By  LPJ

It isn’t late to make new year’s resolution. Now in the second month of the new year, I’m considering making mine. But I am hesitant due to many broken ones in past years. I was excited about last year’s resolution thinking it would help boost my health. Well, the exercise didn’t last long. Attending my exercise class at the YMCA was sporadic, though I felt exhilarated and triumphant every time I found myself doing the movements in class with scores of other seniors. Many, older than I, yet more staunch in their movements, actually motivated me. And every time I came back after being absent for a while, I got questions like, “Where were you? Or, “What happened to you?”  I admit, the questions made me feel good. Was I missed? Did I make enough friends to care about me? Or, on the uncomplimentary side, did they think I was a flake?

The truth is, I was a flake.

So, what’s the resolution this time? Stop being a flake about exercise, or something else. Something to do with my diet. I started last year eating more vegetables and fruit and less of the carbs. I’m not too worried about the fat, because I haven’t been eating meat a lot. Chicken, fish and seafood are my preferences. I don’t even see chicken on my plate very much. The portions at home seem to be just right. The problem is, I like going out to eat at restaurants with family and friends. And always, the portions are more. Good company boosts my appetite. The stories and the laughter make me reach for the food more. All the fun extends the session to two to three hours, and that equates to more eating. As you may guess, eating less at restaurants isn’t part of my resolution. It’s eating healthy food at restaurants and home is my resolution.

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I drove my sister to the cemetery in Los Altos Hills yesterday. She wanted to visit the tomb of her husband who passed in January last year. I watched her amble down the meadowy slope of a small hill to have her private moment with her memories as she focuses on the slab of gray that bears her husband’s name. A few times, she slowly negotiated the incline to fetch water from the faucet on the roadside, to moisten the plant that graced his tomb. Several feet away was a tall elderly gentleman, staring down at the tomb of his loved one (I assume). He was there before we arrived, so I don’t know how long he stood there with that dedicated gaze.  My sister met him briefly as he half limped back to his car. She said, he told her he was visiting his wife. And as I gazed to my left at the magnificent view overlooking a lagoon with a vibrant fountain in the middle, I caught sight of an elderly woman managing careful steps down the hill with a walking cane on each hand. She was going back to her car after visiting a loved one . As I watched all that while seated in my car, I thought of love. A sobering and touching thought that there at the cemetery, I saw three in their senior years, expressing love with their visit of their beloved who left them behind. Strange that on that afternoon at the cemetery, surveying the scene made me think of nothing else but love. So apropos for this Valentine month.

As I sat in the car that afternoon, wondering what to blog for Valentine’s Day, I thought of how much love is enshrined in the memorials contained in the cemetery, and how much love memories visitors bring with them there.

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When I was performing my exercise routine at home today, I remembered my emergency visit in December at Kaiser. I felt severe pain on my right leg and was unable to move, or even touch the floor with my left foot. My son accompanied me to the hospital along with the paramedics that carried me down the stairs of my home and out to the ambulance. I went back to emergency the next day because of my high sugar count. It turned out that the steroid that brought down the pain had raised my sugar level. So, the emergency doctor and nurses gave me the ivy to stabilize my sugar, and they succeeded. My thoughts, however, focus on the paramedics people who tried to cheer me up as I agonized in pain, chirping pleasant or encouraging comments and even funny talk. I admit that as I cringed with pain, I laughed and somehow, the excruciating pain was almost bearable. The paramedics were very respectful as well, and gentle with their carrying me out of the house. Next day, another batch of paramedics came for my second emergency visit, and they were just as professional and cheerful and skilled in their procedures. Thanks to them, my ambulance rides were actually strangely pleasant. I just want to do a shout-out for those kind and helpful paramedic guys in this blog. Very likely, they love their job.

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Now, back to my new year’s resolution – I promise myself to eat healthier foods (more vegetables and fruits) and be faithful to my exercise routine – to avoid calling 911 for emergency episodes. Much as I so appreciated those 911 paramedics, I don’t want to burden them again.

Linda P. Jacob