Category: Coping

Have Things Changed?

Have things changed?

Do you find yourself asking friends or family that question? It has come up in a few different contexts. The other day I was visiting with a friend. She, like me, is involved in the care of her elderly mother who has faced a myriad of health issues. She was telling me about her mother’s frustration with her television set – sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, sometimes she can get the channels she wants, sometimes she can’t. I know from experience with my mom it can be hard to sort out the source of the problem – is it the equipment? is it the technology? Which part of the technology? Is it our mother? I am not terrible when it comes to troubleshooting cable, the internet, and equipment, but I am no tech geek either. I can manage, but how is an 89-year-old or a 92-year-old supposed to navigate it? I have an idea! Senior living centers should have staff specifically devoted to tech support (separate from maintenance) – someone residents can call when their remote no longer changes the channel or their iPad freezes. It would save so many frustrating calls to family members who aren’t nearby or can’t just drop in and fix it. I imagine many people would be willing to pay something extra for the service.

In an effort to make things better, my friend went to Best Buy and bought a new t.v. and arranged for delivery. While I was visiting with her, the t.v. was supposed to be delivered and installed. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. There must have been six phone calls before it was finally determined that the person showing up to do the installation was not the same person who was delivering the set. The installation guy arrived before the t.v., and they had no record of the delivery being scheduled!

In between being beyond annoyed, we had to laugh. The whole thing was preposterous. My friend was sure she had been clear about the delivery address (at first the person on the phone was heading to her house, which is not where her mother lives). Nothing got accomplished – leaving my friend with another series of telephone calls to straighten it out.

Was it always so complicated? Were deliveries routinely screwed up? These days I am so relieved when anything goes as planned. But, maybe I’m just older and more impatient. Maybe I’m focusing on the errors and not all the times things happen the way they should.

I have raised the question before – does all the technology we use make our lives easier? Or, does it introduce more opportunities for things to get screwed up – and make it more difficult for us to get to the bottom of the problem to fix it.

I am responsible for overseeing my mother’s medical care. It makes sense that I play that role since my husband is a doctor and neither my brothers nor their spouses have that expertise. The one problem with this is that I live about 3.5 hours away from Mom. Generally speaking, I am able to work things out to accompany her to appointments. The thing that has been more challenging has been keeping her medicines and medical supplies in stock. I can’t tell you how many times there have been problems. Sometimes the issue is one of supply – the pharmacy to which the prescription was sent (electronically) is out of stock of the particular drug. Do they call me? No, apparently they communicate with the doctor (or maybe, depending on who you believe, they communicate with no one). I have explained to everyone and anyone involved in Mom’s care that they should call, email or text me – in fact in many cases my number is the only one they have. And, yet, I still don’t get notified.

And, when did supplies get to be an issue? I had a conversation with my daughter the other day while she was in search of eye drops, amoxicillin and children’s Tylenol for her baby who had conjunctivitis and an ear infection. She spent hours on the phone calling pharmacies. Finally, after a whole lot of back and forth with pharmacists and the doctor’s office, she called me triumphant. She scored the needed drugs!

Going back to my travails with keeping my mother’s supply of medications.: another issue is, not surprisingly, insurance coverage. I am told that her sensor (Mom has diabetes and finger sticks are just not practical anymore) is not covered by Medicare. Then when the drugstore receives the prescription for it, perhaps reasonably, doesn’t fill it (figuring the patient will likely want an alternative that is covered) and sends an email to the doctor letting her know. Eventually I get informed, and I tell them, just fill it. This happens every month. I believe that the sensor probably could be covered but I would need to appeal the decision and go through the hoops and loops. And they’d probably make me do it every time! I think they are counting on wearing me out – and they have been successful. I don’t want to go down that rabbit hole; I just pay for it. Fortunately, it isn’t crazy expensive.

There are so many layers to this. Sometimes I think systems are deliberately set up to not serve us. Or perhaps, as drugstores and doctors’ offices are bought up by corporate entities, the systems are designed, and the decisions are made too far away from where the service is delivered. Something is lost. When entities were smaller, they could be more responsive. Maybe that accounts for some of the loss in customer service.

Or maybe things aren’t actually that different. As I consider this, I wonder if I’m just an old fogey. People are people, after all. What do you think?

Self-Care: Filling Your Cup

Last week’s blog entry that I entitled Self-Care drew some interesting comments that got me thinking. Gary, my husband, who is also a doctor, pointed out that taking care of oneself was a good investment of time and energy. A number of the things that I identified as self-care were doctor recommendations. I can see his perspective. Rather than resenting the time it takes to do the physical therapy or whatever it is that has been prescribed, one could look at it positively. Time spent making yourself healthier, perhaps pain-free, or with improved mental health, is a good use of one’s time and better than a lot of alternatives. Once again, reframing something has its benefits.

I also received useful feedback from Leah, my daughter. She argued that activities I was including in self-care didn’t necessarily belong there. She suggested that self-care can be thought of as activities that ‘fill your cup;’ things that restore your spirit. I like that notion. While I didn’t specifically list brushing my teeth as part of my self-care routine, it was included as part of what I do to get ready in the morning. I don’t think that should really count as self-care, except in the broadest sense. It is necessary to preserve my dental health but doesn’t do much to restore my spirit. Although, replacing morning breath with minty-fresh breath is a big improvement – I think I’m getting too far into the weeds here. It is safe to say I am over-analyzing this.

Back to the main point: Even if I take a broader view of self-care than the one Leah offered, I like the exercise of thinking about what is restorative. It is helpful to be mindful of the activities that energize us because when we do have a bit of time to spare, we can make a good choice as to how to spend it. Sometimes I take the path of least resistance – turn on the television and vegetate. There is a role for that, occasionally. But, more often than not, spending time on the couch watching something mindless is enervating. I feel worse, not better, afterwards.

What does make me feel better or more full? First and foremost, spending time with my children and grandchildren. Sometimes that isn’t possible so making a plan, having something on the calendar, so that I know when I will see them is wonderful. It doesn’t have to be complicated – we don’t need to be doing anything special – actually the less hectic the day, the better. A couple of weeks ago, our son’s family visited, and we went to the playground, came back and hung out. Our granddaughter set up an obstacle course on the living room floor (it involved navigating a path through pretend lava – paper – and hopping over pretend rocks – crayons) and we took turns. She is four years old and she delighted in first showing us what to do, then telling us if we were successful. I loved it. What better way to spend time?

Another thing I find energizing is travel. While it is fabulous to take trips overseas or to cities or landmarks in the United States, again, it doesn’t have to be that elaborate. I’m happy to explore the hilltowns a few miles away, or take a ride in the Catskills. Anything new is interesting to me and if we can find some natural beauty, a lake, some mountain views, all the better. I am happy just to take in the scenery. Of course, I wouldn’t turn down a trip to Paris or the Canadian Rockies, but clearly those are rare. The trip we took last fall to the national parks in Utah and Santa Fe was sustaining. I look at the pictures every so often and it brings back the exhilaration of seeing those beautiful places. Being in nature is the best way to restore my equilibrium. When my dad was in the hospital in Florida, and he was terminally ill, I either went to sit by the ocean for a few minutes or walked in the bird sanctuary most days and just breathed. If I hadn’t done that, I don’t know how I would have coped.

Reading, particularly a good novel, makes the cut as self-care, too. Not all my reading experiences, though, fall into this category. I have read stories that annoyed me. Why I stayed with the book is a reasonable question, but sometimes even when the main character is exasperating, I still want to find out what happens. Also, if I am reading non-fiction, it can be challenging to find the right balance between what is stimulating to learn about and what is so disturbing that I have to close the book for a while before continuing. Reading anything about the Trump administration would not fill my cup! I guess reading can be a bit complicated.

I can’t leave this topic without also mentioning art museums – I love them! They can be small, like the Fenimore in Cooperstown or Albany’s own Museum of History and Art, or huge like the Metropolitan in NYC, I find looking at the art in relatively calm, quiet spaces to be relaxing and energizing at the same time. Add an outdoor sculpture garden and I am in my element. I don’t even have to love the art itself, though if I can find a few pieces that speak to me that’s all the better. Walking through rooms where the focus is on what people have created and taking it in, is delightful. I think some people may get hung up on thinking they are missing something if they don’t ‘get it.’ I try not to worry about that – I just like looking and generally will find something that is either just interesting or moving.

As I consider this, I realize that I don’t find spa treatments all that fulfilling. The idea of it is more appealing than the actual experience. I like the end result of a pedicure or manicure, but the process just doesn’t do it for me. On the rare occasion where I have gone with a friend or with Leah, I have enjoyed it much more, but otherwise I would rather take a nice walk.

What do you find restorative? Have you thought about it? We might be making certain assumptions about what fills our cup based on popular culture and it may not really work for us.  It would be great if readers would share.

From a local winter walk in the woods – Five Rivers
From a local walk in the woods this past Fall – Thacher Park

Self-Care

If I spent all my time taking care of myself, following all the doctors’ directions, therapists’ advice, self-help manuals, I wouldn’t have time to actually DO anything! And I am a retired person and my children are adults who are living on their own. If I had a full-time job and young children, it would be nearly impossible.

Since last May I have been dealing with chronic hoarseness. After a number of exams and scoping of my vocal cords, I was referred for speech therapy. Fortunately, that testing didn’t find any growths, but noted a combination of the effects of reflux and muscle compression. The speech therapist did a thorough evaluation and recommended vocal exercises. She also gave me papers with foods to avoid (two pages worth) and foods that are encouraged (a small list). I also received some stretches to focus on loosening the neck muscles. I am supposed to do the stretching and vocal exercises 3 to 5 times per day. The protocol takes about 5 to 7 minutes. So far, I have been managing to do it twice a day and feel pretty damn proud of myself.

Another part of the routine recommended by the ENT, to help with congestion, is to use a netti pot and saline spray. I do the nasal rinse once a day and the spray twice. These take another 5 minutes. I’m also supposed to use a humidifier. Setting that up and taking it apart each day is another 5 minutes.

All of the stuff to try and deal with these throat and ear difficulties add up to at about 45 minutes each day.

In theory, these are the other parts of my self-care routine:

  • Waking up – brush teeth, take daily pills, wash face, comb hair – 10 minutes
  • Make the bed – several advice gurus stress the importance of starting the day by making the bed – I subscribe to that idea – 3 minutes
  • Exercise (at least 20 minutes but I actually do 35 either walking outside or on the treadmill) – if it is vigorous enough, it requires showering after, so add another 20 minutes. I am quick in the shower, so 25 minutes allows for getting dressed, too. I also play tennis once or twice every other week, each time 90 minutes (add another hour for driving to and from the courts).
  • Meditation – 10 minutes
  • Shower or bath – if I haven’t exercised and showered, then I will do that and take more time with it – more like a half hour
  • Moisturizing – face, skin, nails – 10 minutes
  • Journaling/affirmations/gratitude journal – 15 minutes (at least)
  • Eating healthy meals (with preparation) – I don’t know how long, but way longer than grabbing fast food. For three meals, it has to be at least 2 hours each day, including the time to eat and clean up.
  • Getting enough sleep  – 8 hours

Some of the things on the list above are aspirational.

I can’t accurately add up the time for those activities because it is so variable, but it is a large chunk of the 24 hours. And, again, that is as a retired person who only takes 10 minutes to get ready in the morning! Most people take longer. I wear no make-up. I don’t do anything special with my hair. I spend next to no time picking out clothing. All of those things could be part of a person’s self-care regime, requiring more time and attention.

My exercise routine is minimalist – better than nothing, but not the amount of time a truly fit person devotes to working out. For someone like, let’s say Jennifer Aniston, it is a full-time job to look like she does. Not that I would choose her as a role model. I don’t make a living on my looks and never did. Unfortunately, though, we live in a world where we set up unreasonable expectations of what we should look like, but the vast majority of us can’t take that much time to nurture ourselves.

Many people face other types of health challenges that require more daily attention. I’m very lucky. Other than this annoying thing with my voice, and the usual minor aches and pains that come with age, I am healthy. In the past I have had occasion to go for physical therapy (for a frozen shoulder or a tweaked back) and there were stretching exercises prescribed. Those kinds of regimens can be hard to stay faithful to.

So, what is my point? First, that doctors and therapists of all sorts need to be realistic and work with folks to figure out a program that can be followed. Second, we need to be honest with ourselves – what are we willing to do? What do we have time to do? Do we believe in the regime that is being prescribed? Lastly, let’s not expect perfection. There’s nothing good about beating ourselves up over falling short of our goals – that can lead us to spiraling into negativity and being more self-destructive.

I want to be able to sing to my grandchildren – that is my main motivation for working on my voice. That and I don’t want to annoy people with my constant rasp. My throat doesn’t hurt, my voice just sounds bad. In a more general way, I want to be proactive about my chronic congestion to help lessen the number of sinus/ear infections I get and preserve my hearing. I will try to stick to the program, but I will also try to follow my own advice. I beat myself up enough about all kinds of things. I don’t need to add this to the list.

Other aspects of self-care: relaxing, reading a book, drinking coffee and spending time with my kitties-now kitty 😦

Alive in the World

Yesterday we drove through the Berkshires on the way home from visiting our daughter. The oranges, reds and yellows of autumn were on full display. I selected Jackson Browne’s Solo Acoustic Album 2 as the soundtrack for our ride. The song “Alive in the World” came on. I looked at the magnificent scenery as the song played and I decided I needed to listen to it again. “Do you mind if I replay that?” I asked Gary, who was behind the wheel. “Go for it.”

Here are the lyrics:

I want to live in the world, not inside my head
I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted
With the hopeful and the willing
With the open and the strong
With the voices in the darkness
Fashioning daylight out of song
And the millions of lovers
Alive in the world

I want to live in the world, not behind some wall
I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call
To the prisoner inside me
To the captive of my doubt
Who among his fantasies harbors the dream of breaking out
And taking his chances
Alive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

With its beauty and its cruelty
With its heartbreak and its joy
With it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy
And the infinite power of change
Alive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world

If you would like to listen to it, here is a link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8T4JwA4OIio

The song resonates with me – I have always liked it. I could have written the first two lines, or perhaps they were written for me. But the whole song is right on point. “With its beauty and its cruelty, with its heartbreak and its joy, with it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy, and the infinite power of change, alive in the world.” What a perfect description of this thing called life.

Having spent two days holding our four-month old granddaughter, a bundle of light and joy, the lyric brought tears to my eyes – and it does as I write this. I need to believe in the infinite power of change alive in the world.

I wake up this Monday morning not feeling particularly hopeful, but I am replaying the song and holding on to that thought as we face the absurdity of Kanye, Elon and Trump (the list of threats could go on and on). I renew my request from last week, please vote, please make your voice heard. Let’s elevate Jackson Browne’s message, not theirs.

I Can Solve NOTHING

Note: I wrote the following in a fit of frustration, anxiety and sadness two weeks ago. Some things have changed since then (some things haven’t), but I thought it was still worth sharing as a snapshot of my state of mind that others might relate to.

I can solve NOTHING!

I can’t get the handle on the fireplace damper fixed or replaced.

To be more precise, the company hasn’t called back to offer any solutions.

I can’t get a spare tire or ‘donut’ in case of a flat tire.

To be more precise, if I get a spare it will take up the whole trunk.

Not a good option.

Donuts are difficult to find. I can get a used one shipped from Arizona or California for a lot of money.

The Honda dealership offers no options or solutions.

I went to AutoZone and a helpful man showed me the tire sealant he recommends. I bought it and threw it in my trunk.

I will keep my AAA membership – I’ve been getting good use of it these past two months.

I will pray that if I get a flat, I’m in cell phone range.

I can’t get a memorial stone for Aunt Clair.

She wanted a footstone placed at her mother’s grave, though she herself chose to be cremated.

It comforted her to think of it.

I ordered one and paid for it immediately after she died six months ago.

After many emails and layers of approval, from the burial society and the cemetery,

After mock-ups back and forth,

The dates are wrong on the latest one.

Must it be so difficult?

Is it time for Plan B? What is Plan B?

I have an idea,

But it doesn’t have Aunt Clair’s seal of approval.

I may have to live with that.

I’ll give it one more shot with the monument company, then we move on.

I can’t get my mother’s insulin regimen straight.

Her doctor rarely responds to my calls or emails.

I placed another call this morning.

Fortunately, Mom is getting her insulin

Though her glucose is not well controlled.

Ironic given that I am married to an endocrinologist.

It is not his fault, nor can he manage this in a day-to-day way

For many reasons.

Sigh.

I can’t convince my granddaughter to make her entrance into the world.

She is 9 days late and counting.

I am grateful that all appears to be well with mom and baby,

But we are on pins and needles.

We are at loose ends.

Waiting

I know patience is a virtue

Sadly, I was not blessed with it.

Is this a test?

I can’t resolve my laryngitis.

A month into this

A course of steroids

Decongestants

Nasal spray

Allergy medication

Reflux medication

Cough medicine

After ten days, I can at least make sound, I can talk on the phone

So that is an improvement,

But, is this hoarseness permanent?

Of course, it could be worse.

It could be my grandchild gunned down in school.

It could be my friend murdered in a supermarket.

That is small comfort.

So much struggle

Can we hope for more than being grateful that we weren’t in the site of a gunman?

Update: There is some good news. There is hope for movement on gun safety legislation. It isn’t enough, it isn’t what I would want, but I am a pragmatist about public policy. Something is better than nothing and hopefully it can be built upon.

Our granddaughter did make her entrance into the world – the day after I wrote this she arrived. We are thankful and in love with the peanut.

I haven’t had to call AAA in the last two weeks – but I don’t want to jinx myself as I will be driving quite a bit over the next few weeks!

Aunt Clair’s monument is still unresolved, we are still struggling with Mom’s diabetes though she seems to be stable, and I am still hoarse. Of lesser importance, the damper on our fireplace is still not repaired – and the guy who said he would pave our driveway a month ago hasn’t been in touch. I figured I’d throw that in since that is another one of those things that feels out of my control.

Despite the remaining frustrations, I am in a much better frame of mind than when I wrote my screed of exasperation and anxiety, and for that I am grateful.

Strong Ties

When you have a group of friends, especially from college, there can be an ebb and flow to the connections. I was part of a group of four friends at SUNY-Binghamton that has remained connected for 46 years, from freshman year through graduation and the decades that followed. Wow! that is a number that is hard to fathom. Stretches of time pass without seeing each other, though social media has made it easier to keep tabs on one another, but when we gather again, we pick up where we left off. Alison, Dianne, Merle and I have all led very different lives since college but the essentials remain – our view of the world, our humor, our wish to see the best in each other are at the heart.

Most recently we gathered in Atlanta for a four-day visit. Sadly, the reason for our reunion was the death of Dianne’s husband after a grueling battle with pancreatic cancer. Dianne has lived in the Atlanta area since 1982, the rest of us remained in New York. Though our trip was prompted by her tragic loss, our time together included as many laughs as tears. There’s a Joni Mitchell lyric, “laughter and crying, you know it’s the same release” seems particularly apt. Our visit surely did not heal Dianne, a loss of that magnitude is too hard to process if it ever can be, though she is strong and resilient. Hopefully we provided comfort that she can draw on as she figures out her path forward.

The four of us bonded during freshmen orientation at SUNY-Binghamton. Alison and Dianne chose to room together, they were high school friends from Island Park, a working-class suburb on Long Island. Merle and I came from Canarsie (Brooklyn) and though we attended the same high school, we didn’t know each other well. Luckily, the four of us were assigned to the same dorm, Cayuga Hall. Many nights of drinking, dancing, studying, and talking – mostly talking – laughing and crying carried us through those four years.

Sometimes in friendships like ours there can be crosscurrents of tension where one person falls out with another or the dynamic shifts. That didn’t happen so much for us, at least not that I remember. Choices we made, classes, internships and jobs, may have separated us but the bond remained. We saw each other through break-ups, disappointments and achievements in those four years. It is kind of extraordinary that it was enough to sustain us for more than 40 years after we left college.

Some friendships are born of convenience, from work or your neighborhood, and when no longer convenient, they dissolve. Others stand the test of time. What is it that creates a stronger connection?

Scenes from Atlanta:

‘Learn-how-to-meditate-January’

I think the whole country, the entire U.S. of A., should take up meditation. I had this epiphany the other day after I finished the 20th of a 30-day class – each session is only 10 minutes –  offered through an app called Calm. I realize this is an impossibility on so many levels, but I’d like to make the case.

Much of the divisions in our country are caused by people feeling aggrieved. Some folks believe they are unseen or unheard by our government or by the rich and powerful. Some are bitter because of sour relationships. Others are angry because they think many in this country have been swallowed by a cult causing us to drift (speedily swim?) toward authoritarianism. Whatever the source of the grievance, I think the practice of meditation can help because it requires that you become more neutral, you need to adopt a stance of equanimity to sit quietly for ten minutes. I don’t mean to simplify something that is quite complex. Both the problems that have led so many to feel alienated/angry and the practice of meditation are complicated. But, they are simple, too.

Sitting quietly and breathing slowly and deeply for ten minutes each day is both the easiest thing in the world and the hardest. Quieting your mind, allowing emotions to flow through you but not possess you, takes practice. I am a novice, but I see the benefit of having done it for about a month (and, full disclosure, I missed some days during the month). Some people did a ‘dry January,’ I did a ‘how to meditate January.’

I was motivated to try this because during these last couple of years during the pandemic, I have found myself easily riled. I go from zero to sixty emotionally in seconds. I felt agitated much of the time. I read a headline and feel my stomach churn. I can’t say that my meditation practice has changed all of that, but there is noticeable improvement. I still get anxious at the prospect of taking Mom to the doctor, and I still feel my blood pressure start to rise when I read about Donald Trump’s latest rally, but I feel more in control. If it can do this for me, I can imagine what it would do for all the people out there who are living on the edge.

The practice allows you to acknowledge feelings that you might prefer to push down. Generally, I am pretty self-aware. I think for others who are not so blessed to be in touch with their emotions, it might be uncomfortable at first, but it would be a step in the right direction. When you don’t acknowledge what you are feeling it comes out in unexpected and unpleasant ways.

Another positive is that there are no religious aspects to meditation, unless one wanted there to be. I think it is harmonious with all faith traditions.

We are fixated with solving societal problems from the outside in – we enact new laws, fund programs, do research, require others to take action, and talk issues to death. Many of those steps, other than talking things to death, are admirable, and necessary. But, maybe, we need another approach as well. One that starts from the inside of each individual. Maybe if more people took 10 minutes a day to sit quietly and breathe deeply, there would be less hostility and better mental health. Just an idea.

I plan to extend my practice beyond ‘learn-how-to-meditate’ January.

Words of Comfort

Once again, the Covid pandemic is on my mind. Aside from wearying of the limitations it has placed on my life, it feels like the virus is closing in on me. It feels unavoidable. It has hit close to home as family members and friends have been diagnosed in recent weeks. While omicron seems to be less deadly than prior variants and results in less serious illness, it is still no joke.  And, until we are over the peak and on the other side, we don’t really know its impact.

People continue to make different choices in how they cope with the pandemic. Some reasonable folks have concluded that, while wearing masks in public spaces, they are resuming activities and living their lives. My husband is not comfortable with that approach, perhaps as a physician who is in the office seeing patients every day, he thinks the risk is too high until we clearly pass the peak of this surge. He goes to work masked and goggled, washing and sterilizing his hands relentlessly, but then declines most social activities. He would like me to make the same choice. For the most part I have, refraining from most things except I continue to play tennis once every other week. Since I am not working and we are now in the depth of winter, my life is quite limited. It leaves too much time to think, too much time to worry.

In the midst of my angst, I read some helpful words in the form of a poem that came across my Facebook feed:

I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; it already did, and I survived.

I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; the time is always now.

I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.

I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance in a holy circle.

Author: Mary Anne Perrone

The above lines are part of a longer piece, but these were words I needed to read right now. I’m not so sure about that last phrase – I don’t dance in a holy circle (I’m not sure I even understand what she means by that), but the idea that I don’t need recognition to find value in what I create is a thought I need to be reminded of. The belief that I am enough is something I continue to work on.

The first lines of this piece speak to the major challenge posed by the pandemic – the fear that the other shoe will drop. What am I worried about? The health of the ones I love. I want to know that family members who have Covid or another a health scare are okay, that they will recover quickly and suffer no ill effect. Unfortunately, I can’t know that.

Worry can always be around the corner. If I allow it, it can rule my life. I find comfort in those lines above – the shoe has dropped – at times. It is true that the worst has not happened – I am still here, as are Gary and my children, thankfully – but bad things have occurred, and I have survived. I have managed.

The other day I had a long conversation with a friend who is battling colon cancer. Her husband took the diagnosis hard, understandably. It is scary, though her prognosis is good. Her husband was depressed and after a time she confronted him, saying that she needed him to stop being so down, she needed a more positive attitude. He confessed that he was terrified of losing her. She reminded him that she is here now. When something scary and unknown hangs over you it is hard to be in the present.

Though I am not faced with the same situation as my friend, I related to the challenge they faced. The meditation app I started using a few weeks ago offered helpful insight into the scenario where you might imagine the worst. During one of the exercises, the guide pointed out that thoughts are not reality – thinking something doesn’t make it so. Worrying about future health complications has little to do with the reality of the here and now. It is easy to go down the rabbit hole of ‘what if,’ but it leads nowhere and accomplishes nothing. We can’t put our head in the sand, we need to plan when we have real information about what the future holds, but we can’t live in anticipation of the worst. It is a choice we can make. I can control my thoughts. What a revolutionary idea! It doesn’t come easy to me, but it is empowering to realize that I can redirect my mental energy.

I don’t think I used to have to work so hard to quell the worry. I didn’t worry so much before. Why am I now?

Maybe being inundated with bad news – people losing their homes to fire, people dying of Covid, a friend losing her husband to pancreatic cancer – has made it harder to cope. Bad things were always happening and will always happen. I think social media heightens the sense of disaster all around us. Did they always report when a retired third string quarterback for an obscure NFL team died? My Twitter and Facebook feed is filled with those stories. When someone as famous as Betty White died in the past, of course it made the news. But now it is hard to know what to do with all this information, especially all the losses. How can we process these deaths (whether related to Covid or not)? It is hard not to be overwhelmed.

Some periods of time seem more perilous than others. This is one of those times. I want to put the people I love in a bubble. But I can’t, nor would they want to live there. I need instead to focus on the joys, the beauty and the love today.

Serenity now! View from a walk at Five Rivers – another coping-with-the-pandemic strategy

What a Weekend!

What a weekend! The wedding weekend is now a full week behind us, and I have been on a roller coaster of emotions. From worrying about everything coming together beforehand, to deep satisfaction watching Leah and Ben having fun with their friends, to laughing with delight at our granddaughter’s performance as flower girl, and back to worrying about the Covid surge and what it might mean for our guests – it has been quite a ride. Frankly I am ready to get off the ride already, it is exhausting. Will I ever feel like life is normal? It is hard to imagine.

The three-day extravaganza in Troy, New York – the welcome dinner on Friday night, the wedding itself Saturday late afternoon and the Sunday brunch – could not have gone better. People came ready to celebrate. It was the first time for many of us (about 120) to gather and we made the most of it. One of the highlights for me was watching Leah and Ben’s eclectic group of friends cutting up the dance floor. The DJ did a great job of keeping the beat going. The dance floor was filled with guests of every age – it is funny that the music of the ‘60s and ‘70s transcends time. Everyone was boogeying and singing along, including me.

But the true verdict on the ‘success’ of the event won’t be known for another week when we see whether any of us or our guests got Covid. That is an unfortunate caveat. So far, we know of one guest who tested positive this past week after feeling symptoms on Tuesday – it is not clear that they were exposed at the wedding. I don’t want to make the wedding about Covid, but it can’t be avoided. I find it hard to reconcile the joy of the gathering with the risk of illness, potentially serious illness.

The weekend was about love – celebrating the love of our daughter and son-in-law for each other, and the love that family and friends have for them. But the specter of Covid hangs over our heads.

We took every step we could think of to ensure that we created as safe an environment as possible. We asked all attendees to provide proof of vaccination – and they did. We asked everyone to take a PCR test within 72 hours of coming to the wedding. We believe people did that, too. We made sure staff at the venue was vaccinated and masked. And, finally, we provided rapid tests to use on the day of the celebration. Gary and I took our rapid test in the hotel room before leaving for the rehearsal dinner – both of us were relieved to be negative.

All those measures still don’t guarantee that there won’t be breakthroughs, especially with the new Omicron variant and the recent spike. We will wait another week to see what happens. As of my writing this, Leah, Ben, Gary, our son Dan, daughter-in-law Beth and I have all taken tests and we have all been negative. Gary and I took a PCR test on Saturday morning, and we learned last night (Sunday) that we were negative again. Phew….

We live in such a strange time. We started planning the wedding two years ago, before the pandemic, when Leah and Ben got engaged. At the time we thought we’d have a large party – between the bride and groom’s friends and families, there were many we wanted to include. As the reality of Covid set in, we made adjustment after adjustment. Eventually we realized that we had to postpone the party – the kids did get married on the original date (December 12, 2020) and we had a total of 12 people present – just the immediate family. I wrote about that weekend here. It was lovely, and we made the best of it, but it wasn’t what we envisioned.

As time passed and things improved, with vaccinations and treatments, Leah and Ben decided to go forward with the original party plan. We, their parents, were happy to do it. The journey since then has included many ups and downs. We reevaluated regularly and kept adding procedures to try to protect everyone. There were many phone calls and long deliberations – we kept fine-tuning the protocol. But nothing is fail-safe.

At different points the worry became nearly overwhelming. Friday night, after our successful welcome dinner at the Arts Center, I lay down exhausted in our hotel room. I couldn’t sleep. I worried, my brain flitted from one disastrous scenario to another. Worry is a useless emotion! There was nothing productive to do. I tossed and turned and eventually dawn arrived. Not surprisingly, it was pouring. Rain is a good omen, right?

Fortunately, morning brought things to do, places to go and people to see. The rain subsided. The moment of truth arrived – the official gathering began. I stopped worrying and stayed present.

The venue, Revolution Hall in Troy, New York, has a beautiful bridal suite. We stocked it with snacks and bottled water. While Leah got her hair and make-up done, friends and family stopped by to chat. I took it all in, watching everyone shower Leah with warmth and affection, sharing stories and laughing. One of the pleasures of being a parent is seeing your children’s lives unfold – the partners they choose, the friendships they cultivate. I like my kids’ friends – they are smart, thoughtful, and kind people. I probably enjoyed the time in the bridal suite as much as Leah did!

Troy turned out to be a fine location – with hotels and other amenities in close proximity to the wedding venue which meant a minimal amount of driving. As I was out and about in the unseasonably warm weather running errands and dropping things off, I took note of my surroundings (also an effort to settle my nerves). Troy, settled in 1787, has a rich history and its architecture reflects that. I took some pictures for posterity (and the blog).

Upper left: Troy is the home of Uncle Sam – a sculpture of him greets passersby

Upper right and lower right: examples of murals

Lower left: Collar City Bridge spanning the Hudson River – One of Troy’s nicknames, it was the home of a shirt-collar industry a century ago.

Left middle: a view from downtown toward RPI (Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute)

Before I knew it, the weekend was over. After all that had gone into it, our guests left town, and Gary and I began to process it all.

In trying to reconcile the fear that is part of our lives today (not just Covid, but the divisions in our country, the threats to our environment, the rolling back of the reproductive rights of women, the doubts about our future) and the desire to celebrate a joyous occasion, I thought about the challenges faced by generations that came before. I thought about my grandparents having children in the depths of the Great Depression. I thought about my in-laws telling us about a wedding performed while they struggled to survive in the Ivye ghetto during the Holocaust. I’m not suggesting that the challenges we face today are the same as those, but we are in a difficult time. I am calling upon the strength and optimism of our ancestors to see me through this. They did not allow the fear to get the better of them.

Over the last year, as we planned the wedding weekend, I wondered if we were doing the right thing. Would it be worth it if even one person got sick? We decided to move forward – to try to minimize the risk, but to not let Covid define our lives. I think, like our ancestors, we affirmed life and love. I will live with that choice (and I will keep my fingers crossed that our one guest who has Covid recovers quickly and completely and that no one else gets sick).

Compassion Anyone?

A flash of insight can come at the most unexpected time. I was driving to my poetry group on Saturday and I was thinking about why I was so agitated that morning.  Why was I feeling so ‘judgy’ of others? I suddenly understood something that maybe should have been obvious, but somehow wasn’t.

            Here is what I understood: If I don’t feel the emotion that the person is sharing, I am prone to judging them. If I can feel, really feel, the emotion, I am less judgmental.

            I think of myself as an empathic person. When someone shares their troubles with me, I usually feel their pain or frustration. Sometimes too much. However, there are instances where I don’t, especially these days. I was attributing that to being spread too thin and my general sense of frustration with the state of the world. It occurs to me, though, that isn’t the complete story. I have been ‘judgy’ before the pandemic.

            When a friend or relative is sharing something I can relate to, perhaps have experienced myself, I am able to recall the emotion readily. The disappointment or sadness or anger comes flooding in. When that person shares an experience or feeling foreign to me, that’s when I am predisposed to judgement. If I can’t connect their reaction to my own, I am left to intellectualize – then judgement can follow.

            I may not express it– I usually know enough to keep those thoughts to myself. But I stew in it. I’ve been stewing a lot lately. I won’t say to the person that I think they are wrong or over-reacting, but it is what I am thinking. My powers of empathy are more limited than I care to admit. Sitting in judgment doesn’t feel good, though. I don’t want to be a harsh appraiser, especially of those I love. Plus, I think it is counterproductive. Even if I don’t outwardly express it, it creates distance, or it may leak out in other destructive ways.

            Thinking about this as I was driving, the ‘aha’ moment hit me: maybe if I can’t feel what the person feels, there is another path to empathy. What if I imagine what it feels like to be that person? Not through the prism of my experience, but through theirs. So, if a person is expressing their terror of getting Covid, something I don’t feel to that degree, rather than thinking about whether they are justified and thereby trying to convince them they shouldn’t be so afraid, focus on what it feels like to be terrified. Being terrified is an awful state of mind – I can empathize with that irrespective of the cause. During the conversation, I may share some information that I hope allays their fear, but it would be delivered from a place of compassion, rather than judgment.

            Maybe the divisions among us would be helped if we tried to understand the emotion first, acknowledge and connect to it. Maybe if we named the other person’s feeling – fear, anger, hopelessness – and remembered what that emotion feels like even if it was in a different context– we could start a more fruitful conversation.

            For example, anxiety is something I have experienced, but I have had only one panic attack and that happened when I was an adolescent. Others experience panic as a regular expression of their anxiety. And, I may not be set off by the same triggers, nor have the same physical reaction, but I still know how horrible it is to feel panicky.

            My anxiety manifests in rumination, as I wrote about last week. But, even at the worst of times when I was living in my head, I was functional. Not as productive as I wanted to be, but I wasn’t paralyzed. If someone was to share their experience of ruminating, I would reflect on my own. If they were so tied up in knots that they couldn’t get out of bed, I would feel sorry for them but wonder why they couldn’t manage to get it together. While listening, it might instead be more helpful to imagine myself in my bed so overwhelmed that I can’t get up– how terrible would that feel?  – rather than thinking about whether I would react in the same way as my friend did.

            Maybe we can’t help but see things through the prism of our experience, but it is too limiting. This might be one way to be more open to others.

            I wish I could report, having had this insight, that I was free of judgment the rest of the weekend. It probably isn’t reasonable, or even desirable, to suspend all judgment. There are times when it is appropriate to criticize. Sometimes a person is so dug into their emotional state that they have lost all perspective. A compassionate loved one can offer another view. It likely won’t be well-received if it is delivered in a judgmental tone – the compassion is key. The problem is sometimes I don’t feel much compassion and that is the point of this whole essay. How do I find the compassion?

            It takes some work to locate it and I have to be willing to put in the effort. Yesterday, once again in the car, I passed two lawn signs that got me angry – a kneejerk judgment. Having had the insight the day before, I tried to test my ability to find compassion.

            The first sign read “Fuck Biden.” Great way to advertise your politics! Why would I want to have compassion for someone, why would I want to try to understand someone, who puts up a sign like that? They are entitled to their view, but in putting it out there like that, it invites anger. Should I do the work to look beyond that, to understand their rage? That is a big ask. The answer, for me, was no, no compassion. I stayed angry. My anger met theirs, metaphorically.

            The second lawn sign demanded “Unmask our children now!” My first reaction to it was to mumble ‘asshole’ to myself (actually Gary was driving and I had to explain I wasn’t calling him that). This one was easier to swallow. I could envision having a conversation. Though I am not a parent of a school-age child (I am a grandparent of a preschooler), I can imagine the frustration of dealing with the pandemic and the desire for my child to go back to ‘normalcy.’ It is unlikely that I would come to a meeting of the minds with the parent with that lawn sign, but the starting point wasn’t as hostile. As I mulled it over, my stomach muscles unclenched a bit. I would call it a semi-successful effort to find compassion.

            These two examples aren’t quite the same thing as listening to a friend or family member express something I don’t feel, but there are parallels. My goal is to walk around holding less hostility in my gut. Does my suggestion hold any water for you? If you have other ideas for how to do that, I’m all ears.