On Farewell to 2024 and the Usta Coulds…

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As I say goodbye to 2024, I want to express my gratitude, and apologize for my impatience and grumbling.

I entered 2024 disgruntled because 2023 didn’t turn out the way I wanted to. My heart surgeon did not finish the job I hired him to do (replace two valves) in September and I was… shall we say… slightly, uhm… PISSED OFF.

I spent the first half of 2024 being angry and fighting to get my second valve fixed. I finally did find a doctor willing do it. In October 2024, he installed a Mitraclip^TM on my mitral valve. I felt better right away and expected to be 100% immediately (if not sooner). My expectations were not met. I won’t go into all the ways I felt let down and betrayed, but I was pretty bratty about it all.

I was surprised this past Sunday, after we spent all day flying standby from our Christmas holiday (airline glitch). I was able to walk from baggage claim all the way down to the parking garage elevator when we got back to Oklahoma without having to rest. I wondered if it was a fluke, but gave it a nod of appreciation.

Today, on this last day of 2024, during my morning cardiac rehab, I noticed my treadmill was at a 5 incline up from 3, and a speed of 4, up from 2.8. I felt good. I still feel good.

In yoga class a few weeks ago, our teacher was contemplating adding “Natarajasana” (dancer pose) to the day’s practice. Dancer requires good balance over anything else. The pose involves standing on one leg, raising the opposite leg and grasping that ankle with the same side arm, then stretching the opposite arm out in front. There are several levels of difficulty in the pose, but the ultimate goal is to end with the Mermaid variation, the raised leg as close to the head as possible. “Of course,” our teacher added, “we won’t go that far today … or ever.”

I have practiced yoga for probably half my life. I was very active in my early 30s into my 40s. Then life got weird and it was replaced by something more urgent and not nearly as good for me. Six or seven years ago, I restarted my practice, but the passage of time was obvious. Dancer pose with Mermaid variation is one of my Usta Coulds. I Usta Could touch the back of my head with my foot, while standing on one leg. I Usta Could also do an unsupported handstand, cross my legs into lotus, transition back to full extension and return upright well before my strength ran out. Currently, I’m exhausted just having typed that last sentence. Seriously, I should probably go rest now.

I have a long list of Usta Coulds, not just in yoga but in many disciplines. You don’t get to 60 without a line of Usta Coulds trailing behind you.

During COVID, my morning walks were my lifeline to sanity. I was logging seven plus miles per day, in nasty weather or fair. I bought a bike I called Ramona and had the idea that I would ride her every day to work – good for me, good for the environment. But, as it turns out, my riding a bicycle ten miles to work in normal Oklahoma weather was not so good for my co-workers. My one trial run had me arriving to the office drenched in sweat and road grit. It was enough to know I could do it, but I probably shouldn’t. Now, four years post COVID, heart failure and the post surgery rehabilitation has made walking or riding my bike for miles a Usta Could.

My heart failure introduced itself while I was scuba diving. It took several “drowning” accidents before we realized it was my heart and not faulty diving equipment. I was stubborn and loved diving more than anything else I had experience and I refused to go down without a fight. Finally, my dive buddy called the dive, forever. Scuba diving is the Usta Could that I Wish I Still Could more than anything.

I Usta Could drive for long distances without stopping to sleep. Atlanta to Oklahoma City is about 16 hours, I did it many times stopping only to use the bathroom, fuel up and get snacks. I once drove non-stop to New York from Oklahoma. Now, I can make it to Houston by car in 7 hours, but I’d rather fly.

I Usta Could stay up all night dancing and drinking, without even the slightest hangover. I never once missed work or any obligation because of it. I could drink most everyone under the table and dance until the lights came on. I’ve quit drinking because it started to hurt and negatively impact my life in other ways. I haven’t been near a dance floor since I can’t even remember. But, I Usta Could.

I Usta Could remember things like phone numbers and addresses, birthdates of everyone I knew, the color of the paint I used on the walls five years ago, and the names of every kid in my 4th grade Science class. Now, all that space is filled with what medicines I have to take and when, doctor’s appointments, and on which night Bunco falls this month.

None of these Usta Coulds are of much value to me today. While it would be nice to execute a Mermaid pose; where does that offer any value other than yoga class? And, truthfully just standing on one leg with the opposite arm outstretched does as much for my physical fitness as the other. While balance, more than anything, is the fitness goal after 60, the only reason to do full Mermaid is to show off and risk injury. I’m well past that now.

There are so many Usta Coulds that I miss, but I am grateful for my Now Can Dos. I Now Can Do gratitude walks, bake sourdough bread, garden, preserve things I’ve grown, star gaze, travel, and write. I Now Can Do a decent downward facing dog at 5:30 a.m. I Now Can Do long conversations with my kids, quality time with grandkids and warm evenings with Charles on the couch. I Now Can Do appreciation for all the Usta Coulds. Oh, sure one day I may dive again (probably not), or achieve Mermaid (also probably not), but what I would really like to do is pass by a bathroom without having to go in every single time, sleep all night without waking, rise from a chair without groaning, and start a sentence without “when I was your age.”

As I say goodbye to 2024, and thank it for getting me here alive, I lay to rest my Usta Coulds, appreciate my Now Can Dos, and do my best to maintain and be grateful for life right now.

Happy New Year to you all.