A few weeks ago I posted the first poem in my chapbook, "Living In My Last Resort."  As I plan to post all of the poems in it I decided I should backup and give you an insight into what generated my decision to write a series of poems about my realization that I am walking in the twilight hours of my life and present a realistic perspective of my life end view of aging.  The following is from the beginning of my chapbook.  I hope you will find this and my series of poems insightful, comforting and give you a little giggle here and there. 

INTRODUCTION

         LIVING IN MY LAST RESORT

        Recently two of my doctors independently advised me, “Don, you are at the point where I will only do surgery on you as a last resort.”

        As I have pondered the implications of what they told me, it has become clear to me that I am “living in my last resort.”  Reflecting upon this, I decided to write a series of poems depicting the nature of my resort, what kind of facilities are in the complex and how each one affects my daily life and that of my wife, Sharon.
     
   I hope you will meander with me through my last resort and experience some of the feelings engendered in the various structures, through interaction with staff, change in attire, and by services provided.

        Randomly interspersed with the poems will be photos of some of the buildings that make up my last resort.  I am grateful to the multitude of staff at my last resort who have provided for my needs with tender loving care.

        Keep in mind, that most of us, in varying degrees, will experience life in our “last resort.”

       Over the last several years, Psalm 90:9b-10 has inspired me along my hope filled journey.  It reads as follows:

“We have finished our years like a sigh.  As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years, or if due to strength, eighty years, yet their pride is but labor and sorrow; for soon it is gone and we fly away.” (NASV)

 

Don E. Cunningham, ©11-10-2010   

LIVING IN MY LAST RESORT

        I'm at the point in my life where I have difficulty figuring out simple things like, why I wear my suspenders; to keep my pants up or to make my shoulders stoop-over?  Either way they accomplish both.

        On my last visit to my dermatologist I told him I had some kind of rash on my head. He examined it and then used a highfalutin medical term, which I didn’t understand.  When I asked him what it meant he told me it was what you might call geriatric acne. The dawn burst like the sun rising from the East - I was at the adolescent stage in my second childhood!  The next day, to celebrate, I went to the barber and got a flattop haircut; a reminder of my hairstyle in my last year of high school.  I was back in the groove!

I wore it that way for a couple of months and decided to let it grow back in.  I had only one flattop during my teen years.  When I mentioned it to my wife, Sharon, she suggested that I might want to keep the flattop.  After all, it would be easier for me to take care of.  It is probably a good idea.  If I do though, maybe I’ll replace the little soft bristle scrub brush for an honest –to –goodness fancy designed hair brush.  However, at my age and living in my last resort, it’s hard to know if it would be worth the investment.

        After mistaking my hearing aid for a cashew nut and biting into it, I bought a new behind the ear set. It makes it less likely I’ll eat them.  They are so small I hope I don’t accidentally identify them as a crawling bug and stomp on them.  Now where was it I put my glasses?  Oh, here they are behind my computer monitor.  Probably, should put a neck string on them.

        Sometimes we arrive at a meeting and I realize I forgot to put my hearing aids in.  Sharon recently put a sign on the inside of our front door.  It is about the size of a school zone sign and has three little words, “Keys” “Meds” “Hearing Aids”.  As time progresses she’ll probable link additional words to it like: “Cane” “Walker” and “Wheel Chair.”  Will it ever end?

        To make matters worse, next to the door, are two other signs.  “Been There, Done That, Can’t Remember” and “Young at heart, older in other places.”  Apparently, those kinds of signs begin to appear when you are living in your last resort!

        When reference to the heart is made, I become somewhat concerned.  The scripture warns us against hardening of our hearts.  My Cardiologist did some tests and explained to me that some of the tissue on the right side of my heart has hardened.  It looks like I’m in real trouble with the Lord if He includes the physical as well as the spiritual meaning of the heart.  On the other hand He also says He will write his Word on our heart.  If that is the case mine will be a little easier to write on.

 

  
DON IN FRONT OF HIS BIRTHPLACE AND CHILDHOOD HOME - 2008.

589 Sixth Avenue, N. Troy, NY (Lansingburgh)

Where the journey began!

Don E. Cunningham Copyright 8-23-13