Goodbye 2024 Word of the Year

 

Every year, I choose a word of the year. I do it to give myself some inspiration and motivation for the coming year. Last year, my word was Move. With all the lifestyle changes that happened both during COVID and after, I need a word to get me going. It seemed like the perfect choice. 

I’d been in the hospital before Christmas that year with an abscess that needed to be drained. It was a scary, unexpected situation and even though I came home from the hospital before Christmas, I had to take it easy and not do or move as much as I usually did. I obeyed the instructions and thought after that all would be well. 

So Move seemed like the perfect choice. 

Not so fast. 

Yeah. This last year was a maze of doctor, urgent care, express care visits with so many different drugs and diagnoses that I was in a constant state of confusion. If you want to know more, read the blog “Easily Dismissed”. 

To say I was in a haze is to put it mildly. I lived with pain and fear. I was low on energy, yet pushed through to move on with my life as best I could. I couldn’t throw clay because it hurt to push the clay around on the wheel. So I made small figures in clay because I could do it sitting down in a comfy chair and rolling out the clay in small batches was manageable. 

I’m moved by those who helped. 

First, my wonderful husband who did the heavy lifting all year. He took over so many of my duties that I could not do. He grocery shopped, cooked and cleaned. He baked up a storm of cookies and treats and meals to keep me eating when I didn’t feel I could. 

My children, adults now with their own families and jobs, stepped up to walk, feed and care for the dog when I was in the hospital. Twice. They, along with friends, brought food and treats and things to keep me busy while I was confined to my bed. They are so wonderful. 

Thank you  to my art supporters from the gallery to the pottery group. It’s because of you that I was able to keep doing what I really love to do and manage to get my art out there. With the help of my husband doing the hauling and lifting and driving, I did Ceramics Showcase and sold a few things. Best of all, I had a gallery and a wonderful supportive owner and staff who wanted my work and worked with me to make it possible and sold it too!!

And a big thank you to the doctor and nurses and aides at St. Vincent Hospital, I was finally diagnosed correctly. Yes, I had a major but much needed surgery. And I went home finally, whole and healthy and able to really move on.  

Easily Dismissed

I  sit here looking out the window from a hospital bed.  Watching the fog move over and around the trees, some turning red and yellow, some green, I wonder how did I get here? It’s a long story filled with fear and confusion and, yes, sexism. 

You see, I am a 69 year old woman. I have grey hair and grandchildren. I am considered and dismissed. I am not seen as valuable or vital or powerful. 

And it pisses me off.

Working women unite. 

Remember the ‘Women’s Movement’? I was one of those women. I went to rallies. I marched. I was going to change the way it had been because my generation of women were serious and dedicated to advancing right along side the men. 

And I did. 

I started in college as president of Women In Communications. I worked at the college newspaper, radio and TV stations. I won an award for a public service TV spot about ageism. And how important it was for people of all ages to be valued. Funny that I should find now, decades later, nothing has changed the negative view of older people. 

I worked in advertising writing copy for newspapers, radio and TV. I handled some of the city’s biggest clients. I won local, regional and national awards. I wore a suit. I carried a briefcase. I also handled broadcast production writing, directing and editing. 

Then I had a baby and it all changed. Why? I didn’t want to park my babies in daycare five days out of seven. I had worked in a daycare center in high school, so I knew a little more than others how that worked. Yes, there are many dedicated teachers and childcare workers, I know because I was one of them but there are also those who are there to do as little as possible. And those who treated some children terribly. 

I couldn’t let that happen to mine. So I freelanced in advertising while taking care of my babies. 

Not easy to do then. No email or internet or remote work yet. I did my best. When that door closed on me, I went back to school. 

Another creative career. 

My goal was to do art residences. My teacher said, do your art first. So I did. I painted and sculpted and, yes, wrote. I’ve been showing my art in galleries and shows and doing residences for over 20 years now. I love it. And I’m still doing it.

My art has changed over the years, as I’ve changed. I went from painting to sculpting to throwing clay. But one change has hit me hard: ageism. 

“You remind me of my mother, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

That’s exactly what a doctor told me 8 months ago, when I went in with bladder pain. He did a test he said would come out negative. It was positive. On and on and on I went from doctor to doctor, clinic to clinic, urgent care to urgent care, being given antibiotics and sent home with the words, it’s not a problem. 

And because I’m a gray haired lady, my symptoms were, like me, dismissed. And because I was told that over and over it was not a problem, I started to deny my own pain and believe it. 

Until finally, a doctor in the hospital ER said, you need an operation. Scary, yes. But now, I sit recovering from a colon operation. I had a great doctor. I was moved to a floor with incredible nurses who listened and helped me so much. 

I was, finally, not dismissed. 

I’ve felt so much fear and confusion and pain. And now, anger. 

What could have been done to save me from this situation?

Maybe being a man?