Guest Blogger – Page 16 – Disney Leadership Keynote Speaker

New Guest Blogger?

I’m honored to be included in Jeff’s blog, and I’d like to get your help with something.

Most of us arrived at adulthood with the idea that we were in charge of our own lives, and that as adults, we could do things our own way. We operate with this thought in mind until reality comes along and reminds us that we can’t defy the laws on nature. It’s during these “midlife moments” that we wake up and realize that we’re not as invincible as we once thought we were, and that we can’t afford to put off the things that are really important.

Here an example of what I’m talking about. I’ve always been very proud of my youthful appearance. I inherited it from my two very youthful parents. Although both of my parents are in their seventies, they are both still very active and look much younger than their years.

For a long time, I thought of this as my genetic curse. When I was in college, people thought I still looked like a kid, and they treated me accordingly. In the early stages of my career, I felt like I wasn’t taken seriously because I didn’t look experienced enough. Later, however, I came to see this youthful appearance as a blessing. I went to a 20-year class reunion and was struck by how much everyone in my class had aged. It sounds conceited, but I left that reunion saying to myself, “Damn, I look good!”

But the good times can’t last forever. One thing I had become accustomed to was being carded. I don’t buy alcohol very often, but when I do, I was used to having the clerk say, “Can I see some ID?” So I’ll never forget that moment when I was buying a bottle of wine to take to a party…and the clerk forgot to ask to see my driver’s license. I thought to myself, “This girl is really off her game, of course I need to be carded.” So I opened my wallet and said, “Don’t you want to see my ID?”

She smiled at me weakly, and said, “Uh…sure.” And at that moment, it hit me: I guess I don’t look 21 anymore. She might as well have said, “Oh yeah, of course I want to see your ID…old man!” Because in that moment, that’s how it felt to me.

Even though the moment was a blow to my ego, I still think I look damn good for my age. I just don’t expect to get carded anymore. And that’s okay by me.

What are some of your most memorable examples of “mid-life moments?” I’d like to hear from you! Please send your favorite midlife moments to Jeff as a comment or email and we’ll share the most intriguing ones here on Mid Life Celebration. Want some thought-starters? Here are a few:

*The day you went from being addressed as “Miss” to “Ma’am”
*The day someone commented on how “distinguished” you look
*The day you realized you couldn’t read the fine print anymore

Looking forward to hearing from you!

Spring Cleaning Guest Blogger

Happy Sunday and welcome back Lorie Sheffer, our regular Guest Blogger here at Mid Life Celebration. If you missed Lorie’s post last week, it’s because she was over at Lane 8. Take it away Lorie:

“What’s too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.” Remember those lyrics? That is actually pretty good advice. How many of us carry around baggage from things that happened in our childhood, early twenties, or even our not so distant past? It seems like we have somehow been conditioned to think that it is good for us to dredge up old hurts. I suppose in a way it can be cathartic, but if we don’t find a way to let go and move on, we allow the past to invade the present. Spring, and midlife, is a good time to clean house. Not just our physical homes, but also our minds. If it’s not serving a purpose, if it is dragging us down, then maybe we should just let it go.

I very recently lost a person who meant a great deal to me. She was not only a family member she was also my dear friend. We always suspected that there was a reason we were never invited into either of her homes. She always came to us, and we loved her unconditionally so we never questioned her. She was kind and loving and incredibly intelligent. And she had a secret. That secret was that she had severe hoarding issues. Her death reveled to us the depth of her condition. She couldn’t let go of things. She lay alone for a week after her death, in a pile of things. Detectives found us because she had stacks of letters and cards sent to her by my children, my grandchild, and me and we were traced through the return address labels. As we stood there on a cold February day, the snow falling outside of her Manhattan apartment building, the grief was almost unbearable. The material things that she couldn’t let go of were clearly visible. We could see them. The hundreds of leftover containers, all painstakingly washed; the clothing from decades ago; the receipts from every purchase made since she was a young woman. The things I was unable to let go of weren’t visible; I could keep my secrets hidden. When I pass from this earth, they will pass with me. But carrying around emotional junk from the past is no less incapacitating than the mountain of things that had consumed her. The things she kept represented good memories for her, while the things I hung on to caused me to have panic attacks and anxiety. So who had the mental disorder?

At least once in our lives, we are disappointed and hurt by someone we love. Parents unintentional or intentional hurts; the best friend who lets us down or isn’t there for us when we need them the most; the boyfriend or spouse who betrays us. We see it in the news every day. The misfortunes and embarrassments of the rich and famous have become a form of entertainment for us. Schadenfreude is a German word, which means happiness at the misfortune of others; taking pleasure watching someone else suffer; the “I’m glad I’m not you” syndrome.

Letting go of pain and hurt is not condoning or excusing the person who inflicted it. Forgiveness is not for the person who caused the harm; it is for the person who was hurt. If we hang on to pain and heartache, we only continue to give it power over us. We can’t change what has already transpired, we can only decide how much we will allow it to affect us at this moment. Ask yourself if knowing or remembering is going to help you or hurt you. If a dog is known to bite then remembering that is going to help you. If grandpa has been dead for twenty years and someone decides that you “need to know” that he was on the ugly side of racial tensions in 1960s, then that serves no purpose other than to give you a horrifying memory of someone who you thought was a good person.

Clean your house. Get rid of the clutter you don’t need. It can obstruct your vision of the beautiful things that deserve a special place. If it’s too painful to remember, then toss it. When we drove out of New York City that day, I decided to leave my baggage there.

It Was Weird

Ever have days where weird things happen? Of course, right? What I’m really asking is, “What do you do with your weird events? Do you dismiss them, or look for some meaning in them?”

Couple weird things yesterday:

Moved Sunday’s Guest Blogger (Lorie Sheffer) post to Lane 8
Ran my first 5k as a 50-year old.

Lorie Sheffer has been a regular Guest Blogger here at Mid Life Celebration for some time. It feels weird not seeing her here today. She has a great post at the next blog.

And it was really weird to receive a plaque reading, “Male Masters Overall Winner”, at yesterday’s Run Among The Lakes 5k. Wasn’t even a goal.

Are you pushing yourself?

Lorie’s Story, Part 3

Skiing The Swiss Alps? — Can't Possibly Be Gary Skiing The Alps

This is the third and final part to Lorie and Gary Sheffer’s amazing story of faith, hope, determination, indomitable will, and especially, Love. Yes, it really sounds to me like a love story. Gary and Lorie passed the test we’d all like to pass, but wouldn’t want to take. Take it away Lorie:

One day a therapist asked the rehab group what their goals were. For one lady it was to be able to go shopping with her daughter, for another it was to make her own lunch, and for one of the men it was to be able to balance his checkbook. When Gary’s turn rolled around, he said his goal was to recover 100%. He wanted to ski, to in line skate, to run, and to return to his job as an engineer. It was around this time that I was taken aside and it was suggested to me that he might need some psychological counseling to help him come to terms with the reality of his situation. I said thank you, but I would rather work with him to reach those goals. Then they suggested counseling for me as well.

Three months after his stroke, I was running along side of Gary around a high school track. The fact that I ran for two miles still amazes us both most of all. We soon learned how insensitive and rude people can be when they see someone with a disability. I choose not to waste space discussing some of what we encountered.

After six months, Gary was able to return to his job. During his absence, they had gotten a new computer aided design system, so he had something new to learn in addition to trying to resume his old duties. Learn it he did. He got back up to speed and received a good performance review from his boss. When he was discharged from HealthSouth, he was still not satisfied with his recovery. Also, ski season was just around the corner. I made good on the promise I had made in the shock trauma unit on the day of his stroke; I got out my skies and we headed to the slopes. Less than a year after the brain hemorrhage, Gary took his first run down a beginner slope. One year to the day after, we took both of our kids out of school and spent the day skiing the slopes where the AVM had burst. Still, he was not satisfied. He went to another physical therapy facility and worked with them for another two years. They discharged him, but he was still not ready to quit. He found a neurological disorders therapy specialist at Johns Hopkins, Bayview Medical Center. She explained that neurological disorders can’t be treated the same as orthopedic injuries. Gary has been seeing her every three weeks for the last nine years, and he is still making progress. He spends time each day working on exercises, most of which are designed to encourage proper body mechanics and automatic use. His motivation is what has gotten him to this point. On our most recent visit to Hopkins, his therapist got a bit misty eyed at the leap he had taken from the previous visit. She said that his gait was perfect. We know that he is pushing her to use all of her skills, and his successes are her successes as well.

Dreams reached: Walking, biking, skiing, speaking, understanding, working, seeing both kids graduate, having a grandchild, seeing our son get married, family vacations, back yard parties, holiday celebrations. My favorites? He now shovels and uses the snow blower, mows the lawn and washes our cars. Truth be told, I love this Gary even more than the person he was before the stroke. He is more patient and worries less about little things. He knows that although we were proud of his achievements, when they were all taken from him we still loved him for who he is and not what he did.

A few years ago, I sent a note to Gary’s neurosurgeon. I wanted to tell him that Gary had skied the Swiss Alps with our son, who is now attending the same medical school as Dr. Krzeminski himself had attended years ago. I enclosed a picture and let him know that anything is possible. I know when he saw that picture, he smiled.

Lorie Sheffer’s Story Continues

Mid Life Celebration is excited to have Guest Blogger, Lorie Sheffer return for the second in a three part series. Lorie and her husband Gary, have an amazing and challenging story to share. We can all benefit from this inspiration. Take it away Lorie:

Imagine if your dream changed from “skiing the Swiss Alps” to “being able to use the toilet without any help”, or “learning to count to 10 without making a mistake”. That is what happened to my husband after suffering his stroke.

On day one of getting his life back, Gary’s physical therapist let out a yelp of pure joy. “Feel these quads! WOW! I have something to work with!” In Gary’s case, no matter how he had taken care if himself, the bleed in his brain was inevitable. The tangle of blood vessels that made up the AVM had been there most likely since before he was born. AVMs happen in fetal development, and usually make their appearance known sometime between the twentieth and fiftieth year of life.

Because he had quit smoking over 10 years before, had skied, ridden his bike and ran, and was at a healthy weight, Gary stood a chance of recovery. The music lessons that his father refused to pay for are another protection. It seems that anything we do to strengthen our brain, learning new things, playing music, and speaking a second language all contribute to the strength and overall plasticity of our brain.

Still, Gary was in for the fight of his life, and statistically things were not in his favor.

He had trouble understanding what he was supposed to do. The therapists would show him, and then he would imitate their movements. I stayed with him till late at night, helping him with daily self-care. He had to be held on the toilet by me, or he would have fallen off onto the floor. I had to sweep my finger into his mouth and remove the chunks of food that he couldn’t feel, something known as “pouching” food. I flossed his teeth and helped him into the shower. I learned to transfer him from wheelchair to toilet to shower chair to bed. It was humiliating for him to have me do those things, but I wanted to be comfortable assisting him so as not to be panicked when we got home.

He slowly went from wheelchair to wide based cane, from wide based cane to straight cane. His speech was slow to return. When a doctor asked him to draw the numbers as they appear on the face of a clock, Gary drew a smile face. Because of his paralysis, he was unable to feel the drool, which often ran from his slack mouth. In addition to his own trauma, we witnessed the sudden death of his roommate. We made friends with an 18 year old who had been in contention for being named high school valedictorian before a traffic accident left him in a 3 month long coma, part of his brain missing from the impact. Sometimes I would stop by a friend’s room to offer support, only to be told they had passed away. It seemed that Gary was determined to do it not just for himself, but for all of them. Six weeks after being admitted to full time inpatient rehabilitation, Gary was discharged to day rehab. He was going home. His one wish, to walk out the same door he had been wheeled into.

I was told that as the brain heals, strange emotional things could happen. And they most certainly did.

Gary would burst into tears at the oddest times. He would explode into fits of rage, most often directed at me. And yet we kept going. Recovery is so excruciatingly slow that it is easy to see why some people just give up. There are no guarantees how much recovery will be made, if any. It’s not like rehab on a knee replacement or a broken hip or a torn rotator cuff. Strokes can cause disability to so many different areas that it’s hard to even know where to start. What is fascinating about a brain injury is that all the parts are in perfect working order, but you can’t get them to move. The electrical system isn’t working. Now Gary’s dream was to figure out how to make his brain work again. Everyone was anxious to see how far he could go.