We certainly had our share in the last six months. Old knob and tube wiring and someone's innovative electrical work-arounds needed to be brought up to code. The damaged broiler and igniters in the kitchen stove leaked gas into the house, which made us prepare for every lighting of a cooktop burner like the bomb squad approaching an abandoned suitcase on the subway. Corroded pipes and some pretty gross drain backups don't need any additional description.
But the biggest unexpected repair happened in October, when my husband, Bob, needed double bypass surgery.
Reporting some discomfort to his doctor during a wellness exam led to what we thought would be routine testing, but became - surprise! - open heart surgery the next day. The good news: He is recovering well, and his life is getting back to normal. He's in cardiac rehab this month, and by next month he'll be ready to lift and unpack the 40 boxes of books still waiting in our garage to make it onto bookshelves.
I have to admit that during the first few days after his surgery, as I moved around alone in this big old house, I tried not to think about whether or not we had made an enormous, embarrassing mistake. But during his recovery, as we caught our breath and settled into the temporary cessation of planning ahead, we saw a completely different picture. In some ways, our upsized move was a lifesaver.
Here's the story: Bob was feeling enough chest discomfort to warrant a stress test, which came back negative. We all want to hear that we don't need to worry about our health, so the stress test thumbs-up made it easy for him to shrug off an occasional twinge and call it indigestion - for another year.
Then we moved from our split-level home with a total of 17 steps to this high-ceilinged three-story (plus basement) Victorian with 42. Trips to the third floor left him winded and in pain. It happened predictably enough that the occasional surprising pain or tightness, when he was hiking or carrying something, couldn't be ignored anymore. He brought it to his doctor, who sent him for more testing, and led to a correct diagnosis of the extent of his heart disease.
Reflection is inevitable when you go through something life-changing, but which way you look is important. When I'm driving, I look in the rear view mirror only to see what might be coming up beside me, not to imagine what accident I might have missed. So I refuse to look backwards and imagine the possible bad endings to this story.
Instead, here's what's beside me now:
I'm seeing a determined husband with a new outlook and a robust appreciation of the "you broke it - you bought it" relationship between lifestyle and health. We have opportunities to explore all kinds of cooking, exercise, and travel experiences together that will help both of us in the long run.
My perspective about the long-term guarantee of anything - health, money, career - has shifted. Like many baby boomers, I have felt young and old at the same time. Time luxuriously stretched out in front of me, as if I had endless opportunities to try or be anything, even as I racked up measurable life experience data points, (like adult children, career successes, and birthdays). No more. Now, the present is more in focus, and I'm worrying less about the future on all fronts, from my home address to my professional one.
And here's what's coming up:
As Bob gets back to work on our house rehab, I'm looking forward to a few surprises. I hope one will be a DIY greenhouse he builds off the garage from the old windows we replaced. But I'm ready, too, if they only have to do with winter storms, spring rains, and whatever we both choose to tackle next.
Reporting some discomfort to his doctor during a wellness exam led to what we thought would be routine testing, but became - surprise! - open heart surgery the next day. The good news: He is recovering well, and his life is getting back to normal. He's in cardiac rehab this month, and by next month he'll be ready to lift and unpack the 40 boxes of books still waiting in our garage to make it onto bookshelves.
I have to admit that during the first few days after his surgery, as I moved around alone in this big old house, I tried not to think about whether or not we had made an enormous, embarrassing mistake. But during his recovery, as we caught our breath and settled into the temporary cessation of planning ahead, we saw a completely different picture. In some ways, our upsized move was a lifesaver.
Then we moved from our split-level home with a total of 17 steps to this high-ceilinged three-story (plus basement) Victorian with 42. Trips to the third floor left him winded and in pain. It happened predictably enough that the occasional surprising pain or tightness, when he was hiking or carrying something, couldn't be ignored anymore. He brought it to his doctor, who sent him for more testing, and led to a correct diagnosis of the extent of his heart disease.
Reflection is inevitable when you go through something life-changing, but which way you look is important. When I'm driving, I look in the rear view mirror only to see what might be coming up beside me, not to imagine what accident I might have missed. So I refuse to look backwards and imagine the possible bad endings to this story.
Instead, here's what's beside me now:
I'm seeing a determined husband with a new outlook and a robust appreciation of the "you broke it - you bought it" relationship between lifestyle and health. We have opportunities to explore all kinds of cooking, exercise, and travel experiences together that will help both of us in the long run.
My perspective about the long-term guarantee of anything - health, money, career - has shifted. Like many baby boomers, I have felt young and old at the same time. Time luxuriously stretched out in front of me, as if I had endless opportunities to try or be anything, even as I racked up measurable life experience data points, (like adult children, career successes, and birthdays). No more. Now, the present is more in focus, and I'm worrying less about the future on all fronts, from my home address to my professional one.
And here's what's coming up:
As Bob gets back to work on our house rehab, I'm looking forward to a few surprises. I hope one will be a DIY greenhouse he builds off the garage from the old windows we replaced. But I'm ready, too, if they only have to do with winter storms, spring rains, and whatever we both choose to tackle next.
