Yesterday 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.
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.
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.
The first day of training covered the history and philosophy of hospice. It was pretty inspiring to learn about Cecily Saunders, 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.
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!
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 really 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.
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.
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.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Agreeing To Disagree
This 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.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Didn'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 mikvah, 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 third miscarriage; 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 mitzvah (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.
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.
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.
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.
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 eloquently wrote about, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 eloquently wrote about, 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.
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.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Iron Maiden Concert
"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 now." -- my husband, David, on Iron Maiden
One of the highlights of our summer vacation was seeing Iron Maiden 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 Eddie, 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.
What ignited my love of this band was the release of their single "El Dorado" off "The Final Frontier," their 2010 studio album. Eddie Trunk 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.
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!"
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 Alice Cooper, 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.
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.
One of the highlights of our summer vacation was seeing Iron Maiden 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 Eddie, 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.
What ignited my love of this band was the release of their single "El Dorado" off "The Final Frontier," their 2010 studio album. Eddie Trunk 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.
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!"
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 Alice Cooper, 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.
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.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Crazy 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.
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.
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.
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 Adam Trent. 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 AA 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 Adam Trent. 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 AA 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.
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.
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.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Kosher 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. My husband and I traveled with family on the Celebrity Millenium on a seven-day cruise of Alaska's inside passage (note: I found this blog, 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).
Our biggest concern about this cruise, hands down, was the availability of food that meets our dietary needs. We keep kosher, 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.
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!
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!
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.
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.
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 tempted 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.
Our biggest concern about this cruise, hands down, was the availability of food that meets our dietary needs. We keep kosher, 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.
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!
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!
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.
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.
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 tempted 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.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
True Refuges
"Your lost Joseph will return to Canaan, do not grieve
This house of sorrows will become a garden, do not grieve
Oh grieving heart, you will mend do not despair
This frenzied mind will return to calm, do not grieve
When the spring of life sets again in the meadows
A crown of flowers you will bear, singing bird, do not grieve
If these turning epochs do not move with our will today
The spheres of time are not constant, do not grieve
Don’t lose hope, for awareness cannot perceive the concealed
Behind the curtains hidden scenes play, do not grieve." -- Hafez, "The Lost Joseph" (full poem here)
"I'm here without you baby, but you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby, and I dream about you all the time." - Three Doors Down, "Here Without You"
I don't know how much more I have to say about the horrors of miscarriage, except to say that they seem to get exponentially worse. With one miscarriage, it's like, "Well, this sucks, but 25 percent of all pregnancies end this way, so we'll grieve, hope and proceed forward." With two in a row, it's like, "Uh-oh, I hope this doesn't indicate a trend. Just bad luck." With three in a row, you become a "serial miscarrier" and the stakes change. Our most recent miscarriage is like a gigantic hole in my heart. It feels like more of a profound loss, in part because it's our third blow of this kind in a year, and I think in part because we felt some relief that we heard and saw our baby's heart beat. Even though I still worried, that gave me some hope that things could be ok. Nevertheless, it turns out our daughter had an extra thirteenth chromosome, which is incompatible with life. Knowing this was a little girl, and not an anonymous "it" makes this even more personal and painful.
One thing this year-long curriculum in grief has taught me is how much of a precious gift it would be for all of us to give each other the gift of mindful listening. In our culture, "help" has become synonymous with "fix": people see David and me hurting and want to relieve us of our suffering, so they make offers of "help" from the reasonable to the sublime to the ridiculous. The people who have been the greatest help to me have been those who say, "This sucks. You are in the middle of something awful and unfair, and I am so sorry for you." Bless you. One of the reasons that you don't say anything when you enter a Jewish house of mourning is that there is nothing to say. Loss is ineffable.
All of my old complaints about the hurtful things people say and do in their attempts to "help" still stand, though I have some new complaints too. The primary one is women offering me advice for their fertility problems, which are not our fertility problems. There are many stages where reproduction can fail, and I find myself exasperated with advice (again, well-meant) from people who have a totally different problem we do. They don't realize that their suggestions are equivalent to suggesting Lupron, a prostate cancer drug, for a breast cancer patient. But hey, they're both cancer! To all you progesterone pushers: all the hormones in the world would not have negated an extra chromosome, but that will be a later post. I am not immune to this desire to "help"; God help you if you ask me about Lyme Disease, because you will get an hour lecture full of strong opinions! Then again, in my defense, Lyme and co-infections have one cause, though many presentations of the diseases. Infertility is quite a bit more complex since it can have different causes, many causes, or be completely idiopathic.
I am all about care right now for David and me. Frankly, right now, other people's needs come significantly below ours. In trying to determine how to best care for myself, I keep asking myself, "What and who are true refuges for me?" This has guided how I am spending my time and who I am spending it with. No refuge for Sarah, no Sarah. This means a lot of calls to me are not being returned, and that's totally as it should be.
To my great surprise, one of my most helpful refuges has been meditation. It is surprising because my meditation cushion is kinda the loudest place in the house nowadays. You wake up to what is when you meditate, and if what you're waking up to sucks, it really hurts! I listened to a dharma talk today by Sylvia Boorstein titled "May I Meet This Moment Fully, May I Meet It As A Friend." I've been repeating that throughout the day. Some days, like this morning, I was able to compassionately touch my grief in my meditation; other days, it is too intense, and I return to the traditional metta (loving-kindness/blessing) practice.
Loving, compassionate, close friends and family members have also been a true refuge, as have both of my spiritual communities: my Jewish one and my meditation one. I found out last Wednesday that our baby died, yet I couldn't imagine being anywhere other than with my sangha (meditation community). I was hugged by so many people, and got kind follow-up emails from people sending me metta and checking on me.
Little Kacy, our dog, is a true refuge, as always. And on a different wavelength, good TV, in moderation, provides much-needed distraction. What are your true refuges?
This house of sorrows will become a garden, do not grieve
Oh grieving heart, you will mend do not despair
This frenzied mind will return to calm, do not grieve
When the spring of life sets again in the meadows
A crown of flowers you will bear, singing bird, do not grieve
If these turning epochs do not move with our will today
The spheres of time are not constant, do not grieve
Don’t lose hope, for awareness cannot perceive the concealed
Behind the curtains hidden scenes play, do not grieve." -- Hafez, "The Lost Joseph" (full poem here)
"I'm here without you baby, but you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby, and I dream about you all the time." - Three Doors Down, "Here Without You"
I don't know how much more I have to say about the horrors of miscarriage, except to say that they seem to get exponentially worse. With one miscarriage, it's like, "Well, this sucks, but 25 percent of all pregnancies end this way, so we'll grieve, hope and proceed forward." With two in a row, it's like, "Uh-oh, I hope this doesn't indicate a trend. Just bad luck." With three in a row, you become a "serial miscarrier" and the stakes change. Our most recent miscarriage is like a gigantic hole in my heart. It feels like more of a profound loss, in part because it's our third blow of this kind in a year, and I think in part because we felt some relief that we heard and saw our baby's heart beat. Even though I still worried, that gave me some hope that things could be ok. Nevertheless, it turns out our daughter had an extra thirteenth chromosome, which is incompatible with life. Knowing this was a little girl, and not an anonymous "it" makes this even more personal and painful.
One thing this year-long curriculum in grief has taught me is how much of a precious gift it would be for all of us to give each other the gift of mindful listening. In our culture, "help" has become synonymous with "fix": people see David and me hurting and want to relieve us of our suffering, so they make offers of "help" from the reasonable to the sublime to the ridiculous. The people who have been the greatest help to me have been those who say, "This sucks. You are in the middle of something awful and unfair, and I am so sorry for you." Bless you. One of the reasons that you don't say anything when you enter a Jewish house of mourning is that there is nothing to say. Loss is ineffable.
All of my old complaints about the hurtful things people say and do in their attempts to "help" still stand, though I have some new complaints too. The primary one is women offering me advice for their fertility problems, which are not our fertility problems. There are many stages where reproduction can fail, and I find myself exasperated with advice (again, well-meant) from people who have a totally different problem we do. They don't realize that their suggestions are equivalent to suggesting Lupron, a prostate cancer drug, for a breast cancer patient. But hey, they're both cancer! To all you progesterone pushers: all the hormones in the world would not have negated an extra chromosome, but that will be a later post. I am not immune to this desire to "help"; God help you if you ask me about Lyme Disease, because you will get an hour lecture full of strong opinions! Then again, in my defense, Lyme and co-infections have one cause, though many presentations of the diseases. Infertility is quite a bit more complex since it can have different causes, many causes, or be completely idiopathic.
I am all about care right now for David and me. Frankly, right now, other people's needs come significantly below ours. In trying to determine how to best care for myself, I keep asking myself, "What and who are true refuges for me?" This has guided how I am spending my time and who I am spending it with. No refuge for Sarah, no Sarah. This means a lot of calls to me are not being returned, and that's totally as it should be.
To my great surprise, one of my most helpful refuges has been meditation. It is surprising because my meditation cushion is kinda the loudest place in the house nowadays. You wake up to what is when you meditate, and if what you're waking up to sucks, it really hurts! I listened to a dharma talk today by Sylvia Boorstein titled "May I Meet This Moment Fully, May I Meet It As A Friend." I've been repeating that throughout the day. Some days, like this morning, I was able to compassionately touch my grief in my meditation; other days, it is too intense, and I return to the traditional metta (loving-kindness/blessing) practice.
Loving, compassionate, close friends and family members have also been a true refuge, as have both of my spiritual communities: my Jewish one and my meditation one. I found out last Wednesday that our baby died, yet I couldn't imagine being anywhere other than with my sangha (meditation community). I was hugged by so many people, and got kind follow-up emails from people sending me metta and checking on me.
Little Kacy, our dog, is a true refuge, as always. And on a different wavelength, good TV, in moderation, provides much-needed distraction. What are your true refuges?
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