Every year, the day before my birthday, my dad would say, “Just think, you and I have something in common.” I would fall for it every year. I would say, “what’s that Dad?” I wanted to have something in common with my dad. He would say, “After today, you and I will never be 11 years old again.” Or whatever year old I was. I was always so glad to get another year older. I couldn’t wait. I would start the countdown to my birthday right after Christmas. I always waited for August 24th to come around because on that day I was another 1/2 year old. My birthday was a huge event for me. I’m not sure what year it was but at some point Mom started sending me a rose for every year old I was. I specifically remember this when I was in college. She sent me 18, 19 roses. She finally stopped doing that after I turned 24. She sent me 2 dozen roses on my 24th birthday. That was so special. After my 24th birthday she continued sending me a dozen roses every year for my birthday. The year after she died I sent myself a dozen red roses and signed the card “Mom”. Everyone thought I had gone crazy. Maybe I had. But I loved that Mom did that. I only did it that one year though.
This year, I turn 60. I looked into how much it would cost to get 6 dozen roses. Don’t ask. It was way too much money. But I cannot wait for midnight to get here. I cannot wait to begin this next decade of my life. I have looked forward to my birthday since Christmas. I made up my mind that I wanted to have a party and I wanted everyone I know to be invited. So, I planned a party. You should come, it’s going to be a great time. I don’t think that there’s anybody out there that doesn’t know at midnight I will officially leave my 50’s and enter my 60’s.
Why am I so excited, you ask? Well, birthdays were always very special growing up. Mom always did something. We would have a party, even if it was just cake and ice cream. All of the neighbor kids or her friend’s kids came over to help celebrate. Mom would get us any and all presents that we wanted for our birthdays. I don’t remember asking specifically but when I turned 16 I got my own TV. It was just a black and white TV but it was covered in denim and it was so cool. I could be in my room and watch what I wanted to watch. I remember getting ID bracelets and birthstone rings and earrings. The grandmas always got me clothes. I usually wasn’t interested in those. Mama would get me an outfit and Grandma would get me a new nightgown or pajamas. And I remember getting money. It might just be $20 total but I remember it like it was yesterday. Even through the years I remember my aunt sending me a birthday card with $1 and a stick of gum. I would love to get one of those again.
But the real reason I love my birthday is because I’m still here. I’ve made it this far. You see, people in my family don’t live long lives. Three out of four of my grandparents died in their 50’s. Both of my parents died in their 40’s. I used to say that if I made it through my 30’s that I was home free. I’m still living with that assumption.
I was 26 when Mom died. Dad had died when I was 19. So when I hit 30, even though my life was in a shambles, I knew it was time to celebrate. I had some very good friends, and a wonderful sister, and they kidnapped me for my birthday and threw me a surprise party. My sister gave me 30 presents (which I happen to think is the coolest thing you can do). We ate brownies and drank bourbon and played poker. What could be better? It was so much fun. But the reason I wanted to celebrate was because I was alive. I had made it to 30. Anyone who knew me at that time in my life probably wondered how I did but I did. And I was going to begin a new phase of my life.
When I turned 40, I was pregnant. When Mom turned 40 I bought her this little sign that said “I’d rather be 40 than pregnant” and here I was 40 and pregnant. But I made it to 40. My life was going pretty well. I had married Jimmy and things couldn’t have been better. I had been put on bed rest but Jimmy was going to take me out to a really nice dinner. I was excited about that. But he didn’t. He planned a surprise birthday party for me. Well, he called his sister and she planned the party. She showed up with pizza (I think) and presents and we got to celebrate even though I really couldn’t get up and out. And I was then 40 years old. I had made it another decade.
I won’t lie to you. The next 10 years were anxious years for me. I knew that I wouldn’t make it out of my 40’s. I knew that I would end up like both Mom and Dad. If I coughed I would run to the doctor. I was on high alert and I knew that I was going to come down with something that would kill me before I turned 50. I knew it. I’ll never forget at Christmas before I turned 50 I had come down with a really bad cold. My doctor loves to hand out samples of drugs but that means he tries pretty much every drug out on the market. He had prescribed for me an antihistamine that I took when I needed it. I didn’t realize it at the time but I was having a reaction to the drug. I woke up in the middle of the night not able to breathe. Jimmy didn’t really believe me so I got up and went to the ER on my own. The ER doctor told me that I had strep throat and he prescribed an antibiotic. I explained to him that wasn’t the problem, I was taking medicine for that, I couldn’t breathe. He told me that I would be fine and sent me home. Later that day it got really bad. A friend of mine called her doctor and I went to another ER. They gave me a breathing treatment and a shot to open my air ways and something else to calm me down. I recovered from that and went on my merry way. About a week later it happened again. I called my doctor and was able to go right in to see him. While I was waiting on him I started shaking really bad and hyperventilating. I was cold to the bone. When he walked into the examining room he was shocked. He knew that I was scared to death I was going to die and he thought this was me being a hypochondriac. I couldn’t convince him otherwise. Well, a few days later I had another episode and I came to realize that I was having these episodes about an hour after I took that antihistamine. On one hand I was livid that the doctors and ERs did not catch it. On the other hand I was so relieved that I wasn’t crazy, and that I wasn’t going to die. Now if anyone asks if I’m allergic to anything I quickly tell them that I am allergic to that drug.
But I lived to see my 50th birthday. To celebrate I took some of my favorite people and we went out to Las Vegas and spent three or four days. We went to a spa (the Qua Spa at Caesar’s Palace is worth a trip to Vegas in and of itself), we ate, we drank, we shopped and we gambled. I had my best friend, another friend, my sister and two of my cousins. But the whole trip was about me. And I will tell you that was a birthday I won’t soon forget. It was a grand time.
The funny thing was, once I reached my 50th birthday I quit worrying if I was going to die. Every little thing was not a brain tumor or a rare blood disease. In fact, other than going to the doctor for my bi-annual check-ups I pretty much quit going. I’m still conscious of anything that doesn’t feel right but I’m not as worried about dying every time I turn around.
So, I come to the day I turn 60 and I am so excited. I have family and friends coming in to help me celebrate. Shoot, I’ve put it all over Facebook. If you don’t know about my party it’s not my fault. I’ve invited everybody, and I truly want them to come. The weather is not perfect but it’s that time of year. At least it’s not snow, right? I look at this birthday like I did my 30th, I’ve got a whole lot of stuff going on and some new directions I want to go in and I can’t wait to get started. After tomorrow you might want to get out of my way because I’m going to be on a roll.
So Daddy, I have something over on you, even though you never reached it, I do know that I will never see 59 again. And it’s been a very good year. I’m just ready for the next years to be so much better. I know that I’m home free.
So sweet!