Retirement

The president's State of the Union speech is tonight. I have low expectations. Very low expectations. But it's as good a moment as any to report on myself, and where I expect to go next.

So--I've retired. I haven't officially checked yet, but from what I heard last semester I suppose I'm a "professor emeritus" now.

Actually, it wasn't my first choice. Although I feel fine, my Parkinson's Disease had progressed to the point that I couldn't handle the full load of teaching and advising, etc., that goes with the job. An hour of commuting (each way) didn't help. So long as I take my pills and get enough sleep, it's something I barely notice--but when was the last time someone in our business kept to a strict schedule and got nine hours of sleep a night? The good news is I can think, and occasionally write, and I see more of the IR-related stuff in Pittsburgh than I ever could when I was putting in my hours at Slippery Rock. It's a little bit like grad school, but without the pressure.

I was afraid I would just waste the time, while the time wasted me. For a few months, as the inevitable grew closer, I couldn't imagine life without the daily "professor" role.  But four classes a semester, plus advising, plus all the other service to the department and the university that goes with that role, was too much. Parkinson's emerges slowly--at least seven years ago, I suspect, in my case--but it's cumulative. I started taking short naps between classes and appointments (neglecting my research, writing, and other service). Then the naps grew longer. I was hard to stand in front of a class for an hour. I'm sure I wasn't doing my best work. Not by a long shot.

The point where I should have called it off and applied for disability was probably December of 2017. During finals week, there's no chance to take a nap. I made it until my last final exam (the third of the day, in the evening), but when the time came I had dropped to the floor of my office, unable to get up. There's only so much you can ask of your body before it shuts down. I was awake, I was thinking, but my muscles wouldn't work. Fortunately it was one of my advanced classes, and the students had the good sense to come up to my office to remind me where I was supposed to be. I suppose seeing me on the floor shocked everyone. I still couldn't sit up. Of course, they wanted to help. But there really wasn't anything anyone could do. I explained what had been going on, assured everyone that I would work around the problem so nobody's final grade would be affected, and asked them to leave me to get a few hours sleep. After that, I would be ready to pick myself and drive home. They were concerned, of course, and I was embarrassed, but I couldn't see any better options. So they got to finish early, and I slept for slept for three or four hours, and after that my body was ready to get up, walk to the car, and drive to Pittsburgh.

I should have thrown in the towel then, I suppose. But I'm stubborn. I don't like to think I can give my body a reasonable order and it will refuse to obey. And as I regained my strength over the winter break I told myself I could organize things to make everything work. But I couldn't. I made it to May (barely), but I really wasn't doing my job. The Dean (and Human Resources) were kind enough to allow me sick/disability leave, but that was to get me past my 60th birthday, so I could collect on my pension without penalty. My last official day of employment was January 4th of this year. 

Since then, I've been making adjustments. Finances, insurance, all the usual stuff. But the biggest adjustment had to be mental. I don't have to take this as an end to my life's work. If anything, it removes some of the distractions. I can still think, and read, and write. So long as I stick to schedule, take my pills four times a day, and allow myself nine hours of sleep, I actually feel pretty good. I even have the first draft ready of a paper I'll deliver at a conference in March (and I must arrange my sleeping arrangements in Toronto!). My greatest enemy is me: trying to ignore my limitations, or giving in to a temptation to watch a movie when I have better things than TV. Losing myself in the news would be an easy way to remain occupied but unproductive, So I'm not doing that, and I won't do that. (Usually. There's always the temptation to piece together the pieces of the Trump scandals.)

So that's the State of My Union. I'll probably be checking in more here, from time to time, and connecting some of the interesting stuff to Facebook. Social media can easily be another time sink. But it's also allowing me, through "professional" social media, to keep in touch with current and prospective colleagues. I can read more of their work now. I can, and do, contribute. I still have things to say, and I will say them.