There was a list of stressors circulating around, perhaps 20 years ago, among therapists. How many of the changes in your life have occurred in the past year, in the recent past? The different items were assigned different values, and you were to count up all the points for the changes that were true for you.

If you had a score above 30, you had a 25% chance of having serious illness or injury in the next year. If you had a score of 50, you had a 65% chance of having serious illness or injury. If you had a score of 75, you had a 90% chance.

Rick Showed It To Me

My therapist showed it to me. I glanced at it. "Yeah, I've seen that before." I tried to pass it back, but he wouldn't take it. No, he said, I've got another copy. Let's see what your score is he said, and we went through the list, talling up the score. It was 135.

"So?" I asked him. "With a score of 135, I shouldn't just be sick, I should be dead," I told him, "and we both know, death is appealing to me. My parents raised me to do what needs to be done, and it'd be a lot simple, a lot cheaper, a lot less hassle for everybody concerned if you all would get out of my face, and let me do what needs to be done."

He wasn't having any. Rick was a tough bastard. He was an ex-Marine. I asked him what he did in the service, he said, "You ever see the movie 'Chasers'? The rules say that if you're delivering a soldier and he gets away, the chaser serves the prisoner's time for him. No such thing as a chaser giving a prisoner a break. No way, no how." He didn't cut himself any breaks, either. His left knee was frozen solid so he couldn't bend it, due to medical malpractice, and yet Rick raced bicycles internationally. He had recumbent bicycles that were powered by his arms, and he used to fly around the city, even in February when there was 8" of slush in every road, and and piles of snow 4' along every berm, on those recumbent bicycles.

And He Was Tough

And he was tough on me, too, which was good, because if he'd been any less tough, I'd have steamrolled him. And yet, I was sore and tender under the surface, and he kept abrading my emotional wounds, exposing them to the air and the sunlight, so that they would heal.

Did you notice, he said, how many of the items on the list are things we generally regard as good things? If you get engaged, that's a lot of points. If you get married, that's even more. If you get a new job, that's a lot of points, if you get promoted at work, that's a lot of points, if you get a raise at work, that's a lot of points, too. Win the effing lottery, that would be a lot of points as well, I suppose. Suppose the door was to open, suddenly, and the Swedish Bikini Team was to burst in, and they were to make mad passionate love to you. How many points do you suppose that would be worth? And how many points do you suppose it would be worth when you tried to tell someone what had happened to you, and they thought you were lying?

His Point?

His point, and it took me over a decade after I stopped seeing Rick to understand it, was that life is change. Our lives progress by experiencing change, and we call the progress of our lives aging, and aging makes us feel crappy. Even if it's getting engaged or married, or getting a raise and a promotion, or being loved up by the Swedish Bikini Team, or - horror of horrors - it's all three.

Boy, have I aged a lot recently. Blondie's disability was just recognized by the Social Security administration. When she applied for her disability, she had to tell the unemployment people that she wasn't able to work, which meant no unemployment compensation, and we haven't been able to make any mortgage payments since then. We've been tip-toe-ing around, trying to keep the bank from noticing us, in hopes that they wouldn't throw us onto the street. It's been bad enough, trying to figure out which utility bills to pay each month, hoping that we wouldn't freeze to death in the dark.

They Took Her License

The state took Blondie's driver's license away, because vascular dementia causes confusion. It helped financially - it cut our insurance bill, and we were able to sell her car - but I'm not up to all the driving I've had to do as a consequence. As an agoraphobe, though, that's a real burden on me. I want to hide in the dark, curl up in a ball in the cool, damp, air-conditioned air, and if there's no silence - I haven't heard silence since I lived on the farm, years ago - at least listen to music or television rather than neighbors or street sounds. I can't do that. I'm going to have to interrupt writing this post, to take her to an appointment. And then tomorrow, I have an appointment with a nephrologist.

But we got the money order sent today that brings our mortgage up to date. It took five, almost six months, of Blondie's Social Security to do that, but from this point on, her Social Security and my Social Security ought to let us stay current. Yeah, right, except that whenever I've said "Whew", that has meant that the car or the refrigerator, or something that won't wait is gonna go "ka-blooey" in the next week.

And Another Change

And this morning, we got the wild cherry tree in the back yard cut down. I love wild cherry pie, but this tree was well past menopause. Earlier this year, a big branch fell and took out a neighbor's fence, which was expen$ive to deal with. Luckily, I found some people who are both rather competent and rather affordable. It looks strange. The back yard is all opened up, and maybe the grass will grow now. When I look out the window, I see the maple trees in the neighbor's hard, and they are showing the silver undersides of their leaves, and I'm not used to that.

That's a sign of impending rain, you know. Maple leaves curl up due to the humidity, and they blow in the wind. It's supposed to be a 20% chance of rain tomorrow, 30% chance tomorrow night, 50% chance on Saturday.

The Cordword

The only way I could afford having the tree taken down was to handle the firewood myself. They left me a log that's about 8' long, close to 2' in diameter, and a bunch of lumps of wood maybe 20" long and up to 20" in diameter. I suppose what I need to do is to let the wood just season there in the back yard. In a year or two, I can buy a 20-pound sledge and some wedges and split up the lumps of wood. The big log could be used as a backless bench. Or, at least that's what I'm telling myself. Scoping out the wood, I'd say I have the better part of a cord.

I shouldn't have to buy charcoal for a long time!

Other Bloggers On Related Topics:
20-pound sledge - agoraphobia - charcoal - Chasers - cordwood - lumberjacks - maple leaves - Marine Corps - mortgage default - nephrologist - prisoner - racing - recumbent bicycle - silence - Social Security - stressors - suicidal - Swedish Bikini Team - unemployment compensation - utility bills - weather forecasting - wedges - wild cherry