Getting Older is Strange

January 17, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Getting older is strange, to put it mildly. Watching one’s body slowly change and not for the better, feeling one’s energy deplete, wondering if simple memory loss such as not remembering a word is indicative of a more severe decline.

So far, none of those issues is that great a deal for me. I’ve learned to accept my mild infirmities — the joints that don’t always work well, the cough that lingers too long, the words that elude me. One thing I have not yet learned to interpret is what to do when I have no energy — should I take it easy? Or should I . . . not?

When I was younger and had bouts of enervation, I could contribute them to allergies (my allergies were more of an energy thing than typical upper respiratory symptoms), an incipient cold, or laziness. Most times I gave in to the malaise because if I didn’t, I’d usually get sick. And anyway, I was young enough to get back into the swing of things once the feebleness passed, so if I ended up indulging my laziness, it didn’t really matter.

Now there is a fourth possibility to add to the rest: If I lack energy, is it allergies, a low-grade cold, laziness, or is it old age? If it’s one of the first three, I can treat the enervation as I always do — take it easy and indulge my laziness. If, however, the enervation is due to old age feebleness, I certainly don’t want to give in to it. Barring an accident or illness, or any other life-threatening problem, I could possibly live another decade, perhaps even two, and if I give in to sluggishness too soon, that lack of activity would cause additional problems.

I suppose one way to tell would be if the enervation came on quickly or if the energy loss came slowly over a long period of time, but even then, I get used to ignoring discomfort, so perhaps I wouldn’t notice slow moving debilitation. Besides, I’ve always been a low energy person. Throughout my years I’ve often exercised, but it’s been a push rather than a natural inclination. That’s why I read so much — it doesn’t take much energy to sit and hold and book. Even letting my thoughts wander doesn’t take as much energy as letting my body wander.

Speaking of which, the snow is gone, but I still haven’t resumed my intention of walking every day. I’ve been dealing with a low energy time, and don’t want to create additional problems by walking against the very cold wind. Brrr!

In the end, I’ll do what I always do — stop thinking about why I feel lazy and just grab a book.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in books, dealing with old age, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , , . 11 Comments »

Reverse Memory

January 11, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I’ve often heard people say that as they get older, it’s easier to remember their childhood than what they had for breakfast. I wonder how old you have to be before that sort of reverse memory kicks in. Or is it more of a dementia thing than an elderly thing?

Studies have shown that after 75, people tend to start becoming truly elderly, leaping ahead in the aging game. Before that age, people’s bodies can keep up with healing whatever goes wrong, but after that age, the ability to heal slows, and so the infirmities add up. Is it the same with mental issues?

So far, my memory seems okay, with only the typical problems people of all ages have of not being able to dig a particular word out of their memory or getting sidetracked and forgetting food on the stove. I am not yet to the point where I forget what I had for breakfast while remembering my childhood. In fact, there’s little about my childhood I remember or even want to remember. I certainly don’t remember being this little girl, though she was (is?) me.

For the most part, I don’t think about the past. It seems irrelevant, and to an extent, non-existent since no one knows where the past is. Mostly, though, I don’t have any issues with the past. I’ve come to terms with any problems that might have lingered, worked through grief, and dealt with my regrets. I purposely did so because back when I was taking care of my father after Jeff died, I knew that someday I’d be needing to create a new life for myself, and I didn’t want to bring along any excess baggage.

So what happens if I get to the point where my short-term memory is shot and my long-term memory is all I have? Do I have to go back to thinking about things I stopped thinking about long ago?

It’s not just the past I don’t think about — I usually don’t think about the future, either. Just as that little girl I once was could never imagine my life today, I’m thinking that the woman I am today can’t imagine what my life will be as the years pass. Of course, I know where the highway of my life will end — where it ends for everyone. Still, I find it best not to look too far ahead, since such views can be worrisome.

A funny thought (or maybe not so funny) — I read so much, a book a day usually, that other people’s lives are more in my mind than my own. When I get to where I forget today and start reminiscing, will I remember those lives as my own? Probably not — considering how much I read — starting a new book as soon as the old one is finished — I don’t give any book enough time to slither from short term memory to long term storage.

As with most of what I think about, none of this matters. These are just idle thoughts to fill an idle mind.

Still, I do wonder.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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More Things In Heaven and Earth

January 8, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?
View all responses

What a person thinks about the concept of a long life is rather meaningless since one lives the years one is given, and thinking beyond that is rather pointless. But so are most hypothetical musings. I have no thoughts whatsoever on the long lives of other people (or other creatures — the prompt did not specify long life for humans). There have been accounts of alchemists who have cracked the code of life and managed to evade death, though I have never found the truth of that rumor. It’s possible, I suppose. As Hamlet said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

As for a long life for myself, um . . . no. Most people nowadays who live many years beyond what the actuarial tables say they could live, end up frail, sometimes helpless, feeling useless, and occasionally beset by dementia and other bewildering complications. I so do not want that for myself. Until, of course, I get to that point, then I’m sure, like everyone else in that situation, I will do everything I can to keep on living another day.

What is a long life, anyway — outliving your usefulness? Living to one hundred or beyond? Living biblical years of nine hundred or a thousand? It seems that long life to one creature is but a blink to another. To Methuselah, the bristlecone pine in the Inyo National Forest that is almost 5,000 years old, our puny ages would be as nothing.

But speaking of me (which is what this blog always comes down to), if I could have remained young, strong, healthy, vibrant, active, full of youthful energy, and joints that would never give out, living to be as old as Methuselah (either the biblical person or the tree person) would be great. I’d walk the world — literally walk. Just start out on foot, and keep going, looking at everything I pass, musing on everything I see, talking to people I meet, learning what languages I can, watching the years go by as I tramp forever.

It seems that a major problem of a great age, even when one maintains one’s vigor, is boredom. Walking the world, would be a great way to stave off boredom and keep oneself young in spirit to match that ever young body.

Despite Hamlet’s words to Horatio, I tend to think such a dream truly is impossible since I am way past the youthful body stage of my life. I am grateful for the years I’ve had, look forward to more years, and hope that however long my life turns out to be, that I will find a way to enjoy each day.

Wishing the same for you, too.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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When Tried and True Isn’t Tried and True

January 7, 2026 — Pat Bertram

One of the many irritating things about having lived so many years (and admittedly, not the worst thing by any means) is that tried-and-true products are no longer tried and true. People argue that we don’t remember things exactly as they were, which could be possible in some cases, but I don’t believe it.

For example, Hershey’s cocoa powder is not the cocoa of my childhood. I do remember that long-ago powder — dark and rich and a tad bitter. Back then, the powder could not be directly mixed with liquid, it had to be mixed with sugar and a little water, heated on the stove until a paste formed, and milk gradually added. A long drawn-out process, hence (perhaps) the proliferation of hot cocoa mixes.

Now, the cocoa powder easily mixes with water, no heat necessary. The few times I make hot chocolate, I merely add the powder to honey, add enough water to make a paste, add milk, mix, then stick it in the microwave, and it’s done. Simpler, actually than using a packet, and healthier.

That dissolvability is not really an issue. I seldom make hot chocolate, and anyway, for that purpose, the new cocoa is better than the old cocoa.

Also, although the flavor is much blander than the original cocoa, it’s easy enough to double the chocolate a recipe calls for to get the necessary richness.

There is one recipe where the modern cocoa makes a huge difference, so much so that I no longer make the meal. It’s a meat dish, where the meat is dredged in flour, browned, then water and a teaspoon of cocoa powder is added, and as my mother said when she gave me the recipe, “cooked forever.” That gravy cooked up so dark that when I was young, I called it “black meat.” And in my family, the name stuck. The last time I made the recipe, the gravy turned out to be a sickly greyish-brown with none of the rich flavor of the earlier dish. My siblings found the same issue. Which to me proves that the change in the product has nothing to do with a faulty memory, and everything to do with a tried-and-true product being not so tried and true.

I don’t know what the change in the cocoa is. Supposedly the company processes it the same way, but perhaps they press out more of the cocoa butter than they used to. Or perhaps the beans they use are different.

Years ago I read that cacao trees were becoming extinct. Since they are best grown on cleared rainforest land in the shadow of the forest, and since the clearing of the forests was supposed to be curtailed, the habitat the trees needed would supposedly disappear. So who knows why chocolate is still prevalent. Perhaps there is a chocolate bean scarcity and what we call chocolate is mostly something that can best be described as “not chocolate.” Or they found a way to grow the trees without clearing rain forests. Or . . . whatever.

While the difference in what is available today and what used to be available is sometimes an irritant, I’ve made accommodations, and anyway, it’s a small annoyance in comparison to the major irritants of age, such as joint issues and aches that don’t seem to want to go away.

Still, if you ever find yourself on a time machine, will you do me a favor and on your way back pick up a couple boxes of the old Hershey’s Cocoa Powder for me? I would surely appreciate that!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Aged Thoughts

January 6, 2026 — Pat Bertram

So far this year, I’ve kept up with my resolutions and intentions, as well as inadvertent plans. “Inadvertent plans” meaning those things I’ve been doing without ever actually planning to do them, such as daily blogging.

Of course, this is only the fifth day of the new year, but still — to be keeping up with all I want to do is pretty impressive. At least, it is to me.

What’s funny is how much time everything takes. I knew things took a lot of time, which is why I got lackadaisical about doing them. Blogging, by the time I write, rewrite, edit, add images, figure out tags and actually post the thing takes a couple of hours. Exercise — both the stretching (which includes therapy for my knees) and walking — takes another hour. And cooking, eating, and cleaning up after myself as well as other household chores and personal maintenance takes another hour or two or even three.

Lately it seems as if once I’ve done what I’ve planned, there isn’t a whole lot of time left of the day. Admittedly, I am trying to do more, and the day ends early. Despite the end of the creeping darkness and the gradual returning of the light, sunset comes quickly: today the sun will set at 4:47 pm.

Even taking all that into consideration, the day seems to disappear, which makes me wonder if I am moving slower. Is it possible that one can move slowly without knowing it? It doesn’t seem as if I take a longer time to do the things I’ve often done, and yet, the hours evaporate.

A lot of things change around a person without their being aware of it, such as age. Even in late middle age and early old age, we still feel the same as we always did, and despite occasional twinges and a few wrinkles (well, perhaps more than a few!) we tend to think we still look the same. People used to tell me how young I looked, and yet, I was often given a senior discount without requesting it, which told me that I might look good for my age, but when it comes to comparison with young workers, I must look ancient.

Even if our minds slow, we don’t really notice because we are always at home in our own minds. So perhaps it’s the same with movement. We seem to move with the same level of effort, but the effects of that effort, obviously, change with the years, but when does that change come, and will we know it?

None of this really matters, of course. I do what I can when I can, move at a comfortable pace, and as long as there are enough hours to accomplish what I want to accomplish each day, it’s no one’s business (maybe not even my own) about how much of the day is left to read and relax.

Still, I do wonder how much slower I am moving, and how it will affect me during the coming years. Luckily, I don’t often give in to such aged thoughts, which helps me forget the number of years heaped on my head.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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Gardens, Now and Then

January 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I recently finished reading a book that was so unmemorable, just about the only thing I remember is how bad it was. I certainly don’t remember the title or the author. I do remember, however, all the talk of eighteenth-century gardens.

I didn’t know that there were various styles of gardens. I just figured people did what I am doing — create their own garden using the space, the climate, the soil, and their own sense of practicality to best utilize the area.

I started with a gravel border around my house to protect the foundation, which unfortunately didn’t keep one corner from collapsing. Luckily, that’s fixed, now. Whew!

Then I figured out where I would want to walk in the yard, and had pathways put in. When I moved here, there were only weeds and rocks and uneven ground to trip the unwary, so those pathways were important, especially as I knew I wouldn’t be getting any younger. (Though, who knows. Stranger things have happened, I’m sure.)

When the old garage was torn down, the concrete slab in front of that derelict building was left in place, so I used that as a foundation for a gazebo. And where the garage was, I had a raised garden built.

The rest of the yard, I filled in with bushes, grass, a couple of trees, and lots of flowers. That part of the garden is always a work in progress since plants die, seed themselves, and new flowers beg to be planted.

So, there is some balance in my yard: a few distinct areas, a couple of places to sit, grassy areas, places to grow vegetables. Best of all, it gives me something different to look at with every turn of the path.

Apparently, this isn’t the way everyone gardens, or even the way people used to garden. The Hanging Gardens of Babylon were definitely planned out. They weren’t actually hanging gardens (if they even existed), but were “overhanging” gardens, supposedly built as ascending terraces, planted with trees, bushes, and flowers, to create a luxurious green hill.

In the eighteenth century (what all this was leading up to), gardens were geometric, with the various pieces of the geometry shape enclosed by hedges to create outside rooms. A pleasure garden for picnicking. A kitchen garden. flower gardens. Topiary gardens. Gazebos and other outbuildings. Water décor such as fountains and ponds. And tree-lined paths to connect the sections.

Such gardens, as well as gardens before and after, needed architects to get everything correct. Even though in my haphazard way, I have a few elements of an eighteenth-century garden, such as distinct garden areas, paths, and a gazebo. Unlike eighteenth century gardens, I have grassy areas, as well as wild areas. But then, I didn’t set out to create such an historical garden. Didn’t even know they existed, to be honest.

Admittedly, my yard is a lot smaller than the usual eighteenth century garden, and I spent a fraction of the cost, but that was never the point. The point, for me, was . . . Hmmm. I’m not sure what the point was of creating my garden. What I wanted when I moved here was a work-free yard, one that took care of itself. And yet, what I have is . . . well, a mini park that takes a lot of work!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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We Know Everything

September 15, 2025 — Pat Bertram

We all think we know everything because we know everything we know. The corollary to that statement, of course, is that we don’t know what we don’t know, and often we don’t even know we don’t know what we don’t know.

Whew! That’s a convoluted thought! But I come by it honestly. Honestly, I do.

I happened to fall down a dark hole of baby boomer hatred, not in real life, but on the internet. It astonished me that so many people hate “boomers,” even though their reasons don’t apply to any boomer I know. I was going to enumerate each of those reasons with a rebuttal, but decided that was a waste of my time and yours. No one can know a generation. Despite the names so arbitrarily given to the alleged generations, generations are made up of individuals, not generic beings. In fact, I have a hunch most of those who dislike certain older generations have no idea what years truly comprised those generations; the epithet “boomer” seems to be a derogatory term used to describe a mindset that younger people ascribe to any older person who doesn’t see life the way they do. (Generation gap, anyone?)

Much of what is attributed to “boomers” is really a leftover from the so-called greatest generation. When the boomers came of age, that generation was still in control. It wasn’t the boomers who destroyed the economy, but those older folks. (And it wasn’t even them. They just lived their lives. It was the politicians and global corporations who did and are still doing the damage.) The boomers got caught in a vise — although they were raised in a time of unprecedented economic stability, by the time they were raising families themselves, everything had changed. It was no longer economically feasible for a single salary to support a family. Two-incomes were suddenly necessary. And despite what people believe about the boomer economic well-being, millennials have a higher net worth than baby boomers at the same age. Although the millennials bought their first house later than boomers, and paid more, finances weren’t always the reason for the delay — many prioritized other life experiences over owning a home and starting a family.

Also, I was surprised to find that boomers are no longer the largest generation; millennials are. And the alpha generation is forecast to be the largest generation in history.

But all of that is beside the point, which is that we don’t know what we don’t know. What some people don’t like about boomers is that they aren’t grateful for the unprecedented economic and educational time they lived in, but how can they be grateful for something they didn’t know was something to be grateful for, especially since each of them was struggling in their own way? As I said, generations are made up of individuals, and each individual, no matter what generation they belong to (or don’t belong to: the generations, after all, are just marketing designations) lives their life as best as they can under the conditions they are given.

I have a hunch that, since “generation” isn’t really an intrinsic thing (we aren’t born with the name of our generation tattooed on our foreheads), most people who dislike a particular generation simply dislike certain people they have met from that generation (and if the disliked generations are older, those people are most often parents, grandparents, teachers, and other authority figures.)

But whatever the reason, “boomer” hatred does seem to be a thing. Luckily, I don’t know any generations, only people. I have never blamed younger people for the hardships they find themselves dealing with. And I don’t blame older people for the hardships they find themselves dealing with. All any of us can do is deal with is what we know, not what we don’t know.

Still, I am utterly grateful to be on the downward slope of my life. I wouldn’t want to live in the world that is shaping up around the younger generations.

(Just out of curiosity, since I’ve been thinking about all of this: has any other generation had to deal with so much change as the boomers? Especially technological change. To young boomers, television was a brand-new thing. Phones were wired into the wall. Vinyl records and radio were the sole sources for listening to music. Only girls learned typing — on manual typewriters, no less. And yet look at those people today: most are proficient on their various electronics. Those still working are as proficient as anyone.)

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

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What I Am Doing

May 21, 2024 — Pat Bertram

Obviously, what I am doing right now is working on this blog post, but beyond this moment, I am sure you can guess what I am doing — working on my yard! And beyond that, I am sure you can guess what else I am doing — recuperating from all the work. I never realize how old I am until I start aching, and then, it’s hard to believe I was ever foolish enough to think that just because I could do some physical work, I wasn’t that elderly. (As an interesting aside, interesting to me, that is, elderly used to mean not yet old, whereas now it means old, frail old, decrepit old.)

In previous years, I would post photos of my yard, specific images that showed the few flowers that were blooming, and let you extrapolate from that how gorgeous my yard was. Or was not, which I often had to admit. This year, however, my yard truly is stunning.

The grass I planted last fall looks great. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that come summer and the enormous heat, the grass will survive. To that extent, I am trying not to water even when the grass looks dry and faded, hoping the roots will dig down deep enough that it will survive the heat blast.

Even though I thought I’d harvested all the larkspur seeds last year, enough blew around that any weedy area became a larkspur field this year.

No matter where the larkspur are, even invading a poppy field, they bring joy to all who see them.

Finally, after all these years, my raised garden is not only built, but filled with dirt. And plants! Flowers and vegetables mixed together in harmony. At least, that’s the hope.

The wild roses are doing well.

I have always loved the look of red and yellow bushes mixed together, but my yellow and red bushes got separated. I’ve been trying to buy yellow roses to plant among the red, but never found any. I have come to believe that the yellow is an aberration. One of my red bushes ended up with a stem of yellow flowers. I also found some yellow flowers on a red branch. And in one case, the red rose had yellow petals, too.

And that’s not all! The columbine I planted last year survived the winter and are now thriving.

Cottage pinks that were planted years ago decided to bloom profusely.

The ice plant is forming a carpet of shimmering beauty.

And petunias. What can I say? Petunias always do well here.

It’s funny, but despite the way the yard looks, I still don’t really know what I am doing. I’ve been told that there is an expiration date for that claim, but it certainly hasn’t arrived yet. The beauty of gardening (in addition to the beauty the eyes can see) is that plants that do well thrive and those that don’t, don’t. Any mistakes simply disappear, so what’s left looks as if it comes from heart of a master gardener even though I am strictly a trial-and-error dilettante.

I am learning, however, to take what comes. Last year, one garden area shone with the golden aura of wallflowers. This year, wallflowers are decidedly absent. Some plants that were supposed to be perennials turned out to be biennials. Some wildflower seeds that should have come up this spring never showed even a touch of green. The tulips that started out so hopefully ended up giving up before spring got underway.

I am going to try to take it easy physically for a couple of weeks so that when the larkspur go to seed, I will have the energy to pull up the plants to harvest the seeds and see what plants that wall of blooms is hiding. And then . . .

But “then” isn’t here yet.

Meantime, I am enjoying the surprises I find every day.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, gardening, life. Tags: , , , , , . 13 Comments »

To Dig and To Dream

August 7, 2023 — Pat Bertram

It seems odd to me that for so many years I blogged every day, and yet now I barely make it once a month. I suppose that’s a good thing — it means I’m not conflicted or obsessing or outraged about anything. What unpleasantries that assail me are noted and forgotten as much as possible. Mosquito bites, obviously, are not forgotten because that dang itch is always there as a reminder, but even that, for the most part, I’m able to note and then let go.

It’s good not to have something on my mind that I need to write about to clear my head, but on the other hand, nothing to blog about means nothing noteworthy is happening. Just life as it comes.

It’s been hot, of course, but while other places have been dealing with record-breaking heat, we’ve been five to ten degrees cooler than normal. No major forays into the 100-degree range, luckily, though high nineties is plenty hot enough. In fact, what grass was left is slowly succumbing to the unrelenting heat. I certainly never expected for the grass to continue to die — not only has it been a bit cooler than last year, we’ve been getting twice as much rain as normal.

That’s just life as it comes, I guess.

My gardening stint each morning is spent digging up the old grass in preparation for planting seed next month. This seed is supposed to be extreme heat tolerant, and it might be so. The patch I planted last fall has survived so far, and looks good. The patch I planted in the spring never did well — weeds grew faster than whatever seeds were left after the birds feasted, and now the devil grass is taking over.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m doing all this work. It seems silly to be spending so much time on the yard, and silliest to be digging up a lawn that was sodded only a couple of years ago, but if the grass can’t survive, it’s no good to me. I considered other options for a ground cover, but what it comes down to is a proper grass for the area is still the best bet. Seed is relatively cheap, can be walked on without damage, and once established needs no more work than the rest of the yard. (Surprisingly, the supposedly care-free ornamental rock and gravel areas are the hardest to take care of — there is always tree detritus clogging the rocks such as leaves and seeds and tiny twigs that can’t be cleaned off with a leaf blower. Even worse, with all the rain we’ve been having, weeds grow rampantly among the rocks and in the pathways.)

There will come a time when I can’t do the work I am doing in now. In fact, I’m surprised I can work as hard as I do — just a couple of years ago, it took me forever to get things done because my knees weren’t cooperating. So, silly or not, I’m grateful to be able to do anything physical. Besides, working in the yard gives me something different to focus on. And — sometimes — it seems worth it. So many of my flowers had been decimated by the hailstorms we had as well as by grasshopper hordes, but the annuals seem to be recuperating, the perennials are hanging in there, and the lilac bushes are doing well.

Because of my concentration on the grass, other parts of the yard might have to wait until next year to be taken care of, but who knows. I do manage to sneak in other chores between the digging. One thing I discovered quite by accident is that any part of the ice plant can be planted. (I’d picked a flower to show a neighbor, and then stuck it back in the ground to see what would happen, and it grew!) So any of plant that gets pulled up as I weed gets pushed back into the ground. Because of this, and some transplanting, I’m able to get the ice plant to spread out even more.

Someday, perhaps, I will have a gorgeous yard that’s easy to take care of, but for now, it’s enough just to dig and to dream.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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Bad Feeling

January 12, 2023 — Pat Bertram

Have you ever had a bad feeling about something and acted on it? I’m not talking about things like tests or job interviews or doctor’s appointments or first day at work or any of those things we have to do at some time or other despite a feeling of uneasiness. I’m not even talking about a premonition. Just an all-around bad feeling.

That happened to me yesterday. Just an all-around bad feeling about a meeting I was supposed to attend. I have no idea where the bad feeling came from. It’s possible I’ve been around people too much lately. Actually, that’s not just possible, but a fact. I have been around people too much lately, but still that’s no reason for the bad feeling. I’m a bit uneasy about having been exposed to The Bob, and although I’m sure the person who exposed me is past the contagious stage, it could still be something that set off the bad feeling. I’m also having my general winter coughing spells, which I prefer to have at home rather than in public. Luckily, I’m discovering that a cool mister helps. (Cool Mister? Sounds nickname for a romance hero!)

Now that I think about it, it’s all too probable the bad feeling comes from a falling barometer since I do tend to be affected by changes in atmospheric pressure. For example, when the barometric pressure drops, it creates a difference between the outside pressure and sinus pressure. Considering how problematic my sinuses are, the difference can, at the least, give me a bad feeling — not exactly sick, but not exactly tip top, either. Lower air pressure also exerts less pressure against the body, allowing tissues to expand, causing pain around joints. I’m not to that point yet, though I’m sure in the coming years I’ll become as much of a human barometer as anyone with aging joints.

Also, the falling barometric pressure indicates a coming storm, though there is no need for a barometer yesterday — I woke to sunny skies and still air, and by noon, dark clouds and high winds were the norm. I don’t like driving or being driven in storms, so I went with the bad feeling and backed out of my meeting.

As it turns out, the storm was overrated, just a sprinkling of snow, and nothing happened to the people who went to the meeting, though if I believed I’d had a premonition (which I don’t) and had a more mystical bent, I would think that my staying away was the equivalent of the flap of a butterfly wing that changed everyone’s fate from dire to favorable.

Still, whatever the reason for the bad feeling yesterday, for the first time ever, I went with my instincts and stayed home, reading and napping and enjoying a pleasant afternoon despite the low pressure outside and the higher pressure inside my head.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

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