My mother’s recent visit from New Hampshire was one of the highlights of my year thus far, but I can’t help but feel some guilt as I look back upon her stay.

Before she came, I was committed to finding the perfect balance between making her visit enjoyable and special, while at the same time respecting that at 88 years of age she needed some rest, too.

Prior to seeing me, she spent a week with my sister in Del Mar. They dined out, went shopping, visited with friends, got a manicure, and toured San Diego Zoo Safari Park.  

A week later, my mother arrived at my house with my sister and her husband, the day before the Senior Concerns gala.

Attending the gala was fun and exciting for my mom, but also exhausting. She stuck to the couch the next two days, recovering from overstimulation and a very late night.

Restaurant dining has always been a joyful experience for me.

In terms of aesthetics – at lunch, I enjoy the respite from my workday and at dinner, conversations with my husband or friends.

Regarding the food, in both cases I like trying new dishes as well as appreciating old favorites.

But in these last few years, something has changed with regards to my dining out; the amount of food I eat during those meals.

There was a time I could eat a whole sandwich at lunch or a full plate of pasta for dinner. Now, as I search menu options, I look for cups of soup, smaller appetizer portions, side salads or half orders of pasta.

Primary care providers are hard to come by

In the past five years I have had four primary care physicians. No, I am not a difficult patient, I am the product of changing dynamics in the practice of primary care.

Five years ago, I had a primary care physician I really liked. She listened to me and provided good quality care.

However, she was struggling. As the healthcare industry shifted to volume-based care, it limited her ability to offer a quality experience for her patients. She was challenged with rising operating costs, a larger administrative burden, and cuts in insurance reimbursement. 

So, she decided to “go concierge.”

Many years ago, my father-in-law Danny, who was in his late 70s, was hanging new kitchen cabinets.  Part of the job meant moving some of the ceiling tiles.

When he moved the tile directly above the kitchen sink, he happened upon a paper bag holding $8,000 in cash. 

His wife, Mary, was apoplectic when he found it. She had worked as a housekeeper for many years and had been saving her earnings in that bag to pay for new appliances or other things she wanted that her husband was less than excited about purchasing.

I remember that day vividly as I think about

I will be attending two celebrations of life this month.

The first is for my friend Margaret.

I wrote about her in one of my recent columns, about her surprise 90^th birthday party with 50 of her friends and neighbors. Margaret died in December, a week before she was scheduled to go on a trip to Africa.

I am comforted by the thought that people got to celebrate her 90^th birthday with her.

The other is for a 50-year-old work colleague who was killed by a stray bullet. He leaves behind a wife and children. His death is senseless, tragic, and shocking.

I add to this something which I have been unable to write about thus far, because it’s been too painful;

As one year comes to an end, a new one begins.

I recently received my 2023 monthly planner. Full of expectations for the coming year, I can’t wait to begin to fill it up with appointments, activities, and events.

Each year I spend some time looking for just the right planner, one with a bright upbeat cover and big boxes for each day of the month to make notations.

Somewhere in my growing up years, I was taught to be productive and prepared. My monthly calendar helps me to look forward and visualize my day, week, and month to get myself ready for what is coming my way.

On a practical side,

It might sound like a random invitation, but at a recent holiday gathering of women friends, a community acquaintance, Terry, invited me to go for a walk.

We had been talking about feeling a bit stressed and sad watching some of the rude behavior of others whether in the media or in our daily lives.

Always a positive person, Terry explained that she had some therapy she wanted to share with me. She explained how she recently invited a friend on a long beach walk, and how wonderful she felt afterward. 

She noted that her mood had improved. She said because of the conversation during the walk, she felt a closer connection to her friend. 

It was my recent fall - documented extensively in previous columns - that compelled me to suggest to my husband that we review our estate plan. I guess I needed to remind myself that I am not immortal, and I wanted to be sure that our plan fits our current circumstances.

In these past few years, COVID has increased Americans’ awareness of the need to have a will, living trust or living will.  According to a 2022 survey, people who have had a serious case of Covid said they were 66% more likely to engage in estate planning compared to those who had not.

However, that same survey found that 67% of Americans still have no estate plan.

The organ and tissue donation process is unfamiliar to a lot of us. Some people may not even know they are registered donors.

Understanding the law and how it is implemented is important.

The first time many of us heard of choices about organ donation was at the DMV. More than 90% of individuals surveyed across the country stated that they registered their donation decision through their local DMV.

A pink dot on your license shows that you are an organ donor. That information is also forwarded to Donate Life California Registry.

Your Advanced Health Care Directive (AHCD) is another common way to designate you would like to, or chose not to, be an organ donor. Many of us have completed an AHCD as part of our will or trust. 

For weeks, friends and neighbors worked on planning a surprise block party for my friend Margaret’s 90th birthday. On the big day, over 50 people showed up with food, drink and gifts to celebrate this amazing lady.

Several of the neighbors who attended the party had read my Acorn column about my fall. Soon I had a group of women surrounding me talking about their recent falls—their broken bones, black eyes and ongoing recoveries. In each case, these women recounted the accident that resulted in their fall. We all listened with sympathy and understanding.

Since my fall, I have