Rainy Days and Poo Sticks

So this week I have been playing poo sticks. Not the fun kind of pooh sticks with twigs, a bridge and a stream, but the kind that involves smearing poo on plastic windows to be tested for bowel cancer. Yet another unpleasant, but necessary ‘treat’ for the older person. For women these procedures start with a smear test when you’re 25, then the joy of mammograms when you reach 50. Poo sticks arrive when you’re 60. It amazes me that the invitations always arrive on or around your birthday - a special gift from the NHS! 

Run away!!!

I am a basically sensible person, and always take advantage of the various screening programmes, but each time I do I have a mild panic attack. What if they find something? How will I cope? I have never been any good at facing my fears, preferring to bury my head in the sand and run away, but as I get older I realise that I can’t outrun things forever. I’m not being maudlin - most of the time I don’t give my mortality a thought…well, some of the time…but it does give you a different perspective.

Splurge!

I was brought up to be careful with money. While I am partial to an occasional splurge, I have always saved, lived within my means and, even when I divorced, managed to be financially independent. When I retired my income was substantially reduced and, although I am fortunate in that I can manage day-to-day, if I use my savings pot for something, I am unable to replace it. This freaks me out. Is this my rainy day? It doesn’t feel like it, but I seem to have reached the point where I need to say, ‘Spend the lot, you can’t take it with you!’ But being prudent is so much a part of me that I constantly struggle.

For example, last week my husband ordered a shed to replace the one we inherited when we bought this house. But in demolishing the shed, we also demolished the garden wall! 

At least we've still got a gate...

The additional expense this has incurred has completely panicked me. I know we are lucky enough to have the money, and I also know that the new shed will mean that I will actually be able to open the door and get my bike out. But the sleepless nights! I wouldn’t mind but it was my idea…no-one else to blame!

But my bike needs a new home...

I am very appreciative of the fact that I am financially secure - I can help my family out when they need it while I am still around to be thanked by them. But when it comes to myself I find it so difficult and anxiety inducing. I guess it’s the ‘low self esteem’ card showing itself again - I am not worthy! I am on a pendulum swinging between ‘Be careful’ and ‘Sod it’, and I’m still not sure where to jump off!  

Sod it, I'm screwed!

Benjamin Franklin once said, ‘in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes’, so I’m probably screwed either way!