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A Rose and A Thorn

Until the pandemic hit us, it was quite the challenge to get our family of four to sit down together for dinner every night. Our schedules were never in sync. After-school activities typically end around 6:30-7:30 pm. Sometimes, even later. Most nights, we would fend for ourselves and then head off to do homework, answer e-mails and whatnot.

As a parent, I always felt a twinge of guilt about this. Lots of parenting articles point to regular family dinners as the answer to raising well-rounded children who succeed academically, possess high self-esteem and are at a lower risk of alcohol and drug abuse, eating disorders and teen pregnancy.

That’s a lot of pressure to put on a mother trying to make dinner.

But I tried my best, and I’m proud to say that even without our crazy schedules my kids are kind, responsible, intelligent and well-rounded. They pretty much rock.

When we do eat as a family, our tradition is to go around the table and ask everyone to give a rose and a thorn. The rose represents something good that happened that day or something that made them happy. The thorn is for anything that didn’t go well or a challenge they were facing at school or with their friends. And even when we couldn’t all sit down together to eat; I’d still ask them to give a rose and a thorn on the way to swim practice or dance class.

Now that we are under quarantine, I am making up for lost time. I’m cooking up a storm every day for family dinners and the roses and thorns are flying.

Rose – “I don’t have the coronavirus”

Thorn – “I hate online learning.”

Rose – “I get to hang out with my dog all day.”

Thorn – “I can’t hang out with my friends.”

Rose – “Thank goodness for FaceTime.”

Thorn – “May is a long time away.”

While there are a lot of thorns to talk about these days, the roses are what keep me going. I have a full bouquet when I wake up every morning and I am incredibly grateful.

True Confessions

I’ll be honest with you. I’m having a hard time motivating myself these days.

Take writing this blog. I’m in the middle of a 30-day blog challenge and I have plenty of time to think of ideas and write something original every day. And yet, I struggle with what to say and hitting “publish” after my seventh draft feels like I’m giving in and saying – this is good enough.

I’m also having trouble working from home. I’m in a new role that no longer places me where I like to be – in the middle of it all. And without having my colleagues nearby, it is difficult to feel connected.

And worst of all, I’m not into celebrating Passover. This comes as a shock to me because I’m the one who typically leads the Seder and buys enough matzah and kosher for Passover food for everyone. Not to say that we didn’t mark the occasion. Thanks to the 11th plague of coronavirus, we had a perfectly lovely family seder last night via Zoom, but I left the meeting a little sad. Social distancing from loved ones is hard enough and seeing their smiling faces on a screen can’t compete with having them here in my home.

My husband and kids are making the best of it with their work and school schedules. They are busy enough to keep the days somewhat interesting. I wish I could say the same. My recent accomplishments include clean cupboards, folded laundry (and put away), and finishing the third season of The Amazing Mrs. Maisel. I’m safely snuggled into my comfort zone reading books and drinking coffee. My dog is much more attached to me than ever before, and the feeling is mutual.

Part of this funk I’m in likely has to do with the fact that I’m getting over a nasty cough. Illness is a major trigger for my anxiety which also plays into my current mood. Thankfully, I never had a fever or breathing issues and was never sick enough to require testing. The antibiotics are finally kicking in, but they wear me out.

I know one morning I will wake up full of energy, feel like myself again and snap out of it–and the sooner the better. All I have is time on my hands.

Raising PD Awareness for a Cure

April is Parkinson’s Disease Awareness Month. It’s difficult to shed a light on a disease that resembles all the typical signs of aging like walking slow, having tremors or falling. But, Parkinson’s Disease, or PD, is so much more. It is a progressive neurological disease that has no cure. It’s a movement disorder that occurs when the brain cells that make dopamine – a chemical that controls movement – stops working. In addition to movement, people with Parkinson’s can also experience other physical and psychological issues.

More than 50,000 people are diagnosed with PD every year ane each person’s experience is unique. Some people experience minor symptoms that can remain that way for a long time, while others deal with more advanced problems. There are medications to ease the symptoms and improve quality, but again it’s not a cure.

How do I know so much about this? I have two special people in my life diagnosed with PD. I often think of my grandmom, Elsie, who swam every day at the pool in West Palm Beach, played pinochle and gin rummy with my grandfather and doted on her grandchildren while enjoying her coffee and Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies. After her diagnosis, it was jarring to watch this once vibrant woman slowly and strategically maneuver her walker around her living room. Over the years, her voice became much softer, she had stiffness in her limbs, and her ability to attend family celebrations was challenging to say the least. She fought PD for a long time and experienced other complications which led to her passing.

Today, I watch my dad fight PD. For as long as I can remember, my dad has always been on the move and never one to sit still for long. As a middle school teacher, he used to sprint up and down the stairs as fast as his students—faster if he was running late. He bowled frequently, rode his bicycle and enjoyed the outdoors. At parties, he and my mom could typically be found on the dance floor. To this day, they can still cut a rug which is a joy to watch and is, coincidentally, a highly recommended form of exercise for PD patients.

His PD symptoms are completely different from my grandmother. His PD presents itself as tremors in his hands, shuffling his feet as he walks and sometimes losing balance and falling—which has happened on one too many occasions. In public places, he uses a cane as a safety net, but he doesn’t let it stop him from living life to the fullest. Recently, he and my mom went on the trip of a lifetime to Israel. They have a national parks tour scheduled for later this year.

I’ve come to recognize PD in celebrities before they announce their diagnosis to the public. I once heard former Philadelphia mayor, Ed Rendell, speak at our synagogue, and I knew what he was facing by the way he walked to the podium and his mannerisms. I hate being right about these things.

As the daughter and granddaughter of two people affected by this disease, I am doing my due diligence so that everyone can continue to make their dreams come true despite their illness. I donate to the Michael J. Fox Foundation regularly. I’m considering joining a research study since I am part of a high-risk group that may or may not develop it in my lifetime. But I am still thinking about it. I honestly don’t know how I would react to the results. But that’s a story for another day.

In the meantime, I’ll continue to raise awareness and funds to support those who are diagnosed early in life like Michael J. Fox at the age of 29, and my dad who inspires me in so many ways.

If you would like to help fund important research to find a cure or support organizations that offer exercise programs and support to PD patients and their caregivers, consider donating to the Michael J. Fox Foundation or your local PD charity. In the Philadelphia area, I recommend the Parkinson Council.

 

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