Last week, I turned sixty five. In the United States, sixty five is a milestone event. At last, I can go on Medicare, a federal health insurance program, and not have to worry about where I will get affordable health insurance. (Alas, over the years, it has been a big worry.)
As with all milestone events, there came a certain amount of reflection when I turned sixty five. Here is what I wrote on Facebook: “Twelve years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was fifty three, and I remember wondering if I would make it to my sixtieth birthday. Turns out I was lucky. My cancer was not aggressive and while I needed radiation, I did not need chemo. And here I am, at sixty five. Very, very grateful.”
Yes, very grateful indeed.
There will be a family celebration this weekend for me and for Clif, who also has a September birthday.
But on my actual birthday—a bright, clear, windy September day—my friend Dawna came over and brought me this sweet assortment of goodies.
The lavender and basil came from her own garden, she made the card, and the jam and honey are local.
Wowsah! Who could ask for anything more?
Many, many thanks, Dawna!