My Mom's Yahrzeit

This past week, on the evening of December 22, David and I lit a yahrzeit candle for my mom.

This is a Jewish custom that takes place on the anniversary of the date of the loved one’s passing, when the mourner kindles a memorial candle that is to be lit for a 24-hour period, until it extinguishes on its own.

The date is based on the Hebrew lunisolar calendar, in which months are lunar but years are solar; on the Gregorian (or civilized) calendar, the date for the one and only Florence Cohen is January 10.

Without realizing why, I had channeled my inner Florence the night before the yahrzeit, when I had reached for the one pair of pajamas that always reminds me her. This set is flannel, has a matching top and bottom in a very colorful winter pattern (mine has snowflakes), and the top is short, boxy, is button down and has a collar.

On the morning of December 23, with the candle still burning, my daughter Allison called from work to ask a question about punctuation for a memo she was writing. The words she was writing were “members satisfaction,” and “members” in her correspondence was both plural and possessive.

She was pretty sure that the apostrophe would go after the “s” in “members,” but after debating it multiple times due to a co-worker’s questioning of it, she started to waver...should the apostrophe go before the “s?” Thus, the call for help.

For the minute or two that we talked about where to place the apostrophe, I became my mom. She, like I, had talked it through with our daughters and assuredly weighed in. In this case, using an apostrophe after the “s” (s’) at the end of a plural noun to show possession was definitely the way to go.

My mom was a master of the English language, and she was a stickler when it came to punctuation and grammar. I so appreciated that she could get me out of any kind of writing pickle I had created, but there were times she’d get carried away with the explanations and would lose me at “participle” and other verb tense rules that never fully sunk in.

The sense of déjà vu I experienced - with a twist, given that instead of my doing the asking, it was my daughter this time - on the date of my mom’s yahrzeit, was especially sweet.

I often wonder which memories of me my kids will hang on to.

Perhaps they’ll write a blog post about them one day.

King of Boxes

David and I are a couple of stashers: I have a plethora of note and greeting cards for every occasion, wrapping paper, gift bags and the like; he could open a packing store with all his boxes, peanuts, cushioning and other related shipping supplies.

He gets great joy in his box collection, as his boxes are always in motion and are tied to his favorite hobby of listening to music. Boxes come in and go out of our home with the equipment he has bought or sold, as well as the music itself, that he buys or trades.   

Every time he receives a package that doesn’t house equipment, he assesses the quality of the box to determine whether it’s a keeper. If it passes the test, he’ll most likely reuse it for music or something else. He has also bought boxes in various sizes to be sure he’s equipped for every possible scenario.   

Our attic and shed are filled with boxes, and sometimes I also see them lying around in other rooms waiting for him to determine whether they’ll make the cut – or go straight to recycling. There were many times, I must say, when I have wondered Who needs all these boxes, for goodness’ sake? 

I’ve become much more aware of all these goings-on since the pandemic started. I guess that’s what happens when you’re with someone 24/7, when everything is on display. It’s not like the old days when I had a life out of the house and didn’t always know what was happening in it.

I get my own deliveries from Fed Ex and UPS, as I do way more shopping online than I used to. I’ve taken a liking to testing out shoes from my favorite brands – FitFlop and Taos, which in large part are no longer found in stores – although I know my mom would cringe if she knew I was buying shoes online. She would, however, be happy to know that I’ve gone from stylish to supportive.

Since I cannot resist a good sale, I recently ordered FitFlop sandals and boots but, after trying them on, I decided to send them back; rather, to ask my resident box-meister to do it. I was a bit nervous about this though because, for whatever dumb reason, I tossed the original outer box, which was very large to accommodate the boots. This would mean he’d 1 – ask me where the box is so I’d have to admit I got rid of it before I knew about keeping the boots and then 2 – he’d have to dip into his coveted inventory for my return, and I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that.

Although he did ask why I tossed the box when I told him I’d be returning the shoes, he seemed pleased for the return ($) and then he right away went into problem-solving mode for a solution. He ended up cutting apart 2 boxes to make 1. It was perfect.

I told him I’ll be a good sport and take my box to UPS so that he doesn’t have to 😊.

Now that I see how simple – and cost free with FitFlop – it is to order, try on, and return, I may do this more often! It’s even easier than driving a whole 5 minutes to DSW, which is more interested in selling kids’ shoes and J Lo stilettos than comfortable footwear for old ladies like me.

I always like when my stash helps him out with a card or for wrapping a gift, but his stash has a lot more potential for me than mine does for him.   

Being married to the King of Boxes is, for me, a match made in heaven.  

It's A Start

I am proud – and embarrassed – to say that this past week I donated blood to the American Red Cross for the first time!

It only took some 45 years to do it. When I was much younger, I was afraid of needles, and then when I got past that – somewhat – I was busy with kids, busy with work, busy with life.

A month ago, I took a walk with my girlfriend Bobbi who was telling me about her life: caring for her parents, her husband, working...all the things I’m not...and oh yes, giving blood in the upcoming week.

Eeeeek...No more excuses! I went online when I got home and made an appointment. I could not believe all the location choices, the one I chose being just 5 minutes from my house.

The outing took about one hour, starting with my answering questions along with a health screening to check my vitals, both done to verify that I’m in good health and would be an appropriate donor. The woman assigned to me checked my pulse, blood pressure, body temperature, and hemoglobin level.  Next time I donate, I can utilize their app for a quicker check-in, although each visit will still require a mini-physical.

The draw itself took about 10 minutes and collected about one unit of blood – one pint – and once it was complete, I was instructed to sit down for a few minutes and have a bag of cookies. Boy, that was a change, to be told to eat something sugary. I had Chips Ahoy and fruit punch...No guilt because I was doing what I was instructed to do. Besides, I needed refreshments to replenish some of the body’s fluids and nutrients and boost my energy level. 

In a month or so, I’ll be able to log on to the site and see the results of my blood tests, along with my blood type too that I should know but only vaguely think I remember. I learned that donated blood will be tested for Hepatitis B, Hepatitis C, HIV and other viruses/conditions before it is OK’d for a recipient.

I’m happy that I was able to do something that could help another person and potentially save a life, and all I had to do was lie down on a padded bench. Donations are essential for trauma patients and people undergoing a variety of situations including surgeries, transplants, chronic illnesses, blood disorders and cancer.

It’s also true that at any time, I could be the one needing blood, reliant on others to have donated, but it recently dawned on me: How can I expect it would be available for me, if I haven’t done my part to give it?

I texted my friend after my experience because I was so excited about it and wanted her to know she had inspired me. I also told her that I plan to donate as often as the Red Cross allows one to do it, which is every 8 weeks, or up to 6 times each year.

When I asked her how many times she had donated, she was thrilled to say that she had recently received notification that she is just one donation away from 6 gallons of blood, as she has donated 47 times!

I will never catch up to her (obviously), but I feel good to be part of the team!

The Silent Kind

I wish this wasn’t the case but, the longer I live, the more I learn about new medical issues, and much of the time I had never heard of them until a loved one or I experience them.

After several primary office visits and months of coughing – along with a handful of other symptoms that some might think are TMI to share – I landed in the office of an ENT at my doctor’s suggestion to unravel what had become the million-dollar question: Do I have Allergies? Reflux? Something else?  

The ENT and I discussed the situation and even though I had been dreading the diagnostic laryngoscopy procedure (that was to be done right there in the office) for no reason other than because I am a big baby, I was excited when she said that I’ll know if I have reflux before I leave the office.   

The scope took under 2 minutes, if that, and wasn’t nearly as unpleasant as I had anticipated. Fewer than 10 seconds later, she said “This is ‘Silent Reflux.’” I knew of reflux, but silent? Who knew there was such a thing?

Silent reflux or “LPR” for laryngopharyngeal reflux differs from the more common reflux known as GERD (gastroesophageal reflux) because traditional reflux symptoms such as heartburn and indigestion are NOT present, thereby making LPR a bit tricky to figure out.

With LPR, stomach acid travels up the esophagus and spills into the throat or voice box (pharynx/larynx). It is when these acids make contact with the food pipe and vocal cords that the irritation/discomfort/burning can occur. With GERD, on the other hand, the acid settles into the esophagus and poses different problems.

This is my understanding of Silent Reflux 101. I still have a lot to learn, but first...How do I pronounce what the L in LPR stands for...laryngopharyngeal?

lə-ˌriŋ-gō-ˌfar-ən-ˈjē-əl, -fə-ˈrin-j(ē-)əl – according to the Miriam-Webster dictionary.

Given this diagnosis, experts advise a change in dietary habits which includes the restriction of spicy, fried and fatty foods (NBD - no big deal); citrus fruits (NBD); tomatoes (ugh); chocolate (double ugh ☹); peppermint (NBD); cheese and garlic (ugh); and caffeinated and carbonated beverages are best taken off the table. In addition, I’ll be trying out a PPI (proton pump inhibitor) that will hopefully work as expected.

So where does this leave my obsession with Trader Joe’s dark chocolate covered almonds? And my love for tomatoes eaten right off the vine that David grows in our back yard? And cheese for my omelets? And that scrumptious hot green tea?

I’ve sure enjoyed all this stuff over the years, but I realize that as we get older, our bodies don’t work the way they used to. This unfortunately leads to new ailments that impact us in one way or another, requiring us to act. With this LPR finding, I realize I’ll have to make some changes but, all things considered, it could be worse.  

Like everything else – and the title for a recent blog post – it’s all relative.