I don't remember anything after he said he was starting the IV push.  I woke up in the post-op bay, blissfully unaware of what had transpired the two hours before.

I was home by mid-afternoon, with doctor's orders to rest, hydrate, and walk to prevent clotting.  I changed out of my cute jumpsuit into jammies that better accommodated the ball of local pain meds tethered to my body via catheters in two of my six incisions.  Since I like to name medical apparatuses (our daughter's apnea monitor was Monty), I've named the ball Q-bert.  After I took a much-needed nap--time change plus impending surgery did not allow for a good night's sleep beforehand--it was time for me and Q-bert to take a walk.  Still wobbly, my husband stayed by my side for the first few walks between bed, bathroom, and kitchen.

Today, I've managed the walks pretty much on my own.  I slept so heavily last night that I was up at four a.m., fixing myself some protein toaster waffles and my first cup of coffee in over twenty-four hours.  I still feel a little weak, but the hallway in our little house is just long enough for a couple of laps before I need to rest again.  Carrying Q-bert is a little annoying, but I'm thankful for the pain management and the little strapped bag that makes it easier for it to handle.

Been sitting long enough.  Time for another mandatory walk.  Maybe tomorrow, I'll manage going out to the front porch...

SOLSC '26 Day Nine: A letter to my reproductive system

 

I'm taking a detour from my walking theme with this piece, 

which I'm writing the day before it will be posted. 

The reason will be made clear...

Dear Reproductive System,

     Our time together is coming to a close, but I didn't want you to leave without my gratitude and apologies.  We have had a love-hate relationship over the years, but I really thought we'd signed a truce post-menopause.  I guess it was a false assumption on my part, as has now been proven by multiple ultrasounds, CAT scans, an MRI, and detailed labwork.

     But I'm getting ahead of myself here.  Let's revisit our history together, starting from the beginning, way back when I was thirteen.  You were fairly kind to me then, making your monthly presence known without much fanfare.  After listening to my mother's horror stories of floods and pain, I felt lucky to have skipped a generational curse.  

     Fast forward to our first pregnancy.  You did a great job making it happen...and a lousy job finishing the work.  No one gave you permission to just clock out at twenty-six weeks.  I spent the better part of sixty-five days hating you as our firstborn began her life in a neonatal unit.  She survived though, and thrived, so I finally gave you some credit for what you did get done and moved on.

     Then came the second pregnancy.  You had the decency to send some sort of signal to my brain to let me know not to count on this one at all...so thanks for that early RSVP.  Knowing that sometimes it just happens that way, we were still on good terms. 

     Third pregnancy, and I had high hopes.  Twenty-six weeks went by, twenty-seven...we made it to thirty-seven!  No major glitches either, until we got to the delivery room.  You had to throw HELLP syndrome into the mix, making the hospital staff scramble once again, only this time to keep me alive.  After two traumatic births, I promised the nurses that the next time they saw me, it would be to make sure you didn't get the chance to botch a delivery ever again.  I kept that promise a year later, thanks to day surgery and two little plastic clips.

     We had a few minor hiccups after that, but nothing serious.  You gifted me with a blessedly easy and early menopause, maybe to make up for your previous misbehavior.  I thought we would ride off into the eternal sunset together as a complete package.

     But it wasn't to be.  A simple annual physical exam unearthed what you'd been hiding--a grapefruit sized fibroid I've since named Gertie, since she's got me swollen as a five-month pregnancy.  You gave her a couple of walnut-sized cousins, too.  I can't help thinking this is partially my fault, for not showing you more love and appreciation over the years.  After all, you did give me two wonderful children, for which I will always be grateful.  Maybe it's because I've been stifling my creative pursuits and working under stressful conditions; I know both aren't good for our sacral chakra.

     Whatever the cause, it is time to part ways.  I am a little worried about the space left when you are gone, both physically and emotionally.  There are side-effects that I hope will disappear along with you.  And maybe I will learn my lesson and practice a bit more self-love and self-expression. 

     So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye.  It's been real, reproductive system.  Thanks for the memories--Chris  

SOLSC '26 Day Eight: To and from the loo

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Today's walks are brought to you by....

Magnesium Citrate!

Available in a wide variety of flavors--

Cherry!  Lemon!  and Grape!

Affordable, gut-cleansing pre-operative care

recommended by surgeons and gastroenterologists.

Guaranteed to flush you out

and get your steps in

as you rush to the bathroom

multiple times an hour!

Ask your pharmacist today for

Magnesium Citrate,

the drink that gets you going!

(And going, and going...)

SOLSC '26 Day Seven: Walking the aisles

 

Thirty-one walks,  thirty-one posts.

"Come shopping with me,  so you can get your stuff," my husband said. I was in a bad mood, because I couldn't find a gift card I wanted to use at Hallmark; the last thing I wanted to do was go to the grocery store.  I had a library book on hold that needed to be picked up and his birthday cards and gift to buy.  His birthday is on Friday, and there's a good chance I still won't be able to drive then.

"Fine," I said, "but we need to be back by three. I have things to do, the kids are going to a movie, and Dexter shouldn't be left alone."

(Dexter is our granddog; our daughter is visiting for the weekend,  helping me celebrate my birthday and prep a bit for my upcoming surgery.)

So I went to the grocery store. I spent way too much time trying to decide on which feminine hygiene product to buy; it's been twelve years since I had to visit that aisle. A new toothbrush was easier to locate. The body wipes, not so much, but we eventually saw them on a top shelf.  

I hurried through the frozen foods and grabbed the microwave meals I had on the shopping list.  I hardly ever eat those, but I can't see myself cooking this coming week.  A box of brown sugar Pop-Tarts found its way into the cart, a post-op reward.  (Okay, maybe a pre-op treat, too.)

My husband continued shopping for the usual groceries while I headed to the cereal aisle for a couple of high-fiber choices.  Gotta keep things moving after anesthesia and pain meds!  Soup aisle was next, for some more easy meals.  A tray of pre-sliced cheese squares to go with crackers was on my list, too.

I gave my husband the twenty minute warning as we entered the produce section.  By this time, I was feeling overstimulated and exhausted by decision making, so I stayed with the cart and pushed it from aisle to aisle,  zoning out until the fruit and veggies were chosen.

The Universe must have been witnessing my discomfort--my husband spotted a register with only one cart checking out, and they were almost done. We were out of the store and home right at three o'clock.

After all that aisle-walking, I  was tired...and fell asleep sitting up on the couch, Dexter snuggled next to me.

SOLSC '26 Day Six: Seven-thirty p.m.

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

It only takes the creation of sub plans for an educator to realize just how much work they really do.  I've spent the better part of the last week preparing to be away from my circulation desk not for a day, but for three weeks. 

A full month, really, with Spring Break thrown into the mix. A month with book orders due, a quarterly snapshot, finances to balance, and two different schedules to juggle. I'm missing a district reading event, my last before I retire.  

To plan for these weeks, I've been working late almost every night. Tonight I finally walked out the door at seven-thirty. Sub plans are made and shared. Negatives are cleared from the finances. The quarterly snapshot is done and in the queue, read-alouds are labeled and next to the reading chair. My desk is cleared...well, somewhat clear.

I've never taken this much time off from work. It felt weird walking out of the library this evening,  knowing that I won't be back until April sixth at the earliest. 

I guess I could consider this a trial run for my retirement. 

SOLSC '26 Day Five: Last trimester

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I walked into my last trimester today.

Okay, maybe I will get lucky and live a few years beyond ninety like most of my grandparents.  But I doubt I 'll hit a hundred and twenty, so let me restate.

I walked into my last full trimester today.

If you've followed this blog from the beginning,  you know its name comes from my mother's untimely passing from ALS.  She didn't make it to her third trimester. As of today, I'm gifted with nine more years than she got to experience life. Nine more years with my husband and children. Nine more years to grow and learn and serve and love. Nine more years of sunrises and sunsets, hugs and kisses, sights and sounds. 

Nine more years of learning who I am and who I want to be. 

Sixty is starting off with some health challenges,  but they are manageable and will be overcome within a month, I hope.

Sixty will be discovering who I am beyond the labels of teacher and school librarian, reigniting my sense of purpose and service in a new work environment. 

Sixty will hopefully remember how to play, even while working.

Sixty will be more careful choosing when and where I expend my time, money, and energy.

Sixty will be taking more walks, and not just from home to car to work to car to home, like today, because Sixty is tired of sixty hour workweek.

Do you think of your life in trimesters? Do you measure by years, or are there different markers?  Which one are you in? What are you looking forward to being and doing in the last trimester of your life?

SOLSC'26 Day Four: Too many tabs

 

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

I work with very kind colleagues,  the kind that ask "How are you doing?" when passing in the hall or through the library. 

My most common answer these past two weeks has been "I have too many tabs open", tapping my head.  They nod in solidarity.  It seems as soon as one task or reminder is completed,  two more replace it.

• Lesson plans
• Sub plans for three weeks
• Pre-op appointments 
• Bills to pay
• Gifts to buy
• Reading contest details
• Pre-op instructions
• T-shirts to decorate
• Financial tasks to wrap up
• Email reminders to schedule
• Morning broadcasts for next week
• Housecleaning to do
• My surgery on Monday
• Stuff to bring home
• Getting my bloodshot eyes looked at
• Whether or not I have time to polish my nails 
• Newsletters to write and schedule 
• And oh, turning sixty tomorrow. 

My walks today at work were around the library and to and from a portable to assist with a math class.  After work, they were in and out of my car and the optometrist's office, grocery store, and birdseed store.  At home, I watered my plants on the front porch and counted six junebugs who obviously didn't see "March" on the calendar, crawling and flailing by our front door.

I thought I could get rid of at least three tabs tonight. I'll have to settle for one or two, and hope to be in bed before eleven pm.

SOLSC '26 Day Three: Worm Moon

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

Tonight's walk was a short one: out the front door, around the side of the house, and into the backyard. 

My steps were cautious.  Our yard is anything but level, with swells and divots from burrowing insects and the roots of long-dead-and-gone trees.  Hazardous in daylight, doubly so in the dark.

I paused and looked to the night sky, focusing on the full moon just rising through the trees.

Photo by Christine Margocs,  3.3.26.

Under the light of the Worm Moon, I took several deep, cleansing breaths,  grounding myself and releasing the tension in my jaws and shoulders. I said goodbye to Orion, waiting with his celestial sword across the sky, and headed indoors, back to my to-do list.

SOLSC '26 Day Two: Same walk, different time

 

My theme for SOLSC '26:  Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts

I left work just before five thirty pm.  For a brief moment, I considered making the walk from my library to my car the subject for today's post, but it felt a bit like cheating.  So after I got home, and before I sat down and let the weight of the day glue me to my armchair, I told my son I was going for a short walk and not to lock me out of the house.

I decided to retrace my steps from last night.  The setting sun was still bright enough to make me squint.  A couple of cars drove past me and a neighbor who was painting his garage; neither of us said anything, and I wasn't unhappy about it.  After a day of peopling, I prefer my own quiet bubble.

The sun was warm on my skin as I walked away from my house, but most of the trees were acting like it was still winter, spindly branches displaying old messy nests high against the clear blue sky.  I crossed the street and turned in the direction of my home, feeling a change in the temperature as a cool wind offered the lightest of barriers against my tired body.  A whizzing noise appeared over my left shoulder, and a young teen on a small electric motorcycle sped past me on the street, turning onto the hike-n-bike entrance where motorized vehicles are forbidden.

A man in a wheelchair approached me on his own rolling stroll.  I said hello as we passed each other, breaking my bubble in an effort to show kindness in the face of someone's else's adversity.  My hips decided they were done, and I remembered the ten-hour workday that preceded this walk.  Crossing the street once more, I walked up the driveway, stepped through my front door, and plopped down in the armchair, feeling the heaviness of the day's work, still unfinished.

SOLSC '26 Day One: Habit stacking

 

Here we go again!

Year fourteen of the Slice of Life Story Challenge for me, and I wasn't sure if I could take it on.  This March holds a full docket of events and tasks--

turning sixty (!), 

major surgery, 

ticking off the required boxes to retire,

and looking for my next job.

My current mental load feels like an overfilled mine cart about to spill over and slide back down the tracks.  So how do I jump back into a writing habit that I've ignored for the better part of a year, when I can barely keep up with what needs to be done?

Habit stacking.

My doctor and I agree that I need to get more exercise.  I am now entering the official "use it or lose it" stage of life, and I don't want to be on the losing end of my health.  So I've decided on my theme for this year's SOLSC:

Thirty-one walks, thirty-one posts.

My plan is to go for a walk each day, then write about it.  This may work out great, or it may be the most boring SOLSC theme yet.

*********

It's day one, and I was in pajamas until seven p.m. (not unusual for a Sunday).  My husband has been taking after-dinner walks, so I offered to join him, forcing myself to put on joggers and a t-shirt.  I was thankful it was dark and the street was empty.  We talked about the coyotes and foxes that sometimes roam the neighborhood at night.  I mentioned that ringtails had been spotted nearby; I would love to see one of those!  Crossing the street put the waxing moon in full view, the glow competing with the streetlights.

The night was clear, with a breeze that was just slightly on the chilly side.  I smiled at the Christmas lights blinking on a couple of houses; it made me feel a little better about the holiday tablecloth still gracing my dining room.

The front of my hips started complaining, so we crossed back over and headed home.  One walk, one post. 

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Attitude

 

It's Spiritual Journey Thursday,  and Bob is asking us to think about the influence of our attitude.  You can read his post here.

When I saw the prompt for this month's SJT, I immediately felt like I was entering the confession booth of the churches of my youth...

...because there was a situation where I copped an attitude at the beginning of the school year,  and it has affected my working relationships with certain people. I have rarely exhibited such behavior in my professional career,  and I even shocked myself. 

Was my attitude warranted? After much reflecting and discussing with people I trust, the answer has been yes.

Could I have handled my frustration in a more professional manner? After much reflecting and discussing with people I trust...the answer has been maybe.  We all have our limits, and I had reached mine.

I've learned a lot about my strengths and weaknesses while navigating the aftermath of my attitude. 

• I am a master at compartmentalizing. My issues with some do not affect my relationships with the rest; in fact, it makes me appreciate them even more. The same goes for my work at hand; I can still strive to be a good educator with my students' best interests at heart.
• I have always had problems dealing with conflict,  especially when I feel like I'm not valued by the other side. It makes me doubt my worth and the wisdom of my experience. This is not the feeling I wanted to be battling during my final year in public education. 

The biggest takeaway from this year is that transparent, timely communication is my first and foremost "love language" in the workplace.  I hold myself accountable for my side of this communication.  I am working on losing my negative attitude, while treasuring the positive relationships at work and at home.

Spiritual Journey Thursday: Renaissance

 

It's Spiritual Journey Thursday, and we're settling into

 our One Little Word for 2026.

My word this year is "Renaissance."

***

I open up my Blogger account for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long, and see that my last post was from April 2025, right after my string of March Slice of Life Challenge entries.

I have not known what to write about since then.  Every thought that came to mind took a negative turn, and even though I am firmly against toxic positivity, I also had no desire to add my complaints to the internet cacophony.  I was--and still am--living on the edge of emotional and intellectual exhaustion, dancing between slivers of hope, desperately sought, and utter despair, fueled by news and politics.  The latter I try to avoid, but the impact is getting so close that I can practically smell the smoke from the dumpster fire.

That smoke is starting to clear, thanks to winds of change.  There is disturbing news, and there is news of resistance.  There is inhumanity, but there is a wave of humanity rising against it.  To quote Susan Cooper, "The Dark is rising."...but we can turn it back.  We have to turn it back.

This will be the year of the Fire Horse in Asian astrology, the sign I was born under almost sixty years ago.  It is a sign of independence, optimism, good humor, and warmhearted generosity.  I am hoping to rediscover those aspects of myself that have been ebbing in my recent circumstances.

This Fire Horse Year:

I am turning sixty.

I am retiring from a thirty-three year career in public education, begun thirty-nine years ago.

I am looking forward to another career path, to be of service and financially prepare for real retirement in seven to ten years.

I am coming to terms with my flaws and foibles, focusing on fixing what I can.

I am coming to terms with entering my last trimester of life, and how I want that to look and feel.

I will be having my first major surgery, one that will leave me less parts than I was born with...I am coming to terms with that as well.

My Fire Horse may just be a four-legged phoenix, burning its way into my crone years...my renaissance.

"Abraxas", AI Art by Colleen Bruggman