It Happens! Turning 50!

When one turns 50 years old, they should have their first colonoscopy. This is the year of the big 5-0, so my doctor made the referral. I was so excited that I forgot my birthday isn’t until November. The gastroenterologist who performed my procedure asked me why I was early; I responded that I couldn’t wait. (What was I thinking!?)

At Kaiser, they have you come in for a class to prepare yourself for your colonoscopy. There are two nurses and one doctor in a room the size of a broom closet stuffed with about ten patients. We had to fill out paper work, watch a video on what to expect, and got to ask questions.

First thing I learned, even though my appointment was for Friday, I had to cancel everything I had planned for Thursday. (Things they don’t tell you when you make the appointment!) I was grumbling a bit about it, but realized there was never going to be a good time, so I kept my appointment.

I must say that the preparation for the colonoscopy was very stressful. The nurses in the preparation class explained if you didn’t prepare correctly they would send you home and you’d have to come back another time. You have to stop eating solid foods two days before the procedure. The day before is restricted to clear liquids, with Ducolax pills at noon, then starting at 5 p.m., drinking two liters or half the bottle of Colyte in ten minute increments; that is, an eight ounce glass every ten minutes. Finally, the day of the procedure, no drinking after the second half of the Colyte is finished, again eight ounces every ten minutes starting at 6 a.m.

My appointment was at 2:40 p.m. After signing a release and hooked up to an iv , I was wheeled away into an extra large office big enough for the bed but not much more. Once the Demerol was injected, I was out cold. When I opened my eyes again, I was in recovery. The Dr. stopped by to say everything was fine and to come back in ten years.

My husband took me down to the car in a wheelchair. I couldn’t stay awake. As soon as I got home, I passed out. I woke up once at 12:30 a.m. and forced myself back to sleep. I slept for about 12 hours.

Yay! I’m alive!

Reconnecting with High School Pals

Recently I met up with some pals from high school—ECR (El Camino Real) H.S. Something we started doing after the summer of 2009. Nothing rigid, but, those who can gather can, if their schedule permits.

One friend commented, after a gathering, that we haven’t changed. It’s hard to believe we haven’t changed.

My first year in high school was not my best. The streets that determined which high school I would attend were one house away to the North (Chatsworth H.S.) and three blocks East (Canoga Park H.S.). I would have chosen the latter, if given a choice.

As kids we didn’t realize that our parents chose to buy a house in a specific neighborhood based on the schools their children would attend. All I knew was that my close friends all went to a different high school.

I was scared and lonely. I didn’t hang out with the girls in the neighborhood. By junior high we had found different friends; high school divided us even further. We didn’t say more than, “Hi,” to each other.

Where our house was located, we had a bus pick us up and drop of us off at ECR. The bus picked me up at the corner of Jason and Jonathan. The route started at Woodlake and Jonathan and moved along Sadring Ave. going South, with the final stop at the top of Platt (at Candlewood Way).

The bus was crowded in the mornings. But in the afternoon, there were only a handful of us going home. Most of these people became my high school pals. I suspect the lack of not having a driver’s license had an influence, but we enjoyed each other’s company. We would spend our nutrition and lunch breaks together.

Looking at photo albums of us then, there seemed to be a recurring theme. There were two of us (me and another girlfriend), known as the loud ones, with the rest being very quiet. When I say very quiet, they were painfully quiet and shy. So, compared to the others, we were the loud.

After high school, as each year passed by, we went our separate ways. We would get together during the holidays or during the summer. After college, we all spread out over the state of California.

Although some of us today live in the same area, we have our own circle of friends. We also have different political and religious beliefs. We have changed. Yet what ties us together is our shared youth. For the time we are together now, I am reminded of a time when our world, though small, was a happy time. I feel blessed I found these friends and we’ve reconnected.

Living Outside My Comfort Zone

Aside from a summer trip to Baja for a WHCC High School Work Camp, I have never traveled out of the states. The language barrier scared me.

When I was seventeen, I went with the church youth sponsors, along with the work camp chair, on a weekend trip to scout out a work camp location in Baja. I had never gone across the border before. Coming back we were pulled over by authorities, and I recall sitting in the back seat and they kept asking questions about me. I had a driver’s license and handed it over. After what seemed like forever, we were on our way back to California.

For the actual Work Camp trip, summer of 1978, I had a passport. I never had to use it.

Over the past several years, I’ve been planning to take a big trip in 2010. Didn’t know where. In the belly dancing community there are always opportunities to travel—Mexico, Greece, Costa Rica, or the Bahamas. As a Sierra Club member, there are many opportunities to travel, also. I had my eye on a trip to Tibet/China. Oh, so many choices.

In the end, I have decided on Korea. I say it’s the right thing to do. Why? Even though I don’t plan to visit the orphanage I was adopted from, my life started there. Recently, a dear family friend mentioned he was there, at the airport, the day I arrived from Korea. He mentioned that he remembers how hard my mom tried to instill in me my Korean culture. I think she gave up after I was in kindergarten when I refused to wear a hanbok (traditional Korean dress).

I have two Korean born friends. One friend, I met through my job in Commerce. She brought her daughters to America when they were young and she was a single mother. After my job in Commerce in 1999, we met and went out for Korean food. Then after 10 years, last October, we met and went out for Korean food, again. She told me she was taking her granddaughter to Korea on a tour. Last week, the same friend called me. I asked about her trip to Korea. Turns out she’s going in June. That’s when I decided I wanted to go with her and her granddaughter to Korea.

I don’t know anything about the places I will visit in Korea or the culture, but no time like the present to learn. I’m excited!