On juggling too much and spacing out

When stirring the oatmeal, she had a moment without anxiety.

Then she thought, "I'm not anxious!" And the chattering began anew.

I thought this would be a good description in a novel or short story about a character who overthinks. Or maybe a caption to a New Yorker cartoon caption mocking a character's earnestness.

What is there to be anxious about?

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I actually started this blog post about a week ago and then forgot about it.

It has been a period of forgetting and remembering and realizing that I am doing too many things at once, none of them particularly well.

I missed a couple of deadlines, not by much, just a couple of days, attributing it to the short month of February where I was thinking two stories were due at the end of the week (March 2) instead of the end of the month (Feb. 28), which could be solved by writing EVERYTHING down.

I therefore rededicate myself to writing everything down.

At both of my newspaper jobs, I can honestly say I never missed a deadline.

That desk calendar right in front of me really helped. I have a desk but I prefer writing at the kitchen table looking out at the yard, and a desk calendar would not help the feng shui of the kitchen, which is my favorite room.

I had a period of not much going on and then asked for more work and got it all at the same time.

This would also happen at the paper, but it was easier to juggle in those days. Sure, I had kids' schedules, but I was lucky to have a job where I could integrate them into my work life.

It is those trips to Boston that can sometimes throw me off.

Last week was particularly challenging.

ECP on Wednesday (the internal sunburn to tame my graft vs. host of the skin) and PDT on Thursday (photodynamic therapy to head off skin cancer by burning the top layer of skin off my face, aka face fry), and the anticipation of the combination plus the combination itself threw me off.

Plus, the face fry HURT a lot for a day or two, with oxycodone-level burning and stinging. It subsisted pretty quickly, but the thinking about it didn't.

I have it done once a year. My dermatologist said she heard it works better when you do it twice a year, so I'm scheduled to do it again in May.

Throughout the 15 years of dealing with this (crazy, isn't it?), I always do what they say.

I figure, after all, that I am at a world class hospital and they know what they're doing.

However, I emailed my dermatologist to say I would really like to avoid getting it again this spring.

You have to stay out of the sun for a few days after it, and that's when I want to be outside. I'm not supposed to be out in the sun as much as I am as it is, and this adds another layer of sensitivity.

I NEED to do the tennis and the running (OK, slow jogging) and the walking because those are as important as my big overflowing bag of pills.

In the inclement weather the past week I decided to go swimming one day. Like any kind of exercise, it's better if you do it consistently. I had gotten to where I felt OK with it, but skipped so much time (it's not my favorite), that when I got in the pool it was hard to get in the rhythm. Near the end of 24 laps (the amount that I had decided to do), I tried to take a Zen approach – counting laps with no chattering. A friend who used to run a lot says he has switched to swimming and has managed to get the same high. I'm not a true believer, but I have gotten a little bit of that in spurts. It is nothing like when in the old days of running, though.

I got about half the length of the pool in quiet swim mind mode before I started thinking again.

It's better than nothing I guess. And I have to say that when I was finished, I felt virtuous and nicely stretched out.

Any kind of exercise is good for anxiety, for sure.

Six good things during the past week

Candle lighting at the JCA

Holiday parties and a writing award provided an uptick after a sad week.

1. Went to the Jewish Community of Amherst for a Hanukkah party Wednesday with candle-lighting, latkes and pizza, having seen the announcement in the entryway where I'm doing my Literacy Project volunteering now. It's also where I sent my children way back when. It's much nicer now with the addition to their facilities. I didn't think I would know anyone and so was happy to bump into a former colleague who sends her daughters there. We sat together and made plans to return for one of the rabbi's Wednesday lunch and learn sessions. I'm not exactly sure why, but I was a little depressed and felt better after seeing all the lit menorahs, singing songs, eating latkes and talking to my friend and her daughters.

2. The Dog Writers Association of America gave me its Inspirational Feature award for my story in the American Kennel Club's Family Dog Magazine. It was about how Maddie and I each helped the other heal after our separate near-death experiences. It came with a $300 award. $150 for Maddie and the other half for me?

3. After tennis Friday, I went to a fun ladies’ lunch. I have been trying to remember to put everything in my phone and on paper. I put in my phone from 12 to 2, figuring that Nancy wanted time after tennis to get ready. I bought orange juice and went to Starbucks for badly needed coffee, for I had spilled most of it after putting it on top of my icy car roof in the morning. When I checked my email for directions, I saw that it was really at 11, not noon, so I raced over there. Luckily they were still eating, and there was plenty left. I guess being off by an hour is not as bad as missing my college reunion, for which I was off by a week. (Question: Did I subliminally not want to go? Who knows…)

4. Book club holiday party Friday night. None of us finished A Gentleman in Moscow. We liked the writing and many of the author’s observations about life, but we said we kept waiting for something happen. Avid reader friends who finished it said it was worth it. So we’re going to finish up for next time while also reading A Visit from the Goon Squad. The food was delish, the company delightful. We had a Yankee Swap. Love my book group friends but not so much Yankee Swaps.  (#FirstWorldProblem) Stayed up too late.

5. Saturday, dragged myself to yoga. I don’t drink very much, and after two glasses of wine I felt a little hung over. Saturday night, fun Christmas party at Marianne and Karen’s. So much good food an such a friendly crowd.

Menorah in Riverdale

6. Sunday, packed up for trip to family Hanukkah party in the Bronx. Headed out a little bleary-eyed but stopped on the way at Ben’s for visit with Ben, Joe and Callen. (Nell was away on a girls’ weekend.) In a short time, Callen had turned into a little person! Amazing how that happens.

On my way out, I found a florist where I got pretty flowers to take to my cousin’s. It was good to be with family and extended family. We had more latkes and delectable New York deli sandwiches. I always go for the corned beef. REAL corned beef. This is the second year after Jennifer's suicide. Last year, the first year without her, was the most difficult. I spent some time talking to her twin brother on Sunday. He says that without Buddhism, he doesn’t know how he could have survived. I told him that at the JCA, I met some people who called themselves JewBus. I looked up the definition and found this interesting story.

Stayed over at Residence Inn in Yonkers. On the way back, I was so tired I had to stop twice. Often that's the way it is when you're on the go. The expectation on the way there keeps you alert. On the way back, Starbucks (good) at stop 1 in Woodbridge, Conn., and Subway (kinda yucky) at stop 2 kept me awake.

Didn't get any exercise except for getting in and out of the car. Got back pretty late and thought of a brief run but it was dark. And I thought of Zoe getting hit in the dark. So I went swimming. It's my least favorite activity. Though some who have cut back on running say they get the same high from swimming, I don't feel it, probably because I don't go far enough. For some reason, the last two times I have stopped at 24 laps, the last two doing water jogging. It is boring, not at all like running outdoors when you can soak up the scenery with your eyes rather than getting water-logged in a pool.

A few times in the past I did get some endorphins from doing laps, but last night I was distracted by leaky goggles that I had to keep fixing. I might invest in a pair of prescription goggles. Despite the drawbacks, it did get the schpilkes out. 

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Talking about the "S" word

I had coffee this morning with John Stifler, a longtime friend and longtime runner who writes the "On the Run" column for the Daily Hampshire Gazette.

Our conversation turned to the plantar fasciitis that is keeping me, and has kept many runners, from going out and doing what we love to do. The conversation was especially relevant since Holyoke's big Saint Patrick's Road Race is this Sunday. That's the 10-k that I was running in 2003 when my fatigue was the first sign that I had leukemia.

John asked if I had considered the "S" word.

I thought maybe he had come up with some new curse, and I asked him what he meant.

"Swimming," he said.

Ah, yes. I have done some laps and gone water jogging, but it's not quite the same thing.

I told him that I remembered my friend Chip telling me, years ago when I first had this crazy-making heel pain, "Sooner or later all of us end up in the pool."

John had a different way of looking at it.

"If you're naturally a runner and you're injured and you swim for exercise, God eventually takes pity on you and makes it so that you can run again," he said.

I liked that.

I asked him if it applied to tennis, but he said he only knew about running.

I hope the tennis gods will take pity on me too.