We spent most of the month of May traveling. First, we went to Israel, for the wedding of one of my dearest friends. It is a long trip from the East Coast to Israel, but we were so happy to go, and see our friend, and attend this happiest of events. Yes, we were quite jet lagged, though we barely had a chance to feel it, as we were so busy. We had a wonderful time, from the bachelorette party to the wedding to the post-wedding breakfast. Then it was on to Jerusalem, which was awe-inspiring.
I had attended funerals before. I am a middle-aged woman, and death, as they say, is a part of life. Ten years ago, when my husband's father passed away, we went to his memorial service in Germany. It was complicated -- long days of travel by family members from around the world, language barriers, jet-lag. When I was in my early 30s, I attended my grandmother's funeral. My mother was so sad. I remember her telling me, quietly, how she was an orphan now.
My father's funeral was
My mother had been calling fairly regularly to update us on my father's status. I knew things were grim. I knew it was the end. One day, she called and asked me to talk to him, to tell him that I was happy, that I was going to be OK. So, even though he couldn't understand, I did exactly that. I told him he had been a wonderful father. I told him I loved him so very much. I told him my husband and I are very happy, and we would take care of my mother (or try to, anyhow -- my mother is a stu
I spoke to my JCC last night. It went well enough, I suppose. I lost weight, which is the focus of it all. But the truth is, she sounds as if she is on some kind of a script. Here I am, reminding her (she had clearly, clearly forgotten) how I had gone down to see my father in the hospital last week. How he was dying. How I had to say good-bye. I told her I went off-program for six days. She glossed over all of that; it just was not in her notes and she did not know how to respond. I tol
Everything is a mess. On Friday evening, while my father was still hospitalized, not stable, and, well, dying, I flew back home to NYC from the Caribbean. I knew there was little more I could do for him. I had said my good-byes. Played his favorite music for him on my iPhone. Had long conversations with him about everything and nothing in particular. His condition was not improving, not getting worse, and I knew, in my heart, it was time to go.
When I weighed in on Saturday mor
I went to see my father a week ago. Flew back home on Friday night. How do I describe it? He was lying in a hospital bed. There is not much left of him. His face is sunken in; his arms and legs look like twigs, his ribs and vertebrae protrude through his skin. He had pneumonia, a kidney infection, and a systemic infection. Two different antibiotics were being given to him intravenously. He had not been conscious for months. Nutrition was being administered intravenously. After several
I got a call this morning letting me know that my father had been hospitalized. It was not a surprise, really. He has been ill for a long time. Years. I have been coping with living far away from a father I adore and admire. One who is slowly fading away. For many years. It never gets easier to receive that early morning phone call letting me know that he is, once again, in the hospital.
My first instinct is to drop everything, to get on the first plane, to see him, to be wi
The phone rang early this morning. I hate it when that happens. When the phone rings early in the morning, it is either telemarketers or bad news in the family. Either way, brace yourself, right? It turned out to be bad news in my extended family. Not a death or anything like that, but something stressful and unpleasant (forgive the vagueness, but it is personal to someone else, and I want to respect their privacy). It upset me quite a but (and will place some level of stress and burden up
There is nothing like sitting down to a nice table setting: a hard mat (much easier to keep clean: you wipe it down after each meal and voila), a napkin, a nice set of flatware, your water in crystal (why wait for company?), a colorful meal nicely plated. The trouble when you are trying to do a plan like Jenny, which focuses not only on healthy ingredients but on portion control, is that the size of today's dinner plates is huge. So today I decided: I am serving myself on salad plates. They a
I'm scared, excited. It's a big day. When I did Jenny last time, I had this DVD/CD set "Touchstones for Success." I couldn't find it, so I ordered it off Amazon. I started listening to it again today (it even came with the little pouch filled with touchstones -- cute!). Things like becoming the compassionate observer (not being self-critical and overly restrictive when it comes to weight loss, and moving instead to an affirming, compassionate POV) and finding internal sources of motivation
I overslept today, and woke up with a monster migraine. This happens when I oversleep. And when there are changes in the weather patterns. Today, both things converged, and . . . hellooo migraine!!!! I took my pain med, which did nothing for me. So I ate a donut. An artisanal, much too sweet donut, covered with dark chocolate and filled with Nutella. I scarfed it down, and I feel sick now. It also did nothing for my migraine, of course. So then I had to go for the big guns of migraine m
Ten years ago, I was a little heavier. Well, no, I was a lot heavier. I was the heaviest I had ever been. At 4'11" and over 125 lbs., I was seriously overweight, and I needed to make some changes. I had tried WW, dieting on my own, starving myself. The pounds kept creeping up. Finally, I joined Jenny Craig. I won't say that the weight came off magically or anything. But it came off, slowly, at first. Then more quickly. Exercise helped. I hit my first goal. Then, I hit my second goal.