Lorie Sheffer – 2012

02.18.12  Life’s soundtrack

Why do we grieve for pop stars as if we knew them personally?  Why do they deserve the attention? What makes them worthy? Since the death of Whitney Houston, I am hearing many of these questions asked, much like the questions that were asked following the death of Michael Jackson. Why glorify addiction? Why is our focus not on the more honorable deaths of our military?

Maybe the answer is that we allow these people into the very fabric of our lives. They become a part of our history through their music. They provide our soundtrack. I know exactly what song was playing for my first slow dance when I was in 8^th grade. If “Dance to the Music” comes on the radio, I am transported back to summers at the pool; I can almost smell the chlorine. There are dating songs and breakup songs, wedding songs and songs that I sang to my children. My son was rocked to sleep to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, my daughter to Dream On. I listened to my first Aerosmith song when I was 14 years old, and I sang their  “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” to my grandson when he was a toddler. I can’t listen to “Fire and Rain” without thinking of my now deceased best friend. Go to any wedding and watch the reaction from the females in the room when the song “I Will Survive” is played; solidarity on the dance floor.

Maybe the very fact that those famous people have problems is one of the reasons we connect with them. They have it all, and yet they have the same frailties as the rest of us. Women connected to Oprah in her weight struggles. We cheer Robert Downey Jr. and his overcoming of addiction and return of his career. Whose heart didn’t break for Jennifer Hudson following the murder of her mother, brother and young nephew? Their problems make them human, more relatable. Imagine every embarrassing or painful thing in your life being played out in the tabloids, on the news, on TMZ. Imagine the lowest point in your life being the subject of jokes for every late night comedian. We laugh and judge when they fall, and yet when they inevitably die from the pressure, we grant them Sainthood.

I think that Roberta Flack’s hit, “Killing Me Softly” sums it up well.  In it she tells of walking into a club where a total stranger seems to be telling the story of her life while she sits and listens, sure that everyone in the room must know that the song is about her. She feels exposed. We all have songs like that; songs that seems to speak about us and to us. No wonder then, that when one of the artists who has become such a part of our lives passes, from whatever cause, we feel as though we have lost someone we know; someone who knows us and who was a part of our life.  Because really, didn’t they provide the background for every special moment we hold dear to our heart?

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02.11.12 Ignoring the signs of aging?

I had the TV on a few weeks ago, mostly as background noise, as I was restoring a piece of vintage furniture. The conversation grabbed my attention when I heard a 45 –year-old woman talking about having a baby. Looking at least 10 years younger than her age she was adamantly stating that she could, at any time she wanted, conceive a child. Undeterred by the fertility experts that said while they agreed she looked younger than her chronological age, her reproductive system didn’t care; while conceiving a child at her age is certainly possible, it is not as probable as this woman thought it to be. Her reply to them was, “But LOOK at me!” This brought to mind last years’ Real Housewives of NY (my guilty pleasure) shocker, 55-year-old Ramona Singer’s “pregnancy scare”. When a fellow housewife suggested that perhaps Ramona was “late” because she was in perimenopause, the response was one of complete denial that this was an even remote possibility.

Flash forward to Super Bowl Sunday. I sat in awe of 53-year-old Madonna’s age defying halftime performance. Clearly this is a woman who works out. My same aged female friends and I were being both self-deprecating and self aware in our assessment. One friend commented that gee, if we looked like that we would have to trade in our husbands, who rage in age from 50 to 60, for a younger man, as Madonna is now reportedly dating a…… wait for it…….. 24-year-old man. My reply? NO THANKS! My son is 27!

It’s not hard to see a pattern of denial of age in today’s culture. Age denial, I feel, is very different from taking care of ourselves and wanting to remain active and healthy. I’m not judging women, or men for that matter, who want to stop the clock on aging. I’ll admit, I was ready to go for some Botox injections on the vertical lines between my brows. My dear friend, who had already had the procedure, stopped me in my tracks. She assured me that it did indeed feel like she had been attacked right smack in the face by a swarm of angry hornets. While her lines did smooth out, they were back in a few months.

Which leads me to a wonderful book I read a few years ago. “Healthy Aging: A Lifelong Guide to Your Physical and Spiritual Well-Being”, by Andrew Weil, M.D. I’m usually not one of those self help book types, and I have an aversion to fame doctors. However, I like Dr Weil’s application of traditional medicines used in conjunction with preventive, no nonsense self care. In his book, he says, “Plastic surgery cannot fix what is happening inside your body; it can only dull the sharpness of the reminder.” He goes on to say that while he is not against cosmetic surgery, especially when it is reconstructive, one does need to proceed with caution. Even though we may appear to be younger the fact is we cannot stop the aging process. Sometimes those signs, like gray hair and a few wrinkles, are a reminder for us to change our approach. What was appropriate for us at age 25 may no longer be appropriate or even healthy for us at age 55. We may have to modify our plan of action by choosing activities that are gentler to our aging joints. We may need more rest, and we may not be able to get away with some of the unhealthy behaviors we could slide by with in our youth.

I e-mailed my daughter-in-law about the vintage furniture I am restoring for her and my son. I needed to know if she wanted me to remove the finish, as some of it had gotten that crazed, alligator skin texture due to age. Also, there are a few mars from wear. She said no; she felt that removing the signs of age would remove the story of the piece. Removing the imperfections would also remove the character, and if I did that then she may as well just go out and buy new pieces. The small chips, scratches and slightly worn finish were what made these pieces special. Wise young woman, my son’s wife.

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02.04.12  Finding Grace

I’m writing this on Saturday morning, at 1:49 AM. I have only slept about 4 hours since Wednesday night, when my cat, Gracie, got out of the house. We brought her in as a stray almost exactly a year ago. Wednesday was unseasonably warm, and I asked my husband to open a window for some fresh air while I was restoring some antique furniture. He forgot that in the fall I had put the screens up. Cats are curious, and about an hour later we were trying to coax Gracie from under the deck. She bolted, as frightened cats will do, and vanished into thin air.

We stayed up all night, calling out into the night and printing out flyers. We canvassed the neighborhood and set food out for her. Nothing. I am rather severely claustrophobic, but I crawled under decks on my stomach, hitting my head on the supports. I have the bruised, swollen knees and cuts to prove it.

My life hasn’t been so easy over the past years. I know that we all have our losses and challenges, but it seems that I was dealt so much, and all at once. My cats are my comfort. I always say that I am only a pair of smelly terry cloth scruffs and a flower printed housedress away from being The Crazy Cat Lady. Little by little, my faith has eroded. I just spoke to Jeff about how I feel that praying is like having a conversation with myself.

Tonight we were taking cat-watching shifts. Gary was sleeping on the sofa and I was texting my daughter. She asked if I was still calling for Gracie. I said, “This is like praying- you keep calling but you never get even the slightest response. Which leads you to the conclusion you’re just talking to yourself.” She replied, “But what if she DOES hear you?” I shot back, “I have lost faith. If she comes home that will be an unexpected surprise. But I don’t think she ever will.”

With that, I went to the patio door and called into the night for what seemed like the thousandth time. The neighbors must love me! This time I thought I heard a faint meow. I called again. Nothing. I called yet again, thinking I had probably heard our other cat meowing from the dining room. This time I heard a louder sound from the back yard. I woke Gary and told him to come listen. After several more calls back and forth, I saw her walking toward me. She circled the pool cover a few times and then ran into my arms.

I am happy to report, I have found Grace.

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01.28.12 Water

As we age, we lose our sensation of thirst. I was surprised to learn that, but trust that it’s true, as the information came from a nephrologist. Dehydration is all too common among the elderly, and it can have devastating affects. One of the reasons older folks become dehydrated is because they don’t feel thirsty, and when they do drink they don’t drink nearly as much. Sometimes not wanting to get up to use the bathroom during the night is another reason they tend not to want to drink enough water.

Our bodies are about 60%-70% water. In fact, our brains are closer to 90% water. If we feel the thirst sensation, we are already slightly dehydrated. Often times when we are feeling fatigued it is because we are in need of water. Dehydration can also be the cause of headaches. In fact, that is really what a hangover is.

As we age, we are less able to distinguish the difference between thirst and hunger. Often times we will eat a snack, when all we really needed was a glass of water. If saving those calories isn’t enough to make us want to pour a beverage, then maybe pain reduction is. Drinking more water can mean less muscle and joint pain. One time I complained about how difficult it was for the technicians to find a vein when I go for those early morning, after 12-hour fast, blood tests. My son suggested I try drinking a full glass of water before heading to the lab. Sure enough, it worked!

Since we loose that sensation of thirst as we age, and we as mid-lifers are aging, then maybe getting into the habit of drinking more water would be something we should start to work on now. In fact, as we work on breaking those bad habits, replacing them with good habits would make things easier. Replacing that afternoon candy bar with a tall glass of iced green tea would seem as if we weren’t depriving ourselves, but rather swapping treats. A tall icy glass of water with a few slices of cucumber is surprisingly refreshing. If it’s chilly outside, then a pot of tea, made the British way with loose tea in a pretty teapot, can seem like a luxury. At least if we have to have that cookie we can have it the old fashioned way, with a big glass of cold low fat milk. If we really do just want to eat a snack, then at least we can make it something that has a high water content, like watermelon or other juicy fruit.

Out of all of the things on our “should do” list, drinking more water or liquids is one of the easiest. No excuses.

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01.21.12 ZZZZZZzzzzzz……

In today’s world, lack of sleep is almost like a badge of honor. People proudly declare their ability to function on much less than the recommended 8 hours, as if this somehow makes them less lazy than the rest of us. If we are up all night it adds to the martyrdom of the overworked and underappreciated.

In an effort to keep this post from reaching epic lengths, I suggest that Googling the phrase “lack of sleep” will lead to you some very interesting information on the effects of sleep deprivation. An example of one thing I learned is this; Driving while sleep deprived can actually make you less safe than driving while intoxicated. Not many people would think that driving under the influence of alcohol is a good idea, and yet they will drive under the influence of sleep deprivation.

We live in a culture that doesn’t place much value on sleep. Jeff told me of his summer job working at a paper mill. He worked the dreaded swing shift, which consisted of 7AM-3PM, then a week of 11PM-7AM, followed by 3PM-11AM. 7 days a week, all summer long. (DUDE! No WONDER we didn’t see much of you at the pool!) My son is a first year medical resident, and his hours are not much different than Jeff’s were at that paper mill. He will work several weeks of night shifts, followed by a weekend of days, then a week of night shift, followed by a weekend of days. It’s difficult to become acclimated when the hours are so irregular. In his case, he resorts to blacking out the windows of his guest room during the day, and puts a priority on getting at least 8 hours of sleep a night.

Sleep is restorative. It is when the body repairs itself. The harmful physical effects of lack of sleep are very real. We NEED to sleep. It keeps us more clear- headed, our moods more even, and it even helps our appearance. And yet so many of us don’t make it a priority. Yes, it is important to exercise. Yes, it is important to be productive in our lives. But we are much better able to do that with the proper rest. During a particularly stressful period of my life, I wound up so run down from lack of sleep that I ended up in my doctor’s office. One of the first things he asked me was how much sleep I was getting. I told him that I didn’t have a choice but to wake up with the 6AM alarm. He reminded me that even if waking time wasn’t within my control, bedtime was. I said that I tried really hard to force myself to relax and sleep, and he came back with something that was so logical and so basic that it kind of shocked me. He said we can’t force ourselves to sleep; we must ALLOW ourselves to sleep.

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01.14.12 It’s A New Year

It’s a new year. Well, almost. This year I am making small changes that shouldn’t be that difficult to implement, but will have big payoffs for my mental and physical health.  For anyone who reads these Mid Life posts, maybe some of my small changes will be ones you can try as well.

I hate to eat in the morning. Always have. Coffee is about all I can stand. Even though I always cooked breakfast for my family, I rarely ate any of it. I know this isn’t healthy, but until recent years it didn’t seem to matter. I know I am not alone in this, because I know many people who view a travel mug of coffee as breakfast. It’s not.

Over the past year, I noticed a lack of energy and sometimes a dull headache in the early afternoon. Not feeling hungry, I didn’t link it to the fact that I hadn’t eaten all day. Not that I am one to not eat; I just happen to start feeding myself after, say, 4 PM. Then one day the TV was on as background noise to my cleaning the bedroom. A doctor was on, saying that you should feel hungry in the morning. If you don’t then it probably means you aren’t used to eating breakfast. Your body doesn’t know the difference between starving and stupid eating habits, so your metabolism slows down in an effort to hang on to those calories. Humm…… when I thought about that it dawned on me that if I skipped breakfast I didn’t feel hungry all day, but on days when I did eat something I was hungry by lunch time. I also notice that on those rare days when I eat before late afternoon I have more energy.

My New Year’s resolution #1 is this: Eat breakfast. I am going to have to see what I like and don’t like. I am going to start small, maybe a hard-boiled egg or some yogurt. My goal is to work my way towards a more healthy meal. Some days I find myself rushing out the door, and on those mornings I will at least have something portable to grab on the way out. Even if that is a Ziplok bag of Cheerios or a handful of dried fruit, I am going to eat something before noon. Not too big a goal, but one that has the potential to make me feel much better throughout the day.
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01.07.12  Choose Your Battles

As I look ahead at the New Year, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder in an effort to see if I have learned anything. I’m not one of those people who can set large resolutions. I know me, and it’s not going to happen. What works for me are those small changes that honestly do make a difference in the long run; the attainable goals. Not that they are easy, mind you.

My goal for last year was to try to laugh in the face of stress. I have so many serious things in my life that if I sweat the small stuff I can easily become overwhelmed. I think it’s called Choosing Your Battles. Not only have I done well, I have also discovered that those previously stressful situations can now provide some much needed comic relief.

I love to cook, but I hate shopping for food. I’m not entirely sure the employees of my regular grocery store are thrilled when they see my car pulling into the lot, either. In November I had the Unfortunate Clam Chowder Incident. Who knew that those new pop top soup cans fly open if the can is accidentally dropped onto the floor from the top shelf? Clean-up in aisle 5! Then there was the Christmas Eve Shrimp Tragedy. In an effort to try to learn new things, I went through the self-check aisle. All was well until I got to the large party platter of steamed shrimp at the bottom of my cart. The lid wasn’t on tight enough. Or something. When a party platter starts to flip, well, there’s no recovering.  There was a time when these incidents would have pushed me over the edge. But no more! Now I find them to be hilarious. I even had to laugh last summer when I fell out of my sandals into the parking lot during a downpour. Sure I was soaked and my knee swelled up like a cantaloupe, but really…. Getting angry wouldn’t have provided me with cat-like reflexes, nor would it have suddenly turned me into a less klutzy person. It turns out that laughter really IS the best medicine. Another surprising side benefit to laughing off your mishaps is that people around you will seem to become less stressed as well.

What it all boils down to is this: You can be stuck in an embarrassing or stressful situation and you can freak out about it, or you can try to laugh about it; your choice. But either way, the situation will remain the same. I choose to laugh. Life is too short to worry about a few spilled shrimp (or 5 pounds of them!) at the bottom of a shopping cart.