40 is the new 30

They said on some talk show today that “40 is the new 30.”  Well that’s good, I hope that’s true.  The first time that I had a 30th year on this planet it blew chunks.  And I blew chunks.  I would very much like the opportunity to do it again.

Categories: Miscellaneous

41 replies

  1. My 30’s were the best! 40’s not-so-much. So if you can live MY 30’s in YOUR 40’s, you’ll have it made. 50’s haven’t been thrilling, but they’re looking up.

  2. Cool! Does that mean that 50 is the new 40?

  3. Oh you young whippersnapper.

  4. I am planning to do my 61st again this year since I missed it last year thanks to my stroke.

  5. So 60 is the new 50? That’s depressing. What’s even more depressing is that if you’ve had a stroke, 60 is more like the new 70. I need a drink.

    • Hahahah! Yeah having a stroke ages you a bit immediately. So right now I’m like 50 ish in a 33 year olds body. A body that doesn’t work like it’s 33. But I’m hoping my age starts to regress soon and by my late 30s it will even out.

  6. Shucks I’m still an old fart then. My dad started counting birthdays backwards after 50. Now he’s younger than I am.
    60 is more like the new 120. Or at least to me it does.

    Oh wait I take that back after my stroke. 60 post stroke is the new 2. Check it out…
    Accidentally peeing or pooping your pants-check
    Drooling- check
    Drinking and spilling half of it on you-check
    Inability to pronounce words properly so other people not family understand you- check
    Eating chopped up food or you’ll choke- check
    Still needs a bib- check
    Has problems climbing stairs- check
    Still needs naptime- check check.

    • Is it ok that that made me laugh or is that messed up? I kinda don’t know what’s appropriate to laugh at anymore so I just laugh at everything.

    • haha! too funny, Jo! And so, sadly, true. Zack used to need diapers. Thank God that was a very short stint. And it seemed like he had to have a modified diet for WAY too long. He didn’t start gaining any weight back until they let him eat real food. I think they were more cautious than necessary…but, I understand, it’s their butt if something goes sideways. Oh! That was kinda a pun and I didn’t mean to. I am pretty naturally punny. I digress…

      You gotta laugh sometimes, Amy. If I didn’t choose to laugh some of the time, I would be crying all of the time. I am so dang sick of crying.

  7. Amy, your 50’s are the best. I just turned 59 yesterday, so I am sad to see them conclude…even with a stroke at 55 they are awesome.Best part is when people say to me ‘You look so great, which is enjoyable at any age. Since I retired from my high power, high stress corporate job and have a human schedule, I get a full night’s sleep and that in itself has turned the clock back at least a decade…it’s great to look younger without losing any of the experience I earned over the years. Marta

  8. DALY – disability adjusted life years suggests that survivors lose 3.82 years. I’m going to prove them wrong.

  9. I was unsure whether to comment today, as everyone seemed to be having a good time and I was uncomfortable with possibly changing the tenor of the conversation. However, I was so upset by Jo’s comment today (“60 is the new 2”) that ultimately I felt I had to say something. I didn’t find Jo’s comment funny at all. I simply found it terribly, terribly sad. If this is the kind of self-deprecating humor that stroke survivors have been reduced to, than we might as well give up. For those of us who still hope to be seen by the world as productive, intelligent, and attractive, Jo’s comment was a slap in the face. I’ve never found self-deprecating humor funny, as it is really just a form of self-loathing. Don’t we loathe ourselves enough already (see Barb’s wonderful post “Failure”) without any help from our fellow survivors? There is a lot to laugh about in this world, but stroke is not funny to me and never will be funny to me. It is a tragedy, pure and simple. Playing misfortune for a laugh, is opportunistic and juvenile. I am hanging on to my dignity with everything I have, and Jo’s comment was a serious affront that I really, really didn’t need today. As I see it, it was an affront to the rest of you, too, but if you don’t see it that way and can laugh at it, then feel free to ignore this comment.

    • I struggled with whether or not it was my place to respond. My body has not been physically affected by brain injury, but I have been affected in pretty much every other way. So, here it goes-
      I completely understand and respect where you are coming from, Julia. I get why you feel that way, it makes sense, and you have every right to feel that way. I also agree with many of the things you said. However, not everyone processes the same way. So assuming that those who process differently are juvenile, opportunistic, etc. isn’t fair. It’s just a different way. I am sorry if I offended you by laughing or thinking it was funny. I absolutely do not think disability in and of itself is funny… Let alone those who have one… but I thought that Jo’s comment, in context of what we were chatting about, was laughable. Thank you for sharing your perspective. It helps me to consider others and be more sensitive in ways that I am not. I hope your day is better, friend.

      • Thank you Brooke. Everyone has a different point of view that’s what makes us unique. Just like opinions. My momma used to say opinions are like butt holes. Everyone has one and it’s true.

        Juvenile, I can be called that because I’m young at heart and do write children’s stories too.

        Opportunistic, possibly because this was part of a story in my new stroke recovery book. Yes, there is a possibility of financial gain, but having a stroke and some of the things that happen to us **in retrospect** are hilarious in a keystone cops type of humour. Humor is different to different people.

        Self deprecating, yep that’s true too. But if nothing else you can read it as a stroke survivor and say maybe I don’t have it so bad after all.

    • Julia,
      I apologize if you found my post as offensive. It was written in jest from my own point of view with my own recovery. It is not self depreciating but factual and accurate of what I go through or have gone through daily since my stroke.

      Since my stroke I have measured my progress of relearning by my grandson who was 6 months old at my stroke. He is now 22 months old. In the hospital he’d sit on my lap doing the facial and sound exercises (him preparing to form words and me relearning). He now speaks words on a 3 year old level because of it. We learned how to walk together, balance, speech and a host of other skills together. He’s my little rehab buddy.

      But aside from that you have to love yourself and learn to laugh at yourself on your journey of recovery because sometimes laughter is the only way to keep from crying. Crying all the time and negative feelings do not promote healing both spiritually or physically.

    • I LOVE self-deprecating humor AND I love myself. Unconditionally. Before and after stroke. I am a Sweet and loving person, even though I have had an occasional accident.

  10. Jo – I appreciate that this is your experience and you are entitled to write about it in a humorous way if you like. However, when people read your book, the tendency will be to generalize your experience to the rest of us, especially if they don’t know any stroke survivors personally. When people ask what happened to me I tell them I had an accident because when you say the word stroke they assume you are feeble minded. You need to think if your humor is perpetuating stereotypes that are harmful to other survivors. Also, if you are laughing at your own disability in a public way, you are telling others that it’s okay for them to laugh at disability and it’s not, it’s absolutely not. I’m not a humorless person as many of you know, but a sentence like”having a stroke and some of the things that happen to us **in retrospect** are hilarious” is inaccurate and hurtful. Who is “us” Jo? Nothing that has happened to me is hilarious, and no way am I or will I ever be part of your “us”. The appropriate word for you to have used here is “me”, not “us”. Also, you also make the assumption that I am crying all the time which I am not. And I am really tired of hearing how negative feelings don’t promote healing. I work my ass off and will eventually recover because I feel so crappy all the time, I just need to end the pain. Pain is an amazing motivator. And finally, I do need to heal physically. But there is nothing wrong with my “spirit”, thank you very much, so please don’t preach at me.

    • Julia,
      Yes, pain and restrictions are great motivators. I know because I’ve dealt with both for too many decades before my stroke. You take me wrong. There is nothing humorous about being disabled. I prefer the term handicapable to handicapped.
      I say repeatedly that I have hope. I too work my butt off trying to get better with 6 hours a day exercising just the parts that refuse to move since my stroke. I’ve done it everyday since I first started doing therapy.
      I’m not super human. I’m driven by need to get better with very little progress to show for all my hard work, but there is hope and determination so I keep on through the pain, frustration, and the feelings of doubt.
      I can’t remember what it feels like to sleep more than two hours at a time and waking without pain that causes tears just to move a body part on my right side. Not only in my arms and legs but my torso too being contracted with spastic muscles. Think Charlie horse muscle cramps all over one side of your body lasting two hours at a time. When I move to stretch it out, it sets off another group of muscles. It’s been at least a year now. I know this because I keep a log of what is going on when. No amount of meds can alleviate it. I know because I’ve been on about three dozen different meds over the past year for it almost to the point where I’m zonked, but still there is intense pain. All because of my stroke.
      No, I don’t know what it’s like to be young and suffer a stroke. I don’t have young children to care for. I’m older. I do know what it’s like being handicapable from a wheelchair and caring for a two month old and four other children. I didn’t suffer a stroke, but I was handicapped just the same for three years before I recovered enough to stand on two legs. I do know what fighting for recovery is and what it takes. I was almost 30 at the time.

      • Jo – Your life sounds like it has been far more difficult than mine, and I wish you well. But I still think you need to think about whether your book will perpetuate negative stereotypes. Peter Levine’s most recent post illustrates what stroke survivors are up against, when people think they are drunk or stupid. Survivors feel they need to hide their disabilities in order to secure or retain employment. And some still lose their jobs. Turning the everyday difficulties we face as stroke survivors into public comedy will not help. You sound as though you have lived an extraordinary life, with many hardships overcome. I would be interested in reading that book, but not the “humorous” one you appear to be writing.

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