Light reflects off the vodka cocktail in my hand, the beat of jazz music pulses through me, fingers tapping in time with the drums, I am happy, I’m celebrating turning 45 and I am happy. I have a table full of new friends with me, watching incredible musicians generate a spell over a room crammed full of appreciative people, in a place I have never visited before and I feel good. I’m 45; wow! I think I’m officially pushing middle-aged now and like everyone before me, with our brains permanently set at 25, I do not feel ‘middle-aged’ or at least what I used to image middle-aged would feel like.
Caught up in the feel-good haze of this moment, I reflect a little, thinking of the last five years since I turned 40. Another of those milestone birthdays that in all honesty, I was grateful to reach. Having had a stroke at 36 and spending quite some time working to avoid another (sadly an all too common occurrence for stroke survivors), I do carry an appreciation for having lived and not having suffered further brain injury and deficits.
Living with an appreciation for living though has not been as simple as I might have thought. Daily living does take the shine off, further health issues have certainly given me moments where I’ve wanted the pain to end, wished for a different, dare I say, better, life. I am after all, only human. What I do though, is try to celebrate the things worthy of celebration, acknowledge the beauty and pain in life and tell those around me how much they mean to me, be it a thank you note, saying “I love you” or signing messages with xx (kisses), these small gestures help keep me connected and I hope ensures the people I care about, know it.
We celebrated my fortieth birthday in true Central Australian style, hiring a bus to transport my guests to Ooraminna Homestead, a real life cattle station a short ride out of town on rutted, rust red roads. There was so much rain that summer the ‘Red Centre’ was indeed quite green, full of new growth and abounding with wildlife. The road to the Homestead was so muddy, a backhoe was sent to greet the bus and lead us to our destination, ensuring a handy rescue should our vehicle become bogged. Friends old and new, local and distant congregated at the most perfect of venues, watched the sun set the surrounding rocks to flaming oranges and reds and set down on another brilliantly hot day in the desert.
I have such clear memories of that evening, surrounded by friends, many whom had traveled from interstate and whom upon meeting one another for the first time, kicked off new and lasting friendships amongst themselves. I could hardly wish for more. I recall standing with a glass of champagne in hand, twirling slowly in the warm night air, music of my choosing playing in the background, looking upon the people around me and feeling blessed to be in such company and to have so many good people share in my celebration.
I was happy and knowing it, I made my way to Jason’s side, looked up at him with gratitude and a big grin, and told him how happy he had made me by throwing such a wonderful party. We stood together for a short while, hand in hand, watching our mad-capped friends party.
To know, really know, when I am happy and to take a moment to dwell there is a gift of my post-stroke (and brain surgery) life.
Back in the jazz lounge, my mind gently wanders through the major events of the past few years. I am known to joke that each new year will finally be a ‘quiet’ year for us and whilst I often feel as though I am unable to participate in life as fully as I would like, the past five years do feel as though they have had more than enough excitement in them to last a while. Big picture, since I turned forty, Jason and I have had two interstate moves, Alice Springs to Canberra and back again and one international move, Australia to the USA. I have started 5 new jobs, earned promotions, dramatically increased the number of hours I can work per week and now await the approval of the US State Department for an American work permit; whilst setting up the foundations for freelance writing work.
I lived alone whilst Jason undertook a posting to Western Australia and had two surgeries in that time. Thankfully my mother was willing and able to stay a while and help nurse me back to health. A trip that would ultimately lead to her retiring upon returning to work and the realisation she didn’t want to be putting up with all the crap associated with working in community health at 74 years of age! Such things will happen after spending six weeks enjoying sunny days, afternoons in second hand book stores followed by coffee and a few laughs (or listening to me rant about the level sexism inherent in Australian culture). Perhaps not so much; but it came with the territory I’m afraid. Anyone remember what our first female Prime Minister had to contend with?
I do, however, digress.
In these past five years, I nursed our beloved cat of 15 years through her final months until her dignified end, under went brain surgery and labored through a long recovery, but not before planning and spending an entire month camping and four-wheel driving our way through the Kimberley region of far north WA with friends; an adventure never to be rivaled in my book.
Since turning forty, I have lived in four different houses, set them up and packed them down again and best of all I have met and made many new friends, whilst strengthening my existing relationships.
Life can be scary and sometimes a little too action packed for my liking but I do value the many new experiences I have had these past five years and as I turn and look at the women seated at the jazz lounge with me, sipping my cocktail, I smile to myself and wonder what the next five will bring me.