February 8, 2018: I Found My Thrill...

Mom & Me selfie outside Del Webb Wellness Center in Kingman, AZ

I recently talked to a friend about pursuing her passion in her next career. Currently in between jobs, she is looking to jump from the insurance world to the hospice world. Most would see this as a leap of faith. I see it as a great fit and a huge asset to those who will benefit from her strengths and desire to serve her greater purpose.

My friend's husband died many years ago. Raising her child on her own after a lengthy period of caring for her young, ailing husband, I see no one better equipped to help others work through end-of-life.

As we talked through her transition and desires, I immediately thought about a favorite book of mine, "Being Mortal" by Atul Gawande.

The author, a practicing physician, argues that quality of life is the desired goal for patients and families. Gawande tells wonderful real-life stories of elderly and hospice care demonstrating that the last years or months of life may be rich and dignified.

As I located my copy of "Being Mortal" for my friend, I flipped through the pages, reviewing my highlights and earmarked pages.

Almost immediately the page opened to the highlighted text "we have no good metrics for a place's success in assisting people to live. By contrast, we have precise ratings for health and safety; whether Dad loses weight, skips his medications, or has a fall, not whether he's lonely."

Then the song rang through my head "I found my thrill....on Blueberry Hill". Clear visions of the Del Webb Fitness Center and the Silver Sneakers class I have frequented with my mom resonated soundly as I flipped through the pages.

Silver Sneakers is a fitness class geared toward the older generation with a special emphasis on staying active while avoiding movements that can cause injury. I often accompany my mom to her beloved classes when I am visiting her in Arizona. And I LOVE them.

There is a sense of community and support so strong among 'the regulars'. On the day I went early last December, the class couldn't start until everyone was accounted for by the instructor, Teri.

"Where's Mildred? Has anyone talked to Mildred?"

Quickly Jackie across from me let Teri know that Mildred wasn't feeling well and had checked in with her earlier. After talking through others gone with an appointment and a planned day off, the little community of Silver Sneakers participants was ready to start.

As Teri called the crew of 80-year-olds together (average age by my approximation), my mom was still introducing me to her circle of friends. Margaret told us of her daughter's recovery from a blood disease, then looked me in the eye as she told my mom "daughters are a special gift". I smiled thinking, but mothers are even more special.

Next Mom had to introduce me to Vern. A tall man, who stood somewhere between frail and previously strong, quickly gave me a big hug.

"Vern is a hugger. He lost his wife last year. A big teddy bear," Mom explained as we found our places in the circle with our many pieces of carefully placed work-out equipment. Later Mom told me how Vern was a pilot, both in the war and for commercial airlines until his retirement. He and his wife retired to Arizona, enjoying their piece of happiness. Now Vern is alone. He finds comfort in the fitness center and never misses a class.

I noticed quickly the range of personalities with likely colorful backgrounds that are part of the Silver Sneakers circle. From the grey-haired clone of Nipsy Russell directly across from me to the Asian women in the reindeer sweatshirt,  they stretched in unison to the holiday music warm-up.

We quickly moved from a march around the room to a strength exercise on an elevated bench. Some added an extra step to their bench while others never left their walkers. The level of activity varied, but the warm enthusiasm was the same.

Soon we sat down and worked an inflatable ball between our knees. As I felt it in my thighs, I was reminded that Silver Sneakers is the real deal. Pumping the ball, following the direction of our leader, Teri, she quietly walked across the room to check on Vern, who appeared to have passed out.

Awaking to Teri's soft touch, Vern announced loudly to the class, "I was just taking a little siesta. It's all good!"

Relieved and happy, Teri resumed her spot to the beat of "A Holly Jolly Christmas" without missing a beat. As we continue to Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer, the group collectively complained.

"Can we get something more lively? We need a good beat!"

I was actually enjoying the Christmas music and found it a little ironic that those complaining of Christmas songs were wearing Christmas gear from head to toe. But, Bruno Mars, it was...

My smile was gleaming inside and visible out as I watched this group get down to "Uptown Funk You Up" with complete joy and childlike innocence. We used bands for upper body, bent through lunges, and threw balls into a center bag. All while jiving to Bruno.

And then I was quickly reminded that Vern was alive and well.

As we closed our eyes and sat in our chairs to stretch, Vern's deep baritone voice filled the quiet room. Unexpected and beautiful, my heart filled and my eyes welled as I listened to Vern slowly belt out "I found my thrill, ooonnn Blueberry Hill..." A sweet chorus of hums soon followed his lead as back-up. An unscripted moment in time as Vern led the circle around him and completed our class. A moment I won't soon forget.

Through my friends at Silver Sneakers, I know now that my favorite book, Being Mortal, isn't a book about dying. It's a book about living. How to live with dignity, full of relationships and found happiness that isn't equated to physical possessions.

Close your eyes and turn up the volume. Somehow I visualize Vern's serenade as a song once shared with his wife, and now I am a lucky recipient as well...