tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61062210240872636032024-03-12T20:03:35.947-04:00Everyday GloryRise from the ashes and blaze in everyday glory.
-- RushSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.comBlogger107125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-30826334524423186252018-11-20T19:19:00.000-05:002018-11-20T19:19:26.639-05:00Damien Echols and Eddie VedderI wanted to throw together some thoughts about seeing Eddie Vedder interview Damien Echols about his new book, "High Magick: A Guide to the Spiritual Practices That Saved My Life on Death Row." It felt like a bridge between my old and new worlds, because Eddie Vedder=Pearl Jam=Seattle, and Echols' arrest in West Memphis, AR, was<i> the </i>news story in Memphis when I was in high school, at the height of Satanic Panic. I won't go into the details of the case, but the summary is that Echols and two other kids were arrested for a horrific triple murder. Their guilt seemed dubious at the time, and time and evidence eventually bore that out, in my opinion and the opinion of many others, including wealthy celebrities like Vedder, who put money and 15 years of effort into getting these men freed. It seemed clear to me, as a misfit and metalhead, that these guys were arrested for wearing black and listening to Metallica. I highly recommend the Paradise Lost documentaries, available on Amazon Prime, or the book "Devil's Knot" by Mara Leveritt, to learn about this case.<br />
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Off the bat, the rapport and affection between Vedder and Echols was apparent. Echols commented on the long-term effects that a decade of solitary confinement had on his developing brain, including being forgetful mid-sentence. Vedder replied, "You're in Seattle, and I'm willing to bet almost everyone here smokes a lot of pot, so you're in good company." Vedder's home here is where Echols and co-defendant Jason Baldwin flew immediately after their release from prison, and Vedder shared some of the artifacts that Echols had given him.<br />
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I was immediately struck by how obviously intelligent and articulate Echols was, especially in light of the fact that he has only a ninth grade education. He shared about some of his experiences in prison, his eight-hour a day magick practice that kept him occupied and sane while in solitary, and his difficulties reintegrating back into society after his release from prison. I remember reading about this in his first book, but was reminded of how after 20 years without seeing evolving technology, he asked his wife if she was moving the scrolling screen on her smartphone with her mind.<br />
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One moment I appreciated as a metalhead was that Vedder said that in preparation for Echols' arrival after his release from prison, he started amassing music that he thought might appeal to Echols. He said he bought every Black Sabbath album and Metallica's black album (Vedder: "Is that what you fucking call that?"). Echols asked for a different artist, so Vedder's wife used Spotify. At this point, Vedder starts singing the tune of Warrant's "Heaven," but not with the correct lyrics. Echols said, "No, it wasn't Warrant, it was White Lion." I'm guessing the song was "When The Children Cry" (my least favorite WL song, but whatever), because Vedder said: "If I ever had any doubt about your innocence, it disappeared right then."<br />
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Vedder took questions from the audience, including "What advice would you offer a teenage goth/pagan/magic practitioner in the South today?" Echols suggested keeping your head down and focusing more on improving yourself than on what you post on Instagram. Probably solid advice for anybody, really.<br />
<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-61539852606608935122018-10-12T12:58:00.000-04:002018-10-12T12:58:14.392-04:00T's Spectacular Birth StoryWe need to contribute more to her therapy fund, not because she was born this way, but because we keep milking the story.<br />
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https://www.kveller.com/author/sarah-barak/Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-91270649296672085562018-10-12T12:56:00.001-04:002018-10-12T12:56:23.961-04:00Miscarriage Leaves Jewish Couples To Find Own RitualsThrowing up some old writing of mine: https://mag.jewishinseattle.org/articles/2017/8/10/miscarriage-leaves-couples-to-find-their-own-ritualsSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-61907654877350101962018-06-24T17:03:00.000-04:002018-06-24T17:03:47.078-04:00A Tale of Pantera and Bad Parenting<a href="https://youtu.be/A1pRZauWIAo" target="_blank">"What's this? Is that a tear, Pantera? Oh, is Daddy's little girl upset? I'm gonna kick your ass into next Tuesday. Now get outa here!"</a> -- Beavis<br />
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Every word of this is true. <br />
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As the heavy metal community is reeling from the untimely <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/vinnie-paul-pantera-drummer-and-co-founder-dead-at-54-w521897" target="_blank">death of the legend Vinnie Paul</a>, co-founder of the influential band Pantera, and drummer in Damageplan and Hellyeah, I have been taken back to one of the strangest nights of my life.<br />
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To set the stage, I was a tour guide at <a href="https://www.graceland.com/" target="_blank">Graceland</a>, where I worked for several years. Now, visitors get a headset with a canned recording, but back in the day, there were live tour guides who were supposed to follow a script. In fact, we took a lot of liberties -- what do you expect when you repeat the same thing about 100 times a day -- which is why I am sure they switched to a standardized recording. Thanks to the memory of the Internet, I can tell you with certainty that this story took place on August 10, 1994, when I had just turned 18. That afternoon, I was working in the trophy building, where a lot of Elvis' costumes and awards are displayed. I was, as I am now, a hard-core metalhead, and I recognize metal when I see it. A group comes in for my tour that clearly is a metal band, but one I did not recognize. "Hey, who are you?" I asked. "We are part of the band Prong," one of the guys answered. We chatted and I learned that they were playing the Mid-South Coliseum that night with Sepultura and Prong. I engaged them a lot during my tour, and at the end I asked them if there was any chance of getting comped to see the show. This was ballsy AF, but I am always of the philosophy that if you don't ask, you don't get. "Sure, happy to do it. Write down your name and I'll make sure a guest and you can get in," the guy said. Holy shit. I won the jackpot, but the plot thickens.<br />
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"Oh my God, can I come?" asks a teenager who also was on my tour and whom I had also been chatting with. "Um, I don't know how your mom would feel about that," I said. Mom quickly jumps in, "That's fine, as long as you can give her a ride back to our hotel." Turns out the girl is 14.<br />
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Let's take a break from our story here to collectively ask, "WT Actual F?" I am a parent now, and I can't for a second imagine letting either of my daughters go backstage to a heavy metal concert with a stranger. Not for a second, and not just because I would insist on going backstage. I wasn't a friend of a friend. I was a total stranger and one she just met. I guess I had a trustworthy look, because this girl's mom was down. Mom seemed totally normal, by the way, not at all sketchy.<br />
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The girl meets me after work and we ride in my car to the Coliseum. I was convinced my name would not be on the all-access list, but it was. We go backstage and the mayhem begins. Prong was already on stage at that point, but Pantera was hanging out backstage. Tales about vocalist Phil Anselmo's temper are legendary, and I only had a brief snapshot, but he lived up to the hype. Phil was having a huge tantrum about something, I don't know what. He was calmed by his girlfriend, a very beautiful, thin woman with full tattoo sleeves on each arm. After Phil left I complimented her on her calming skills, "I'm a social worker," she said with the resigned voice of someone used to deescalating conflict with an angry man.<br />
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Eventually, Pantera takes the stage and Prong has showered and come back to chill and drink. This is where things really got interesting. Tommy Victor, the singer of Prong, starts leering at the girl I am with, and not just leering: "Look at this. You are a fine piece of ass. I would like to do 1,000 things to you," was the gist of the conversation, which I definitely do not remember in detail because it was 26 years ago. I was hoping my guest would demure, but just the opposite happened: She goes and sits on his lap, and he starts kissing her neck and nuzzling her ear. Sweet Jesus. I told him, "Dude, she's only 14, " and his response was basically, "And???" Things progress and he invited my plus one to a quieter spot. Again, I'm thinking her self-preservation instincts will kick in, but no such thing happens, so I have to save her. I find some way to get her away from Victor for a second and say, "Whoa, you need to chill. Are you a virgin? I hope you're a virgin!" She told me she was, but was eager to be rid of that label. "Oh HELL NO," I said. "Not on my watch." She started arguing with me that it was her body and her choice. Please remember I am 18, not exactly old and wise, but somehow I knew I had to step up my game here.<br />
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"Listen, girl, I am about as degenerate as they come, but my degeneracy stops at letting a 14 year old girl lose her virginity to a rock star who will fuck her and forget her. You could get pregnant and you could get an STD, and this is not how you should lose your virginity. Trust me on this one." She actually continued to argue with me and then went back to sit on Victor's lap, where he continued to try to seduce her. Once again, things were getting heated, so I had to take a different tack. "Ok, girl. You have two choices. You can come watch Pantera with me, or we can leave." She wisely chose Pantera.<br />
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We watched their show, which was incredible. Sadly, I was not into music that heavy back then, and I had little appreciation for the talent and legends I was enjoying. I was thinking, "Cool band, great show, but I prefer Poison." Sigh. It is true that youth is wasted on the young. What I would give to see Pantera and Sepultura today!<br />
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After the show I had to take this wild child with me back to her hotel, which it turns out was really, really far away in Mississippi. Then I had to drive back to east Memphis. I don't think I got home until about 2 a.m., and I had to be up at 6 to get ready for another day of work.<br />
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This was not the first and hardly the last of the crazy stories that only happen to me. I don't remember that girl's name, but I hope she is happy and well and that she lost her virginity to someone who cared about her. As long as it wasn't on my watch, to a rock star, I don't care. <br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-27460548819006243692018-04-18T23:56:00.000-04:002018-04-18T23:56:48.421-04:00"Fatitude: The Movie" Review"What's wrong with being a sex pig?" -- My friend<br />
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I am too old to really get behind the concept of trigger warnings, but if there was ever a movie where I would have appreciated one, this would be it. "Warning: If you are a fat person, "Fatitude: The Movie," will trigger you. Do not resort to food restriction or diet mentality," would have been nice. The majority of the movie is a catalog of how much the world hates fat people and is disgusted by fat bodies, interspersed with interviews with fat activists and health care professionals who practice in a manner consistent with the principles of <a href="https://www.sizediversityandhealth.org/content.asp?id=152" target="_blank">Health At Every Size</a>. The interviewees were funny, smart, and pointed. The catalog of "the world hates fat people" was just ... depressing.<br />
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The movie demonstrated the general dislike of fat bodies by showing many, many fictional and non-fictional media clips of people displaying this hatred, as well as quoting depressing AF studies that present evidence that <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/story?id=1990648&page=1" target="_blank">most women would rather go blind or lose a limb than be fat.</a> The movie included these things to show the omnipresence of fat phobia in our culture (please note that I am using that term as a shorthand for "fat hatred") and to illustrate why fat people face discrimination in the workplace and at the doctor's office.<br />
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Although I understand the intent of including all this horrific, hateful content, the barrage left me feeling drained and terrible, so much so that I, uncharacteristically, had severe anxiety after the movie (God bless my friend who gave me one of her Ativan). As a fat person, I feel like I keep all of this stuff in the back of my head, but I have to maintain some cognitive dissonance to go out in the world, keep my chin up, and do my thing. I'm sure this isn't true for most people, but I have only found two ways to be fat in this world: fat and apologetic for it, like when I was dieting, or in warrior mode. The latter is more authentic for me, even though it's exhausting. Interestingly, after the movie, I talked with quite a few friends who are farther along in their HAES journey than I am, and they were not bothered with the content of the movie to the extent I was. <br />
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"Fatitude" spent a lot of time demonstrating the negative portrayal of larger bodies in children's media; you can see a great clip of <a href="http://www.lindywest.net/" target="_blank">Lindy West</a> talking about this in the<a href="https://vimeo.com/130804339" target="_blank"> movie trailer</a>. This part actually was helpful to me as a parent because it made me aware of this aspect of the media my kids consume, as if I didn't have enough to be worried about in this regard. My husband and I work hard to push the "all bodies are good bodies" agenda, and I'll be damned if a Scooby Doo reboot is going to detract from that. One of the things West says in the film is that the two biggest fat archetypes in cartoons are the Ursula from the Little Mermaid -- a sea witch who literally steals merfolk's voices -- and Miss Piggy, the consummate sex-starved and food-starved pig. So in a great moment of comic relief after the movie, I went to my friend and said in a panic, "OMG, now I'm so anxious, because people will only see me as the sea witch or the sex pig, and I am certainly more of a sex pig, and ARGH!" Bless her heart, my awesome, very religious friend said, "Now, what exactly is wrong with being a sex pig?" Me: "Absolutely nothing." Glad we cleared that up. Sex pig it is, cuz I'm sure as hell not stealing your voice or helping those "wanting to be thinner" (yes, that is in the song, FFS). <br />
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The last 20 minutes of the film offered suggestions about creating a new narrative around bodies and body image, most of which I summarized in my blog post about ditching diet culture. That information is not new to me, because I learned it all in treatment, but I can understand it might be eye-opening if you haven't been exposed to it.<br />
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Overall, the film is highly recommended, but be prepared that if you're in a larger body, the film might make you sad. Hopefully, it will also fuel your anger and motivate you to torch the toxic narratives that dominate pop culture.<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-59762916265102421212018-04-02T18:06:00.001-04:002018-04-02T18:11:58.932-04:00Keep Your Diet Culture Off My Toddler"<i>Your words cut deep<br />Your lies are fueled by your need for deceit<br />Too scared to speak<br />You're only alive when you torture the weak</i><i>Now hear me roar</i>" -- "You Want a Battle?" Bullet for My Valentine<br />
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My normally cheerful toddler had a very tough morning the other day. After I made the horrible mistake of taking away the iPad she was watching videos on, she couldn't stop having a tantrum. I was on my way to the gym, and thought the poor kid might calm down when I put her in the car and put on Amazon Music's Toddler Time station. Alas, it wasn't to be, and I eventually got so rattled after an 45 minutes of this screaming that I had to pull over on the side of the road and get out of the car until I could calm down. This is all a long way of saying that I had a very challenging morning, so I was relieved when T finally calmed down when I pulled into the gym parking lot and she realized she'd get to press the elevator button.<br />
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When we made it into the lobby of the gym, T was understandably hungry and I gave her the two snacks I had packed for her. She asked me for more food, but having none -- and trying to forestall a continuation of the tantrum, if I'm being completely honest -- I bought her a cookie from the gym's market. Of course, it's a market at a chain of gyms, so all of the food is packaged high-protein/low sugar foods. I bought her a protein cookie, which will hereto be referred to as the "Fucking Fake Cookie," or FFC. You'll see why. T was happily munching away on the FFC when a woman came up to us and said to T, "Oh, you're so cute! You're SO LUCKY you can eat cookies."<br />
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I instantly thought, "Not today, Satan!" and this conversation transpired:<br />
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Me: "You can eat cookies, too."<br />
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Nosy Lady: "Oh, I can't," she laughed. "If I eat one cookie, I have to eat the whole box!"<br />
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Me: "I used to think that, too. The interesting thing is, if you give yourself permission to eat what you want, suddenly the cookies become just another food and not a big deal."<br />
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Nosy Lady senses what she's gotten herself into and says, "Oh, but I'm a sugar addict."<br />
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Me: "If you give me your email address I am happy to send you a link to some journal articles that debunk that."<br />
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Nosy Lady: "I have a doctor's appointment! I have to go!"<br />
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Me: "Bye," but I really am thinking "CU Next Tuesday!"<br />
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The article I was threatening to send her was <a href="https://link.springer.com/content/pdf/10.1007%2Fs00394-016-1229-6.pdf" target="_blank">this</a>. The TLDR is: "We find little evidence to support sugar addiction in humans, and finding from the animal literature suggest that addiction-like behaviours only occur in the context of intermittent access to sugar. These behaviours likely arise from intermittent access to sweet tasting or highly palatable foods, not the neurochemical effects of sugar." This certainly is true in my experience, but I'd rather talk about that in another post.<br />
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What bothered me more than this woman's phony science was the fact that she came up and tried to involve T in this nonsense. First of all, let's be honest: she wasn't trying to lecture T, who isn't even two. She was trying to lecture T's fat mom, but was too pathetic to take me on directly (#lame). I shut down diet talk fast when it's directed at me, but I move at warp speed when it involves my children.<br />
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I can't say this often or vociferously enough: I consider dieting and diet culture the worst thing to have infiltrated my childhood. My kids will be exposed to this so many places, our family won't be one of them. My husband and I are committed to keeping this garbage as far away from them as possible.<br />
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I feel like there are some days that God tests you, and this was one of those days. The fun continued: I had posted a pretty innocuous meme on Facebook exhorting people not to comment on people's weight loss. You can take it or leave it, but one person commented with some really fat-shaming and stereotyping comments, which royally pissed me off (I know, I know, that's what I get for posting on the dumpster fire that is Facebook).<br />
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The coup de grace on this really shitty day is that the FFC caused T massive diarrhea because it was full of sugar alcohols and inulin and things that are really not great to consume. I was covered in poop moments before needing to leave to pick up my older daughter from school, so I was late getting her. The poor kid would have been better off if I had brought some Oreos for her. I'm sorry T for feeding you fake food that messed with your tummy. At least I fought the good fight against diet culture. <br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-17916226980538013632018-03-12T14:14:00.000-04:002018-03-12T15:11:41.675-04:00How I Ditched Diet Culture In 10 Difficult StepsI have gone through a radical change the last 6 months. Most people in my life knew me as a dieter and someone obsessed with weight loss. All that has changed and people have noticed. This post is in response to the many personal inquiries I've gotten about this that I can't take time to answer in depth. I'm happy to answer legitimate questions about this and help educate you, but any health trolling and diet culture crap will be immediately deleted for the good of the planet.<br />
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So, here is how I ditched diet culture and stopped hating myself:<br />
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<b>1</b><a href="https://youtu.be/b-I2s5zRbHg" target="_blank"><b>.You Know I'm No Good: </b></a>Grow up inundated with messages that being fat is bad and unhealthy, dieting is good, and restricting food is praiseworthy. Learn from culture, friends, media and my family that my worth is dependent on the size of my body and that I have an obligation to be aesthetically pleasing to you.<br />
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<b>2.</b><a href="https://youtu.be/6EefPcht54c" target="_blank"><b> I Don't Like the Drugs (But The Drugs Like Me): </b></a>Spend childhood and adulthood dieting, taking prescription medications, and otherwise trying to turn a bulldog into a dachshund. In the process, wreck my metabolism and weight set-point for life. Continue to restrict broad categories of food and taking speed and other medications that have since been pulled off the market.<br />
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<b>3. </b><a href="https://youtu.be/FwNOmS78q-o" target="_blank"><b>Doctor, Doctor, Please</b>:</a> Continue to buy into outdated health norms not backed by actual science, and freak out when a doctor suggests gastric bypass surgery. Join a spirituality-based diet program where I engage in severely disordered behavior, like measuring everything I eat for seven fucking years and seeking permission to substitute broccoli for cauliflower for dinner because the store was out of cauliflower. If I was in a small body and did the aforementioned things, someone would have been referring me to a psychologist. But hey, I’m fat and get thin, so my eating disorder will be praised by doctors and friends alike. <b>Pro tip: If a behavior is disordered for small bodies, it’s disordered for larger ones, too.</b><br />
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<b>4. <a href="https://youtu.be/UqqtTjgitdY" target="_blank">Not a prisoner: </a></b>Eventually I realize that I would rather be fat than live like a slave. Ditch the “spiritual” diet program, begin to eat like a normal person, and see my weight stabilize where it was before my restriction, because that's what bodies that have repeatedly dieted do.<br />
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<b>5.</b> <a href="https://youtu.be/tvEcQoMEvNQ" target="_blank"><b>Sweet Potato Pie</b></a>: I still believe that being fat is bad and unhealthy, so start a ketogenic diet that completely throws my body and mind off the rails. Prick my finger to test ketones in my blood, calculate macros, and fantasize about eating sweet potatoes, all of which made me very bitchy. This was the beginning of the end.<br />
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<b>6. <a href="https://youtu.be/BDKM181eTsM" target="_blank">My Darkest Days: </a></b>Start seriously binge eating and binge drinking and doing other destructive things. Call my therapist from summer vacation and when I get back home, she calmly informs me I am going into a partial hospitalization program for my eating disorder: "They can do more with you in 3 months than I could do in two years." I assume my therapist is referring to overeating. Ha ha.<br />
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<b>7.</b> <a href="https://youtu.be/KUmZp8pR1uc" target="_blank"><b>They Tried to Make Me Go To Rehab…. :</b></a> I am admitted to an eating disorder program for 50 hours a week where I am diagnosed with a <i>restrictive </i>eating disorder. I am pissed and fight with every single expert there about how wrong they are about the diagnosis and everything else concerning my care. Several times a week I curse at them and tell them — in spite of all evidence to the contrary — that they are just after my money. I also accusing them of hating me and I routinely bring up their "thin privilege" (I can't believe they still like me, but they do). My therapists at my treatment center spend many hours educating me about the futility and harm of dieting and become used to my requests for peer-reviewed data. My registered dietitian there prescribes two Oreos at every meal, and since I ate all meals at my treatment center, she definitely kept tabs. This intensive treatment changed my life in more ways than I can detail here. My world was turned upside down. Did I mention I was pissed?<br />
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<b>8.</b> <a href="https://youtu.be/8CBBtorFg2I" target="_blank"><b>Superman's Dead:</b></a> I unfriended or unfollowed anyone who routinely posts on social media about orthorexia, diet culture and disordered eating or exercise. This includes anyone who is a “health coach” for a multi-level marketing scheme or anyone who has ever shared a “sugar shot," “Transformation Tuesday” or “We don’t GAF what you’re eating Wednesday” picture. In the process, fire my fat-phobic physical therapist and get a new one. As part of this, stop having any conversations about others' diets, "life styles," "changes," "clean eating," etc. <br />
<b><br />9. </b><a href="https://youtu.be/ZboIu0IXf44" target="_blank"><b>Start Seeing the World Through Diamond Eyes: </b> </a>Instead, I populated my social media feeds with badass men and women who reject diet mentality. I begin to follow people who look like me. I looked at fat bodies in various states of undress until I was no longer disturbed, and eventually found their softness and curves beautiful. Simultaneously, I started reading the works of body-positive activists. I connected with Health At Any Size health care practitioners and read the research they shared with me.<br />
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<b><a href="https://youtu.be/RZxhWqxwsBQ" target="_blank">10. Heart of Fire</a> </b>I eat and enjoy all the foods. I have cookies in the cupboard that I can take or leave, because when one has full permission to eat them, they are no big deal. I appreciate the incredible donut shop two blocks away, but go very infrequently. I am grateful to no longer being the mom who couldn’t accept her daughter’s offered bite of ice cream because "Mommy won't eat that" or the person who brings her own food to friends' houses because I can't eat regular food or don't know what they'll be serving (SMH). I move my body regularly and feed it nourishing, balanced meals because I love it and want to treat it right.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-15399731314176892502014-11-30T20:46:00.000-05:002014-11-30T20:47:47.768-05:00Infertility in the Hebrew Bible<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Parshat Vayetze has endless topics that one could talk about, including Jacob’s famous dream, Rachel destroying her father’s idols, and the sympathetic magic that Jacob utilizes to increase his flock of sheep. However, what touches me most deeply in this parsha is Rachel’s infertility and what it can tell us about helping couples struggling with that problem today. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In Vayetze, we read that Jacob served his uncle, Lavan, for 7 years to marry Rachel, but Lavan tricked him into marrying her older, and less desirable, sister Leah. Jacob then worked another 7 years to secure Rachel. Jacob strongly preferred Rachel, but Leah conceived and had 4 sons before Rachel had any. At this point, the parsha says “And when Rachel saw that she bore Jacob no children, Rachel envied her sister; and she said unto Jacob: ‘Give me children or else I die.” This is a very dramatic thing to say, but it is a sentiment that resonates for many of the 1 in 8 couples in America struggling with infertility. The Torah says that “Jacob’s anger was kindled against Rachel; and he said: ‘Am I in God’s stead, who hath withheld from thee the fruit of the womb?” (Gen. XXX:2).</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Rachel seems to be issuing an ultimatum to Jacob: I don’t want to live if we can’t have children together. According to Ramban, Jacob was angry because Rachel went to him and said,</span><span class="s1"> “Your father, Isaac, prayed for a child and your mother conceived twins. Therefore, you must not be praying hard enough. You don’t care enough about me.” Ramban further explains that Jacob was angry because the implication was that <b>he</b> should be doing the petitioning, and not Rachel herself, or the two of them together like Rebecca and Isaac prayed side-by-side for God to give them a child. According to Ramban, Jacob replies by saying “this is in God’s hands, not mine,” and hints that maybe Rachel needs to take action besides just praying. Rachel’s immediate response to her husband’s anger is is to offer up her maid, Bilha, in order for him to be built up, just like the childless Sarai offered her handmaid Hagar to Avram. </span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>There is another commentary on Jacob’s angry response which resonates much more with me, but we’ll visit that later. </span></div>
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<span class="s3"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span><span class="s1">It’s important to note that all of the patriarchs married women who were barren. The prophets Jeremiah (30:17) and Isaiah (59:20) constantly compare the land of Israel during the Jews’ exile to a barren woman, because just as Zion is in pain during the exile, so is a barren couple in pain throughout their infertility journey. I think that this pain can be especially sharp in the Jewish community, which places so much emphasis on the importance of Jewish continuity, and where so many synagogue and social activities revolve around children. A Jewish couple experiencing infertility has a special kind of pain: after all, the first commandment in the Torah is to be fruitful and multiply, and the Jews are a nation whose origin is the fulfillment of God’s promise to an infertile couple -- Abraham and Sarah -- that they would have a child. Rather than just viewing infertility as a medical condition, some Jewish couples view it as a judgment by God.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Why does the Torah place so much emphasis on infertility and what is it trying to teach us? One possible reason is to remind us that children are a gift from God, and not to be taken for granted. Another is to offer two possible spiritual approaches to dealing with infertility -- or for that matter -- any existential challenge. One is to use prayer. This was the approach of the barren Hannah, whose story is read on Rosh Hashana, and whose prayer becomes the model of our daily amidah. Prayer is such a natural response to infertility that Chazal assert in <i>Shir haShirim Rabbah </i>(2:14) and <i>Bereishis Rabbah </i>(45:5) that this is why God rendered our matriarchs infertile: because God craves the prayers of the righteous. I don’t pretend to know the mind of God, but I disagree with Chazal on this point. Firstly, because it seems capricious and cruel, and secondly, because our foremothers had enough other issues that would have caused them to petition God in prayer.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The other way that the matriarchs and patriarchs responded to the affliction of infertility is to undertake some form of extreme sacrifice. As I mentioned, Sarah, Leah, and Rachel all encourage their husbands to sleep with their handmaids in order to secondarily have children and build up their lineage. Hannah makes what most mothers would view as the ultimate sacrifice: giving up her hard-won son, Shmuel, to be reared away from her in service to God at the Temple. A similar story of sacrifice exists in this week’s parsha, too: Rachel and Leah negotiate that Jacob will sleep in Leah’s chambers in exchange for Leah surrendering the the mandrakes, a fruit that reportedly was an aphrodisiac, that her son Re’euven collected (the Torah tells us that Leah’s son Isaachar was conceived from that arrangement). The commentator Sforno says that Rachel only conceived Joseph after God saw that she made a strenuous effort to have children by giving her handmaid up to sleep with Jacob, by negotiating for the mandrakes, and by fervent prayer.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Please don’t think that I am suggesting that couples struggling with infertility should consider open marriage as a potential solution to their dilemma. God forbid. However, the modern version of this could be taking on extra mitzvaot when one is seeking God’s intervention in overcoming a challenge or seeking God’s resolution to a problem. Furthermore, any couple who has undergone the emotional, financial, and physical rigors of any assisted reproductive technology can attest that they are already making a significant sacrifice in order to try to have children.</span></div>
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<span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I want to return to Rachel’s heartbreaking comment that she must have children or she will die, and Jacob’s anger at that response.</span><span class="s1"> The 15th century commentator the Akedat Yitzchak offers a different explanation than Ramban’s, and one that I find much more compelling. He writes that Jacob bristled at his wife’s comment because although having children is an important part of life, it is not the only part of life, and to suggest otherwise is not a Jewish value. What <b>is</b> a Jewish value is to live a life that is meaningful in other ways, even if one cannot have children. Frankly, I would argue that this is a Jewish value even if a couple is blessed with children.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Ultimately, all of the matriarchs had children, but as we know, sadly, this is not the case for everyone experiencing the pain of infertility. I believe that what the Torah is teaching us is that it is important to be generative, whether or not one has physical children. I am thinking of the last Lubavitcher Rebbe who had no biological offspring, but who often said, “I have thousands of children,” referring to Am Yisroel. I am also reminded that parshat Bereishit interrupts the telling of Noah’s generational line to praise Noah‘s character. The verse states: “These are the generations of Noah. Noah was in his generation a man righteous and whole-hearted. Noah walked with God” (Genesis 6:9). After promising an introduction to the sons of Noah, the the pasuk goes on to praise him; his children are only mentioned in the next verse. From this, the midrash infers that this teaches us that the main progeny of the righteous is their good deeds.</span></div>
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<span class="s1"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I want to end with a hopeful verse from Isaiah (56:3) "Let not the eunuch say, 'Behold, I am a dry tree.' For so says the Lord to the eunuchs who will keep My Sabbaths and will choose what I desire and hold fast to My covenant: 'I will give them in My house and in My walls a place and a name, better than sons and daughters; an everlasting name I will give them, which will not be discontinued.'" </span></div>
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<span class="s4"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span><span class="s1">Regardless of marital status or if one has children or not, we can all contribute to our Jewish communities, thereby growing the nation of Israel, which is the offspring of all of us. Shabbat shalom. </span><span class="s2"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-13789105706865423002013-07-05T19:04:00.000-04:002013-07-05T19:04:30.010-04:00Radio Silence aka Hearts Burst Into FireWritten June 6, 2013<br />
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<i>"It hurts! Wounds so sore! Now I'm torn, now I'm torn.</i><br />
<i>I've been far away: when I see your face my hearts burst into fire." </i><br />
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-- "Hearts Burst Into Fire," Bullet For My Valentine<br />
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There has been radio silence on my blog for two reasons: 1. I have been sick as a dog with first-trimester pregnancy symptoms of nausea, fatigue, and light-headedness. Some days, I am incapacitated by it. 2. All I want to write about is this experience, which I have been too scared to talk about publicly. For that matter, I still am. <br />
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All women are nervous during their pregnancies. Who doesn't want a perfect, healthy baby? And what is more uncontrollable than this most precious of outcomes? But, for most of us who have had a pregnancy loss -- and all the more so when you have had many pregnancy losses -- the fantasy of a glowing, relaxed pregnancy just won't happen. Consequently, I have been a nervous wreck. Last night, however, I had a total nuclear mental meltdown. Someone I
know posted something about a five-month stillbirth on Facebook, and I
had an out-and-out panic attack. <br />
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One thing that's nice is that this has been a very closely monitored pregnancy. Not because monitoring would affect the outcomes, but because it makes me feel better. With each positive sonogram I can stay on this side of sane for a few more days, until the anxiety again takes over ("Wait! I don't feel queasy this second" or "Wait! My boobs only hurt a 6 out of 10 instead of a 10 out of 10!") <br />
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The above-quoted lyric from BFMV really captures my mental health right now: I am truly traumatized by my miscarriages, and oh, the wounds are still so very sore. The sonograms are like CPR for my soul, so I can check on the little one. And yes, when I see his or her face, my heart bursts into fire. Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-73471799015205444512013-05-09T11:12:00.000-04:002013-05-09T11:12:20.692-04:00Email To A Suffering WomanI got an email from someone who just suffered a miscarriage after her one and only pregnancy after trying to conceive for five years. She asked for my advice on how to move through it, since she is in so much pain. I am posting my response to her here, in case it contains advice that helps someone else who is hurting.<br />
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"Dear H,<br /><br />I am so sorry for your loss. I have been through this three times, and it is excruciatingly painful. Since you asked for advice about how I survived, here ya go. Take what you like and ignore the rest:<br /><br />1. You WILL get through this. One day at a time, sometimes one hour at a time. You are grieving, and that is ok. Take it easy on yourself, and stay out of self-judgement. Try to take good care of yourself, the best you can: good nutrition, getting to bed at a reasonable hour, perhaps tea with a trusted buddy you can cry to. If you are spiritual and part of a faith community, connecting with that might help, though anger at a Higher Power is totally normal, too. And, dare I say it, exercise helps. Getting my ass to the gym post-miscarriage was one of the best things for me mentally and physically.<br /><br />2. The biggest challenge for me was that my husband and I grieved the loss of our babies differently. It was very hard to be with him because seeing his face (the father of my kids!) really heightened my grief. He was the only other person on the planet suffering the way I was, and sometimes being with that was too much. Instead of pulling away, I had to consciously move closer to him. Not easy, but worth it. We had to figure out a way for each of us to grieve our own ways; me by wallowing in it for a while, him by losing himself in work. One isn't right or wrong, better or worse. Just different, and we had to allow space for each others grieving styles.<br /><br />3. This is very, very hard to hear, and I don't say it lightly. Nor would I say this to you without having lived through this: as much as I understand your sentiment that this feels worse than just not conceiving, it is actually a very hopeful sign for your ability to conceive in the future. Several reproductive endocrinologists have told me, "It's a sign that something is working." Cold comfort for where you sit now, I know.<br /><br />Please know I am sending healing thoughts your way and I am here if you need something. This hurts like hell, and yet you will rebound, I promise. Winston Churchill wisely said, 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' Take it easy.<br />
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Blessings,<br />
Sarah" <br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-44357391996303898492013-04-09T14:34:00.000-04:002013-04-09T14:39:09.710-04:00Book Review: Conquering Infertility<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1037388.Conquering_Infertility" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Conquering Infertility: Dr. Alice Domar's Mind/Body Guide to Enhancing Fertility and Coping with Infertility" border="0" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1347657740m/1037388.jpg" /></a><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1037388.Conquering_Infertility">Conquering Infertility: Dr. Alice Domar's Mind/Body Guide to Enhancing Fertility and Coping with Infertility</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/464604.Alice_D_Domar">Alice D. Domar</a><br />
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My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/561147080">4 of 5 stars</a><br />
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"Conquering Infertility" is not a perfect book. It was written in 2002, and a lot of the medical landscape of assisted reproductive technology -- particularly in-vitro fertilization success rates -- has changed dramatically for the better. In spite of that and a few other issues, I still found the book a very worthwhile read.<br />
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The first part of the book instructs on some basic relaxation techniques to help calm the overactive stress system that gets engaged when you are undergoing infertility (IF) treatment. Domar details how to engage in progressive relaxation, visualization, and other techniques to kick in the relaxation response. She does this not because she claims it will help you get pregnant, but because it will help calm your system while you're dealing with this crisis. I did have a major criticism of this section: Domar is very quick to dismiss meditation as a helpful technique for overactive minds. She encourages you to try another relaxation technique instead. I don't know anyone who doesn't have an overactive mind -- it is the very nature of minds -- and the beauty of meditation is that you learn how to calm it. So, please don't give up on meditation!<br />
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The second part of the book deals with very specific IF issues. The chapters I found most useful were how to deal with handling IF at work, and the chapter on spirituality and IF. Both were full of compassion and practical advice for working through the problems IF poses.<br />
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The last chapter of the book is about how to deal with it when treatment fails. Domar discusses adoption, egg or sperm donation or living child-free. Again, she does so with compassion and practical advice.<br />
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Overall, if you are dealing with IF, I highly recommend this. A final note: the book, like most on this topic, is primarily directed at women, though I do think that men who read it would find it helpful. <br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1473768-sarah">View all my reviews</a>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-19373012373151867032013-02-05T17:09:00.003-05:002013-02-05T17:09:28.986-05:00You Gave Me A Mountain<i>"This time, Lord, You gave me a mountain, a mountain you know I might never climb. It isn't just a hill any longer -- You gave me a mountain this time." </i> - "You Gave Me A Mountain," lyrics by Marty Robbins, sung by Elvis Presley <br />
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<i><i>"</i>There is sorrow beyond all grief which leads to joy and fragility, out of whose depths emerges strength." - Rashini</i></div>
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I have had a lot of reproductive disappointments lately. It feels unbearable to write about them, but when I realized I haven't posted anything in almost a month, I knew why: this is what is going on, and I'm not in the mood to talk about it. Yet, this topic feels like a blockage, and until I write about it, I can't write about anything else. This sucks unlike anything else I've ever been through. I don't want to make it sound like I've been on death marches, sex trafficked, or anything else truly horrific, but for a privileged white girl, I have had my share of genuine tragedy and heartbreak, and infertility (IF) exceeds it all. Perhaps it's because IF touches on such deep, personal longing: religiously and culturally, most people have been inculcated with a deep desire to have children. Hell, if you are from a Judeo-Christian background, it's the first frigging commandment. If I were inclined, I could write a separate post about what IF has done to my spirituality and relationship with God. It aint pretty. Add to that the intense biological drive to propagate, and you have a potent mix for being really fucked up if things aren't working in the reproduction department.<br />
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When I had my miscarriages, I was shocked at the insensitivity of other infertile women who said, "Well, at least you can get pregnant. I haven't been able to do that." I still stand by the insensitivity of expressing that comment to someone who has lost three babies, but from where I sit now, I agree. For unknown reasons, I have gone from the camp of the super-fertile to the "...and to think, I wasted all that birth control!" camp. When you can get pregnant, there is still hope that this pregnancy will turn out ok. Now, I understand the frustration of getting yet another period when you don't want one. This is worse.<br />
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That leads me to another point: I have had to eat some real humble pie. My IF journey has led me to feelings and behaviors that I thought I was above, and I find myself experiencing many of the things I judged other infertile women for. For example, I used to think it was strange when someone told me she couldn't be at synagogue with all the kids. Now, I totally get it. Not wanting to be around pregnant women? Check! Not wanting to be around babies? Double check! Feeling like a playground or Facebook is an emotional minefield (especially around the anniversary of Roe v. Wade)? Check! I actually hid a new parent's Facebook feed recently because all she posts about is her new baby (kudos and thanks to my other friends who are new parents who do a great job balancing info about parenthood with other things! I love you!) In a strange way, I feel like the Universe is giving me a dose of all the things I used to be judgmental of. I assure you, I'm not anymore. I have also learned that the IF drugs, with the intense bloating they cause, make you look pregnant, so I shouldn't assume anyone is.<br />
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Maintaining perspective on this problem of IF is not for the faint of heart. It is easy to let it consume you. One of the common ways to try to balance the pain is to look at what is going right in my life, which, thank God, is a lot! Most importantly, I get to wake up every day next to my best friend and partner, whom I'm still madly in love with. I think marriages like ours are rare. My life is full of blessings! Yet, I have to be careful with this tack, because I also use it as a way to negate my feelings of intense sadness. Yes, life is beautiful, but it still feels for both of us like our family is incomplete. For these reasons, it feels like this method of focusing on the positive isn't an authentic or truly useful way in and of itself for me to work through this problem.<br />
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I did have some relief this morning when I did a <a href="http://www.tarabrach.com/audio/2011-12-31-FriPM-Awakening-Compassion-Tonglen-TaraBrach-web.mp3" target="_blank">guided <i>tonglen</i> practice</a> led by my meditation teacher, <a href="http://www.tarabrach.com/" target="_blank">Tara Brach</a>. This is a powerful practice that helps us connect with the suffering of ourselves and others in a meaningful, compassionate way. I found it very calming to view IF as a wave held in the greater awareness of my life as an ocean. To paraphrase Tara, when you're aware you're the ocean, you're not as afraid of the waves. I also like the tonglen practice because an integral part of it is focusing on the suffering of others, and in doing so, it feels like offering a prayer on their behalf.<br />
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Ok. I have been sitting on this post for a week, and can't think of anything else I'm willing to commit to the Internet, so here it is for now. <br />
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-6426159370359060122013-01-07T15:23:00.000-05:002013-01-07T15:23:20.119-05:00Elvis Birthday Shabbat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"When I was a child, ladies and gentlemen, I was a dreamer. I read
comic books, and I was the hero of the comic book. I saw movies, and I
was the hero in the movie. So every dream I ever dreamed, has come true a
hundred times... I'd like to say that I learned very
early in life that without a song, the day would never end. Without a
song, a man ain't got a friend. Without a song, the road would never
bend, without a song. So I keep singing a song." - </i>Elvis Presley accepting the Jaycees' award for being one of the Ten Outstanding Young Men of the Year, Jan. 16, 1971<i> </i>(video <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZRyendfZbI" target="_blank">here</a>)<br />
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<a href="http://thegameiam.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">David</a> and I decided to finally give Elvis Presley his glory and celebrate his birthday. Although he would have been 77 on Jan. 8, we knew we wouldn't get many people here on a weeknight, and decided to throw a traditional Shabbat (Sabbath) dinner in his honor on the Jewish Sabbath. After all, the King had Jewish ancestry on his mother's side, so we knew he'd approve.<br />
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I have a genuine love of Elvis after three years of employment at Graceland, and I am always eager to initiate the uninitiated. I planned a traditional Southern meal for the occasion:<br />
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"Burning Love" Fried Peanut Butter and Banana Sandwiches<br />
"Fever" chorizo beef sausage <br />
Glady Presley’s Corn Bread<br />
"Love Me Tender" BBQ Chicken <br />
"Too Much" Memphis Coleslaw <br />
"Viva Las Vegas" Lady Luck Black Eyed Peas <br />
"Polk Salad Annie" Collard Greens and Kale<br />
"Hound Dog" Baked Hush Puppies <br />
"You're The Devil in Disguise" Pineapple Ice Box Cake (<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8356962254/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">photo</a> and <a href="http://www.southernplate.com/2008/08/elvis-presley-cake.html" target="_blank">recipe</a>)<br />
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David, our sommelier, chose Clos Bel-Air's Montagne-Saint-Emilion wine to accompany our selection of beer and Coca-Cola. I'm not sure what that wine had to do with Elvis, but it is from France, and I'm sure Elvis French kissed!<br />
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Thanks to the handiwork of my sister, Lillie, we had awesome looking decorations including Elvis <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8355888597/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">place mats</a> and a kick-ass <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8356960366/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">centerpiece</a> for the table. David strung up Lillie's garlands and festive Elvis Birthday<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8355902721/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank"> lights</a>. You didn't think we'd leave the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8356942916/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">throne room</a> undecorated, did you? The rock n' roll gods blessed us, and my mom sent some Elvis-themed gifts, including a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8356954770/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">Blue Hawaii tray</a> that we used as a challah plate, a little pink Cadillac, and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8355885731/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">cups and napkins</a>. Seriously, opening that box was better than Christmas, and I'm pretty sure this was the first time in history that someone served challah on a Blue Hawaii-themed item. <br />
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The meal was meant to be tasty, celebratory, informative, and, above all, FUN. To that end, we interrupted dinner several times to engage in some Elvis trivia questions ranging from the mundane ("How many movies did Elvis star in?" Answer: 33), to the racy ("Why was Priscilla Presley embarrassed to go to the Walgreens in Memphis?" Answer: because everyone knew why she was buying up all the Polaroid film, according to her book "Elvis & Me").<br />
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One of the most enjoyable parts of the evening for me was the Elvis Presley sing-a-long we did. David and I chose five of Elvis' most famous hits spanning his career and printed selected lyrics on a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/45812446@N08/8356958140/in/set-72157632455604159" target="_blank">song sheet</a>, which we all sang. What we lacked in talent we made up for in enthusiasm!<br />
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I had a huge smile on my face all night. My guests seemed to have a blast and enjoy dinner, and I have no doubt that all of us learned something about The King. Three days after the meal, I'm still getting very warm texts and emails from people who were here. The reason it was so much fun is that our friends got really into it, for which I'm thankful. They patiently listened while I regaled them with tales of working at Graceland, the best job of my life. <br />
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We wanted our guests to carry the spirit of the King into their life, so they left with a cute little <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/87173855/12-elvis-presley-125-magnet-buttons?ref=sr_gallery_18&ga_search_query=elvis+magnet&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_search_type=all" target="_blank">Elvis magnet</a> as a party favor.<br />
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There is little doubt that thanks to the success of this endeavor that Elvis Birthday Shabbat will be an annual event. What remains to be seen is whether it will stay small or morph into a bigger party so we can share the gospel with more acolytes. Long live The King!<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-87663126578589426022012-12-21T16:12:00.000-05:002012-12-22T20:59:00.357-05:00Bringing A Snow Cone To Hell<a href="http://everydayglory.blogspot.com/2012/12/volunteering-with-kacy.html" target="_blank">Kacy</a> and I have visited our first hospice/Transitions* clients together. They are three adults in a facility for people with dementia -- a small neighborhood home in my metropolitan area. Severe dementia can be a primary diagnosis for hospice, though two of my three clients also have cancers. The setup for our visits is most of the house's residents are gathered in the living room, and I visit with all of them who are alert even though my primary focus is working with the three clients of my hospice agency.<br />
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The title for this post came from a comment my husband, <a href="http://thegameiam.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">David</a>, made when I told him about my first visit to the facility. It seems to have very little stimulation for residents, and they really reacted to the presence of the dog. "It sounds like you brought a snow cone to hell," David said. The Transitions client is the only one who can still speak, but she has no interest in Kacy or me and sleeps all the time. The first hospice client, "Lila," is very awake and alert and took a keen interest in Kacy. She pets her quite a bit, and interestingly, when I gave her a stuffed animal to hold when another resident was holding Kacy, she threw it down and gave me a look like, "You are not going to fool me with a stuffed animal!" Lila spends a lot of time picking Kacy up on the couch and putting her back down again, as well as clipping and unclipping her lead to her collar. Lila, Kacy, and I also take walks around the facility together. On our first visit to the facility, a nurse and social worker from my agency met us and said that Lila was far more animated in Kacy's presence than she normally is, so that was gratifying.<br />
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The second hospice client was even more interesting to me. "Dr. White" is a 60-something year old physician also with advanced dementia. He also no longer can speak and has a very flat affect, until he gets a hold of Kacy. Seeing him transform with her is almost as close to a miracle as I've ever witnessed. He strokes her and touches her, burying his face in her fur. Most touchingly, Dr. White kisses Kacy so tenderly. This is a man who has lost the ability to express affection in any other capacity, according to his caregivers, yet he kisses the dog. The first time I saw this I almost burst into tears on the spot, but luckily held it together.<br />
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I was thinking about why animals are so great for dementia patients. Dr. White had small dogs earlier in his life, so maybe holding Kacy triggers warm fuzzies for him. Additionally, it occurred to me how hard it must be if dementia patients want to speak. There is a chance they want to, but just can't. Me talking to these patients puts an expectation of a response on them; Kacy demands no such response. Dr. White does not want to let go of Kacy when she's there. When I separate Kacy and Dr. White so she can visit the other residents, I assure him I'll bring her back to him, and whenever we leave I tell him that I'll return with her next week.<br />
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Whenever I tell people I'm a hospice volunteer they ask me if it is depressing. I am new to this, but at this point, the severe dementia I work with is far sadder to me than someone dying from disease. Dementia patients return to a childlike state, and I see even well-meaning caregivers treating them like toddlers in adult bodies, and it makes me very sad. Dementia ages people severely: both of my hospice clients are in their 60s and look much, much older. There is a 65 year-old woman in the same facility (with a 25 year-old daughter) who became symptomatic at age 55. The patients in the facility I visit are safe and clean and well-fed, but I don't see a lot of effort going to keeping them stimulated. Perhaps this is more than we can ask staff earning minimum wage to do. That said, I handed Dr. White a ball of yarn to play with, which he did eagerly. This is the kind of accessory the facility could keep around, but doesn't. Witnessing patients transform when they are handling Kacy is, as I said, as close to a miracle as I've seen. I have no illusions that the patients remember me the second I walk out the door, so I am not getting to build intimate relationships with these clients. However, I also have no doubt that for the time the dog is there, their lives are better for those moments. For that reason, it is a privilege to bring a snow cone to hell.<br />
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*Transitions is a pre-hospice program for patients who are very ill but who don't yet meet hospice criteria.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-12839417888169745642012-12-11T19:44:00.000-05:002012-12-11T20:34:27.441-05:00Volunteering With Kacy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFD9qEF599ZYNV1CpU_IIOli5Hlsl_INnzC-qZGhwhQqF1G2518EsXwQQukRaL1MnRgQVVxLA9OF6QMR6gwOt8dba2SAk4IkUVaf2OpUl9CtqCAk-Yp6yKj95gPsZivtRlVTQtsbpJwQ/s1600/photo(16).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFD9qEF599ZYNV1CpU_IIOli5Hlsl_INnzC-qZGhwhQqF1G2518EsXwQQukRaL1MnRgQVVxLA9OF6QMR6gwOt8dba2SAk4IkUVaf2OpUl9CtqCAk-Yp6yKj95gPsZivtRlVTQtsbpJwQ/s320/photo(16).JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kacy in her volunteer uniform</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have discovered a new passion: volunteering with my little Norwich Terrier, Kacy. I've always considered her therapeutic, because her raison d'etre, besides eating, is cuddling with humans. She craves contact with people in ways I've never seen in a dog.<br />
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I first heard about<a href="http://www.peopleanimalslove.org/" target="_blank"> P.A.L.</a> (People. Animals. Love.) from my primary care doctor a few years ago. It sounded interesting, but Kacy was too pugnacious with other dogs in her youth. When it became evident to the hospice organization I'm volunteering with how obsessed I am with Kacy, they asked me if I would consider having her certified by P.A.L. so she could accompany me on hospice visits. She is a senior lady now (nine and a half years old), and has chilled out considerably, so we decided to give it a try. P.A.L. is not a therapy animal organization, so they have a more attainable standard for their pet volunteers. Kacy had to go on an orientation where she demonstrated her sociability and her ability to respond to basic commands like sit, stay, come, and heel. Of course, we had to provide records showing she was current with her vaccinations. We then had to go on two evaluation visits, which are real visits with other established P.A.L. volunteers. The team leader watched how we each handled ourselves and had to sign off on a form saying we were a good fit for this type of work. Luckily, Kacy and I passed. We did both of our evaluation visits at a nursing home in our city, where we continue to volunteer. You'll notice Kacy wearing her P.A.L. bandanna in the photo. When we volunteer with P.A.L., other dogs and their handlers are there, and we are building a rapport with some of the other regulars, including <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhNNB0LxW-Q&list=UUT8I_O-XV54uaX7wVzXJ-9g&index=5" target="_blank">Romeo, the amazing skateboarding Sheltie.</a><br />
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Sunday was our third visit with P.A.L. to the nursing home, and we are starting to build relationships with the residents who remember us. There is a charming woman who loves dogs of all sizes. Another 98 year old resident always proudly tells me her mother was a nurse for President Roosevelt, and that she herself worked for the federal government for 40 years. There are also non-verbal residents who also respond to the dog. If you've never seen this happen, it's amazing: people who otherwise don't respond very well can get "woken up" by interacting with an animal. Nowhere have I seen this more dramatically than I did when I volunteered at a nursing home with my Westie, Arthur, in high school. There was a woman who had a massive stroke who lay catatonic in her bed except when we put Arthur in it. Then, she would start to moan with pleasure and stroke him. The nursing staff would gather around to watch this because it was literally the only time this resident interacted with anything. I guess animals touch some deep place in our brains. At this nursing home, there are residents who don't speak but stop to pet the dogs. There are others who can't speak clearly anymore, but clearly enjoy cuddling Kacy on their laps.<br />
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The point of this work is not to have people make a fuss over the dog per se: Kacy is the bridge between me and other people. She opens up doors that I can't open by myself. Another example of this is our literacy work with kids. We went to the local library last week to let children practice their reading with dogs. There is a trend to use pets to help in this capacity, because many kids feel judged when they read to people; not so when they read to dogs. It really warmed my heart to have a 12 year-old (reading at a much lower level) read aloud to Kacy. It would not have appealed to her to read aloud to me, but she was keenly interested in snuggling with and engaging with the dog.<br />
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This has done wonders for my relationship with my little dog. I always enjoy her company, but it has reinvigorated our relationship to do this service work together. Once fearful of the car, now when I announce that we're getting in it, she darts down the stairs. I love seeing how she brings people out of their shells, and I just enjoy doing things with her. I am eager to see how Kacy does on our first joint hospice visit tomorrow. <br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-5335793044491747362012-12-06T18:48:00.000-05:002012-12-06T18:48:43.400-05:00Hospice Volunteer Training - Day ThreeMy final day of hospice volunteer training started with a long safety lecture all about infections and universal precautions on how to prevent them. No joke, my notes on this lecture state, "Please enclose me in a plastic bubble." Most of this lecture could be boiled down to three important words: wash your hands. At the end of the lecture, delivered by a registered nurse, we were treated to a tuberculosis test. Thank God, I didn't react to it, because I've heard dealing with the D.C. Department of Health on this matter is a pain in the arse the likes of which I've never experienced. Yes, that was my chief concern, not testing positive because I might have been exposed to TB.<br />
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The second segment focused on legal issues at the end of life, such as advanced directives, appointing a durable power of attorney, and living wills. I learned a surprising statistic: only ten percent of us die suddenly. The rest of us have a slow decline, and are likely to end up in medical situations requiring delicate decisions. I found this unit emotionally difficult, because I think that too many of those situations are game-time calls. I would find it very difficult to lay out my final wishes for a death scenario I can't even begin to imagine. Luckily, you do have the option of signing a statement in an advance directive such as, "I realize I cannot foresee everything that might happen after I can no longer decide for myself. My stated preferences are meant to guide whoever is making decisions on my behalf and my health care providers, but I authorize them to be flexible in applying these statements if they feel that doing so would be in my best interest" (that is from the Maryland Advance Directive, available <a href="http://www.marylandadvancedirectives.com/forms.php" target="_blank">here</a>). The one immediate point I took away for myself is that I need to ask someone to be my local backup in case my husband wasn't available.<br />
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The social worker who gave the presentation on end-of-life legal issues also reminded me of the <a href="http://www.fivewishes.org/" target="_blank">Five Wishes</a>, a simpler way of letting people know how you'd like medical issues to be handled at the end of your life. This is valid in 40 states and the District of Columbia. Regardless of how you choose to document your end-of-life preferences, please do so, and don't wait until you think it's "time." People die at all ages, sadly.<br />
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The last unit of my hospice volunteer training was all about working with patients with dementia. I need to re-read this section of my manual, because my first hospice assignment starting next week will be with three patients with the disease. We were taught not to make demands of dementia patients that they can't handle. For example, it is less taxing on them to ask, "Do you like watching TV?" than to ask, "What is your favorite TV show?" The social worker/nurse emphasized that when working with dementia patients, you're obviously not going to be cultivating long-term relationships (I realize this is relative, since we are discussing hospice) since the patients likely won't remember you week to week. Thus, presence is key. My personal feeling about this is that if I make the life of a dementia patient at all better in the moment, then my visit is a success, so I am not overly bothered by the absence of any lasting connection with me on their part.<br />
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Finally, we had paperwork galore to fill out (like permission for the background check), as well as a tutorial about the reports we have to file within three days of seeing our clients. My perception of the 20 hour training was that they did a great job. I loved hearing from the people who do these hospice jobs, and the material was always interesting and felt relevant. I think a piece of me wanted them to do a play-by-play of every scenario you could encounter, because I crave this kind of black-and-white guidance in general. Of course, we all know that life is nuanced. You can't script encounters, and I think the way you get to be "good" at being a hospice volunteer is by doing it. I am eager to start next week and will let you know how it goes.<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-12517694058526258892012-12-01T19:25:00.000-05:002012-12-01T23:42:09.602-05:00Suffering and Service<i>"To go into the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings..." </i>-- Wendell Berry<br />
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<i>"You can argue with the way things are. You'll lose, but only 100% of the time."</i> -- Byron Katie<br />
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The last three weeks have been immensely challenging for me. I am in the middle of a pain flare, and not my usual pain: this is a new back pain felt deep in my butt that makes it very hard to walk, shift position, or even turn over. The suspected cause is ligament laxity, which has been a constant issue for me. This laxity and the numerous aches and pains it causes is the reason I'm getting <a href="http://www.treatingpain.com/diagnosis-and-treatments/prolotherapy.html" target="_blank">prolotherapy,</a> a procedure in which a physician injects dextrose to tighten the ligaments. The principle behind this therapy is that you irritate the tissue initially, and then it responds by tightening up. This is the only non-surgical way to tighten a ligament (I've had surgery to do this in my ankle). My last prolo session was actually done with <a href="http://www.treatingpain.com/diagnosis-and-treatments/platelet-rich-plasma.html" target="_blank">Platelet-Rich Plasma (PRP)</a>, in which my wizard doctor added my blood to the prolo mix to increase the inflammation factor and healing potential. Let's just say, it definitely increased the inflammation factor. There's no way to know, but there is a chance that I've had a temporary setback from the procedure. I'm at week 4 after the PRP and you typically don't see any positive effects until week 6. Often, there is a loosening before the tightening, and there is a good chance that this is what is causing my current pain.<br />
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The expectation is that this will pass, but in the mean time it is truly miserable and infuriating. I have had countless chiropractic and orthopedic adjustments, trigger point injections, and just yesterday, <a href="http://www.treatingpain.com/diagnosis-and-treatments/si-joint-injections.html" target="_blank">sacroiliac joint cortisone injections</a> to try to lessen the pain. Drugs of any time are a joke; you may as well be giving me a placebo. So, in the meantime, I have to tough it out and give myself high doses of compassion.<br />
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You would think that with all of my issues, I would be no stranger to pain. But as a friend of mine with multiple health issues said to me earlier this week, "Whenever it's a new part of my body, I really freak out." I related to that. I know how to manage my fibromyalgia and Lyme pain, but the back pain is really frustrating. Worse than the discomfort is the impact it has on my life: walking even short distances is painful, as is bending down, like I do 100 times a day to pick up the dog, do laundry, or pick up my shoes.<br />
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The interesting lesson of this pain flare is how much service helps my spirit when nothing can soothe my body. I have been throwing myself into it as of late, volunteering many hours with a number of charities that are meaningful to me. On Thursday, I had the privilege of sitting with a very ill child who has been in the intensive care unit at the hospital for several months. I was in excruciating pain, but the truth is, I am hurting wherever I am. If I had stayed home, I definitely would have been stuck in a lot of "poor me" thinking. At the hospital, at least I was providing service for the patient and her family. Getting out of my head really helped me, probably a lot more than I was helping anyone else. One of the biggest lessons for me as a chronic pain patient is that there is a world of difference between pain and suffering. Staying at home, wallowing in my pain leads to suffering. When I am doing volunteer work, I might be in pain, but I am definitely not suffering. This insight is new to me, and is the darkness that "blooms and sings," as is so eloquently stated in the Berry poem excerpted above.<br />
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Service work gets me out of my head, and bonds me to the greater community of humanity. It also can be a good way to keep my situation in perspective. I say this not to minimize what I'm experiencing, because it really sucks. However, it is helpful to be able to hold it in the larger awareness of the suffering other people are experiencing. Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-60486646065549599182012-11-25T16:24:00.000-05:002012-11-25T16:24:42.029-05:00First Hospice Visit<i>"Volunteers ... can reap many gifts depending on how fully present they are during each visit, how empty they are are of any expectations or agenda, how capable they are of accepting the individual unconditionally and how comfortable they are simply sitting in the silence. So much can be communicated without words, and in fact, quite often a patient is too tired or too weak to talk. Just the presence of a caring companion at the bedside can convey enough serenity to bring comfort and ease some of the fear and loneliness of dying.</i>" -- Mary Jo Bennett, "When Autumn Comes: Creating Compassionate Care For the Dying," p. 100<br />
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I couldn't have asked for a better patient than "Janice" to initiate me as a hospice volunteer. I was filling in for Janice's regular volunteers, who were out of town for Thanksgiving. I was nervous as I entered the nursing home to see her; so much so that the Director of Nursing said to me, "You're out of breath. Were you running?" Janice is an elderly patient dying from cancer and has no surviving family. Fortunately, she rated her pain a 0 on a scale of 0-10.<br />
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When I got to her bedside, Janice was eating and said, "I'm so glad you're here. I was beginning to get lonely." That made me feel like whatever else happened during that two hour visit, me being there made a difference to the patient. I cut up her potatoes so she could eat them. Janice told me I looked like Bette Midler, and we talked about Thanksgiving in particular, cooking in general, the weather, flowers, and other sundry things. Janice expressed her appreciation for how nice the hospice I'm volunteering for has been to her. After 45 minutes, Janice apologized and told me she needed to take a nap because the medication she takes makes her sleepy. I told her she had nothing to apologize for, and that if she's tired, she should rest. Janice woke up a few times from her nap, always smiling when she realized I was still there. Twice, she apologized again for sleeping, and worried that I was bored. I told her I had books, an iPad, and knitting, so there was no chance of me being bored. I gently woke Janice up before I left to say goodbye and see if she needed help with anything before I left.<br />
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I learned three important lessons from my first hospice visit:<br />
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A. Being there really matters. Janice said that plainly when I got there, and then her face conveyed it every time she woke up from her nap and realized she wasn't alone. How cool it was to get home and read the above-quoted passage from "When Autumn Comes" (a must for hospice volunteers), which echoes this experience, especially in the last sentence.<br />
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B. Being silent is very hard. I found myself wanting to make small talk with Janice. I give myself a "B-" in that regard. I will need to work on letting the client always initiate conversation. This gives them control over whether they want to speak or not, and especially if they are actively dying, they might not want to talk. Second, keeping my mouth shut allows them to choose the topic they want to converse about. If I was going on about Thanksgiving turkey and Janice had really wanted to talk about her fears of dying, I would have precluded that by my chatter. On the other hand, if I had forced a conversation about death and Janice wasn't interested in talking about that with me, that's not cool either. I can tell that to be a good hospice volunteer, I will need to get very comfortable being silent. Bennett's excellent guide for hospice volunteers gives several suggestions for things to do to with a silent patient, including prayer, meditation, and gently stroking the patient's forehead or hair. <br />
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C. Leave earlier than I think I need to. I was rushed getting to the nursing home, and it stressed me out. It would have been better to be there 10 minutes early so I could have relaxed and better gathered myself before visiting the client.<br />
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Visiting Janice was a pleasure, and I look forward to many more assignments as a hospice volunteer. Truly, it felt like I was doing what I was meant to do.<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-76563811716436493222012-11-13T21:01:00.002-05:002012-11-13T21:02:28.629-05:00Hospice Volunteer Training: Day Two<i>"Tears fall, but why am I crying? </i><br />
<i>After all, I'm not afraid of dying. </i><br />
<i>Don't I believe that there never is an end?"</i> -- Iron Maiden, "Hallowed Be Thy Name"<br />
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Day two of hospice volunteer training covered the emotional and spiritual needs of the dying. I learned that only ten percent of us will die suddenly; the rest of us will have to deal with some protracted death. Hospice believes that this dying process can be a meaningful stage of one's life and endeavors to make it so. One of the biggest take-aways from my training is to get hospice involved early, so families can take advantage of all of the services they offer. If you wait until someone is "actively dying" (really nearing the end of life), they are not going to feel up to utilizing the chaplaincy, social work, and volunteer time that can make this journey a more pleasant one. For example, we had a panel of current hospice volunteers come speak to us. I was touched by a gentleman in his 70s who said, "I try to find the thing that the patient has lost and in some way bring it back to him." For example, one of his patients loved poker, but hadn't played in years. The volunteer started playing poker with him on his twice-weekly visits, and other men from the floor of the assisted living facility joined in! I was so moved by this man's dedication.<br />
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The hospice volunteer coordinators did an excellent job with this training, and provided us many relevant articles in our large binders. The section on the emotional needs of the dying was intense, but also informative. The <a href="http://www.jpsmjournal.com/article/S0885-3924%2800%2900271-2/fulltext" target="_blank">most powerful article</a>, to me, was written by a doctor who lost her six year-old, Liza, to cancer. It was a beautiful illustration of how hospice care could ease this girl's death for the patient and her family. The article goes into detail about how Liza wanted to die and how thoughtful hospice care enabled that . One of our training exercises was to brainstorm about our "ideal" deaths, inasmuch as there can be such a thing. None of us is getting out of here alive, and there is a 90 percent chance that you will not die suddenly, so it's worth putting time into thinking about this, and more importantly, sharing your preferences with your loved ones. Everyone agreed the first goal was to minimize pain. Beyond that, here are my wishes:<br />
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To die at home, in bed, surrounded by close family, my best friend, and my dog(s). I would like there to be candles lit, and I would not like music (not even my beloved Iron Maiden). I would like my sheets to be clean. I will definitely want some spiritual reconciliation near the end of my consciousness: saying the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viduy" target="_blank">viduy</a></i> (confession prayer) with a rabbi whom I like, and meeting with a meditation mentor or teacher.<br />
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Other people participating in the training said they wanted music, specifically Bruce Springsteen. Some people thought less about atmospherics and more about things like ensuring there would be no family drama during their deaths, and knowing that they will have helped their daughters plan their future weddings.<br />
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We talked a lot about how to conduct oneself on a visit, such as what to talk about and how to behave. We did role-playing where we acted out different scenarios, like a patient's brother asking you out (!) or having a patient ask, "Why is this happening to me?" Social workers talked extensively about preparing yourself mentally for entering a hospice patient's home and the importance of leaving your baggage out of the visit since they have enough problems. This is a good reminder for an over-sharer like me. They even recommended specific techniques to kind of clear yourself before you enter the home and enter into a mindful presence to be of maximum service on your visit. We also discussed the importance of self-care for volunteers since this is stressful work, and the importance of healthy boundaries. We were told many times to block caller ID on our phones when we call the patient or family and certainly not to bring any patients to our homes.<br />
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To try to cultivate empathy and drive home the hospice patient's experience, the trainer conducted an exercise in which we wrote the following on 16 sticky notes: your four most valuable possessions, the four most important people to you, the four roles you value most and the four activities you most enjoy. You then laid these stickies out in front of you, and the volunteer coordinator walked around and randomly took them away from you one by one and crumpled them up. The point was to drive home the reality that hospice patients lose all of those things. Many people were deeply moved by this exercise, and one volunteer even had nightmares about it and couldn't sleep last night. However, I found it a little cheesy. I kept thinking, "My role as a wife wouldn't go away if I were in hospice, nor would I lose my wedding ring if I were dying." As for losing the ability to perform activities I enjoy, because of my debility from my serious Lyme Disease infection, I <i>did</i> lose the ability to do nearly all of my favorite activities, and others that aren't favorites but are critical to independence, like driving. Even though this sticky note exercise did not resonate with me, I still appreciate its message that people dying are rapidly losing control of things they hold dear.<br />
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In addition to discussing emotional needs of the dying, the second focus of the day was on their spiritual needs. One of the two hospice chaplains came and explained his job to the volunteers. He was really cool, and explained that he takes a very broad view of spirituality, which he explains to patients. For that reason, he ends up visiting with many people whom do not think of themselves as religious. Most people feel connected to something bigger than themselves, even "just" being part of a community. To this rabbi, that connection is the essence of spirituality. The rabbi brought a lot of insight into how to speak to the dying. I thought it was interesting that he often ends up working with people who are already very involved in their church or synagogue, because their own clergy people are overextended or because their minister or rabbi said, "You should view me as a generalist, and the hospice chaplain as the death specialist. Work with him, too."<br />
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Last but not least, on day two of training, we got our mandatory tuberculosis test. Ouch! It was a very long and emotionally intense day, but I felt like it did a lot to get me prepared to be a hospice volunteer.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-47886763353204399372012-10-29T15:53:00.000-04:002012-11-13T21:01:54.984-05:00Hospice Volunteer Training - Day OneYesterday was my first day of training to be a hospice volunteer. It was really interesting, and I think it's going to be a very rewarding volunteer experience. Some people have asked me why I'm putting energy toward this. It sounds very cheesy, but it feels like a calling. My father died painfully of multiple myeloma, and his doctors at the Mayo Clinic referred him to hospice when he exhausted his treatment options. Unfortunately, his wife had strong cultural prejudices against hospice, and refused his admittance. I believe that hospice would have made a difference in his death. I admire the whole-family approach to hospice: the people who receive care are the hospice patient and his/her family. I also admire the hospice philosophy, which addresses the physical, emotional, social, and spiritual needs of the patient.<br />
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Unfortunately, I have a lot of recent experience with grief and dying, and I think I can put that to use being of service to hospice patients and their families. It was meaningful for me to help my father die; it felt like critically important work. My experience grieving my pregnancy losses and informally counseling other couples dealing with the same issue is another thing contributing to my desire to do hospice work.<br />
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One of the coolest things about hospice volunteer work is that it is taken very seriously by the hospice agencies: any hospice that receives Medicare funding (most of them) must fulfill five percent of patient care hours through volunteers. Therefore, Medicare requires this 20 hours of volunteer training that I am going through. I also had to provide three references and consent to a background check. Since the nurses only start visiting patients very frequently as they near death, the volunteers provide eyes and ears on the patients in between clinical visits. When I complete my training, I will be matched with a home hospice patient whom I will spend at least two hours a week with. You are there for them, so they guide the activities. Many want to be read to. Some want to sing with you, or listen to music. The volunteer coordinator was happy that I knit, because some patients want to either knit with volunteers, or watch them knit if they can no longer craft themselves. The volunteer coordinator's dad was also a hospice patient, and all he wanted to do with his volunteer was argue about politics! They match you up. <br />
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The first day of training covered the history and philosophy of hospice. It was pretty inspiring to learn about <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cecily_Saunders#Hospice" target="_blank">Cecily Saunders</a>, who founded the first hospice in London in 1967. Saunders was a nurse who was bothered that dying patients weren't getting the specialized care they needed. She recognized she wouldn't get the respect she needed to make significant changes to the system without a medical degree, so at age 33, she went to medical school.<br />
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The volunteer training covered a lot of topics, including the need to be non-judgmental, because patients and families react to dying differently, and because people run their households differently. An interesting point they brought up was patient use of marijuana. They said we can't touch it, but basically, they look the other way. Really, how cold would you have to be to call the cops because a terminally ill patient was smoking weed? If you would, you're probably not a good candidate for hospice volunteer work!<br />
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Because I have an interest in medicine, the most interesting part of the training for me yesterday was when a hospice nurse came to talk to the volunteers for an hour. She got into a lot of the clinical issues she handles and how the volunteers play into the care team. The nurse shared stories from her 20 years working in hospice, and talked about the satisfaction she gets from her job. She said that one issue she sees a lot -- especially with Jewish hospice clients -- is food issues coming up when someone is dying. It is natural for dying patients to eat and drink very little, which alarms families. Apparently, it <b>really </b>alarms Jewish families, which have internalized the message that "food is love." The nurse described how this comes up and how they handle it, and she told volunteers how to address it if the family is distressed that the patient isn't eating. Forcing food and liquids actually makes the patient's death more painful, as the body can't process the waste products efficiently.<br />
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The primary goal of physical care for the hospice team is making the patient's death journey as painless as possible, so the nurse discussed pain management and people being freaked out by hospice's use of morphine. As someone who believes pain is under-treated in this country, I was totally on board with this.<br />
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Unfortunately, the second and third days of volunteer training were delayed due to Hurricane Sandy, so I will have to fill you in on those mid-November. I'm eager to have it done so I can be assigned to a patient. I really look forward to being of service in this capacity.<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-87702649155022148982012-10-15T12:14:00.000-04:002012-10-15T12:14:02.781-04:00Agreeing To Disagree<a href="http://georgetown.patch.com/blog_posts/agreeing-to-disagree" target="_blank">This</a> is a post from my other blog on the Georgetown Patch about Gallaudet University's recent decision to place a veteran administrator on leave because she signed a petition to put gay marriage to a vote by the electorate in Maryland.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-55856115476779474132012-10-12T17:02:00.001-04:002012-10-12T17:02:30.865-04:00Didn't I See This Movie?I had a surreal experience on Kol Nidre night (the night when Yom Kippur begins). A young woman came up to me at synagogue and said, "Do you remember me?" I had supervised her immersion in the <i>mikvah</i>, a ritual bath, immediately before her wedding because the attendant scheduled to be on duty didn't show up. The night was very memorable for me because I had to be at the surgical center very early next morning to get a D&C for my <a href="http://everydayglory.blogspot.com/2012/06/true-refuges.html" target="_blank">third miscarriage</a>; the last place I wanted to be was at the mikvah with a happy bride, but it was rainy and I didn't want her to wait any longer for the no-show. Anyway, it was this woman who approached me at synagogue. She told me how grateful she was that I showed up that night in general and all the more so, because she was pregnant. Now, in the movie version of this, I should have been, too: seriously, dragging myself out late at night in the middle of a tragedy to help this woman with a <i>mitzvah</i> (commandment) meant to help you conceive? It felt like the setup for some positive karma coming my way. Alas, the world doesn't work like the movies.<br />
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I think about my infertility more than I'd like to admit. I wish I didn't, but it's hard to not reflect when I see pregnant bellies at synagogue, or when I have a sweet interaction with a neighbor's kids. On Rosh Hashana I thought about our second baby, who was due then, and when someone told me her due date was Jan. 7, I thought of our third kid who was due Jan. 6. The one thing I can tell you is, infertility sucks. So much so that my friend who has cancer told me that he found infertility more challenging in many ways than cancer. His experience was that it was certainly more lonely. "People rally around you when you have cancer. That's not the case when you're experiencing infertility," he said.<br />
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One of the suckiest things about this is seeing myself turn into a person with behaviors I never, ever wanted to have, like avoiding pregnant friends. I think it is so petty and lame, yet find myself doing it anyway. I am trying to have compassion for myself around this, because I know my poor brain is trying valiantly to protect my wounded heart. I know this is a phase and it will pass. In the meantime, there is always Facebook.<br />
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Another eye-opener for me is how suffering related to infertility isn't related to how long you have been trying to conceive or how long you've wanted to be a parent. I was very late in wanting kids, then was thwarted by a very advanced case of Lyme Disease. It is hard to make love, let alone seriously contemplate parenthood, when every nerve in your body is on fire and you can't use your arms. For some (dumb) reason, I thought that would mean I would be less sad about our infertility, but that's not how it works. The heart wants what the heart wants, and furthermore, sometimes I have to encounter the second arrow of, "Well, if you had come to this sooner, things might be different." Feeling like there is a hole in your family is a lonely feeling, no matter how long you've been feeling it.<br />
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I am working hard to keep things in perspective, like by taking account of the tremendous blessings that I have, especially being happily married to my best friend. I cling steadfastly to the belief that you can be happy no matter your circumstances. I also do believe that everything will work out how its supposed to, whether or not I'm immediately happy with the results. Still, I can't help but feeling thwarted in doing God's will, as David <a href="http://thegameiam.wordpress.com/2012/10/06/about-time/" target="_blank">eloquently wrote abou</a>t, even as I have to concede that this may not be God's will for us. We'll see; it's definitely too early to make that call. David and I are definitely still in the game.<br />
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In the meantime, I continue to pray and take comfort in the struggles of the Jewish matriarchs, most of whom suffered infertility. I read Hannah's story in I Samuel and was moved to tears. I'm trying to use this fallow time as a time to work on myself and be of service to others. If you are the spiritual sort, please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-63394532194149294612012-07-31T21:33:00.001-04:002012-07-31T21:36:40.440-04:00Iron Maiden Concert<i>"I don't want to have as much energy as they do when I am their age. I want to have half as much energy as they do </i>now<i>." </i>-- my husband, <a href="http://thegameiam.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">David</a>, on Iron Maiden<br />
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One of the highlights of our summer vacation was seeing <a href="http://www.ironmaiden.com/" target="_blank">Iron Maiden</a> in New Jersey on July 2. My first encounter with this band was from Matthew Martin, one of my biggest influences as a pre-teen. To me, Matt could do no wrong. He was cute, funny, smart, and above all, cool. If Matt thought it was cool, it was cool. Matt was the guy who got me into heavy metal, and for that, I will be eternally grateful. His room was covered in posters from heavy metal bands, and I eagerly drank their music in: Motley Crue, Kiss, and many others, except one: Maiden scared me because of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_the_head" target="_blank">Eddie</a>, their mascot. He is drawn for teenage boys, not teenage girls, and Eddie grossed me out. So, I dismissed Iron Maiden as "too hard" for me. Cue that wonderful invention of the 90s, Napster: I decided to download a couple of IM songs, cuz what do you have to lose when they're free, right? I got "The Wicker Man" and "Run To The Hills" (note to IM if you are reading this: I promise, I have since purchased them). The melodic sounds of the former and the catchy riff of the latter appealed to me, but I was still totally into glam rock, and I assumed those two songs were aberrations and not indicative of Maiden.<br />
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What ignited my love of this band was the release of their single "El Dorado" off "The Final Frontier," their 2010 studio album. <a href="http://www.eddietrunk.com/" target="_blank">Eddie Trunk </a>played it on his show and I was blown away, like mouth-hanging-open blown away. The song rocks. I was amazed by Bruce Dickinson's character vocals: "El Dorado" is about a hustler/huckster and Bruce nails that character. I could envision such a character on a Broadway stage. I was also blown away that a 30 year-old band was still kicking so much ass. This led me to investigate more IM, and the rest is history. The only benefit of not having discovered them earlier is that now I get to spend some time delving into their amazing catalog. Their melodic music, thoughtful lyrics and song themes really speak to me. Steve Harris writes about epic, mythic topics, and the band is quite literary. If my English teachers had played IM's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" I would have paid more attention to that book. I also appreciate IM's thoughtful treatment of spiritual matters, such as in "Infinite Dreams." Years of listening to Rush, with Neil Peart's unending disparagement of religion, have made me a little sheepish about being a believer and a rock fan.<br />
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IM doesn't tour in the United States often, so we were bummed that they were playing the D.C. area on Shabbat, the Jewish sabbath, when we are unable to travel to a show, listen to music, or engage in the commercial activities that entail going to a concert. Undeterred, we scored tickets to the show in NJ. I had heard often that IM puts on an energetic show, and they didn't disappoint us. I was glad to hear some old favorites like "Phantom of the Opera," "Can I Play With Madness?" and "The Trooper," and learn some new ones, like "Afraid To Shoot Strangers." I enjoyed Bruce's bantering with the audience, like getting the crowd totally worked up about Independence Day and then saying, "Doesn't mean a thing to me. I'm British!"<br />
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The stage was just impressive. Eddies abounded. Oh, how they abounded: massive animatronic Eddies, Eddies as backdrops, huge puppet Eddies, and even air-inflatable Eddies. They didn't turn off the explosion machines, to paraphrase Butthead, and they had these fire-shooting pillars that were so hot, you could feel them from very far back. The band played for two solid hours. It would be unfair to not give a shout-out to <a href="http://alicecooper.com/" target="_blank">Alice Cooper</a>, the opening act. He put on a great show, as he has since the 1960s. He's still being resurrected after every "killing" on stage, too. Impressive! Alice and his touring band were energetic, and just on. I enjoyed hits from way back in the catalog, like "School's Out," as well as 80s resurgence songs like "Poison" and "Feed My Frankenstein." I thought he was a good warmup for IM.<br />
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Since buying an IM t-shirt and cloth tote bag at the show, I've noticed an interesting cultural phenomenon. IM fans compliment me in public. There aren't that many of them where I hang out in D.C., but when they're around, they say something. Today, a guy flirted with me outside the Rockville Metro station after eying my shirt, and a clerk at The Container Store complimented my tote. David has gotten the same treatment when he wears his IM shirt.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-51553446465327430202012-07-29T18:05:00.002-04:002012-07-29T18:05:25.878-04:00Crazy Cruising (Oceans, Not Bars)Continuing my thoughts on cruising, some of the cultural issues of the ship were really
notable: they have a staff of more than 900 people for about 2,200
guests. Of those 900 crew members, 15 were American. I am convinced that
the cruising industry is the only thing (barely) keeping the Greek
economy on this side of solvency, because they seem to employ a huge
number of Greeks. Truthfully, most employees are Indian and Malaysian,
with many Filipinos as well. What was obvious to me was the great
stratification of nationalities: all of the officers are white/European.
All of the top dining personnel were also white and European, yet I
didn't see a single white waiter. The same stratification exists in the
hotel side of the ship as well; I didn't see any white stateroom
attendants, the people who clean your room twice a day, make sure
everything is in working order and to your liking, and turn down your
bed at night, yes, with chocolates included. I asked a lot of employees
about this, and they told me the separation exists socially as well,
with people of most nationalities exclusively hanging out with others
from their country. Please keep in mind, many of these employees work 13
hour days, and all ship employees work seven days a week, so there
isn't a tremendous amount of social time if they want to sleep at all.<br />
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The thing I didn't grok about cruising is that it is its own culture, though I should've figured this out by the fact that there are two formal nights on board the ship, when people dress in black tie clothing. There are standards and rituals that seem to be unique to this form of transportation, and many of them are just freaking weird. The most notable example is the parade in the main dining
room with all of the restaurant staff at the end of the cruise. They shut the drapes in the dining room to block out other distractions, blast music, flash lights, and literally have the dining and kitchen staff walk around the dining room while diners cheer and twirl their napkins in the air. It was honestly the strangest thing I've ever seen, yet allegedly it happens on every cruise ship and goes way back in history (though probably without the light and sound spectacle). It lasted about five minutes, at the end of which I asked David, "So, now do we kill them and eat their young?" It was truly bizarre, then the shades went back up and everyone acted normally. <br />
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As far as I can tell, everything that happens on a cruise ship happens for one reason: to separate you from your money. There is no limit to the amount you can spend on a ship. Coca colas start at $2.50, and all of the entertainment takes place in locations where it is desirable to have a drink, and would even be awkward not to. There is a whole floor of shops where they sell mundane tourist shlock, but also Faberge eggs and luxury watches and luggage. The Celebrity Millenium even had an authorized Apple reseller, so there were people buying iPads and MacBooks. The formal night plays into this: you dress up and then get your photos made for free. We bought a package at an exorbitant cost, and we never dressed in black tie.<br />
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There is no end of amusement on a cruise ship, and you can literally spend your whole vacation on the boat if you desire. There is some kind of performance every night on board. There is a house cast, which is quite good. I had to resist the urge to pull the cruise director aside and tell her that it is very ironic that a performance that includes "You Can't Stop the Beat" from Hairspray didn't have a single black cast member in it! There were various other acts, including a comedian and a very good magician named A<a href="http://www.adamtrentmagic.com/site/" target="_blank">dam Trent</a>. My favorite performers were North By Northwest, an a capella group formed for the ship. They were really special, and we went to hear them a few times. I also really enjoyed the naturalist on board, who gave lectures on topics like glaciers and whales. He also narrated certain points of the journey. There are different games on board, like karoke, trivia, and a newly-wed/not-so- newly-wed game. They host daily fitness and dance classes, too. There are also daily <a href="http://www.aa.org/" target="_blank">AA</a> meetings, those these are always inconveniently timed if you're actually off the ship for an excursion. The programming on the ship was so good, I always found myself trying to balance my energy between going and doing things off the ship, and doing things on the ship, too, that I wouldn't get the chance to do in my everyday life.<br />
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I have to admit I could get used to life on board. I enjoyed the hot tubs and pools, where we met a lot of fun people (and, admittedly, quirky couples). I loved having someone to tend to my room, and the ability to have cottage cheese, fruit, and hot tea delivered to my room 24 hours a day for free. However, it was also very awkward for me to feel "waited" on all the time, by people who depend heavily on passengers for their livelihood. I went back and forth between feeling like it was awesome they had a job where they earned such good money, to wondering if they were being exploited, and sad that they leave their infants for six months at a time to earn a living. <br />
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I would consider cruising again. It worked well with my energy/physical limitations, in that I always had the ability to get back on board if I was run down, and I got to see a lot of places without re-packing my things. What is sacrificed is any kind of depth, so I would prefer a cruise that docks for two days at some ports so you could explore the port city more thoroughly.<br />
<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6106221024087263603.post-83923394053957900662012-07-20T12:43:00.004-04:002012-07-20T12:44:14.787-04:00Kosher Cruising (Oceans, Not Bars)I just got back from my first cruise and a lot of people had questions about how it went in general, and specifically how it went as a kosher consumer. <a href="http://thegameiam.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">My husband</a> and I traveled with family on the <a href="http://www.celebritycruises.com/explore/ships/detail.do?shipCode=ML" target="_blank">Celebrity Millenium</a> on a seven-day cruise of Alaska's inside passage (note: I found<a href="http://explorenorth.com/wordpress/sailing-alaska-celebrity-millennium-day-1/" target="_blank"> this blog</a>, which details one passenger's experience of our cruise day by day, if you want photos of more details, and if my arms allow, I'll write my own reflections later).<br />
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Our biggest concern about this cruise, hands down, was the availability of food that meets our dietary needs. We keep <a href="http://www.milechai.com/judaism/kosher.html" target="_blank">kosher</a>, and in addition, I don't eat gluten or sugar. Moreover, I have to weigh my food to treat my binge eating disorder -- meaning that combined foods don't work very well for me, i.e. I do much better with fish, potatoes, veggies than with a fish stew. If you just ask a cruise line for "kosher meals" you will get the disgusting airline meals. We weren't willing to cruise with that as our sustenance, so we upgraded our meal plan to Celebrity's Premium Kosher meals. These were strictly kosher, frozen, catered meals substantially upgraded from the regular
airplane food that they serve you if you just specify that you keep
kosher. Celebrity charged an extra $17 per meal per person for this
service, but that airplane food is barely edible for anybody, and
definitely does not work with my food plan, so it was worth it to us.<br />
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We had a whole hassle before our trip when we learned, quite by accident, that Celebrity had dropped their vendor for Premium Kosher meals. Panic ensued. Friends who have cruised have assured me that the ship's kitchen would cook fish double-wrapped in aluminum foil for kosher consumers (this would allow us to eat food cooked in an oven where non-kosher food is also prepared), but when we called Celebrity customer service to ask about this, they told us that this was up to the discretion of each ship's crew. Crap!<br />
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When we got on board with a ton of packaged food, we went straight to Guest Services to register our concern. We ended up meeting that night with Executive Chef Jason Baynor, who told us that "the most important thing" to him was that we were happy and satisfied. We worked out a system where they custom cooked our lunches and dinners for us every day; they actually have a portion of their kitchen separated with police-line-type tape that is covered in tin foil and reserved for kosher food, which we saw on a tour of the galley kitchen. Even better, they had brand new pans that they reserved for our use. For days, we ate delicious variations of fish, gluten-free starches, and veggies. When I got sick of fish, I ordered an omelet, and then Jason asked if his sous chef could make us Indian curries in the new pots, and that is where the fun began. For three nights, we had Indian feasts of fish curries, rice, vegetable curries, and naan made from rice flour, which was surprisingly delicious. Furthermore, Celebrity bakes all of its own bread on board, and the ice cream is made from milk, cream and flavors bearing reliable kosher supervision. Lucky David!<br />
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For kosher consumers contemplating a cruise who wouldn't be comfortable with this type of unsupervised kashrut situation, you have a decision to make: if you are one of these travelers who truly doesn't care about food and just wants to see the sights, you may be ok on a cruise. For me, I would have been furious and resentful choking down the airline food, and it would've ruined my trip. You've probably heard that a big part of cruising is the food. This is true, both in the sensual pleasure of it and the social aspect: you spend a lot of time socializing around food on a cruise whether you're with people you know, or with strangers. This is an important part of cruising culture, and I would be doing a disservice to pretend like our dining arrangements weren't important. They were huge in our enjoyment of our travels.<br />
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Chef Jason and his crew went way out of their way to bend over backwards to gladden our tummies and satisfy our complicated dietary needs. In fact, on two different nights, other diners in the dining room asked our waiter why they didn't see what we were eating on the regular menu and asked if they could get it too (answer: no). The last night of the cruise, I was speaking to the restaurant manager, who actually works on many different Celebrity ships, and he told me he knows his colleagues on the other vessels would be happy to do the same thing for us. Having this issue resolved so satisfactorily definitely means that we would be willing to cruise again, and truth be told, it was an issue of God giving us an outcome much better than we could've ever imagined for ourselves: the first night on board we had some of the remaining Premium Kosher food and it was less than premium. We ended up with delicious, freshly cooked food made to order! The staff was way more than grudgingly helpful; they seemed genuinely concerned and interested in making our dining experience good. The head maitre d', Lazar, whom I wanted to invite to live with us, told us that he was learning about kashrut (the noun form of "keeping kosher") to better understand his kosher clients. Interestingly, Lazar is Serbian Orthodox and said that his religion has many of the same restrictions as kashrut, such as requiring that you drain the blood out of an animal before you eat it. The point is, they really cared.<br />
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In other oceanic food news, weighing my food was difficult on the ship, as both the motion of the boat and the magnetic interference made both digital and spring-loaded scales less than accurate. I just had to do the best I could at any meal, and some were definitely smoother than others. The bottom line is, I didn't eat compulsively, and if you have been on a cruise, you know what an accomplishment that is! It is literally a 24-hour food fest; you can get pizza or a steak in the middle of the night at no cost to you. I attracted more stares than usual with my food scale, but the
truth is, I'd rather be stared at for weighing my food than for being
twice the size I am now. There were some shockingly obese people on the ship. Far from feeling condemnation, I just felt sad, because they were truly limited because of their size. I am so grateful that because of my recovery in OA-HOW, I am pretty darn average looking and am not limited by my body weight. David and I went dog-sledding on a glacier in Juno. The company that organizes this charges a hefty surcharge for people weighing more than 280 pounds. Given that my top weight was 250, I was close to that a few years ago. Someone who previously went on this excursion joked with me to "not lie about my weight" (they weighed you there, so that wasn't an option anyway), and I am so unbelievably grateful to not be at a weight where I'm even <i>tempted</i> to lie about it. Weighing all my food so precisely is a huge pain in the ass sometimes, but for me the choice truly is between that and being back at 250 pounds, or more. There is no question for me which is worse.<br />
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<br />Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06261420110467034277noreply@blogger.com4