Halloween. A season to many, a nuisance to some, but generally a fun time for most. With my oncologist’s blessing, I went to a party. The theme was childhood fears. To be able to wear a mask, when necessary, I went as a dentist.
Retirement for me has been remarkably agreeable and peaceful. I know so many guys who went back to work, or refuse to retire because they don’t know what to do with themselves. Sadly, they don’t have hobbies or post-work goals for their lives. This comes, in my opinion, from having been indoctrinated and trained in revering the almighty corporation, in being brainwashed into believing there is virtue in living to work, rather than working to live.
Not me.
I got over that edification of the corporation long ago and while I may have liked the work I was doing, I treated my job as my job, and did not define myself or my life by it. I traveled a bit, did some big-time ghost hunting, tried a side-hustle as a professional baker, and often (usually) ended up short on cash. At parties, I never liked asking people what they did for a living. I would always ask about what they had been up to lately. What fun were they having in life. Once I grasped it was utter BS to devote yourself to a corporate career (unless you became the kind of boss people hated), I rededicated my life to myself rather than an employer who only wanted the revenue I generated for them. When I retired, I told people I’d worked enough years of making money for other people.
Despite my health troubles this past season, the garden was a source of resting my soul and rejuvenation. I may not have kept up with it as planned, nor gotten as much from it as hoped for, but I did enjoy it. The garden is my happy place. The gazebo is my Zen Den. I forget the world exists when I’m planning, planting, or harvesting.
Preserving, on the other hand, is enough work that I recall I did other jobs once in life and think how grateful I am that the work I do now, keeping our microfarm, is strictly for me and my family and friends. None of my efforts go to benefit a distant Board of Directors, who don’t even know or give a damn about me, but whom I have to keep happy to keep my job.
Anyway, what I’m getting at is I’m the guy who enjoys spending quiet days at home with his hobbies, books, and pets. I’m not the guy who gets bored after two weeks at home and has to get another job, any job, to preserve his sanity. My peace of mind comes from my home and myself. It’s been fourteen months since I quit working and I don’t miss it, nor am I going stir crazy. I have been enjoying every moment of it. Although I got antsy in February to get going on the garden.
Still, as a rather gregarious person, I also enjoy interacting with people. I still stop by to have coffee and donuts with my barista crew from my last job once a week (usually). I don’t hesitate to chat with my neighbors or people I meet when I’m out and about. I’m usually cracking jokes and being my curious self when I’m interacting with my health care crews. And a party was just the thing to really invigorate my soul.
To be honest, I did tire out about an hour or so earlier than I might have in years past. Despite that, I enjoyed myself and had some good and some rather interesting (to put it politely) vegetarian and vegan food in the pot-luck dinner. I made the desserts, full bore fats and sugars in the pumpkin roll and an apple and pear cobbler with gluten free flour for our hostess. I’m kicking myself for not having taken pictures of them.
When you’re dealing with cancer, your support network is one of your lifelines. Being able to get out and see my friends and make some new ones was a treat. We may not have stayed long, but it was fun and worth the hour-long drive. Their concern for my well-being is heart-warming and soul-soothing. It helps you in feeling that the disease is just another run-of-the-mill, everyday thing that just takes a little longer to get over, but from which you will recover and be just fine after a while.
Which, of course, I will be.
The two beers I drank at the party were the first alcohol I’d consumed since my niece’s wedding in August, which was the first in over a month back then, as I decided not to drink during my chemo treatments. Part of the reason for that is also to lose weight. I’ve managed to trim off about ten pounds since August. If I can get another ten off before the end of the year, despite holiday dinners and treats, I’ll be happy.
And hopefully I don’t just gain it all back again next year.
Toward that end, we will be joining our town’s fitness center in January. I’ll be done with chemo (at least for now) and on a daily pill. I’ll be seeing the doctors every few months instead of every few weeks. I’ll have the energy for some light exercise, and I need to keep myself active in some way during January and February, when I’m done with one growing season and waiting for the next. It will also be another opportunity to interact with people. No job necessary.
In the meantime, I’m going to start taking morning walks again. I was sidelined last year because hikes of even the shortest nature in the cooler weather left me with an urgent need to pee. Like, immediate, not going to make it home, find a tree type of urgency that came with little to no warning. Which was one of the first signs of my illness. The TURP procedure I underwent in September has resolved that problem. I can take an hour or two long walks now, and need to.
Between that and getting out to a party, life is settling back to a more normal routine. A new one, that is, in which I’m managing my cancer as a chronic condition. It may go into remission, but it will never go away. I’ll just have to do the right things with my diet and exercise, and keep an eye on my condition. Another round of chemo next year is quite possible. I’ll deal with it then, if need be. For now, life is what I make of it.
In other words, just like it was before. With an occasional double chocolate chip cookie.
The Little Farm in Town 