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Midpoint: Recovering from a Hip Replacement

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image002By Susan Hodara

I was optimistic. I could make the six weeks into a rare opportunity. That’s how long I was to be restricted to a walker as I recovered from a hip replacement. Unable to drive, I would have limited distractions. I wasn’t teaching, and my husband, Paul, and I had kept our social calendar empty. Other than visits from my physical and occupational therapists and from generous friends who promised to stop by with food and companionship, my days would be open. Surgery, it turned out, was a great excuse to shirk all kinds of obligations, leaving me with a rare freedom to focus on writing, reading and healing.

The first week I was fatigued, and just getting to and from the bathroom was a chore. But by the end of the second week, I could begin to think about other things, starting with an article I had been assigned to write.

I remember that day. I was still spending most of my time in the dining room, where Paul had moved one of our daughters’ twin bed until I could more confidently negotiate the stairs. It was lovely there, just off the kitchen, with the bathroom mere steps away. My view was the forest behind our house. I kept the windows opened to fill the room with summer breezes, the chirps of birds and, sometimes, the sweet aroma of newly mowed grass.

Propped up on pillows, legs outstretched under the blankets, computer on my lap, I wrote a few sentences. It might have taken me 45 minutes to an hour, but that wasn’t unusual, and besides, I had nowhere else to be. I took a break to read my book, which made me sleepy enough to curl up and nap for a bit. When I awoke, I was ready to write a few more sentences. Time bobbed calmly on the sea of the afternoon. It was perfect–well-paced, productive enough, healthy, and utterly up to me.

A week has passed since then (though it seems like much longer). I finished the article. I finished the book and started another. I have checked Facebook too many times, gone through the entire new season of Orange is the New Black and watched the final episodes of Nurse Jackie.

I don’t think twice about going to the bathroom now. I can get up and down the stairs as needed; I can fix my own meals and clean up afterwards; I can shower by myself whenever I want. I’ve taken care of all kinds of tasks that my physical limitations permit.

But the midway point has lasted a long time. I started saying it two days before the official date: “Three more weeks to go!” It is now the day after the date, and it’s still three more weeks to go. I am having trouble retaining my optimism. Funny thing is, I know it’s not the surgery. This is a too-familiar feeling. It flits like a persistent gnat around the edges of my awareness, waiting for its cue to descend. The hunger for a job to do or a problem to solve morphs in an undetectable second into a sense of purposelessness and futility that is instantly truer than whatever wellbeing came before.

It would be reasonable to attribute this malaise to six weeks at home, unable to shop, visit, exercise and do all the assorted errands that I usually resent but that give my life its consequence. But I’m reluctant to do so. I’m determined to face head-on what I live beside anyway: the relentless demand for significance, without which I sink into darkness.

Epilogue: The six weeks did finally pass, and I now appreciate daily my newfound and pain-free agility.

Susan Hodara is a journalist, memoirist, editor and teacher. Her articles about the arts have appeared in The New York Times, Harvard Magazine, Communication Arts, and others. Her memoirs are published in a variety of anthologies and literary journals. She is a co-author with three other women of Still Here Thinking of You, memoirs about mothers and daughters. www.susanhodara.com.

The Health-Creativity Connection

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By Lynda Cohen Loigman

Lynda Cohen Loigman
Lynda Cohen Loigman

Throughout my life, I’ve done a lot of different things in an effort to be “healthy.” I’ve tried multiple diet and exercise regimens. I’m diligent about yearly mammograms and I go to my doctor when something doesn’t feel right. I’ve made an effort to reduce stress. I am mindful of mindfulness. It’s true I haven’t always succeeded, but since entering adulthood I have tried my best to pay attention to all of the factors that can shape a person’s physical and mental well-being.

Except for one.

For the longest time, I didn’t understand how important that one thing was to my overall happiness. For years and years, I ignored it, until I was practically ill from its absence.

As a child, I drew all of my older brother’s book report covers and made all of his shoebox dioramas. My parents didn’t know how to stop me. It wasn’t just the art projects–I tried to do his written work too. But by the time he got to seventh grade, I was banned from helping, and was told to find other ways to express myself. I made dolls out of walnut shells and tiny aquariums out of empty tic-tac boxes. I wrote stories and poems. I sewed and colored, and while I did those things I belted out every song I could remember from the annual television airings of West Side Story and The Sound of Music. My parents begged me not to spill glue on the floor. They asked me to stop singing so loudly in the kitchen. They told their friends I was “creative,” but it didn’t really feel like a compliment.

As I got older, it was hard to find time for craft projects, but I held on to a few creative pursuits. I wrote poems (bad ones) and I acted in my high school’s musicals. In college I was in an a cappella group. But once I was in law school, my creative life came to a screeching halt.

Don’t get me wrong–a lot of wonderful things happened to me during law school and throughout my legal career. I met my husband, we got married and had our first child. After eight years of practice, I quit my job and we moved to Chappaqua. A few years later, we welcomed our son and our family was complete.

When our youngest was in preschool, I had several hours to myself each morning. But the more free time I accumulated, the worse I felt. Despite the beautiful town we live in, the wonderful friends, and the daily satisfaction of helping to raise our family, I was discouraged. I went back to work part-time–but the sense of purpose I craved didn’t materialize. I was unhappy, and I was pretty sure I knew why.

The word creative is defined as follows: “relating to or involving the imagination or original ideas, especially in the production of an artistic work.” Was making paper dolls with my daughter creative? Making up silly rhymes for my son? Singing with my children, dancing, reading them stories? Of course it was. All of those moments were creative, important and incredibly precious. But there is a difference between creative play with children and personal creativity.

I have friends who are miserable unless they exercise vigorously every day. I have friends who have given up meat or dairy because it makes them feel better. I have friends who take medication to lower cholesterol or blood pressure or to curb painful anxiety and depression. So why couldn’t I recognize that I needed a creative outlet to feel healthy? Perhaps I knew already, but I wasn’t able to admit it. After all, isn’t that common when it comes to our own health and wellness? We put off exercise, we promise to start our diet tomorrow, we refuse medication that might help us because we see it as an admission of weakness.

I’m happy to report that I finally made my creative health a priority. It took turning 40 to give me the push that I needed, but I enrolled in a writing class, and after six years, I finished my novel. Now, writing is my medicine. The process, and all that comes with it, is as important for my personal health as any diet or exercise.

We all have things we need to do to stay healthy. Maybe your doctor has told you to stay out of the sun. Maybe you’re on Prilosec or Lipitor or Ambien. No one is going to give you a prescription for creative fulfillment, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need one. If you need a strong dose of it, chances are you already know. Hopefully you won’t wait as long as I did before you add it to your life.

Lynda Cohen Loigman, whose Chappaqua Library’s presentation is featured on the opposite page, grew up in Longmeadow, MA. She received a B.A. in English and American Literature from Harvard College and a J.D. from Columbia Law School. She is now a student of the Writing Institute at Sarah Lawrence College, and lives with her husband and two children in Chappaqua. She is a failure at enforcing reasonable bedtimes. Her first novel, The Two-Family House, was published recently by St. Martin’s Press.

Chaotic is the New Happy

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Jodi Baretz and her sometimes happy family.
Jodi Baretz and her sometimes happy family.

By Jodi Baretz

When Grace asked me to write an essay on “Happy Homes,” I chuckled a bit to myself! I’m not sure what goes on in your house, but in mine, it is certainly not always happy. I would describe my home as a loving, accepting, nurturing environment, but a bit chaotic and tense at times. Overall, we are a “happy” family but from the look on my teenager’s face, you may not think so.

I have a little problem with always striving for happiness. Happiness is a fleeting feeling, not a state that we should expect all the time. Families are messy. Life is messy. Kids are messy. Instead of happy home, let’s aim for a full adventure recognizing our full range of feelings; things may not always be perfect, but embrace the good, bad and ugly because they are there anyway. By being more aware that there will always be set backs, bad grades, tons of drama and spilled milk, we can certainly tolerate challenging times a bit more.

Having expectations of what activities we want our children to be involved in can create stress in a home. We may want our son to play baseball, but they want to take an art class. My son is a wrestler. I never would have picked it for him (and was shell shocked at the first meet), but it turned out to be one of his greatest experiences that had a huge (positive) impact on his life. Guess what? We don’t always know what is best for our kids. A common fear among my clients is that their child doesn’t have many friends or found an activity they enjoy. We can encourage, but not force this. We can expose them to activities, but ultimately, they have to be on board. They will find interests and friends in their own time. They are not always on our timeline. Accepting and making our child feel comfortable with who they are is the true key to a happy home and happy child.

“Instead of happy home, let’s aim for a full adventure recognizing our full range of feelings.”

On Facebook, it might look like everyone has a “happy home,” and we tend to feel “less than” if ours does not measure up. Most of you realize things are not always as they seem, but seeing those happy families on social media can have an impact. If you are struggling with issues in your house, chances are other families are too. They just don’t post it. Alternatively, we may want to be mindful about over posting. We all love and are proud of our children, and it’s great to share special moments, but if you are chronically posting familial bliss, it’s wise to stop and think about why so many of us have the need to do this, and how it affects others.

Instead of a permanently “happy home,” how do we create happy moments or create wonderful memories with our families? My biggest fear is one day my kids are going to look up from their phones and ask, “What happened to my childhood?” Kids don’t remember their best day of television. Creating memories has become increasingly difficult. We are rarely all disconnected from our devices at the same time and long enough to connect as a family. Thank goodness for dinner time, family vacations and carpools.

As my kids get older, these are the times I value and the only times I can get them to engage with me.

Creating memories does not have to be forced. One way to make them is by making the ordinary moments extraordinary. Meet every moment with your child as a new exciting adventure. Take a step back and appreciate them for who they are and how lucky you are to have them, without trying to change them. Gratitude goes a long way. The feeling is what you will remember. Life goes so fast and before you know it, the kids are gone. One memory from last month that stuck with me is my son getting out of the car, walking into a friends house and I sat back, watched, savored the moment and realized how very lucky I am. I hope

I always remember that!

Jodi Baretz, LCSW, CHHC is a psychotherapist and holistic health coach at The Center for Health and Healing in Mt. Kisco. She is a speaker on mindfulness topics and runs a Mindful is the New Skinny bootcamp to help women ease stress and get lighter inside and out. Jodi is a Chappaqua mom of two teenage boys. Visit jodibaretz.com.

Planned Parenthood: A Special Place for Excellent Care

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Editor’s Note: Susan’s column was written a month prior to the recent shootings at a Planned Parenthood clinic in Colorado Springs and at Clinica Hispania, a woman’s health clinic in Houston, that have left four persons dead.

By Susan Chatzky

Susan Chatzky (right) and her daughter Maile Hamilton at a recent Planned Parenthood fundraiser.
Susan Chatzky (right) and her daughter Maile Hamilton at a recent Planned Parenthood fundraiser.

You may be blissfully unaware of the raging controversy surrounding Planned Parenthood right now. You may not even really know what Planned Parenthood does, or where the nearest one is. Planned Parenthood may be completely off your radar, and that’s totally understandable.

Here in Chappaqua and many of the surrounding towns and villages, most people can afford excellent health insurance, there’s no need to go to a health center that accepts Medicaid or that has a sliding scale fee structure. If you have teenage kids you have most likely talked to them about sex, STDs, birth control, and personal responsibility. You may even have taken your daughter to your own OB/GYN.

We live in an amazing community where most of the people who live here do so because it’s such a great place to raise kids. Raising my own children here was an incredible privilege. The schools are great, the other parents are all dedicated, many parents volunteer. It’s a wonderful place to raise a family. So even though I really couldn’t afford it, that is exactly what I chose to do.

I raised two kids in the Chappaqua School District as a single mom with a low paying job. I was a personal trainer, which had really flexible hours, but the pay is pretty terrible (the trainer you pay $100 dollars an hour for probably sees $35 of that, and that’s before taxes), I had zero benefits, no health insurance, no vacation, no sick pay. I probably should have moved, but I wanted my children to have all of the advantages of going to such excellent schools.

It’s not easy to be poor in a wealthy neighborhood. My kids didn’t have the same clothes, vacations, or camp experiences. Our house was a tiny little rental. We ate a lot of pasta. It was a struggle, and it was humiliating. It is humiliating and degrading and soul crushing to be poor. To know you don’t belong somewhere. I’m sure it was hard for my kids.

While my kids had health insurance, I did not. There was no ACA, and I didn’t qualify for Medicaid. I did however need healthcare. I’m a mom; it’s my responsibility to stay healthy. I went to Planned Parenthood. Unlike private practices, they took me without health insurance, they charged on a sliding scale, and no one even blinked when a poor, single, mother of two had the nerve to want birth control. No one judged me, or made me feel like I was less than a person. No one made me feel bad for having a sex life.

Recently, someone from Chappaqua wrote on Facebook that women could just go someplace else for care. It actually brought me to tears. There is something special about Planned Parenthood that can’t just be replaced. It is a place you can go and receive excellent care without anyone judging you. It is a place where teenagers can go to ask questions about their bodies and get real answers.

It is a place where someone will hold your hand if they are giving you bad news after a PAP smear. It is a place that will take you, and help you, and care for you no matter your ability to pay them. And yes, it is a place that will help you if you find yourself pregnant unexpectedly. I’m married now, and I have health insurance. I finally “belong” in my own community. But there are other women who, like I did, struggle. They sit next to you at parent teacher conferences, are on line behind you at Walgreens, they volunteer for PTA events, and they live here because they want their kids to have a good foundation and to have better opportunities than they had themselves.

Planned Parenthood is here for them, so I will always be here for Planned Parenthood.

Susan Chatzky is a mom, step mom, wife, blogger, and sometime yoga teacher. She rescues dogs and sits on the board of directors for Planned Parenthood Hudson Peconic. For more info, please visit www.pphp.org.

Thanksgiving Traditions – Traditional and Not so Traditional

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Lisa McGowan’s two children, Lexie and Spencer, enjoying the Macy’s parade several years ago
Lisa McGowan’s two children, Lexie and Spencer, enjoying the Macy’s parade several years ago

By Heather Skolnick

Thanksgiving marks the beginning of the holiday season for many. Thanksgiving triggers autumn images of softly falling leaves and a feeling of chill in the air–a sure sign of what’s to come weather-wise.  It signals the beginning of the holiday shopping season for those in retail with a daily countdown to Christmas or Hanukkah. And for many, it evokes memories of meals and unique traditions that encircle the meal. These Thanksgiving traditions can be pretty wide and varied.

As a child, my Thanksgiving traditions were pretty straight forward–extended family came to eat. And eat we did. We enjoyed turkey with the standard carbohydrate-laden fixings, and enough desserts to satisfy the sweet tooth of a small nation. The meal was not complete until we all suffered from indigestion–all before 7 p.m. It was what we did before the meal that was different. Each year, my father and I awoke earlier than most on a holiday, put on sweats, and took a short drive to a neighboring town. We then participated in a local “Turkey Trot”–a five-mile run in an attempt to help offset the meal we’d be eating a few hours later. That was our tradition.

My husband’s family didn’t believe in the “Turkey Trot”–instead, Thanksgiving was all about football.  Neal, his brothers, cousins, dads and friends all got together to play a serious game of touch football. The colder, wetter and muddier it was outside, the better the game. While their game would end before dinner, the trash talking around that game could last an entire year.  Area resident and brother Lyle said, ““We would even keep track of records, from most touchdowns, consecutive games with a reception, best play, to worst mistake, and most times ‘giving in’!” Building on the football theme, after playing, they would all return home and begin watching the football games on TV before indulging in their meal.

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade is a popular tradition for some. Chappaqua resident Lisa McGowan has a deep rooted tradition of going every year with her family that began when she was a child. She and her family spend the night before in the city, and begin heading to the festivities at 6:30am to secure their spot. She says about the parade, “Now that my children are older, it’s no longer about the characters. The thing that is constant no matter their age is that it’s about being together, family and tradition–rain or shine.” Lisa is dedicated to the tradition, having gone in years when the weather was spring like as well as rain and snow!

Signaling the official start of the holiday shopping season, Black Friday shopping has long been a tradition for some. Amazing short-lived deals often abound on that day with stores opening early and staying open late. Eager to squeeze an extra shopping day in before the holidays, shopping on Thursday evening has more recently become an option. Many big box retailers and shopping centers are now open for post-dinner shopping.

Let’s not forget our local stores, many of whom offer great deals after Thanksgiving too! Best of all: Shopping local offers the convenience of holiday shopping nearby without the hassle of maddening crowds.

Volunteering is a wonderful way to enjoy the spirit of Thanksgiving while enjoying some quality family time.  One option is to spend part of the day together, helping to provide a meal for others. Neighbor’s Link coordinates a food drive in anticipation of the holiday.  Susan Aarhus spoke to me about what Neighbor’s Link provides to the community. She shared that on the actual day, they provide a full Thanksgiving meal and a full bag of groceries to take home. Area resident Nitasha Kumar said of her experience volunteering with the Westchester Basket Brigade last year, “My son along with three other kids had so much fun running around counting and setting out the boxes. But what hit him most was when the head coordinator talked to the group about the mission of the organization….bringing food to homeless. He then realized that there are others who are not as fortunate as we are.”  What a wonderful way to spend the day.

While many think of a nice home cooked meal for Thanksgiving, another option is dining out. While many restaurants are closed for the holiday, some do remain open for those of us who are not so inclined to cook and many also provide catered take out options to eat in your own home.

The common theme threaded through all of these traditions can clearly be identified as spending quality time together as a family and/or with those who are most important to you. So whether you are a traditionalist in your Thanksgiving approach or not, remember that Thanksgiving is about being surrounded by those who are important to you and appreciating the moment.

Heather Skolnick is a New Castle resident along with her husband and three children. She works for a retailer designing their Omnichannel Process and Systems.