Author: Philip

A Progress Report on My Fifties: Could you please repeat yourself?

Hearing_Aids

Back in 2017, I devoted a blog post to the milestone of reaching the half-century mark. I am a few months shy of reaching the half-way point of my fifties, so I figure it’s an appropriate time for a mid-way update on my experiences with aging and the passage of time.

If you watch the nightly television network news, an old-school way to keep up with the world, I realize, there is a steady stream of pharmaceutical advertising in which earnest, attractive, and fit folks in their middle years begin a sales pitch with the tag-line, “if you’re over 50 then talk to your doctor about…” One can quickly determine that the big 5-0 ushers in some fairly ominous predicaments and decisions. Yet, I at least take some comfort in the notion that my fellow mid-lifers are having fun or at least portraying themselves as having fun.

My Hearing Aid Journey
Right before the pandemic started, I was talking on my iPhone at work, and all of a sudden, it seemed rather difficult to hear the other person speaking in my right ear, so I switched to my left ear, which was at least some degree better. I wondered if my problem somehow related to my perpetual unwillingness to spring for the latest and greatest Apple device, but that thought made no sense at all.

Upon a bit more reflection. I realized that I had gotten into the mode of “what?”, and “Huh?” or in my more polished tone “Pardon?” in conversations, especially at home with my spouse. Then, there was my growing tendency to crank up the television volume when left to my own devices. Not extreme situations, mind you, but noticeable nonetheless.

All my life, I have been plagued with the label of “loud talker,” in terms of how my vocal chords and brain were seemingly configured. Yet, this oddity had become more pronounced, and I deduced that perhaps my hearing situation played a role. Maybe I had lost a measure of my never quite adequate ability to hear–and register the volume of– my own voice.

I made an appointment for a screening at the Costco Hearing Aid Center, and then I went for a second screening at an audiologist/ENT clinic. The tests gave nearly identical results of mild to moderate hearing loss. The deficit was asymmetrical in nature, which the ENT said was slightly concerning. He declared that I would probably benefit from hearing aids, but an MRI might be helpful to eliminate other possibilities. So, since nothing about this seemed hair-on-fire urgent, I figured I would wait a year and see how things were then.

So, after 12 months where things stayed about the same, I went back to the audiologist/ENT and asked to undergo the MRI to be sure this wasn’t a brain thing. Given my claustrophobia, I had always dreaded the thought of an MRI, but positive self-talk–and a valium–helped me get though that symphony of strange noises in a small space.

My brain was deemed normal, though those around me might dispute that finding, but at least nothing tied to hearing loss could be detected. So, back to Costco for their requisite repeated tests. That made a total of four hearing screenings, all with the same conclusion: one ear was worse off than the other, but both could benefit from hearing aids to at least some degree.

So, I took the plunge, and it’s proven pretty positive without seeming miraculous. When I put some effort into it, I seem to be able to hear and control my own voice better. My spouse thinks I am now less loud a talker, though if I get emotional or agitated, he still has to let me know that I need to tone it down a bit. It took some getting used to when certain sounds, like the faucet running or the flip of a light switch, seemed extra pronounced, but somehow that started to become a reassuring novelty of sorts for me.

So, I have a new electronic medical appliance in my life. Yay! Back in 2005, I began wearing a CPAP to bed for my sleep apnea (Darth Vader-style mask and hose) every night and hauling said equipment with me when away from home. Now, add to that a little charging case where I tuck my hearing aids in each night. When my other half and I travel, I now have to look for two absolutely essential electrical outlets in the hotel room. On our recent cruise, we ended up unplugging the mini-bar fridge to make it work. Seems like a pretty minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things.

Pre-Type Two Diabetes
During this same approximate timeframe, I also had a routine physical with the standard blood testing. The result was an elevated blood glucose, which my doctor explained had been a rather recent shift, so this gave me a chance to nip things in the bud relatively smoothly. He prescribed medication and also suggested that I approach carbs and sugar (two of my favorite things in life) more sensibly.

A year and a half later, whatever I am doing seems to be working. It’s not so much that I say a firm no to bread and dessert, but I do say no to the type of endless portions that I had become accustomed to in my old life. Setting some limits is not nearly as disheartening as I feared it might be. And, my treatment plan is really a piece of cake when you think about it, albeit a pretty sensibly-sized one.

Confronting Aging
There is that old saying along the lines of not minding aging except for the fact that it happens so quickly. That’s really how I see things. I feel so much wiser and self-assured at 54 than I did at 34 or even 44. Yes, I have my quirks and worries, but I think I see the bigger picture. Part of me wishes that I could exist like Brad Pitt in the Benjamin Button movie and get an increasingly younger body to go along with the experience of age. However, I think that the vulnerability of aging is part of what gives us perspective, and besides that movie had a really depressing ending anyway.

Ultimately, I feel so grateful for the adventures I get to have in my life. I am making the most of it. It may not be quite as charmed as what the over-50 crowd in those commercials seems to be experiencing, but if anything gets me down, I can always ask my doctor about it. I am, after all, over 50.

Trying–And Failing–To Build a Bridge While Cruising the Cumberland

The_General_Jackson

My spouse Tom and I try to be reasonably friendly with strangers–at least in terms of basic civility–but given the hot-button situations out there, we also try to practice the sort of boundaries that prevent a potentially ugly scene. We look for clues with regard to how receptive folks might be to our situation, and we become especially mindful of when we might be stuck in an awkward shared seating or dining arrangement.

Late this past September, Tom and I found ourselves in one of those thorny encounters. We had just come out of two weeks of quarantine from a breakthrough COVID infection during the height of the Delta variant, so it felt especially good to get out of the house on a weekday evening and play tourists in our own city. We boarded Nashville’s General Jackson Showboat for a dinner show cruise; we had booked that evening’s sailing in particular, because a good friend of ours was part of the talented group of musicians performing.

Upon boarding, we found our assigned table and were soon joined by an outgoing middle-aged man and woman. We exchanged pleasantries and learned that they were celebrating their anniversary and had recently moved from Southern California to a rural enclave in one of the suburban counties outside of Nashville. Both husband and wife declared that they had fled the Golden State because they didn’t like “having their tax dollars support lifestyles they didn’t agree with.” Hmmm, just what lifestyles are those, we wondered, but of course we didn’t ask.

Another married straight couple arrived at the table. They identified themselves as tourists from Montana, where they own and operate a ranch. Please let me state for the record that I grew up in a rural community in Western Kentucky and maintain deep respect for folks from all settings and walks of life. So, no judgment intended, but the husband projected a rather bold and crass swagger in pretty much all his interactions.

The Montana wife was pleasant and soft-spoken, but in mere seconds, they both developed an instant kinship with the California-to-Tennessee refugee couple and firmly asserted their preference for Red State life and their disenchantment with all things urban and progressive. At this stage, Tom and I largely withdrew from the conversation.

I will give the California husband and wife credit, sort of, for trying to engage Tom and me in some chit-chat. They asked us if we were brothers and quizzed us about our family ties. I think we did end up stating that we lived in the same condo, but we did our best to keep our cards close to the vest, given the tenor of the other threads of conversation at the table. We don’t wear wedding rings, as Tom is not a fan of jewelry, but I still figured that at some point, we got our point across without exactly spelling out our nuptial status.

I know this always seems patronizing to say, but I have people I like and care about who hold political or religious views with which I don’t agree. It’s not a matter of me wanting ideologically segregated dining, far from it. Yet, in a communal setting with total strangers all trying to consume and digest their food, I think there is something to be said for trying to keep things on a superficial level until or unless all the parties involved seem comfortable with the line of questioning.

Thankfully, Tom and I were able to spend the time in between dinner service and the start of the show on the outdoor deck. We took snapshots of the lovely Nashville nighttime skyline and gave one another a chance to vent about our dining experience.

In our perfect world, we would just say “we are married,” and move on with wherever the conversation headed. Yet, in this particular situation, we didn’t muster the confidence to lay things on the table with that level of directness. That sounds cowardly, I realize, but then again, events later in the evening re-enforced our hesitation.

After parting the table with minimal discussion beyond the most generic of goodbye well wishes, we made it to the stage, where we caught up with our musician friend and chatted for a few minutes about how much we enjoyed the show. We then made our way to disembark the boat.

There were multiple corridors leading to the exit, and it was rather dark, so as we walked from one direction, we heard the couples from out table talking with one another, but I don’t think they saw or heard us. California wife was asking the Montana couple about whether they had been able to take in the honky tonks and other attractions in the Downtown tourist area. Montana husband replied that they had tried but that, “the queers were all over the place.”

My initial reaction was seething rage, but I didn’t engage. I just gave myself permission to mentally process my anger for a moment. (I won’t say what I was thinking at that exact moment, but it wasn’t pretty.) I realize that Montana husband was probably referring to visitors from the recent Nashville Pride Festival. I didn’t have a chance to hear any context or explanation from the overheard conversation, but I guess Montana husband thinks that we gays don’t need to flaunt our sexuality.

My response to such a complaint would be that we gay people have had to contend with straight people holding hands and displaying the nature of their relationship for a long time. We aren’t asking for anything different than the things that straight people already take for granted. Do Tom and I attend the Nashville Pride Festival every year at this stage in our lives? Not exactly, but I fully appreciate the affirming purpose these events serve for so many.

So, even though we might have seemed timid at the table, Tom and I aren’t going anywhere. We will continue to live our lives and not apologize to anyone. We are fulfilling our dreams and doing our best to be stand-up members of the community and decent humans. If anyone objects to that, well, it’s their loss, because I think we are worth getting to know. I can honestly say that, initial reactions aside, I don’t hold ill will toward our dining companions from that night. Tom and I are way too blessed in our lives to fixate on the haters.

What Have I Been Streaming Lately?–Ted Lasso and Other Apple TV+ Fare

Ted Lasso Coaches
The coaching staff from Apple TV’s acclaimed comedy Ted Lasso

In our household, Apple TV+ has been the streaming service we find ourselves watching in spurts. In fact, it’s relatively low price point (around five bucks a month) with an abundance of free trial offers out in Internet land, makes it perfect to start and stop and restart. It offers a much smaller array of choices than its competitors, but in some cases, the network manages to capture the quality over quantity prize.

At a get-together a few weeks ago, a friend raved about the service’s comedy Ted Lasso. She said that it was the sort of humor that my other half and I would appreciate. So, we decided to give it a try. Unbeknownst to us, during this very same timeframe, the show picked up a record haul of Emmy nominees for a debut entry. Yet, we weren’t consciously trying to be part of the bandwagon, I promise. Over the past year, we have become fans of our city’s new professional soccer team, attending several games in person. So, the timing seemed relevant for us.

The series stars Saturday Night Live veteran Jason Sudeikis as Lasso, an up-and-coming American football coach who accepts an unlikely offer to cross the Atlantic and coach a professional British soccer (aka football) team. The unassuming and likable–perhaps even to a fault–Lasso has no clue that the team’s new owner Rebecca Welton, who won the team in a bitter divorce settlement, hatched the deal as part of a grand revenge plot. Played brilliantly by Hannah Waddingham, Rebecca reasons that, since her cheating ex-husband loves his soccer franchise, AFC Richmond, more than anything else in life, he deserves to witness a painful dumpster fire of incompetence and failure.

Ted Lasso hails from America’s Heartland and offers up frequent folksy expressions, but he defies one-dimensional stereotypes. He possesses an enviable knowledge of popular culture, history, business, and a host of other topics. He has his fish out of water moments, loathing the taste of hot tea, which he dismisses as “brown water.” Yet, he remains open to learning from his adopted country and the diverse roster of players and coaches.

Lasso practices redeeming virtues of kindness and empathy, offering homemade pastries and pleasantries to his very un-chatty boss Weldon. He also makes a point to organize birthday and holiday celebrations for his team members. Yet, he isn’t above getting caught up in the emotions of the moment, admitting to heartbreak and loneliness. In one particular episode, he confesses his love for British romantic comedies, which seems fitting, as I think the show evokes the charming vibe found in Love Actually and similar movies.

Ted Lasso is now in the midst of its second season. (Unlike Netflix, Apple TV+ typically releases new episodes a week at a time, requiring a serious delay of gratification. I like the direction in which the show seems headed.

The Morning Show
The television drama about television hit the airwaves in 2019, featuring the solid star power of Jennifer Anniston, Steve Carell, and Reese Witherspoon. Season two was delayed by the pandemic and premieres September 17th.

Season one began as the hugely successful pair of morning news anchors (Alex Levy played by Anniston and Mitch Kessler played by Carell) faces the crisis of a major sexual harassment allegation against Kessler. The ramifications of possible cover-ups and enabling behaviors rock the cast and crew. Along the way, regional reporter Bradley Jackon (played by Witherspoon) finds herself plucked from obscurity to occupy the co-anchor spot vacated by the fired Kessler.

The Morning Show features compelling performances all around. The program also tackles timely questions about the dark side of celebrity and the toxic nature of today’s noisy media landscape. I look forward to seeing how things take shape in the new season.

Defending Jacob
This addictive legal thriller, based on a bestselling novel by William Landay, stars the always delightful Chris Evans as a Boston-area prosecutor and Michelle Dockery (Best known as Lady Mary Crowley on Downton Abbey) as his psychologist wife. The couple’s world turns upside down when their teenage son stands accused of murdering a classmate.

The plot twists and turns left me on the edge of my seat. The storyline navigates the bounds of parental loyalty. Are there limits to how far loving parents should go in defending their children? Does love remain unconditional in the face of nagging doubt? The series appears slated to remain a one-off miniseries, though the notion of a second season does sound enticing.

CODA
This little gem of a movie won raves on the independent film festival circuit. It’s now playing on select cinema screens, but Apple drew from its deep pockets to purchase the streaming rights. The cast, including Oscar winner Marlee Matlin, was hired with the requirement that deaf actors and actresses play all the hearing-impaired roles.

The term CODA refers to a hearing child raised by deaf adults. My other half is proficient in American Sign Language and has spent time working in the deaf culture. So watching the film with him was extra enlightening.

Set in Coastal New England, the story centers on Ruby, a hearing teen girl with deaf parents and a deaf older brother. The family operates a fishing boat and depends on Ruby for their business communication with the hearing world. Ruby’s main extra-curricular activity turns out to be choral singing. This development becomes increasingly problematic, as Ruby’s family feels shut out of a world they can’t fully experience.

Okay, I must confess that this general trajectory is a fairly standard plot element–kids following dreams that differ from parental expectations. Yet, the sincerity and attention to nuance keep things fresh. Yes, this is a tale that tugs at the heart strings, but the process to get there respects diversity in a way that breaks new ground.

Alligators and a Stomach Flu: December 2019

Alligator
A Snapshot from our December 2019 Everglades Safari

For me, the oddness of 2020 actually began in December of 2019. My other half Tom and I few  from our home in Nashville down to Fort Lauderdale a couple of days before we were set to board a Western Caribbean cruise.  (The itinerary had been slated to include the novel and mysterious destination of Cuba, but Washington had declared otherwise, so it was back to a more conventional voyage.) We were still super excited to be hitting the high seas, as we always are.

After landing in the Sunshine State, we boarded a shuttle bus to stay in a hotel that caters largely to folks coming and going from the cruise port. Seated on the bus, we happened to notice an older woman sitting alone and wearing a disposable face mask. Like us, she was checking in for pre-cruise rest and relaxation.  I remember thinking to myself that a mask seemed pretty extreme, but I should be more understanding, given that I had immunity of steel. I never caught stuff, so I just counted myself blessed. 

We enjoyed some karaoke in the lounge that night.  Tom is the musical one, so he signed up for multiple turns at the microphone, and I played the cheerleader role. It was cheesy over-the-top fun in a place where such frivolity seems par for the course. 

We had booked an all-day Everglades tour, so the next morning we got up early and met the tour van in front of the lobby. There were alligators and seabirds galore. We road two different kinds of boats during our outing and even got to watch a pod of dolphins. We dined on a lunch of all things fried, including gator tail appropriately enough. 

It was such a fun day; we are both such animal and nature lovers that we were like kids in candy store. That night we took an Uber to walk on the beach just to say that we had done so, but we had had a long day and were getting ready for another long day, so we made a point to get back to our room early. 

Around midnight, I woke up suddenly with pangs of nausea like I had not experienced in a long time. I rarely get sick at my stomach in that way. I will spare you the details, but the gators whose grease-soaked tails I had chomped down on a few hours earlier had their revenge. I settled back down to sleep, offering both myself and my concerned nurse husband the naively optimistic reassurance that it was just all the fried food I had consumed.

I woke up a few hours later feeling even worse. Thank goodness I had plenty of dollar bills to get cold Sprite (Was it one or two or three 16 ounce bottles, I don’t remember?) from the vending machine right around the corner from our room. Tom, bless him, Googled the nearest pharmacy and booked an Uber to make a quick trip there. It was some serious role reversal, as he is usually much more likely to develop ailments or infirmities when we travel. Yet, I guess eventually it was going to be my turn.

I know Tom brought back both Tylenol for my very ovbious feverish symptoms and some sort of stomach remedy (Emetrol maybe? That’s the stuff that got me through a rough morning or two in my college years, but that’s another story.) He also got us each a travel size bottle of hand sanitizer. “We will need to use this stuff religiously now,” he declared. Little did I know that, along with the mask-wearing traveler on the shuttle bus, it was a glimpse into what would become our normal daily routines three months later.

I kept trying to will myself into health, but I knew I wasn’t up to par. At least I wasn’t actively sick at my stomach when it was time to check out and go down to the lobby to board yet another shuttle bus that would take us to the cruise port. I figured we would just play this out and see what happens. We got to our ship, and the usual excitement when we saw the name on the side was tempered by my condition.

I knew from our previous sailings that there would be health screening questions on the initial check-in form. I am not trying to brag on my honesty here. I knew that even if I lied and said I was fine, I would be subject to quarantine in our room if the medical staff found out that I was sick, so not much of a cruise.

Sure enough, we got pulled aside instead of being directed to the gangway to continue the boarding process. It seemed like we waited forever, but I was starting to feel worse again, so I think I lost my sense of perception about things. I am usually so hot natured that I never encounter an air conditioner too cold for me, but this was South Florida, so the inside terminal was chilled to the temperature of a meat locker.

The ship nurse came to take my temperature, a really nice lady whose nametag indicated she was from South Africa. (That’s always a fun little aspect of cruising, learning the backgrounds of the crew. ) She took my temperature, and no surprise, I had a fever. Not high enough to be life-threatening, but not low enough to just “shake it off.”

The nurse left to confer with the ship’s hotel director–more waiting. I think the hotel director actually made an appearance, but I am foggy on that part. Yet, eventually someone’s assistant’s assistant gave us a written memo stating that, regretfully, we were denied boarding but that as a consolation we would receive credit toward a future cruise. Honesty really was the best policy. Yay!

So, more waiting for our luggage to be retrieved. That gave us time to contact the airline and change our return flight to the next day. We then made arrangements to go back to the same hotel for another night. I knew that our travel insurance would pay for that part, and I also figured that a night’s rest might be helpful before getting on a plane.

We checked in to a different room, and I was so glad to be back in a bed. I needed something on my stomach, but the hotel menu was basically heavy bar food. So, Tom got resourceful and used Uber Eats, which was a fairly new experience for us that would soon become yet another 2020 staple. The delivery of deli chicken soup really hit the spot. I felt lousy, but there are worse places to recover from sickness.

So, I was better in the morning–not 100 percent–but not really in the throes of full-fledged sickness either. The flight was pretty uneventful and pleasant all in all. We did have to contend with being seated right behind an overly enthusiastic bachelorette party tribe, but that’s a big chunk of the Music City tourism market. So, not quite the napping vibe I wanted, but I was reasonably comfortable.

After we got back home, Tom caught my virus and suffered the same effects for a couple of days, but then we managed to get back into our normal routines. It was evidently one of those potent but mercifully brief little bugs that was gone in two days. I am so blessed as far as my health and all the various other good things in my life. So, getting denied cruise boarding was definitely a “First World Problem.”

We got excited about the prospect of a make-up cruise, which we planned for the following April. Well, we all know what happened in February and March… It seemed like an odd coincidence that a virus kept us off the sea, and then a global virus shut down pretty much everything a couple of months later. (Knock on wood, that cruise will finally happen in 2022.)

I wanted to recount all of this on my blog earlier, but somehow it seemed shallow and tone-deaf to discuss my little inconveniences and discomforts during a time when folks were losing their lives and livelihoods to the pandemic. So, I say this knowing that I have been super lucky in every way, but sometimes, you just have to roll with it and make the most of things even when your plans don’t quite work out.

In closing, I think the lady wearing the mask had the right idea in hindsight. And, it really was cool to get to take pictures of alligators and also eat some alligator tail too.