From Disenchantment to Forward

Enjoying nature. Is there a better way to re-engage with life?

My last post left off with me pondering the Disenchantment Stage of Atchley’s Retirement Stages. For some time, I’ve reflected on my own disenchantment, allowing myself to consider all kinds of reasons and ultimately solutions.
My thoughts continued to drift back to 2015 and a cycling trip to Puglia, Italy. On the trip, we met a couple from California, he a mostly retired ER then later radiology doctor and she, a self-described housewife and mother of five. As R and I sat with her in the lobby of our gorgeous masseria, all trying to connect to the finicky internet, me nursing my injuries from the previous day’s bike crash, she spontaneously began reflecting on life. Her radiologist husband had completed his own round of radiation for prostate cancer four and a half months earlier. This bike trip in Puglia was both his reward at the end of treatment and possibly his last trip to Europe. In her musing, she revealed that they were both just passed 70 years-old. She then said something that resonated with me, something I’ve often contemplated, though I doubt she considered her words impactful.

She said any good, healthy years past age 70 are “gravy,” Gravy. Past 70.

Her words stuck with me, this wise woman from California.

But why?

When we returned home from that trip, R visited his internist for a follow up on a rising PSA reading, the test designed to detect prostate cancer, the same cancer the doc on the bike trip was recovering from. R’s PSA numbers earned him a visit to a urologist, and over the next 1 1/2 years more tests, a biopsy, more tests, eventually an MRI, then a super biopsy, a diagnosis of cancer, full body scans to see if the cancer had metastasized. He was 66. What followed was a radical prostatectomy, a recovery, frequent testing to see if the cancer was metastasizing and lots of sadness, anger, and ongoing worry.

This historical summary leads me back to Atchley’s Disenchantment and Reorientation Stages of retirement. Atchley cites a number of reasons people feel disenchanted with retirement after the initial honeymoon phase, including limited alternatives, limited financial resources, over-identification with work, other role losses in retirement and two that apply to me — leaving a community where one has lived for years and health issues.

Many people move when they retire, many people stay put and some live in two places.
Moving from Chicago to the Pacific Northwest was always our plan and that piece has worked out mostly fine.

That leaves health issues. None of us seek health issues or illnesses such as cancer; with the help of genetics, lifestyle choices, and sometimes from nothing beyond just aging or being human, illness finds us. Doesn’t seem surprising that one might end up feeling disappointed and land in the Disenchanted Stage if this occurred in retirement. That was my route.

R has a PSA in January 2018 and if it is clear, testing will move to twice a year, allowing us more freedom from appointments.

According to Atchley, everyone arrives, some sooner and others way later, at the Disenchantment Stage. Whether one arrives organically or is pushed into disenchantment by unwanted illness, figuring out the best use of retirement is necessary and an opportunity. Slogging best describes our movement through most of this year, a year we can’t wait to kiss good-bye. However, we plan to end the year actively considering possibilities for next year. R has a PSA in January 2018 and if it is clear, testing will move to twice a year, allowing us freedom from frequent check ups.

I imagine many, if not all, cancer survivors view life after treatment and recovery as a new beginning, a second chance. I’m not sure we took retirement for granted prior to R’s cancer. I know we won’t now. Who knows if we’ll ever greet the gravy years. For now we are focused on the opportunity and privilege to re-engage in life as we enter Atchley’s Reorientation Stage.

A happy moment just before sunset in Ngala, South Africa. 2018 will bring more and more moments.

Retirement, Stages, and Time for a Reboot

Apparently a retirement life based on using all this gear isn’t fully satisfying. Who knew?

Everyone who retires or contemplates retirement has a vision of what that phase of life will be like, even if the vision is “I won’t know until I experience it” (sort of mine). Richard’s version was “Pick up and go,” as in he/we’d have the freedom in retirement to come and go as we wished, released from career responsibilities. However, disparities frequently exist between one’s vision and how life plays out.

Retirement is a much written about life phase with everyone from researchers, financial advisors, clinicians, and life-style bloggers offering advice and perspective on how to live fully during these precious years. Michael Stein, CFP carved the retirement years into age-related stages, using health and vigor as guides. The stages are:

The Go-Go Years — ages 60 to early 70s, presumably one’s most active and healthy years, when one has lots of pick up and go
The Slow Go Years — roughly early 70s to early 80s
The No-Go Years — early 80s until the end of life, a time when retirees don’t really go.

When I was imagining my own retirement, it made sense to me to consider retirement in terms of Stein’s frame, a blueprint for how much R and I might “Pick up and Go,” particularly in the early years.  Stein’s stages, while reminders that it is best to “go” while going is possible, don’t capture the phase’s complexities, challenges, and necessary emotional adaptation. After a lifetime of working, I was eager to focus on “go-going” but in doing so excluded necessary aspects of a fuller frame for retirement.

For a more psychological understanding of this stage, I recently examined the frequently cited work of researcher Robert Atchley (1999, 2000) who has sliced and diced the phase, identifying behavioral and emotional tasks related to retirement.
Atchley’s frame is:

Pre-Retirement — Financial and life planning
Retirement– Actual event and Honeymoon Phase
Disenchantment —Is this it?
Reorientation — Creating something new
Retirement — Establishing a new norm
Termination ( aka death)

While the stages lay out in a linear fashion, like all phases they are looser, more overlapping than lock step. The first two phases are self explanatory — people plan and then retire. Because I currently find myself seeking more from my retirement life and attempting to figure out what that might be, I am most curious about the Disenchantment and Reorientation Stages, because disenchanted captures how I feel.

Atchley (2000) relates that certain factors can lead some people to feel letdown and disillusioned following a more blissful Honeymoon Phase. These factors include limited financial resources, poor health, over identification with careers, other role losses, and moving from communities where they’ve lived for years.

My little research project has left me with much good information to digest before I can figure out my disenchantment and a new plan. More to come. But first….

Let’s not forget about the summer gear……….

Aaaahh! Summer is Half Over!!!

While waiting for John Mellencamp to perform, we enjoyed the beautiful Oregon sky.

Well, maybe not officially half over but once the 4th of July has passed, I start counting how many weeks of glorious summer are left.

Last winter was long. Not only did Bend experience record snow falls and unbelievably cold temperatures, but R’s pre-surgery tests, travel to Portland for prostate cancer surgery and then follow up appointments kept us in anxious motion as did his recovery. Summer, when it finally arrived, was to soothe the year’s hurts, warm our chilly souls, distract us with fun, musical outings with family and friends, and restore our spirits by offering time in nature.

So at mid-summer, how are we doing?

Pretty darn good, I think. Since June we’ve attended big concerts — John Mellencamp, Paul Simon, Pink Martini with more to come and listened to less well-known but thoroughly enjoyable local groups, including one our talented nephew and grandniece perform with.

Peaceful kayaking on Sparks Lake.

We’ve kayaked Elk Lake, Hosmer, and Sparks with friends and alone, watching bald eagles circling the water searching for fish while we, tucked in our kayaks, also admired the distant snowy mountains, clear lake water, and our luck at living in such a beautiful place.

And we’ve hiked comforting, familiar trails along the beautiful Deschutes River as well as new ones and slowly resumed cycling the roads, stopping to delight in acres and acres of treed vistas. And we’ve renewed our acquaintance with celebrating – birthdays, holidays, visits with others, or just whatever — as cautiously we move out of cancer’s funky mood, scheduled follow up appointments, and worry about the future.

Indeed, summer is a balm for winter.

The man with his Trek. Summer.

We’ve Entered a New Phase but What Phase is it?

Seeking counsel from Einstein. He had a kind face.

I read lots of blogs, about travel, traveling in retirement, managing retirement, finances.
Several I follow feature superhuman folks age 70 or older who travel the world but seemingly have no reported serious illnesses, no emergencies, never lose stuff, make bad plans or experience crabby moods. How can this be? Who are these older vagabonds who live and travel trouble-free?
Recently, we flew to Portland for a follow-up medical appointment, an important one since it included a checking-for-traces-of-cancer blood test. Our lives in 2017 so far have been organized around medical tests, a surgery, follow up appointments, recovery, questions, and worry. Not quite what we envisioned for ourselves three years ago when I joined R in retirement. To re-connect with our traveling spirits, we decided we’d fly from Portland to D.C. for a long delayed, much canceled touristy visit, putting aside our wishes that we’d made this trip during the thoughtful, optimistic Obama era and settling for museum visits and long walks while ignoring the disturbing White House occupant and his bizarre, troublesome behavior.

A calming view of the mall

For the life of me, though I ponder this idea endlessly, I can’t figure out why I’m not more like the trouble-free globe-trotting seniors I read about. This was not a last minute trip, though it was shaded by the looming blood test which apparently clouded my usually organized mind. Compression socks, sensitive skin soap, my camera, earphones, tissue packets, warm wooly scarf, ear covers, and winter gloves were all left safely at home. I’ve committed fewer packing crimes on a long haul trip to South Africa or prepping for a two month visit to Europe. Go figure. I did, however, manage to pack a pharmacy of cold remedies – cough syrup, cough drops, Cipro, nasal spray, inhaler all with the dream of clearing my stuffed head and chest.

As we flew from west to east, I had lots of time to consider our current circumstances. This I know, people like certainty, reliability. Actually, people need certainty; certainty comforts and calms. But how much of life is certain? Guaranteed? Reliable? Not all that much. R’s first blood test is completed, results good but not perfect. Not zero. We’ve entered a new phase, I’m not sure if it is the uncertain phase or the testing phase or the uncertain testing phase. In a kind of blissful stupor, previously I thought we were living solidly and happily in the “Go-Go” years phase, the early retirement years when we could set off, exploring the world, our healthy selves intact.

I guess I’ll name this new phase as we gingerly move through it, while wondering about the people traveling the world, living life unscathed.