Pamela Carey's Blog, page 15
December 17, 2014
Camilla and Charles Babysit While the Royals Visit the Colonies
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Charles: For the love of heaven, what is that beastly smell?
Camilla: It's Prince George's biggie. He just finished his lunch.
Charles: Can't you do something?
Camilla: Sedrick (butler) is bringing rubber gloves and an apron. Should I order you
a mask?
Charles: No, just get it done. Oh no, oh no! He just vomited over my velvet
slippers. It's vile - it's green.
Camilla: It's just peas, Charles. Kate said to give them a try. Here's Sedrick now.
Help me get the Prince out of the highchair, would you, Charles?
Charles: Sedrick, I need a wet towel right away.
You know I have a bad back, Camilla. I can't lift him - he's a load.
Camilla: And I just had my nails done. Come on, give me a hand.
(they both lift Prince George)
Charles: Stop squirming, son! My god, he's heavy. I can't hold him.
(Prince George and Camilla fall sideways onto carpet)
Holy Queen Mother! Are you hurt, Camilla?
Camilla: (slightly winded) George fell on top of me. Get his doctor!
(Prince screaming on top of Camilla)
Charles: Where is that nanny when we need her? Where's Sedrick?
Oh, there you are, Sedrick.. There's been a fall. Summon the Prince's
doctor immediately.
Not a word of this, mind you!
(takes wet towel as Sedrick retreats again for doctor)
Take deep breaths, darling. The Prince will be fine. He had a soft landing
on that lovely bosom. (Prince George's cries turn to whimpers)
Up-a-daisy, now.
Camilla: (on her knees, handing Prince George to Charles)
Oh, my nails are ruined! Where is that nanny?
Sedrick: (reappearing) The doctor's on his way. I'll take the Prince to his nanny.
Charles: And do something about that odor, will you, Sedrick?
Some spray, perhaps?
I need to calm down. Where's the paper, Camilla?
Camilla: I need to get an appointment with my manicurist.
Charles: (scanning paper)
Look at this, Camilla! They're in Brooklyn, of all places, for some brutish,
smelly game. There's a monster with his arm around Kate.
Didn't he get the protocol sheet?
Camilla: (looking at news photo)
She's making the best of it with that smile. Always a good girl.
William doesn't notice - his eyes are on Beyonce.
Charles: Leave it to the Yanks to create a tempest.
Camilla: We didn't need a Yank to create a tempest, did we now, Charles?
Charles: Don't go there, Camilla. Here they are at a gala. I wonder what that
frock cost the Treasury?
Camilla: It's elegant and covers her baby bump. Frumpy's all you get in
The Pretty Pregnant Boutique here.
Charles: Maybe the next one won't eat like a gargantuan or poo like a horse.
Camilla: Her stylist outdid herself with those five 'do's. Are they going away again
soon?
Charles: If they must, we'll be heading off in the opposite direction!
December 10, 2014
A Favorite Christmas Memory
My husband comes from a large Irish family in Massachusetts. To be specific, he is the oldest of five brothers and twin sisters. Among the next generation are eleven grandchildren (and now twenty-three great-grandchildren). The clan gathered at Granny’s house for every holiday except July 4th, when we were all at the beach.
On Christmas Eve we piled the car with presents for each niece and nephew and Charley’s parents, and then all of us piled in – Charley and me, our two boys, my parents, and sometimes my sister and her husband. On this particular Christmas Eve, Granny and Grandpa were living in a two-story cottage. It consisted of a kitchen, small dining and living room, and an enclosed sun porch. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
With the temperature near zero, we spilled out of the van into the kitchen, hugging and kissing whoever was there and spilling their drinks in the process. We dropped our presents under the tree, leaning down to kiss each niece and nephew as we passed. One nephew weaved a new Big-Wheel among the legs of the adults, screeching like a siren as he went. A two-year-old pulled the bell on his new fire engine as he made his way to a fire. They’d been unable to wait.
Granny had the buffet set up in the dining room, where smells mingled from baked ham, lasagna, sliced roast beef for sandwich-making, sweet potatoes, and Granny’s famous potato salad. My sister-in-law Joanne brought her blueberry and pecan pies and one of Charley’s sisters brought a cake. Sugar cookies decorated with red and green crystals waited for the kids.
The tiny living room bulged with a love seat, a lounger, and folding chairs. My parents and my sister squeezed together on the love seat. I headed for a drink in the kitchen. “Time to eat,” Granny announced.
A hungry mob almost ran me over, stampeding toward the dining room. With drink in hand, I followed and eventually found the arm of the lounger as my place to perch.“Can we open our presents now?” the grandchildren begged who hadn't received riding toys. They'd only eaten a couple of bites.
The sound of ripping paper and screeches of joy filled the tiny living room, as our sons and their cousins found their gifts under the tree. Parents couldn't keep up with who'd given what to whom. Torn paper and ribbons soon littered the floor. Adults who weren't parents pinned themselves against the outer extremities of the walls. Amid the chaos, a dispute broke out between two cousins. "Mine!" yelled the little one, trying to dislodge his older cousin from the seat of his Big Wheel. He used his only defense mechanism - he bit. Teeth marks drew blood, howls filled the room, and Granny flew upstairs for iodine and a band-aid.
Eventually trash bags appeared amid the mayhem. Parents stuffed wrapping paper and ribbons in dark green bags and attempted to round up their kids' toys into a family bag.
At midnight we got our gear together and dispersed into the freezing cold. The inside of our noses stuck together. Charley’s brother's SUV was stuck in front of us and needed a jump start, which Charley provided. The two of them ran into the warm refuge of the kitchen, where the rest of us waited.
We arrived home around 2 a.m. to grab a few hours' sleep before Santa’s appearance. Thankfully, we'd already put together all the gifts with small parts. My exhausted parents, sister, and brother-in-law pulled themselves upstairs.
The next morning after Christmas breakfast we opened our gifts and retrieved the bag from Grandma’s house. Anticipating their new hockey gloves and head phones, the boys discovered only wrapping paper, tissue, ribbons, and torn gift cards! We’d taken home a bag of garbage.
Thirty years later, I remember the laughter more than any of our missing gifts.
On Christmas Eve we piled the car with presents for each niece and nephew and Charley’s parents, and then all of us piled in – Charley and me, our two boys, my parents, and sometimes my sister and her husband. On this particular Christmas Eve, Granny and Grandpa were living in a two-story cottage. It consisted of a kitchen, small dining and living room, and an enclosed sun porch. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bathroom.
With the temperature near zero, we spilled out of the van into the kitchen, hugging and kissing whoever was there and spilling their drinks in the process. We dropped our presents under the tree, leaning down to kiss each niece and nephew as we passed. One nephew weaved a new Big-Wheel among the legs of the adults, screeching like a siren as he went. A two-year-old pulled the bell on his new fire engine as he made his way to a fire. They’d been unable to wait.
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Granny had the buffet set up in the dining room, where smells mingled from baked ham, lasagna, sliced roast beef for sandwich-making, sweet potatoes, and Granny’s famous potato salad. My sister-in-law Joanne brought her blueberry and pecan pies and one of Charley’s sisters brought a cake. Sugar cookies decorated with red and green crystals waited for the kids.
The tiny living room bulged with a love seat, a lounger, and folding chairs. My parents and my sister squeezed together on the love seat. I headed for a drink in the kitchen. “Time to eat,” Granny announced.
A hungry mob almost ran me over, stampeding toward the dining room. With drink in hand, I followed and eventually found the arm of the lounger as my place to perch.“Can we open our presents now?” the grandchildren begged who hadn't received riding toys. They'd only eaten a couple of bites.
The sound of ripping paper and screeches of joy filled the tiny living room, as our sons and their cousins found their gifts under the tree. Parents couldn't keep up with who'd given what to whom. Torn paper and ribbons soon littered the floor. Adults who weren't parents pinned themselves against the outer extremities of the walls. Amid the chaos, a dispute broke out between two cousins. "Mine!" yelled the little one, trying to dislodge his older cousin from the seat of his Big Wheel. He used his only defense mechanism - he bit. Teeth marks drew blood, howls filled the room, and Granny flew upstairs for iodine and a band-aid.
Eventually trash bags appeared amid the mayhem. Parents stuffed wrapping paper and ribbons in dark green bags and attempted to round up their kids' toys into a family bag.
At midnight we got our gear together and dispersed into the freezing cold. The inside of our noses stuck together. Charley’s brother's SUV was stuck in front of us and needed a jump start, which Charley provided. The two of them ran into the warm refuge of the kitchen, where the rest of us waited.
We arrived home around 2 a.m. to grab a few hours' sleep before Santa’s appearance. Thankfully, we'd already put together all the gifts with small parts. My exhausted parents, sister, and brother-in-law pulled themselves upstairs.
The next morning after Christmas breakfast we opened our gifts and retrieved the bag from Grandma’s house. Anticipating their new hockey gloves and head phones, the boys discovered only wrapping paper, tissue, ribbons, and torn gift cards! We’d taken home a bag of garbage.
Thirty years later, I remember the laughter more than any of our missing gifts.
December 2, 2014
Grandma's Instructions
Grandma had to go out while the grandchildren were visiting in Florida.
Here are the instructions she left for Grandpa.
DO:
1. Become a mannequin for "Beauty Parlor"
game
2. Check for BARRETTES in your hair before
leaving the house
3. Lock the bathroom door, if you must use it
4. Put the phone in Hannah's pocket so she
can call me if you fall asleep and begin to
drool
5. Put any colored pills on
an unreachable shelf so they
won't mistake them for jelly beans.
6. Sneeze only if absolutely necessary
and into your elbow or you will
be told you are spreading germs
and a demonstration will follow of the
appropriate method
7. Keep an extra pair of glasses in
a locked drawer and write down
where the key is. Story-time follows
snack-time.
8. Make time-outs a learning experience
about right and wrong, but place them in
a chair that isn't
near wallpaper they can peel.
9. Use microwave only. No
ovens!
DO NOT:
1. Take the children within 50 feet of the
ocean
2. Take the children within 20 feet of the pool
3. Reheat pizza for lunch AND snack-time
4. Tell them about starving children
around the world to make them finish their
meals.
When Olivia tells you she's
allergic to fish and peanut butter,
BELIEVE HER!
5. Let the children out of your sight for more
than one minute, tops.
That includes toilet time, so pee
frequently and in small amounts.
6. Try to shower
7. Assume any sporting event on t.v.
will keep them fascinated for three hours
8. Pretend you heard something they
said when you didn't. Your response will
make no sense and they'll think
a nut case is in charge.
9. Allow more than 2 carousel rides or Olivia
will throw up
10. Assume they can buckle their own
seat belts, but follow their instructions if
you can't figure out how to do it
11. Frighten them by raising your voice for
any reason. When you think you're
whispering, you're actually speaking
loud enough to be heard in a hurricane.
12. Believe them when they tell you they
aren't tired and can skip a nap
13. Wear your "comfort outfit" or your fanny pack out of the house
14. Attempt to explain where babies come from or whether there's
a Santa Claus.
Here are the instructions she left for Grandpa.
DO:
1. Become a mannequin for "Beauty Parlor"game
2. Check for BARRETTES in your hair before
leaving the house
3. Lock the bathroom door, if you must use it
4. Put the phone in Hannah's pocket so she
can call me if you fall asleep and begin to
drool
5. Put any colored pills on
an unreachable shelf so they
won't mistake them for jelly beans.6. Sneeze only if absolutely necessary
and into your elbow or you will
be told you are spreading germs
and a demonstration will follow of the
appropriate method
7. Keep an extra pair of glasses in
a locked drawer and write down
where the key is. Story-time follows
snack-time.8. Make time-outs a learning experience
about right and wrong, but place them in
a chair that isn't
near wallpaper they can peel.
9. Use microwave only. No
ovens!
DO NOT:
1. Take the children within 50 feet of theocean
2. Take the children within 20 feet of the pool
3. Reheat pizza for lunch AND snack-time
4. Tell them about starving children
around the world to make them finish their
meals.
When Olivia tells you she's
allergic to fish and peanut butter,
BELIEVE HER!5. Let the children out of your sight for more
than one minute, tops.
That includes toilet time, so pee
frequently and in small amounts.
6. Try to shower
7. Assume any sporting event on t.v.
will keep them fascinated for three hours
8. Pretend you heard something they
said when you didn't. Your response will
make no sense and they'll think
a nut case is in charge.
9. Allow more than 2 carousel rides or Olivia
will throw up
10. Assume they can buckle their own
seat belts, but follow their instructions ifyou can't figure out how to do it
11. Frighten them by raising your voice for
any reason. When you think you're
whispering, you're actually speaking
loud enough to be heard in a hurricane.
12. Believe them when they tell you they
aren't tired and can skip a nap
13. Wear your "comfort outfit" or your fanny pack out of the house
14. Attempt to explain where babies come from or whether there's
a Santa Claus.
November 24, 2014
The Gift
Enjoy the following post by pharmacist, mystery writer, friend Don Weiss.
I wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving with those you love! Pam
The Gift
Today, with your indulgence, I would like to wax philosophic. When you’re in your sixties, I believe it’s your God given right—so here goes.
Even in my state of hiatus from labor (sounds better than being out of work) I have many blessings to be thankful for. I have a wonderful wife, two terrific step-children and a lovely daughter-in-law. With the exception of a few age-related problems, my heath is good and I’ve been given the ability to play the piano. Nothing beats sitting down at my 102-year-old Steinway grand and that feeling of peace and contentment that washes over me when I play something by Chopin or Debussy.
Have you ever considered the miracle that is the piano? In the hands of an artist it is capable of producing a wide variety of tones and sound with such nuance and finesse. The debt I owe to my teachers, Tanya Royshteyn (who gave me the fundamentals), and Judith Burganger (who gave me the music), cannot be re-paid.
The ancestor of the piano was an instrument called the Pantalon; an invention by a man called Pantaleon Hebenstreit from Leipzig. It was essentially a hammered dulcimer with a double sound board. It was six feet long and had 200 strings arranged as singles, pairs and triplets. It was capable of a full chromatic scale and had over five octaves, and most important of all, it could produce loud and soft tones unlike the organ or the harpsichord. The father of the modern piano was the Italian, Bartolomeo Cristofori, who developed the precursor to the modern hammer mechanism found in every piano.
It was Mozart who adopted the piano as an instrument for performance, and the German manufacturer, Steinway, who made it accessible to everyone. Modern artists like Artur Rubenstein, Claudio Arau, Vladislav Richter and Vladamir Horowitz brought it to life. The great black pianists like Jelly Roll Morton, Fats Waller, James P. Johnson, Scot Joplin and Eubie Blake took it to an entirely new level with Ragtime and Jazz.
I can trace my own instrument to the day it left the Steinway factory in New York, and in its 102 year old life, I’m only its third owner. The molds used to form the case are still in use at Steinway and the metal plate was forged in Steinway’s own foundry. The ebony keys are original. Most of the action is original as are all of the hinges, and pedals. The heart of the instrument, the sound board, was in perfect shape when I found it.
Osteo-arthritis in my little fingers prevents me from playing powerful octaves or performing great leaps like I used to or tackling more demanding works, but I still play slower, quieter, pieces with the same satisfaction and pleasure. It’s seen me through a whole host of dark days. That’s what I call a blessing.
I wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving with those you love! Pam
The Gift
Today, with your indulgence, I would like to wax philosophic. When you’re in your sixties, I believe it’s your God given right—so here goes.
Even in my state of hiatus from labor (sounds better than being out of work) I have many blessings to be thankful for. I have a wonderful wife, two terrific step-children and a lovely daughter-in-law. With the exception of a few age-related problems, my heath is good and I’ve been given the ability to play the piano. Nothing beats sitting down at my 102-year-old Steinway grand and that feeling of peace and contentment that washes over me when I play something by Chopin or Debussy.
Have you ever considered the miracle that is the piano? In the hands of an artist it is capable of producing a wide variety of tones and sound with such nuance and finesse. The debt I owe to my teachers, Tanya Royshteyn (who gave me the fundamentals), and Judith Burganger (who gave me the music), cannot be re-paid.
The ancestor of the piano was an instrument called the Pantalon; an invention by a man called Pantaleon Hebenstreit from Leipzig. It was essentially a hammered dulcimer with a double sound board. It was six feet long and had 200 strings arranged as singles, pairs and triplets. It was capable of a full chromatic scale and had over five octaves, and most important of all, it could produce loud and soft tones unlike the organ or the harpsichord. The father of the modern piano was the Italian, Bartolomeo Cristofori, who developed the precursor to the modern hammer mechanism found in every piano.
It was Mozart who adopted the piano as an instrument for performance, and the German manufacturer, Steinway, who made it accessible to everyone. Modern artists like Artur Rubenstein, Claudio Arau, Vladislav Richter and Vladamir Horowitz brought it to life. The great black pianists like Jelly Roll Morton, Fats Waller, James P. Johnson, Scot Joplin and Eubie Blake took it to an entirely new level with Ragtime and Jazz.
I can trace my own instrument to the day it left the Steinway factory in New York, and in its 102 year old life, I’m only its third owner. The molds used to form the case are still in use at Steinway and the metal plate was forged in Steinway’s own foundry. The ebony keys are original. Most of the action is original as are all of the hinges, and pedals. The heart of the instrument, the sound board, was in perfect shape when I found it.
Osteo-arthritis in my little fingers prevents me from playing powerful octaves or performing great leaps like I used to or tackling more demanding works, but I still play slower, quieter, pieces with the same satisfaction and pleasure. It’s seen me through a whole host of dark days. That’s what I call a blessing.
November 18, 2014
The Holiday Dinner
This spoof posted on UTube has Sandy and Richard Riccardi performing in California.
Lyrics are by Sandy. Parody is USCOPYRIGHT:FAIRUSE.
Click on this link to view Sandy singing and Richard on the piano: http://www.youtube.com/embed/TX9EAavxrus
(To the tune of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer")
I made turkey and stuffing
And hot mashed potatoes,
Yams and ham
And fried green tomatoes.
But I had forgot...
What family could have and have not!
Stanley could not have cheddar
'Cuz it clashes with his meds.
Lee's on a low-carb diet,
Couldn't sample any breads.
Anya could not have onions
'Cuz they fill her up with gas.
Elsie could not have eggnog
'Cuz it knocks her on her ass!
I made Martha Stewart's tart,
Sweet and high-falutin'
That six people couldn't eat
Because it con-tained gluten.
Sherman could not have shellfish,
Or he would asphyxiate.
There wasn't one damn item
That could stay on Linda's plate!
My souffle was a masterpiece,
So light and airy!
But my guests couldn't eat it
'Cuz no-one ate dairy.
I broke down and wept.
If you're vegan, then why'd you accept?
Penny got on her podium. On
And on and on she went...
About the evils of sodium (plus
How she's lactose-intolerant).
Peter was prone to bloating,
Couldn't eat the broccoli.
Annie gets acid reflux,
Every time she looks at me!
When I put the turkey down,
Sarah had to say,
"Ever since the world began,
I can't eat no tryptophan."
Everyone at the table, getting
Up in years, you see,
Skipped the meal all together,
Talked about their surgeries!
So I said, "Pass the Beano
And pour me some vino
And screw it, next year,
YOUR house, please!"
Lyrics are by Sandy. Parody is USCOPYRIGHT:FAIRUSE.
Click on this link to view Sandy singing and Richard on the piano: http://www.youtube.com/embed/TX9EAavxrus
(To the tune of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer") I made turkey and stuffing
And hot mashed potatoes,
Yams and ham
And fried green tomatoes.
But I had forgot...
What family could have and have not!
Stanley could not have cheddar
'Cuz it clashes with his meds.
Lee's on a low-carb diet,
Couldn't sample any breads.
Anya could not have onions
'Cuz they fill her up with gas.
Elsie could not have eggnog
'Cuz it knocks her on her ass!
I made Martha Stewart's tart,
Sweet and high-falutin'
That six people couldn't eat
Because it con-tained gluten.
Sherman could not have shellfish,
Or he would asphyxiate.
There wasn't one damn item
That could stay on Linda's plate!
My souffle was a masterpiece,
So light and airy!
But my guests couldn't eat it
'Cuz no-one ate dairy.
I broke down and wept.
If you're vegan, then why'd you accept?
Penny got on her podium. On
And on and on she went...
About the evils of sodium (plus
How she's lactose-intolerant).
Peter was prone to bloating,
Couldn't eat the broccoli.
Annie gets acid reflux,
Every time she looks at me!
When I put the turkey down,
Sarah had to say,
"Ever since the world began,
I can't eat no tryptophan."
Everyone at the table, getting
Up in years, you see,
Skipped the meal all together,
Talked about their surgeries!
So I said, "Pass the Beano
And pour me some vino
And screw it, next year,
YOUR house, please!"
November 11, 2014
Another Necessary Evil of Aging
Because of my husband's report from the doctor this week that his colonoscopy revealed a "pristine cylinder," I am reproducing this blog post from July, 2012. Just honoring my vet on Veteran's Day.
U.S. Air Force Lieutenant
1966
I was working on a machine at the fitness center when I overheard this conversation next to me.
John (standing in a UMass teeshirt, dripping sweat that barely missed the gray-haired professor-type
in white socks halfway up his shins, trying to do sit-ups on the bench under John):
"You've never had a colonoscopy? How old are you?"
Professor-type: "I'm sixty-five."
John: "Your doctor let you get away with that?"
Professor-type: "I just didn't bother."
John: "So this will be your first?"
Professor-type: "That's right, and I'm not looking forward to it."
John: "Well, the actual procedure isn't so bad, unless you've had a problem with anesthesia.
You're sedated, you know."
Professor-type: "I only had anesthesia once, and I was real groggy after."
John: "Then you'd better be sure to bring someone to drive you home. You won't know where
you are, but you have to be there so early in the morning that by the time you're
finished, it's only 10:30. You can still go back to bed. Anyway, it's the day before
that's brutal."
Professor-type (still in halfhearted sit-up routine): "That's what I hear."
John: "Well, the liquid you drink is a lot better than when I first started. That stuff was like
brake fluid. Now you can get these little bottles of Citrate of Magnesium. Unless
you have a problem taking magnesium."
Professor-type: "No."
John: "That's lucky. You have to make sure the Citrate of Magnesium is clear. There's a
lemon flavor. Stay away from the cherry. You have to finish the whole bottle around
6 o'clock. So you'd better plan to take off work the day before, because you have to
take Ex-Lax pills in the afternoon. They react on some people fast."
Professor-type: No response. Still doing half-speed sit-ups.
John: "And you have to drink 64 ounces of water. That's the most
important part. The water flushes your kidneys. So like I said, you could react fast or
slow."
Professor-type: "Got it."
John: "For me, things started to get interesting around 7 o'clock. I'd suggest a portable t.v. in the bathroom,
or a magazine."
Professor-type: "Thanks for the tip."
John: "Of course, you can't eat anything all day, so you begin to get hungry the more you sit on
the can. But you can't drink anything after midnight, either."
Professor-type: "I'm sure I won't be thinking about eating."
John: "Well, I had to run every half-hour all night. You might be different. When
it got clear, that's when I knew I was about done."
Professor-type: No longer doing sit-ups, putting a towel over his head.
Pam: Stifling laughter, jumps off the machine and runs to the mats. Stretches in hilarity.
P.S. - I've had two colonoscopies and wouldn't skip one for the life of me (and the two friends
we lost to colon cancer).
U.S. Air Force Lieutenant1966
I was working on a machine at the fitness center when I overheard this conversation next to me.
John (standing in a UMass teeshirt, dripping sweat that barely missed the gray-haired professor-type
in white socks halfway up his shins, trying to do sit-ups on the bench under John):
"You've never had a colonoscopy? How old are you?"
Professor-type: "I'm sixty-five."
John: "Your doctor let you get away with that?"
Professor-type: "I just didn't bother."
John: "So this will be your first?"
Professor-type: "That's right, and I'm not looking forward to it."
John: "Well, the actual procedure isn't so bad, unless you've had a problem with anesthesia.
You're sedated, you know."
Professor-type: "I only had anesthesia once, and I was real groggy after."
John: "Then you'd better be sure to bring someone to drive you home. You won't know where
you are, but you have to be there so early in the morning that by the time you're
finished, it's only 10:30. You can still go back to bed. Anyway, it's the day before
that's brutal."
Professor-type (still in halfhearted sit-up routine): "That's what I hear."
John: "Well, the liquid you drink is a lot better than when I first started. That stuff was like
brake fluid. Now you can get these little bottles of Citrate of Magnesium. Unless
you have a problem taking magnesium."
Professor-type: "No."
John: "That's lucky. You have to make sure the Citrate of Magnesium is clear. There's a
lemon flavor. Stay away from the cherry. You have to finish the whole bottle around
6 o'clock. So you'd better plan to take off work the day before, because you have to
take Ex-Lax pills in the afternoon. They react on some people fast."
Professor-type: No response. Still doing half-speed sit-ups.
John: "And you have to drink 64 ounces of water. That's the most
important part. The water flushes your kidneys. So like I said, you could react fast or
slow."
Professor-type: "Got it."
John: "For me, things started to get interesting around 7 o'clock. I'd suggest a portable t.v. in the bathroom,
or a magazine."
Professor-type: "Thanks for the tip."
John: "Of course, you can't eat anything all day, so you begin to get hungry the more you sit on
the can. But you can't drink anything after midnight, either."
Professor-type: "I'm sure I won't be thinking about eating."
John: "Well, I had to run every half-hour all night. You might be different. When
it got clear, that's when I knew I was about done."
Professor-type: No longer doing sit-ups, putting a towel over his head.
Pam: Stifling laughter, jumps off the machine and runs to the mats. Stretches in hilarity.
P.S. - I've had two colonoscopies and wouldn't skip one for the life of me (and the two friends
we lost to colon cancer).
November 3, 2014
The Value of Laughter
.
I've been interviewed a lot lately about my book, ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS. One of the frequent questions I'm asked is, "How does a caregiver de-stress, since caregiving is a 24/7 job that is often frustrating, thankless, and tiresome physically as well as emotionally?"
I respond that it's imperative a caregiver attend to his/her own well-being, in order to continue to provide for the loved one. That is often easier said than done in a crisis or long-term care situation.
One of the first suggestions I have is to find and use humor wherever possible. Laughter forms a great bond between people and is also a stress reliever.
In Sunday's Palm Beach Post, November 2, 2014, Dr. Michael Roizen and Dr. Mehmet Oz reported that from 1995-2014, comedies at the box office brought in $38.6 billion - more than action, adventure, and horror movies. There's a scientific reason for this.
A University of Maryland study found that laughter helps your blood vessels relax, promoting healthy blood flow and good blood pressure.
Other studies indicate that laughter boosts levels of antibodies that help the body fight off upper-respiratory infections.
When you laugh, you lower cortisol and epinephrine levels that are "implicated" in weight gain, blood vessel damage, and depression. Certainly caregivers, as well as the elderly, must deal with depression on a regular basis.
Laughter also keeps glucose levels stable. Post-meal blood sugar spikes will be slower and lower. In other words, laugh while you're eating, if possible.
For those of you who appreciate "senior" humor, I urge you to watch stand-up comedian Fritz Coleman in a 15-minute YouTube routine at the Conference on Aging, Pasadena, California. I guarantee you'll feel relaxed afterward!
http://youtu.be/LR2qZ0A8vic
Other suggestions I have for maintaining health and sanity while caregiving are:
- Do something therapeutic for yourself as often as possible (walk, work out, read,
paint, write, play music, knit, garden, cook, or immerse yourself in a project at
work -
whatever interests you to relieve stress)
- Ask for help!!! And don't be afraid to delegate. Support systems to tap into might
include friends, family members, church members. Of course, there are also
professional services available, such as pastors, counselors, and healthcare
managers.
The website www.aarp.org has lots of specific advice for caregivers.
- Make great memories with a loved one. Offer your hand, your heart, your time,
even if it's just to talk. The time spent together, even if brief, will remind you later
why that person was important to you.
- Eat at least one balanced meal every day and keep a supply of healthy snacks
with you
(such as nuts, granola bars, yogurt, fruit). Poor nutrition will wear you down.
- Get enough sleep. If you are unable to sleep, ask your physician for a mild
sedative
or become a fan of Sleepytime or chamomile teas and yoga.
- Keep your social life alive and try not to take your "significant other" for granted.
Interact with friends as often as possible. It's restorative and you'll need support.
Tell your
"significant other" how much you appreciate his/her involvement and ask for
patience.
October 27, 2014
Conference Detox
I've just returned from three days at the annual Florida Writer's Conference in Lake Mary, Florida. There were over four hundred of us, each hoping to unlock the secrets for publishing a best-seller. I have an entire journal of notes.
There were three sessions each morning, starting at 8 a.m. For each session we had a choice of several presentations by writers, marketing experts, financial experts, lawyers, publishers, agents, or screen writers. Fortunately there was a mid-morning break for some liquid and a cookie, granola bar, or yogurt. I chose the cookie.
There were three sessions each afternoon, again with a choice of several presentations or panel discussions. During my mid-afternoon break I chose an ice cream on a stick.
There was a dinner each of the two evenings I attended, with a keynote speaker or awards. Having walked for thirty minutes before each dinner, I felt righteous and ate a dessert at each - the carrot cake and chocolate mousse. I managed to waddle into my book signing for ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS.
However, extra poundage wasn't the only thing I gained from this Conference. The amount of information we gained was dizzying. Here are some of the presentations I attended:
"Sell Truckloads on Amazon"
"Change Your Characterizations through Syntax, Grammar, and Diction"
"What to Do and Not to Do in a Book Signing"
""Financials of Book Selling"
"Contracts and the Creative Process"
"How to Use Social Media to Sell Your Book"
"Using Writing Competitions to Advance Your Career"
"Book Trailers"
"Satisfying Endings."
With Margie Miklas
FWA Conference Lake Mary, Fla.
In addition to seeing old friends from my critique group, I also made new friends - one in particular. Her name is Margie Miklas, a recently-retired open-heart surgical nurse. She won an award at the Conference for her memoir of travels through Italy (my favorite place in the world). It's called MEMOIRS OF A SOLO TRAVELER: MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ITALY, so check it out at www.margieinitaly.wordpress.com.
Now I've got to digest and absorb all the information. That goes for the food, too.
There were three sessions each morning, starting at 8 a.m. For each session we had a choice of several presentations by writers, marketing experts, financial experts, lawyers, publishers, agents, or screen writers. Fortunately there was a mid-morning break for some liquid and a cookie, granola bar, or yogurt. I chose the cookie.
There were three sessions each afternoon, again with a choice of several presentations or panel discussions. During my mid-afternoon break I chose an ice cream on a stick.
There was a dinner each of the two evenings I attended, with a keynote speaker or awards. Having walked for thirty minutes before each dinner, I felt righteous and ate a dessert at each - the carrot cake and chocolate mousse. I managed to waddle into my book signing for ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS.
However, extra poundage wasn't the only thing I gained from this Conference. The amount of information we gained was dizzying. Here are some of the presentations I attended:
"Sell Truckloads on Amazon"
"Change Your Characterizations through Syntax, Grammar, and Diction"
"What to Do and Not to Do in a Book Signing"
""Financials of Book Selling"
"Contracts and the Creative Process"
"How to Use Social Media to Sell Your Book"
"Using Writing Competitions to Advance Your Career"
"Book Trailers"
"Satisfying Endings."
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With Margie MiklasFWA Conference Lake Mary, Fla.
In addition to seeing old friends from my critique group, I also made new friends - one in particular. Her name is Margie Miklas, a recently-retired open-heart surgical nurse. She won an award at the Conference for her memoir of travels through Italy (my favorite place in the world). It's called MEMOIRS OF A SOLO TRAVELER: MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ITALY, so check it out at www.margieinitaly.wordpress.com.
Now I've got to digest and absorb all the information. That goes for the food, too.
October 20, 2014
Sixty Is the New Sixty
This post is by friend, pharmacist, and mystery writer Don Weiss.
So fellow sexagenarians, here is something that unfortunately is not new to men and women of our vintage: too young to retire, too young for Medicare, too young for social security, and out of work.
I’ve recently joined the ranks of the unemployed, going from a six figure salary to zilch with the stroke of a pen, and from the primary bread winner to a collector (if you can even get it) of unemployment. In Florida, by the way, that is $275.00/week.
When you have fewer years in front of you than behind you, when you’ve collected as many bruises on our collective butts as we have, and your approaching golden years have turned to lead, you get hit with a harder dose of reality than you’ve ever been hit with before. When your spouse has to bear the entire burden, when you begin to dip into your savings and prepare for the possibility of cashing out your IRAs, 401Ks, 403Bs or whatever nest egg you’ve managed to build up, you’re in total survival mode. You stop spending money except for necessities and all your plans go out the window. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to you, because you followed all of the rules and paid your dues.
You send out resume after resume, only to find out how much the world has changed. Everything is online. Application after application is filled out and disappears into the ether. No longer do you talk to a person. Everything is detached, and if you do get an interview, chances are you'll get an email saying: We’re sorry, but we’re pursuing other candidates whose experience fits our needs better. But thanks for your interest in our company. In English that means: we’ve got younger applicants and we can pay a lot less than we have to pay you. When people started to become human resources, everything became depersonalized. When Bob Dylan wrote "The Times They Are Changin'," they did; but not for the better. You consider taking jobs for a lot less money just so you can work again, just so you have your self-respect. You start to second-guess everything and your confidence is at an all-time low.
Then something happens. You get news that someone you know, someone just like you, has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Then this bump in the road becomes just that, a bump. Sure you have the aches and pains that come from getting older. You’ve had this blow to your self confidence and self respect but you’re going to live to fight another day, and that’s what you do. You spit in their eye and say, I’m still here, and you send out more resumes.
So fellow sexagenarians, here is something that unfortunately is not new to men and women of our vintage: too young to retire, too young for Medicare, too young for social security, and out of work.
I’ve recently joined the ranks of the unemployed, going from a six figure salary to zilch with the stroke of a pen, and from the primary bread winner to a collector (if you can even get it) of unemployment. In Florida, by the way, that is $275.00/week.
When you have fewer years in front of you than behind you, when you’ve collected as many bruises on our collective butts as we have, and your approaching golden years have turned to lead, you get hit with a harder dose of reality than you’ve ever been hit with before. When your spouse has to bear the entire burden, when you begin to dip into your savings and prepare for the possibility of cashing out your IRAs, 401Ks, 403Bs or whatever nest egg you’ve managed to build up, you’re in total survival mode. You stop spending money except for necessities and all your plans go out the window. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to you, because you followed all of the rules and paid your dues.
You send out resume after resume, only to find out how much the world has changed. Everything is online. Application after application is filled out and disappears into the ether. No longer do you talk to a person. Everything is detached, and if you do get an interview, chances are you'll get an email saying: We’re sorry, but we’re pursuing other candidates whose experience fits our needs better. But thanks for your interest in our company. In English that means: we’ve got younger applicants and we can pay a lot less than we have to pay you. When people started to become human resources, everything became depersonalized. When Bob Dylan wrote "The Times They Are Changin'," they did; but not for the better. You consider taking jobs for a lot less money just so you can work again, just so you have your self-respect. You start to second-guess everything and your confidence is at an all-time low.
Then something happens. You get news that someone you know, someone just like you, has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Then this bump in the road becomes just that, a bump. Sure you have the aches and pains that come from getting older. You’ve had this blow to your self confidence and self respect but you’re going to live to fight another day, and that’s what you do. You spit in their eye and say, I’m still here, and you send out more resumes.
October 6, 2014
Elderly Healthcare News
According to Jennifer Smith's article in The Wall Street Journal on October 3, 2014, lawyers have discovered a get-rich scheme as America ages: suing for-profit nursing home chains.
As defined in the appendix of my book, ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS, skilled nursing facilities (nursing homes) may be for-profit or non-profit and are licensed by each state. Professional nurses, social workers, psychologists, physical and occupational therapists, doctors, and clergy are on staff.
Attorneys are now filing neglect and abuse cases which allege, typically, that "patients were harmed not just by neglect or medical errors but because the corporate owners skimped on patient care to boost profits" in large chains of for-profit nursing homes.
Operators of the facilities are already grappling with falling reimbursement rates from the government. The increase in litigation is prompting some chains to abandon certain states where there are limited or nonexistent curbs on non-economic damages. Lawsuits that elsewhere might be settled for $50,000 can generate much larger settlements or verdicts.
Large for-profit facilities are more likely to be cited for severe health deficiencies, despite beefing up staff and making other improvements, according to data from Centers for Medicare and Medicare Services.
The lawyers take the cases on a contingency basis, paying upfront costs in exchange for a cut - up to 45% - of any settlement or award, plus expenses.
"If you have a good case," attorney Brian Reddick said, "jurors are very sympathetic."
The October 3, 2014, Wall Street Journal also reported that Medicare will cut payments to 2610 hospitals across the country, because too many patients were readmitted within thirty days, according to an analysis by Kaiser Health News.
The hospitals selected will see Medicare reimbursements reduced from .01% to 3% for every beneficiary they treat from October 1, '14, to September 30, '15.
The penalties will save Medicare an estimated $428 million, a spokesman for Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services said.
The Obama Administration has emphasized reducing readmission to hospitals to reduce Medicare spending and spur hospitals to pay more attention to patients who are being discharged "quicker and sicker."
As defined in the appendix of my book, ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS, skilled nursing facilities (nursing homes) may be for-profit or non-profit and are licensed by each state. Professional nurses, social workers, psychologists, physical and occupational therapists, doctors, and clergy are on staff.
Attorneys are now filing neglect and abuse cases which allege, typically, that "patients were harmed not just by neglect or medical errors but because the corporate owners skimped on patient care to boost profits" in large chains of for-profit nursing homes.
Operators of the facilities are already grappling with falling reimbursement rates from the government. The increase in litigation is prompting some chains to abandon certain states where there are limited or nonexistent curbs on non-economic damages. Lawsuits that elsewhere might be settled for $50,000 can generate much larger settlements or verdicts.
Large for-profit facilities are more likely to be cited for severe health deficiencies, despite beefing up staff and making other improvements, according to data from Centers for Medicare and Medicare Services.
The lawyers take the cases on a contingency basis, paying upfront costs in exchange for a cut - up to 45% - of any settlement or award, plus expenses.
"If you have a good case," attorney Brian Reddick said, "jurors are very sympathetic."
The October 3, 2014, Wall Street Journal also reported that Medicare will cut payments to 2610 hospitals across the country, because too many patients were readmitted within thirty days, according to an analysis by Kaiser Health News.
The hospitals selected will see Medicare reimbursements reduced from .01% to 3% for every beneficiary they treat from October 1, '14, to September 30, '15.
The penalties will save Medicare an estimated $428 million, a spokesman for Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services said.
The Obama Administration has emphasized reducing readmission to hospitals to reduce Medicare spending and spur hospitals to pay more attention to patients who are being discharged "quicker and sicker."
