Stories I Tell Myself
Linda Brody Bakst on Brooklyn, growing up, identity and more
Category: aging
-
I thought this week’s blog post was going to be titled “The System is Broken.” The system I am referring to is elder care. It was motivated by my visit to my aunt at the Amsterdam Nursing facility. I will write that piece, but not today. Fortunately, I was rescued from that dark place by…
-
“Make sure you replenish yourself,” the doctor said. She wasn’t talking about fluids or food. This was advice I received from the therapist I started seeing (again) when things got difficult these last months. I took her words to heart, and it has made a difference. My mom and my aunt face life threatening illnesses.…
-
It is painful to watch. Aunt Clair pushes her walker down the carpeted hallway, ever so slowly. After ten or fifteen steps she pauses to catch her breath. I had not realized that the hallway was so long. Seeing my mother and Aunt Clair move through the world, my perspective on all kinds of things…
-
Photographs and memories – a Jim Croce song that was popular in the mid-1970s – could be the soundtrack for this past weekend. The song’s lyrics don’t exactly fit, that song is about a lost love, but the sentiment of being left with photographs of times gone by is right on point. Once again, I…
-
To say it has been a stressful week is an understatement. But in keeping with my effort to reframe things, I’ll start with what I am grateful for: I can replace my destroyed laptop without enduring financial hardship. I know that many are not in that position. It would simply not fit in the budget.…
-
I just re-read last week’s blog post. This week’s could be quite similar. In this time of coronavirus, one day doesn’t vary much from another and that adds up to a sameness week to week. There were some differences. The prime one being I didn’t get to cuddle and play with my granddaughter. Oh well.…
-
When Leah was born, my first child, I was overwhelmed. Not surprising, most first time moms are. Each time she cried, which seemed often, I would go through the possibilities: hungry? wet diaper? too cold/ too hot? needing to be cuddled? In an effort to bring some order to chaos, I kept a pad where…
-
Note: This post was written by Gary, my husband. As we drove up to Temple Emanuel in Kingston, NY, I wondered how the day might go. Linda and I were about to bring my mother and my father to see their brand new great granddaughter Evelyn (Evey, for short). Our wonderful son Daniel and his…
-
Note: Gary’s Dad was hospitalized last Thursday morning with difficulty breathing. Gary flew down to Florida to be with him and oversee his care. He wrote this on the flight down and gave me permission to share it. It is a trip I have taken before. It is filled with dread and anxiety. It is…
-
Gary’s mom and dad, Paula and David, will fly to Florida tomorrow accompanied by their son, Steven, and their live-in aide, Inna. The plan is that they will stay for three months. The fact that this is happening is a testament to David’s will and his children’s desire to make him happy. It isn’t easy…
