Today – February 20, 2026 — is my 80th (!!) birthday.
Ten years’ ago, my blog topic was “Becoming 70 – Not over any Hill Yet.” And. Yes. Life was Grand!!
I was living in Mexico with my partner/friend/significant other who, during subsequent years, became my husband. (Side note: check out the three blog entries about the experience of being an “immigrant” marrying in the United Kingdom!) We had Grand Adventures, traveling throughout Mexico, UK, and Europe, often on a motorcycle (Note: it rains a lot in the UK!). But, alas, my five-years-younger husband transitioned in 2023. I miss him, as his music (and our laughter) filled our home daily.
I am, again, on my own.
As they say, “Old age ain’t for sissies.”
Early into my ‘70s, my left ear developed odd sounds – gurgling, hollowness, tintinitis, and then nothing/no sound at all. After about two years’ of visiting an Ear/Nose/Throat doctor and various treatments, the doctor finally admitted there was nothing she could do and suggested an MRI. A tumor had destroyed the auditory nerve. Evaluations by neurologists in both Mexico and the USA determined that this was apparently a meningioma – fairly common, normally benign, and slow-growing. They all recommended, because of my age, to do nothing except monitor its growth with an MRI twice/year. As I have Medicare, I did this in the USA. Silly me, I expected the neurologists to tell me if it was growing. This information was probably in the wordy, doctor-ese written summaries of information, but until last year, I was blissfully unaware that the tumor started at 3 cm (a little over one inch) and was now 5.5 cm (nearly two inches).
I had been noticing more dizziness/light-headedness but blamed it on “old age”.
The neurologist stated that something must be done. The tumor was dangerously close to my brain stem. If it continued growing, I could become completely paralyzed, blind, or dead. I won’t go into details, but after researching neurologists and options, with me at nearly age 80, doctors in Colorado performed an over-eight-hour surgery on my brain in December.
Family and friends have been awesome – I have lived with my daughter and family in Colorado for nearly three months. Family and friends have chauffeured me to follow-up appointments. I’m preparing to return home to Guanajuato, Mexico, next week.
Life has certainly changed. I’m no longer doing Spartan or 5K races. Just walking from the living room to the bedroom is a challenge. The tumor not only caused the deafness (not repairable) and vestibular/balance issues but was also wrapped around nerves controlling my ability to swallow, and these were damaged during surgery. They say I’m lucky, as I can eat and drink anything as long as it’s small bites, chewed thoroughly, and swallowed “mindfully,” so not to go into my windpipe. (They floated the idea of a feeding tube!)
I’m lucky and appreciative and yet a bit resentful. My last surgery was tonsillitis at age 10, when I enjoyed popsicles afterwards. Prior to this current operation, I felt healthy. My only pills were vitamin supplements. (Now, still no meds, but I can’t even swallow a pill.) I lived alone with my furry family (two MexiMutts and four street cats). I was hiking with friends (although invitations stopped after my unsuccessful attempt to hop over a stream; some cuts and bruises, but I was able to hike out. However, I’m certain they had visions of dragging me on a make-shift stretcher).
Sooooo – as I approached and lived my 70s, life was still vibrant and exciting – “Not over any hill yet”!
Entering 80s, it’s “WTF??!! Where did this all these years go?!” My mind is still 30s, 40s, 50s. But, alas, the body is not: Spots on my hands. Wrinkled skin. Pudgy belly. Slower reflexes. Balance issues.
I used to marvel at the things my mother, born in 1916, had witnessed: horse-and-buggies to motor cars; first airplanes, computers….Now, I can rememberwhen a fax machine was pure magic (send and receive a document same day!). Computers, including a tour with the computer filling an entire room, and we wore dust-proof clothing — today we hold this same ability in one hand. The tragedy of Kent State. and Columbine. And: AI! I also remember when democracy, although not perfect, was not in jeopardy – but that’s a different topic.
I wonder what will amaze my grandchildren when they’re in their 80s?
My mother lived independently until she died at 96. I would get frustrated with her. I’m now empathizing. And, as my high school classmates and other peers are dying, I understand why all mom’s friends were younger.
Life is more challenging – to walk safely, swallow without choking (even wine!), just getting around….
Is this all there is?
Obviously – – Yes.
And perhaps life’s now moving over the hill, but I’m grateful – grateful for the good times and the joy and the memories; for the ability to continue to live in my own home; for time, food, and drink with family and friends; for independence.
I plan to live – and appreciate — every day.
(And. I’m certain that The Next Grand Adventure will be even better than these amazing past 80 years.)
Me, through the ages;
(click on the photo to see the caption)
¡La Vida Es Rica! ~ Life is Delicious! 
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