Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: fine wine

Aging like fine wine

I’m 52 years old. That’s incredible to me. Not just becuase I should be dead, but because as people smarter than I have said, time just flies by. It makes sense. When you’re ten, a year is a tenth of your life. When you’re fifty, it’s a fiftieth. Yes, it’s the same amount of time, discretely, but it’s relatively a different amount of time.

I died twice when I was 50. That’s two years and a bit ago. I have called it my re-birthday. The first few months crept by, but that was because my parents were here. Once they were gone, life started to fly by again.

I have decided that 2024 is going to be my year. Or rather, it’s going to be a year in which I accomplish something. The first few months, I was just adjusting to the fact that I was still alive.

I did not have to do physical thearpy or rehab, thankfully, but I had to mentally adjust to the fact that I had died (twice) and was alive again. It was a bizarre thing, something that had not happened to anyone else. I cannot find anyone who had experience anything even similar. Two cardiac arrests and a stroke? On top of walking pneumonia? I am truly one of a time. Kind! One of a kind. Though one of a time works as well.

I have two main writing projects. One is my memoir. I thought this would be easy breezy because I have a cornerstone for it–my medical crisis. I don’t know how to write about it in a way that is relatable, but I am trying not to worry about that. Let’s be honest. There is nothing about what happened to me that others can relate to–the actual events, I mean. But how I reacted to it and how my medical team dealt with it? Maybe so! I think my conclusion that it’s one of the best things to happen to me overall is something that will be difficult to understand, but I’m hoping I can explain it satisfactorily.

Here’s the part that gets me. I need to explain my family dysfunction if I’m going to talk about my medical crisis. I can’t talk about how the experience affected me if I don’t talk about just how fucked up my family made me. And how for the first thirty-five years of my life, I felt like I was completely worthless because of it.


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