Of Coats & Woodstock

This is a picture of MyKid fooling around in my down winter coat. I've had this coat since before MyKid was born. In fact, as I've often related to him, when he was a baby I carried him around in a BabyBjorn while wearing this coat.

MyKid is now 11. Seeing him in this coat, I suddenly realized I've lived my entire adult life at the height of an 11-year old boy.

It's a sobering thought. I could riff for pages on what it's like to be the shortest kid in the class, the shortest woman in an office, and then the shortest oldest woman in an office. What I can't do, however, is tell you how many times people haven't seen me in a line, or in the subway, because I disappear behind much taller people.

I think it's part of the reason I felt so at home in Jerusalem. My height was just not that unusual there. (I also feel comfy on the Canal Street subway station in Manhattan, for the same reason.)

I guess this is just a time that I'm taking stock and trying to figure out where I will fit in in the work world, when I finally return.

One last note -- if you're of a certain age, or you ever visited/lived in the Catskills, you must see Ang Lee's movie, Taking Woodstock. It's a joy. Lee is such a talented director; he totally "got" the time and the place.

You'll be awash in nostalgia and cry for our loss of innocence. Sorry, let me restate that. What I meant by that pathetically inadequate and hopelessly trite sentence was: the movie brilliantly represents a time and a mood that some of you might recognize. Watching it, I felt sad for how innocent we were then and for the youthful optimism we lost, and how we lost it.

I remember listening to older people speak about things and wonder what they might have experienced in life that enabled them to understand life so much better than I did. What had made the world so much more transparent for them? Then, I seemed to understand so little of what was happening around me; I was clueless about how people operate and think.

Experience and T-I-M-E changed all that.

T-I-M-E

Amazing things can happen in even the most ordinary of lives.


A family-related business deal of MyMan's recently fell though. Yet, within a few days, a former agent at MyMan's firm resurfaced and is now helping to regenerate MyMan's business.


MyMan has been looking at the negative side of things, of late. Suddenly, last night he got a phone call asking him to participate in an early morning minyan. One of our synagogue members is saying Kaddish for his beloved son. Not feeling too well and sidelined with a bad cold, MyMan still raced out early this a.m. to participate in the 6:15 prayer service. Sometimes being asked to do a good deed for another person really takes you out of yourself and puts everything else in perspective.


The title of this blog, T-I-M-E refers to a story MyMan told me when we were first dating. When his first marriage broke up, he had a friend in whom he confided. The friend said that the only thing that will help get past the pain is T-I-M-E (which he spelled out for him).



You just have to see things through and believe things will get better. And you know what? Sometimes, just sometimes they actually do!

See Me Now!

Did I mention I was losing my hair? This has been going on since November. Not clumps, but strands. After every shampoo there's a big shmooshy mound of hair at the drain. I can even see my scalp now, which I barely could before.

GoodFriend suggested I take the issue to a dermatologist. I went earlier this week and should get blood test results back by Friday.

Hopefully the tests will confirm what the doctor suspects: weaning off both prednisone and an anti-depressant may be the cause.

So, BOOP and prednisone are still causing me to examine my body and my relationship with it.

Before I was sick and before I took prednisone, I had a different attitude toward my body and my ailments. I didn't want pictures taken of me because I was embarrassed about how overweight I was.

Prednisone taught me how to accept and work with the body I have. The sickness led to yoga which is teaching me every day that my body is still alive, still breathes and still, despite my age, can become more supple.

Prednisone taught me that everything is relevant. After seeing photos of myself from the summer, at the height of my "moon-face-ness," to me I look gorgeous now. I can accept the signs of aging a little bit easier.

Interestingly, folks at synagogue have stopped by over past few weeks to tell me again, and again how "great" I look. I know they really mean the bloating is gone, but as MyMan pointed out (he was reading my very thoughts at the time), they probably never "saw" me before I was sick. (He's so smart! He's also funny, but that's another story.)

When I became bloated it was sudden and our friends and acquaintances hadn't captured a memory of how I looked as a "regular" person. Now that the bloating is gone, they're actually seeing me for the first time.

Embracing how I look now has also led to embracing my age, and accepting the limitations that come with it. I don't know how one led to the other. Perhaps examining myself honestly in the mirror has led to this. My age and my appearance will be real issues as I begin to plan to head back to work in the coming months.

Speaking of work, or as Maynard G. Krebs used to say, "Work???," I plan to report on my search for a new professional path, in coming blogs, as well as:

• a viral rumor and how it swirled around us, and
• herbs and liver (really).

Adios for now & Happy Birthday of the Trees!

A Great Lot of Religion and G*d

It has been quite a week for issues of religion and belief.

As we watched the reports from Haiti, MyMan and I were both moved by one story in particular. Apparently, at night, survivors gather near the locations of their now-ruined churches -- survivors who have no water, no food, nothing -- and they sing hymns to G*d. It's a stunning thought that despite everything, their spirits are not crushed; that they can come together to praise G*d.

Even our Rabbi says it is belief in G*d that keeps them alive, sustains them.

Meanwhile, a young man performing his regular Jewish prayers on a domestic flight in the U.S. was arrested and his plane diverted. Apparently, shaken-up flight attendants fearful of an in-air terrorist attack and also unacquainted with Jewish ritual phylacteries (aka tefillin), thought the little box might contain explosives and the leather bands were actually wires.

The story would be strange -- some might even find it amusing -- as it was reported. But the incident took place during the week of Parashat Bo, i.e., the week during which the Torah portion we study, called "Bo", includes in it two separate passages in which G*d commands the children of Israel to put on tefillin.

Now there are 52 weeks in a year. Is it mere coincidence that on the exact week in which Jews around the world are reading and studying this injunction, a young man is actually arrested for following these divine orders? You can't help but think that The Main Entity, above, is really trying to tell us something.

Finally, MyKid is a bit shaken-up himself this evening. At a playdate, a younger playmate practically started a fire by spraying a plastic action figure with deodorant and then holding it over a flame in the kitchen. The alarm went off and the retired grandmother responsible for the little boy woke from her nap to ask what happened. The boy was not honest with the caring older woman.

We all feel that we got our own wake-up call with this incident and MyKid will not be having play dates over there again.

I have an appointment this week with a dermatologist to look into my hair-loss issues.

It is very interesting to note that on December 27th, 2009, I got sick again, with some fever, coughing. It has since passed, but it really gave me a start, because it was as if my body was "remembering" being sick by being sick on almost the exact date one year later. It was New Year's Eve '08 when I suffered by first BOOP symptoms.

Strange stuff this BOOP.

Back to the Blog

Here's me, now, all dressed up for a family party. No longer a "blown up grown up."


It's been two months since I last "blogged." As stated previously, coming off the prednisone has been a real shock to my system -- or I should say being on and then getting off prednisone has had significant effects on my life.





Besides those I already documented in previous blogs, I am currently losing my hair and sleeping a great deal.





My hair doesn't come out in clumps. But if I work my fingers through my scalp, or when I shampoo, strand after strand comes out in my hands.





Also, ten hours a night of sleep is the norm now.





I have neither the focus nor the energy I had on prednisone.





However, I have found time for some things. During November and December I spent a lot of time baking cookies and knitting Hanukkah and Christmas gifts.





And did I mention I slept a lot?





So, what's the cure?





Liver, onions, and Siberian ginseng and licorice in essence form.





More on the cure, later.

Eczema, Hematoma & the World Series

If the last two weeks all I did was sleep in and drag myself around, this week the tiredness is spread out differently. Now I get up and out of bed at a decent hour, but I kind of move slowly and need to go to bed early.

Some nights I stayed up and watched every inning of the World Series, and some nights, like the final last night, I just couldn't stay up past 10:15. If anyone is interested, MyMan was rooting for the Phillies (he's a Met fan) and I was rooting for the Yanks (I think they have great back stories...).

My arms ache and it hurts to climb stairs, yet walking is fine. So yesterday I took the dog out for a walk that was about 3 miles long, but I was beat afterwards. Today we took a shorter walk.

I also have little patches of eczema all over my arms and legs as well as hair loss and dandruff. My dermatologist warned me about the eczema and I have a feeling that the dandruff is part of that. Hair loss? I'll discuss it with my pulmonologist the next time I see him.

My back aches something terrible, but for a totally unrelated reason. The day my mother and brother moved out of our "compound," i.e., our downstairs apartment, I slipped and fell on my bum. Really hard.

I have a hematoma the size of my hand. It ain't pretty. The prednisone is partly to blame for that, too. Prednisone makes your skin extremely sensitive to bumps and bruises. A man we know who has taken it for years has red blotches all over because his skin has become so sensitive.

NaNoWriMo
Also, I'll be writing less in the coming weeks, since I've begun participating in NaNoWriMo -- National Novel Writing Month...50,000 words in 30 days -- wish me luck!

Sleepy Time Woman

It's been a wild ride coming off of prednisone. Now that I've weaned off of the medicine -- it's been two weeks -- the new effects include:

Tiredness: Walking for any length of time results in a general feeling of tiredness. My breathing is fine, it's my body that can suddenly seem tired and worn out, like an old sock.

Sleeping: Today for example, I got out of bed at 11 a.m., after nearly 11 hours of sleep. For the past week or so I've logged in about 9 hours of sleep nightly. Need I say more? If I was normal and well, I'd be up at 6:30 or 7 and ready to go...

Lethargy: And now, once I do get up, I ain't exactly a ball of fire...

I read the newspaper, I eat breakfast and before you know it, half the day's gone. What a difference from when I was on prednisone and I never stopped doing things, always had something "important" to do.

On prednisone, I had lists of things to do...and I did them. I was unstoppable. I wrote on this blog at two or three times a week. Now I can barely do it twice a month!

Muscle aches and pains: Knitting, one of my favorite activities, hurts my arms. Walking can cause pain in my legs. I've had sudden muscle spasms in the muscles behind my knee. My muscles seem to stiffen up in the evening, but is that the prednisone or my age? And finally, yoga, which gave me so much joy, has become really difficult. But, I will get back to it very soon!

Visit to the Pulmonologist
Finally, I was back at the pulmonologist yesterday, Dr. A. I'm still fine and all the problems I've outlined above he ascribed to this post-prednisone period. He estimates this will continue for several more weeks.

In the words of Dr. Seuss, "We shall see, we shall see."