The advantage of this age difference was quite apparent growing up. I had the “cool” parents. Everyone thought I was “so lucky” that my parents would volunteer to take a huge group of kids in the motorhome for a weekend of camping out in tents in the California mountains. All of my peers parents used to marvel to mine about their stamina (or lack of sanity) in the ability to stomach 15 teens nonstop for an entire weekend.

What was lost on my friends was that they were still MY PARENTS. But I have to admit, after hearing the stories of what other kids’ parents put them through (the lack of trust; watching and monitoring their every move; calling to check up that they were where they claimed to be, etc.), I did feel fortunate. Keep in mind that this was long before computers, cell phones, FaceBook, GPS tracking, et al. If a parent wanted to know for certain that you were at a friend’s house, they had to call the friend’s parents to verify it. How mortifying!

My parents didn’t stop trusting me (and vise versa) until I was 19, so my youth and high school years were a dream compared to everyone else’s. Of course, it also helped that I was a pretty honest kid. But still, my parents had liberal rules that no other parent would have dreamed of back then, and certainly not today. For example, if we were going to drink, it was allowed at home but not at a party. Alcohol was never taboo at our house, so we never felt the need to go out and binge drink on a weekend. If we wanted a (small) glass of wine or beer with dinner when our folks were having one, we did. Simple. My folks had lived in northern Europe for many years and had seen how responsible parents there taught their children to respect social drinking so that binges didn’t become an issue for teens. It worked for us as well.

They set up simple rules about curfew, too. As long as we never abused it and got home as agreed, they were respectful of our need to be and act young. I’ll never forget, however, the time Horrible Sibling stayed out too late with a boyfriend. She was met at the door. I was often grateful I wasn’t her. Of course, when I made my break, it was spectacular and dramatic (but I was “of age” then, so it was quite a bit different). It took years to get past when my mother broke my trust in her. Such is growing up, I suppose. Eventually, as you become an adult, you find a middle ground in the relationship with your parents. I’m sure you’ve found this balance as well.

I had one of those dads who could fix anything. He would spend the weekend tuning cars or repairing appliances, or tinkering and whatnot, as needed. He was the handiest person I knew. My mom always had a big garden and could preserve what she grew by canning it (although we lived in California and never really had much of an off-season for growing). She was a great seamstress and made her clothes and ours when we were young.

But regardless of all of their good points and failings, parents get older. There is nothing to prepare you for the realization that, at some point, they are suddenly no longer the same people you grew up with. The decline, if you are lucky, is slow and gradual. My dad was always hard of hearing from flying bombers in World War II and the rest of his Air Force career, but he had always been too proud to use hearing aids. When we finally convinced him to try hearing aids, that should have been our first clue. He actually decided after all these years that he might want to hear what the rest of the family had to say!

When dad got “up there” in age enough that his reaction time was slowing down, it was initially a painless transition to have Mom take over the driving. They had downsized to just one car when they retired. They had alternated driving duties until Mom just kept offering to drive and Dad just kept letting her. There was never a formal discussion. It was rather organic.

Then about four years after she had taken over all the driving duties consistently, Mom started having vision issues. It started out as shadows, then blank spots, in her vision, then it became a very rapid progression of macular degeneration until she was legally and almost totally blind. The progression took only a couple of years.

That was when we knew we had to act. My husband and I took them to look at a retirement residence that also had assisted as well as convalescent facilities on site. Our rationale was that they could move once and be done. It was in a town about an hour and a half away from where my husband and I live. It would have been close enough but not too close for all of us. At the time, they lived nearly 4 hours away by car. There would have been lots of activities for them to enjoy, transportation to and from stores, events, and doctor’s appointments, and it was still close enough that their friends could have visited and we could have seen them most weekends, if they wanted.

Instead, they chose to move from Texas back to California to a small town in an area that did not offer any shuttle service. Worse still, then in his late 80s, my father had started driving again. He drove again because my mother no longer could. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world while they still lived in a place with no more that 10,000 people spread over 30 miles in a very rural part of the state. It was quite another issue when they moved to California, where even a “small town” has people living on top of each other. The freeways there are in horrible disrepair and are a hazard to drive on because the state has no money to repair them. But even the back roads are jammed with cars. My dad “only drives on the back roads” he tells me, like that’s a safe option.

One of the more difficult aspects of the move became the lack of a relationship with my sibling (we haven’t had a civil arrangement for over a decade). In most families, there is either a single child who has to guide the decisions for aging parents or a group of siblings who have to work together to come up with options and help guide the parents to the right choices as a collective. In dysfunctional relationships, working together isn’t an option and you end up often working against each other in trying to help your parents. More often that not, the aging parents end up getting the short end of the stick, like being convinced to move to an area where there is no assistance when needed, and having to drive yourself when you shouldn’t.

The Wrinklies still hold hands!

My mom will be 90 this year. My dad will turn 94 in a few months. After asking my dad repeatedly during our Thanksgiving visit to stop driving, he has finally agreed to stop “on his birthday.” The State of California requires frequent retesting for drivers over a certain age. If this is part of his reasoning for no longer driving, I’m happy. About 6 months ago, they moved to a retirement apartment complex that gives them 3 meals a day and housekeeping. There is also a driving service available.

So, as difficult as it is to work with my aging parents, I count myself lucky to still have them to deal with. They’ve led a long and relatively healthy life. One resource I would like to recommend to anyone facing aging parent issues is the excellent book, How to Talk to Your Senior Parents About Really Important Things. The title says it all.

Eventually, Tom and I had to have “the talk” with them. It started something like this: “We love you; you know that. But we also know that the last thing you want us to have to deal with when we grieve your passing is sifting through a lifetime of memories that mean something to you but absolutely nothing to anyone else.”

We explained to them that the kindest thing they could do for their children was to make sure that the only things that were left in the end were the things that they truly cherished. I think that hearing our perspective really helped them.

We got periodic calls over the next few months (they lived several hours away in south Texas) telling us that this closet was now cleaned out or that pile of stuff was just carted off to the Salvation Army, etc. It took a long time, but they made a lot of progress. Unfortunately, when you’ve amassed a lifetime of garbage, it’s hard to differentiate the usable stuff from the junk. At the time of their move, they still had far too many items to easily fit into their new downsized space.

About 5 months ago, I had to fly out to California as my mother went in for emergency heart surgery. She was already at the hospital by the time I arrived at their home. When I got there, the place was a cluttered mess. No counter space or table had free space on it. None. Nowhere. It was unsettling to see how much crap had built up since our previous visit of just a couple years earlier.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago when my husband visited his family. We discovered that they had become packrats as well. Or hoarders. Take your pick.

The point is, these back-to-back incidents reminded us yet again that it was time to clear out our living space…and our closets…and our garage. We periodically clear just to ensure that we never become “those people” who keep crap for decades on the off chance that they might some day need it. It took us about a week of evenings and a couple afternoons. We set aside what we could for Goodwill. Recycled so much we had to ask our neighbors to let us add to their bin, and piled the rest in the garage. Then we called the junk hauler and had the remainder carted away. Done.

Yes, it is that easy. Just do it. You will feel lighter when finished. Your house will be cleaner just for the fact that you no longer have a sea of dust collectors taking up space. And best of all, you will never be labeled ‘cuckoo’ for your clutter.

Seriously, though, I’ve rediscovered the benefits of this terrific organization. I first encountered the YMCA at the suggestion of a personal trainer I used back in 2001. I was heading to New York City for an extended (4 month) stay and wanted to stay in shape. Yeah, because walking absolutely everywhere in NYC wouldn’t possibly do that for me. I joined the YMCA on West 14th Street in Manhattan and loved it. There was the weight room on one floor as well as a yoga studio. A pool was on another floor, an indoor running track on another. Still another floor held the locker rooms. Although I never made it that far up, I understand that there were either a basketball court or tennis courts on the rooftop. It was a terrific facility to use while I was there.

Fast forward more than a decade. Many months ago, my husband and I were looking into a better way to stay in shape. I had been doing yoga (which gets pricey by itself, never mind adding in a gym membership to that cost). My husband has been running for years and enjoys swimming whenever possible. Unfortunately, our neighborhood pool changed their schedule last year due to budget cuts. No longer open during the winter months, which are very mild in our part of Texas, we needed an alternative.

So the search began. A neighbor told us about her tour of the YMCA, thrilled at the easy childcare options available to her for her two kids, not to mention all the youth programs at the Y. Tom and I went to the same nearby YMCA one day and asked for a tour and the rundown on pricing. We were very impressed by their offerings, not to mention the price! It’s just $72 a month for a couple and about $78 a month for a family membership. That includes a lot of classes and programs like yoga and Tai Chi, as well as anytime access to the pool and gym. There are also special classes or time with a trainer that you can sign up for at an additional price. For example, I took a swimming assessment class that met one day a week for an hour and lasted a month. I paid $30 for that. Very reasonable. Time with a trainer is a bit more. We’ve paid between $99 (on a special buy 2 get 1 free sale) and $120 for 2 regular sessions.

The biggest draw for us initially was the indoor swimming pool. AND I could get those swimming lessons to hone my lame skills. The fully equipped gym was another draw. A huge variety of cardio equipment keeps you from getting bored (and yes, we all loath cardio). What I found out, much to my surprise, is that after a few sessions with a trainer–you get 3 1-hour sessions when you join, as part of the YMCA’s Fit Start program–I was able to stay on track easily with the training program we set up.

After being members for almost nine months now, we’ve found a pretty great routine. We have a target goal of 3 days a week for a 1 hour gym or swimming session each. We usually hit the gym together and have discovered that it really helps to have a workout partner.

I’ve spent tons of money over the years on trainers, but finding a cost-effective option with a wide variety of programs has turned out to be just what I need. And someone to workout with and keep me motivated has been the best way to stay fit!

We knew from the first time we laid eyes on her, at 8 weeks old, that she would be a handful. Waking from a nap, she was alert, inquisitive, and very engaging with these two strangers who had come to say hi. The other pups in the liter when back to napping.

When we first brought her home, at 10 weeks, she learned to adapt to her new family. After getting used to the new “dogs in her pack,” including not just her people but an actual dog, our 40 pound mutt, Kafka, Marlowe began to find her place in the pack.

Seven years on now, I remembered how much fun both Marlowe and I had when we trained together. More than that, however, I needed to get her some retraining. While we were on a trip out of state last summer, the dogs were being cared for by a friend. One day, Marlowe escaped the backyard through an accidentally unlatched gate. We were told upon return that she had bolted out of the yard, across our large front yard, straight across the street, and stopped in the neighbor’s yard, where the frantic friend was able to retrieve her.

Marlowe had stopped answering to the “come” command months earlier. Lack of recall training will, I discovered, UNtrain a dog. So, I started searching for a trainer. I had originally gone back to the same big-box pet store where we had done our first training, but their staff was irresponsible and didn’t even both to show for the first class. I found out from the manager that the trainer had cancelled that class and never bothered to tell me, even after I had paid in full. Refund.

I remembered that friends had taken their new rescue Weimaraner to a trainer for some serious remedial butt kicking on a 6-week intensive training camp. The dog had developed a taste for neighborhood cats. He came back very much better for the experience.

I knew Marlowe didn’t need that level of training, but she and I both needed to learn the basics again. In addition to the ignored recall, over the years, she had started parking incessantly at anyone who walked by on the street, parked in front of the house, or came toward the door. It had gotten crazy and frantic, no longer just a warning bark.

So, in late October 2011, Marlowe and I began a new 6-month journey to better behavior. I meant to update our progress sooner, but if you read A Quiet Holiday, you’ll know why I never got around to that.

Our successes so far:

• Marlowe now walks loose-leash like a pro. She only occasionally requires correction. Prior to training, she would pull so hard, you would’ve thought you were walking a sled dog.
• She has solid success with “leave it”. In all fairness, this was the one singularly consistent skill that she learned as a puppy and that we have never stopped using. Drop an ibuprofen and the dog gets it? It can kill her. Same for chocolate, onions, garlic, raisins.
• Her sit, down, and stand has returned quickly. She has pretty consistent success with this accept when she is excited. Then it becomes a real challenge. We’re working on that.
• We have just started “push-ups” this week (intensive little sessions where she goes from down back to sit). These are HARD, make no mistake about it. I have a new respect for dogs and owners who can accomplish this task. She is beginning to make progress on this as well. It’s going to take a lot of practice.
• Remember that recall she had lost? The trainer calls it Really Reliable Recall (RRR). You select a secret word. It must be something that will never get used in regular conversation. We chose the Dutch word for danger, for example. We don’t speak Dutch. This is the word you train your dog to come to and associate with the best super special treat in the world. It is different from the regular training treats and is only ever used in this context once you start training. It’s pretty intense, but Marlowe is coming along.

There are days when Marlowe drives me crazy in class. She gets so excited and hyper that she not only doesn’t pay attention to me, but doesn’t allow me to pay attention to the instructor. I’ve had to really check myself to make sure I stay calm. (One day, the instructor called right after we left class to ask me if everything was okay. She had noticed how frustrated I was during that day’s class.) I’ve learned to arrive early for class so that we can be one of the first there. Marlowe tends to do better then for some reason. If we arrive after most of the other dogs are already placed, she’s just impossible.

Every week I see progress in her. Over the holidays, there was even a day when someone came to the door and I was able to keep her quiet until they rang the bell. That was a milestone.

I look forward to more successes with her. I’ll keep you posted!

The first week in November, the Wrinklies (as I call my parents) were packing for a trip to Maui. My mom (88 years old) decides she should mention to my dad that she’s been getting out of breath after just a short walk across the house and now, a few weeks into this development, she is having chest pains as well. She wondered, “should I go to Maui?”

Duh, no Mom, you should go to the emergency room. So, a few days later she was in the hospital, I’d flown to California to drive my dad (92 years old) back and forth to the hospital, two towns away. Mom had major heart surgery, which she came through like a trooper, I stayed a week, then came back home to Texas.

A few days home and it’s Thanksgiving at a friends house. I am just starting to wind down from the horrible stress of dealing with family. My supportive and wonderful friends helped a lot. The Tuesday after Thanksgiving, my husband and I had a lunch planned with a friend. I asked Tom to take some laundry downstairs on his way. He took ALL of the laundry in his arms and didn’t watch where he was stepping. Unfortunately, this is the one day EVER that my little Yorkie got terribly sick and vomited all over the stairs, starting on the landing right at the first stair. Tom steps in it and (his words) goes “ass over teakettle” down the entire flight of stairs, landing hard on his right ankle, breaking his tibia and fibula.

He had surgery on the ankle the following Monday. Friends rallied to help with food and (for me) sanity breaks from the constant caregiving. In addition to the lame husband, I also had a very sick dog (not the Yorkie, who was absolutely fine after the barf fest) to deal with at the same time.

So I spent the next few weeks running back and forth for medicine, veterinary visits, doctor and physical therapy appointments, and trips to get groceries and take-out food. It was crazy. My day would start somewhere between 4-6 am as the big dog desperately needed to go out. (Tom would text me from downstair where the two of them were stuck.) I would be completely exhausted by 8 pm at night. Rinse and repeat day after day.

Needless to say, after the expense of flying to California, the out-of-pocket cost of surgery and PT appointments (even with finally getting health insurance…1 week before the broken ankle), I was financially and emotionally drained. And in no mood whatsoever for a holiday.

When anyone asked, I gestured to Tom’s ankle and said “there is his present” and to the dog “and there is everyone else’s”. The good news is that they are both on the mend. Tom has his last “authorized” PT this week. I don’t think we’ll need any more than that. He’s hobbling around pretty well now, although he still tires out easily with the effort. As for Kafka, the big dog, she has been cured of pancreatitis, and diagnosed definitively with Cushing’s disease. She’s an old dog, but she is much better than she was a few weeks ago. That’s the best we can ask for now.

So, we had a very quiet holiday this year. We didn’t have our big, blowout holiday bash. I didn’t so much as bake 1 cookie. I invited a few folks over on Christmas Day (no more than I knew I could manage without the help of my sous chef). Everyone pitched in with side dishes and dessert. At the end of the day, we had a wonderful (group effort) holiday meal.

I hope your holiday was nice, relaxing, and most of all healthy! In fact, let that be my wish for you in the coming year as well. Stress-free and good health is the best wish I can give you for 2012!

I had my third appointment with the Herbologist today. Bottom line, he and I have both seen a lot of progress in my journey to a healthy gallbladder. I’ve come so far in the last 2 months, I’m just amazed. I don’t have the horrible twinges anymore, which is awesome. As with many things you try for the first time, I was initially skeptical, but the proof is in the results. I’m now a big believer in Chinese medicine for the simple reason that it has worked for me.

In the last few weeks, I’ve begun to experiment periodically with some of the fats that were restricted at the beginning of the regimen. I’ve eaten a small amount of cheese with no ill effects whatsoever, and had the same success just yesterday with avocado. When I told the Herbologist that today, he was thrilled. Avocado is apparently a big trigger if you are still susceptible to attacks.

I’m on another round of Chinese supplements right now, but I am now cleared for the occasional experiment with other foods that were previously restricted. As with everything in life, I’ll maintain a “consumption within reason” approach, being especially mindful not to have too many fats in any one day. But hey, that’s just common sense anyway.

So what is my most coveted experiment? What have I missed the most? Coffee. Yes, I will be trying that in the next week for sure.

First off, a brief history. Back in 2001, I suffered a gallbladder attack. Based on recent comparison, it was relatively mild. When I say relatively mild, in terms of a gallbladder attack, that’s somewhere around cutting off the tip of your finger versus cutting off your entire finger. Get it? Terribly painful, but not as bad as it could be.

After that attack, I researched and discovered (based on data available at that time) that fried food of any kind would trigger an attack. Drinking peppermint tea (or taking peppermint oil) would minimize the risk of an attack and actually help reduce the gall stones. Result: avoid deep-fried foods and drink peppermint tea. This strategy worked perfectly well for me for nearly a decade without a single recurrence of attack.

Fast forward to two weeks after surgery of a female nature. This was early November 2010 when I had a gallbladder attack. My first thought was, “Wow, there has been so much going on lately that I must not have been as diligent with my peppermint tea comsumption.” So, I focused, redoubled my efforts with the tea, and triple checked anything that I got at a restaurant to ensure that nothing in the dish was fried.

Although I had disconcerting twinges on occasion (which had not happened ever), I was fine until this year. As of April 5, 2011, I have had THREE gallbladder attacks since January. The second, in February I believe, was so severe that it actually caused me to throw up. That has also never happened before. In addition, where other attacks had happened over about a 30 minute period, this one had lasted a full hour.

On Tuesday, April 5th, I was perfectly fine one moment and at level 10 pain the next. Again, this has never happened before. Frankly, it scared the crap out of me and I had my husband drive me to the Emergency Room, foolishly thinking they could help. Suffice it to say they did NOTHING and charged $1395 for the privilege. I also learned from this experience that Emergency Room visits have gone up by 300% in the last 5 years (I just found a 2006 ER visit receipt for $365.85). The ER doctor did mention, however, that surgery would be “incredibly expensive,” which is simply not an option for me.

When my longtime friend heard about this latest attack and the resulting useless visit to the ER, she insisted that I go see her Chinese Herbologist. She warned that it was “expensive.” Compared to a day at the spa? Probably. Compared to a visit to the ER? Or worse, surgery? Hell no! I got his contact information and snagged an appointment for the next day.

Now, I’ve tried to find a complete Chinese Meridians chart online, but failed. So I will do my best to explain what I learned. Essentially, my surgery last fall put my liver/gallbladder meridians out of whack, which started the attacks again. Specifically, the liver and gallbladder meridians cross the uterine meridian. The Herbologist noted that sinus issues I’ve had and sacrum pain are also related. All of these ailments are confined to the same (right) side of my body. After performing a series of tests, the Herbologist prescribed 4 concoctions to be taken 3 times a day for 3 weeks, while I also avoid the following things:

• Alcohol
• Coffee
• Nuts
• Nutbutters
• Avocados
• Fried anything (the one thing I knew about already)
• Margarine (or any other “fake fat”)
• Greasy anything
• Milk
• Cheese

I chuckled when the Herbologist asked if I would “consider avoiding” alcohol and coffee for 3 weeks. I told him I would do whatever it takes to avoid another gallbladder attack. That is my priority. I have to say, I’ve found the routine rather easy to follow, even when I go to a restaurant. I had to set up a checklist to keep track of when to take pills, but other than that, it’s been very simple.

One final note. My diet has remained virtually the same for all this time. I always avoid anything deep-fried, and consume a well-balanced diet of chicken, fish, vegetables, fruits, and whole grains in moderate portions. Only occasionally do I eat pork or red meat. I’m hopeful that this treatment will succeed and I’ll let you know how it turns out!