Leap Day!

When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap.
     - Cynthia Heimel

     Every four years we are given a gift of an "extra" day at the end of February. Our planet Earth's rotation about the sun is just irregular enough to warrant this gift. It has always seemed an odd thing to me-- nature seems so orderly otherwise, at least in how the days and seasons are arranged.

     The scientists (if that is indeed who they were?) of long ago arranged the calendar so that this extra "make up" day fell at the end of a very drab month. The gift of an extra day in February has always seemed like getting socks for Christmas to me-- practical, but very, very ordinary. Why not an extra day of late spring in May or early summer in June? Or glorious autumn in October? Falling as it does this year, on a Wednesday in the middle of a busy work week,  in wet, gray weather, it is feeling very much like not much of a gift. Socks.

                           

    Or is it?  Like all true gifts, it is given without the input of the recipient. It just appears, every four years. What we do with this gift is up to each of us. I find myself thinking this morning about the gift of an extra day given to me-- and what I could do with that gift? Or, more to the heart of the matter, what is life all about anyway?

     I can't answer that for you. If I am lucky, perhaps I can for myself. For me, life is about making a difference and spending time with those I love. I would like to think the world is a better place because I was in it... that is the test I'd like to answer to when my life is over. There are so many ways to try to do this-- in relationships, in ordinary contacts with people as I move through the day, in focusing on the people in my life. In creative ways too-- finding ways to make the ordinary special. I find myself overwhelmed with the possibilities of making the day special.

     Perhaps then, this gift of an "extra" day is not so ordinary. Socks, anyone?

                     

 

   

                                               
    

Factoids and Life's foibles

"Real Fact #801:  It is impossible for a person to tickle himself."
     ~from the lid of a bottle of Diet Peach Snapple
     

     I love Diet Peach Snapple. It's an expensive drink, but sometimes I'll treat myself to a six pack. Each creatively packaged bottle comes with a screw-off lid that has a factoid printed on the inside. I had a bottle with my lunch today and read the factoid quoted above. Perhaps it is true in a literal, physical sense, but I totally disagree with it.  I tickle myself every day in other ways!

     I was blessed genetically with an appreciation for self-deprecating humor. My dad laughed at himself loudly and often, and invited those around him to join in. He told hilarious stories on himself. I remember him telling a supposedly true tale of how he had painted a house and when he got done, he stepped back to admire his work-- from the top of a ladder. Of course it wasn't true, but he would laugh and laugh over the idea and the telling of it.

My father on the right as a young man, helping to paint his in-law's house

     I discovered through him that sometimes the only way to survive difficult times is to find humor in it. One thing that helped me survive a very difficult time during a divorce was to collect cartoons and humorous tales. I kept a small notebook and filled it with them-- often copying cartoons off the New Yorker Magazine web site (they were by far the best on the subject of divorce!). I would refer to these cartoons when I needed a chuckle. Something about laughing at my troubles helped me feel like I was controlling them, not the other way round.

     As I age, I am finding the everyday rituals of life can become more difficult, and since I can't stop the aging process, the only way to survive is to seek out the humor in them. Creaky joints, difficult mobility when climbing or descending stairs, the need to change one's diet-- all contain funny moments that can make them bearable.  My recent experience of being on crutches provided a great example of what I mean:

     The first cast I had applied to my leg was placed the second week of December. It was going to be on for only 2 weeks, and I got to pick any color I wanted. When I jokingly asked the nurse if I could have a Christmas one, she outdid herself by applying a red and green "barber shop pole" stripe. It was very bright - very loud and Christmas-y. About a week later, I went to lunch with a friend. She drove, I hobbled on crutches into the restaurant. They seated us at a table in the middle of the room, where I could prop the foot up on a chair at right angles to my own. The act of hobbling in with crutches creaking made me feel like I was suddenly on stage. And there was that bright cast! As we were dining, I noticed a table of men attired in business suits dining close by. One gentleman, who was facing me, was staring openly at my propped up leg. I didn't say a word, but very slowly pulled up my pant leg, so the full cast slowly came into view. It startled him and he looked up at me. I grinned and said, "Merry Christmas, huh?" He laughed, shook his head and said, "Well, I guess you are just making lemonade out of lemons..."

     The lesson I have learned is that a sense of humor, especially about myself, can be the best way to cope with difficulties sometimes. And finding humor in the everyday events of life can make living a pleasure, not just for me, but for those close to me.


      If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you're old.

                                         ~ Edgar Watson Howe

      Laugh at yourself first, before anyone else can.
                                         ~ Elsa Maxwell

The Birthday Fight

Fly free and happy beyond birthdays  and across forever, and we'll meet now and then when we wish, in the midst of the one celebration that never can end.   ~ Richard Bach

     Today is my grandson Will's first birthday!  It is hard to believe this sweet baby is almost walking and talking and doing so many things more independently. I remember well the day he was born, as I was driving from Indiana to Maryland to be there to care for his older brother while he and his mommy were in the hospital. It is a 10 hour drive, and Will being a second child was going to arrive quicker than his brother did. I got "the call" from Daddy when I was only about 15 minutes from their house. Driving on the DC Beltway while talking on the phone at 5 pm is tricky business-- doing it while learning of the birth of a grandchild is almost impossible. I think I soared the rest of the way to the house!

Newborn William Edward Schoch

Grandma Barb with Newborn Will, Mommy, Daddy and Big Brother Sam

     Meeting Will was a joy that is hard to describe... just as meeting his brother Sam and his cousin Addison was. There is a special love between grandparents and their grandchildren that is quite different than that between parents or siblings or anything else.

     Will was born on a special day... not just because it was his birthday. He arrived on his maternal grandmother's birthday. Linda Jacobus, my daughter-in-law's mother, was born on this day 58  years before Will arrived. I had the pleasure of getting to know her when my son married her daughter. We were bonded by their union, and I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know Linda better.

My daughter0in-law Amanda with her mother, Linda Jacobus

     Linda Jacobus never knew any of the joys of being a grandmother like I have because she lost her battle with breast cancer right before Sam was born. She was deprived of all the thrills of loving a new generation of family, and these darling children were deprived of knowing their wonderful grandmother.  Her daughter, Amanda Schoch, has decided to respond to this tragedy with action-- she has formed a team of friends and will be walking in a 3 day, 60 mile walk to raise money for breast cancer research. As Amanda has told me, the pink ribbon "awareness" project has worked very well, so it is time now to move beyond awareness and start funding the research needed to finally tackle this disease.

     I wish I could walk with them-- for Linda, and for my grandbabies. Since I can't, I will be contributing monetarily. If you would like to help Amanda fight this disease, please go to her website here:

http://amandaswalk.blogspot.com/2012/02/birthday-wish-for-my-mom.html

 She has been writing some wonderful blogs that have inspired me, and will you too. And it will tell you how you can help. Today, as I think about Will and all the growth we have seen in him this year, I will also remember Linda. And honor my mother, who fights this disease every day. And scores of friends and former coworkers who have fought it. And to bring hope for those who will fight it in the future. And to finally, FINALLY eradicate it...

Remembrance of things past

"If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever."  ~ Winnie the Pooh

     I am a huge fan of the PBS Masterpiece Classic presentation "Downton Abbey". For those who have not seen this show, it is essentially a historical soap opera set in the immediate pre- and post-World War One years at an English Lord's estate (I believe the main character is an Earl? Maybe a Duke?) and involves not just his family and friends but the servants as well. The last episode of the second season was this past Sunday. I have watched every episode of both seasons, and enjoyed "living" in this era along with the characters.

     One of the things I like about the series is the time period. The years 1914 to 1920 were the years of my grandparents' youth, and so as I watch the young people in this series I envision my grandparents as also young and how they must have dressed, talked, the music they listened to, and especially the World War and how it impacted their lives. The war was a focus of the series this season, with some fairly graphic scenes of battles in the French trenches and of wounded soldiers.

     My grandparents rarely discussed World War I, so I didn't know much growing up about how it influenced them. My paternal grandfather died when I was only 6, so I never got his perspective on it at all, but my father told me that his father was turned down for service for a physical problem, I believe it was flat feet and bad eyesight. My maternal grandfather had a heart murmur that kept him out. But I learned as an adult from my father that my paternal grandmother had been engaged to a man who died during the war, not from wounds but from an illness.

Miss Ruth Webster, circa 1914

      Today I found something that brought back the story of my paternal grandmother and it has had me thinking about it all day. In a very old decorated glove or sock box that dates from the 1920's was an envelope addressed to "Miss Ruth Webster". It had no postage stamp, just a typed "Soldiers letter" in the corner. It had an ink stamp indicating it had passed through the censorship process okay. The return address was from "Pvte. Ray. Strite, M.D., P.A." from a US Base hospital in France.  This was my grandmother's first fiance. Her first love. She had saved this envelope and stashed it in this box, safe from the prying eyes of her sons and her husband. Inside I did not find a letter, but something totally unexpected. There was a folded piece of heavy gray-green fabric that was identified by handwriting on the fabric that said, "Piece of Boche observation balloon brought down here, March 27." The other item was a folded piece of shirt cardboard that had two little tiny yarn figurines taped on it, one in bright green and the other in bright red labelled "Irene and Oscar"  in handwriting that looked masculine to me.  There was also a very tiny photograph of a man's face-- almost too small to identify-- that I can only assume was Ray Strite's photo.

the Boche Observation balloon fragment

What odd little figures these are-- named Irene and Oscar, and clearly had meaning for Ruth and Ray

 - see the tiny photo in the upper right and corner?

Is this Ray? I think maybe it might be!

     I was fortunate as a child to live in a duplex house with my Grandma Ruth living upstairs. She was present every day in my middle childhood years, so I knew her pretty well. I loved her and enjoyed spending time with her. She was a bit of a character, having some quirky habits that could embarrass me a bit when my friends were around... but she had a quick laugh and a very dry sense of humor.  She talked sometimes about my grandfather, Merton Howes, but she never mentioned Ray Strite. Ever.  The only thing I remember even remotely close was a casual conversation she and I had about war when I was maybe 11 or 12 years old, where I made the mistake of referring to World War II as "The REAL war...". When she asked me what I meant, I told her that everybody knows World War II lasted longer and involved more countries and was a much more serious and important war. I remember her response very well-- her tone changed to be quite serious, she lowered her voice and she said with great emphasis, "Barbie, World War I was a terrible war... many people suffered horribly and a lot of people died. Don't ever think it wasn't important!"  It was her demeanor I remember most of all... how fast it changed and how serious she was.

Ruth Webster Howes and Merton R. Howes, my paternal grandparents at approximately 25 years of marriage in this photo

     I got to thinking about all this, and looking down at these little remembrances she had secreted away I realized she must have loved Ray Strite very much. His death must have broken her young heart. She had gone on to marry my grandfather and have two fine sons, and become a business woman at a time when few woman did that, and then she grew old, became disabled by heart disease, and died when I was in college. Her life had been full and meaningful and I will carry many wonderful memories of her for the rest of mine.

     I am going to look up some information on Ray Strite, if I can find it. There are genealogy websites, and World War I archives that should help. I want to know more about this young man who died too young in a far away place leaving a very young and beautiful woman grieving for him.  It occurred to me that had he survived and come home to marry her, I would not have been born. But I think the real story is how Ruth Webster picked up the broken pieces of her heart and moved forward. How does one do that? How does one start anew in such a situation? Then I remembered that each of us will have some triumphs and some tragedy in our lives-- none of us is exempt from it. I know an awful lot of people who have triumphed over grief and tragedy-- there are endless examples I could quote. Human beings have such an unbelievable reserve of strength in times of tragedy. And we also have a deep need to remember, to save momentos and remembrances. Painful though the memory of the tragedy can be, these remembrances connect us between our present and our past and remind us of how human we are.

Losing it to gain something better...

Your body is the baggage you must carry through life. The more excess the baggage, the shorter the trip.
Arnold H. Glasgow

We're working to carry less baggage, so our trip is a grand, very long one!

     A year ago when I retired,  it occurred to me that I could be retired for a long, long time. I wanted to make the most of this precious gift of time, and that meant I had to stay healthy. I was very overweight and was suffering because of it-- my joints were complaining, I had gastric reflux, my blood pressure had been elevated for years. As a nurse I knew I was headed for Type II diabetes, heart disease, and worsening joint issues. I was at a crossroad, and I decided it was time, finally,  to take the issue seriously and lose the weight.

This is me 60 pounds ago modeling a sweater that now is too big for me to wear!

     The problem is, I love to eat. I love sweets and chocolate, and bread. Oh, bread makes the meal, it really does. Crusty, warm bread with butter melting into the little crevices... thick sweet jam over the top. Bread and I go way back...

     Oops... sorry. I got carried away...  The thing is, bread was killing me. So were chocolate and ice cream and pasta and chips and dip and buffalo wings. And when I looked at my beloved husband, they were killing him too. We had a talk.

Here we are, over 100 pounds ago...

     So, we began our Healthy Living adventure. A year later, I can claim some success. I am 60 pounds lighter, my blood pressure has improved to the point that I may soon be able to get off the BP meds, I haven't had any reflux issues in months. My joints still hurt, but only if I overdo some activity. I am sleeping much better too, and have more energy. Lanny has lost over 40 pounds and has equally good physical improvement. And once I get this foot healed up, we plan on adding daily walking to our routine.

     How did we accomplish this? Well, first, we had to be motivated. Both of us knew this was going to be a long road, not a short one. We needed to look at this not as a diet that once we lose the weight we'll be done with it and go back to our old eating ways, but rather as a change in our outlook on food and eating, and a change in our lifestyle. Being retired meant I actually had time to plan meals and cook at home, which was also key.

     I am a card-carrying lifetime member of Weight Watchers, so I was well-acquainted with their system of assigning points to food. We had also tried the Southbeach Diet a couple times. In the reading I have done I learned that protein foods take more calories to digest than are actually in the foods (unless of course they are laden with fat calories as well, such as heavily marbled meats....) Diabetic diets focus on carbohydrate grams. So, the Bertram plan was to eat lean proteins, and limit fats and carbs, as well as keep the total calorie count below 1200 per day. That means low sugar yogurt, or an egg or two for breakfast, lean protein such as a veggie burger on a low cal bun and some raw veggies for lunch, and baked fish plus two veggies for dinner. Fruit was for snacking and dessert. Rice, potatoes, pasta were limited to only a few times per week and in small quantities. Portion control was key. And the support we gave one another was crucial. I also found a couple diet buddies-- my sister and my best friend-- who have given me some wonderful support and kept me going.

     It wasn't easy. We backslid. We hit Christmas and all our work was cast aside for a two week food frenzy that I am still working off the weight gained...  and I still have about 20 pounds to lose to get to my goal weight, so we continue to work at it, knowing it will take more time and effort to get these last pounds off. But here I am a year after I started,  4 dress sizes smaller, and loving how I look and feel!

Here is the new outer me... 4 sizes smaller!

And here is my handsome husband... Wow!!!

     Perhaps this is why yesterday, the first day in 10 weeks I was able to walk around without something heavy and awkward supporting my repaired ankle, I chose to clean out my closet!  I had a huge wardrobe for work-- "professional" jackets, slacks and such-- that I no longer needed and none of which fit. My closet was stuffed with them to the point where it was all getting wrinkled just hanging there. I tried on everything, grinning as pants after pants were found too big. Jacket after jacket hung like a sack off my now slimmer shoulders. It all went into two piles- the consignment shop for the better, less used items and Goodwill for the rest. We took two 30-gallon trash bags stuffed with just slacks to the Goodwill in the afternoon just to get it all out of the way. I have about that much still to go. And an equal amount to take to the consignment shop.

     Despite the bare closet-- I have not spent much money replacing clothing in a smaller size because let's face it-- retirement doesn't require a "wardrobe"-- I have been grinning from ear to ear. This has been a very graphic way to showcase my new outer self. It has shown me how far I have come. And in throwing the old stuff out, I am making a commitment to NEVER GO BACK to the old habits that got me in trouble.

      My grandmother had an old saying "Begun is half done". Getting started with a new lifestyle was the hardest part. Once we got going, it has become almost second nature to us. Not that we don't still feel drawn to unhealthy food or find ourselves taking too large a portion once in awhile... but we are on the road to healthier living. And hopefully we have added not only years to our lives but life to our years. I wish now that I had followed this eating plan years ago... perhaps my back and knee pain wouldn't be an issue...

     The lesson I want to share is that healthy eating is important and it is possible to do. It isn't easy, but the rewards of a healthier body are beyond measure. If you want to look and feel better, think about getting started... and then do it. Find a few buddies to support you too.

Fashion Week?

Betsey Johnson 2012 Fall Collection

     This morning I heard on the Today Show about the recent fashion shows in New York. All the designers were showing their fall collections. I learned the trends will be for metallic fabrics, neon colors and the must-have garment is the kimona. The fashion expert who discussed this said she throws on her kimona over her sweats when she takes the kids to school in the morning to "make a fashion statement".

     Last evening Lanny and I went out to dinner at a downtown Indianapolis restaurant as a day-late Valentine's celebration. We had some errands to run before we dined, so we were downtown early. Our first stop was to buy walking shoes at a shoestore downtown famous for good quality shoes for "hard-to-fit" feet. Given my on-going recovery from major foot surgery, I was looking for something sturdy and comfortable, that would support my foot when walking. Lanny was just looking for shoes that fit and felt good-- something that had eluded him for most of his life. We found what we were looking for-- sturdy athletic shoes in wide widths that would help support our feet so our feet can support us through the coming year. They were large and clunky looking... definitely not on the fashion radar!

        

Hmmm... a pair of well-made supportive athletic shoes or a pair of sexy Alexander McQueen spike heels? 

                            

 

     After we completed our shoe shopping, we headed for the big downtown mall, where our restaurant was located. We got there too early for dinner, so we window shopped for about an hour. I got a good look at the spring fashions that were on display. Tight short skirts, cute little dresses in very loud colors with cute little jackets...  And the shoes... platform shoes with spike heels that would have made me taller than Lanny. And in bright patent leather colors... I thought about how I would have loved them when I was 20. As I approach 60, these shoes just remind me of my orthopedic issues and I find them depressing. I would look silly in them. Not to mention how they would make my back, my hips and my knees feel!

     Nothing is as depressing as an aging woman who dresses way too young. We saw one in the shoe store-- she was overweight by at least 50 pounds, with a too-short leather skirt, spike heeled boots, and wild burgundy red hair. Make up that was extreme. Flashy jewelry and over-long dark red nails. She was at least 50 years old, and looked, well...  silly.  On the other hand, I also know how dressing fashionably can elevate a woman's confidence in herself and just make the day feel better. Where is the line between the two?

     I don't have the answer for that, but I do know there are women out there who find the balance and who always seem to look fabulous. Clothing just seems to look good on them, yet the whole thing looks effortless. I envy them... And maybe I'll get myself a kimona to throw on over my sweats? Whatdya think?

Alice+Olivia 2012 Fall Collection

Life without chocolate?

   
     Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.  Since I have known Lanny, he has given me chocolates and roses on this occasion, as well as dinner out at some local romantic spot. Last year we went to a fondue restaurant where there was a bouquet of roses greeting me at the table, and chocolates to go with them. We dined on cheese fondue as an appetizer, various meats and veggies in hot oil with side sauces to go with them and finally ended the meal with a dark chocolate/Grand Marnier fondue that was to die for. I can still see the melted chocolate swirling in that heated pot, and taste the gooey goodness... it was heaven.

     I am a chocoholic... I love the stuff. There is nothing quite like dark chocolate over raspberry cremes, or mint or well, about anything. Once, when I was a bit emotional, I ate an entire 2 pound box of Whitman's sampler chocolates while weeping over the phone to my best friend. 2 pounds of the stuff in one sitting!!! When I was a kid, my father, from whom I inherited this affliction, used to bring home bulk milk chocolate in big hunks from the grocery store. They sold it wrapped in plastic wrap in big chunks, and after dinner each night he would carve off a piece for each of us. He believed it had medicinal properties. I can still hear him say, "It keeps you regular!!" We had never heard of antioxidants or endorphins back then-- but science has proven he was right-- in modest quantities the stuff is good for us!

     This Valentine's Day I am in the middle of a "get healthy" program. I have lost 60 pounds over the last year and have a few more to go. Of course, being laid up with the bad foot, I can't exercise like I should, so these last pounds have been coming off very, very slowly. I am still trying to shed the pounds  I regained over Christmas. That means I had to tell Lanny "NO Chocolate!"  We had that discussion yesterday. We both agreed we would miss the stuff, but if we got started eating it, we'd be goners for awhile, just like at Christmas. I will miss the dark chocolate covered raspberry cremes, and Lanny will miss the brownies. Oh yes, the brownies... I suspect that secretly he married me for them!  I bake them at Christmas and when the kids come home for a visit (they were Matt's favorite!) and for pitch-ins and well, just about any time we want a chocolate blitz or to celebrate something. Lanny loves them so much he can't stop eating them. I have to bake them when he isn't around and sneak them into the freezer before he finds them!  What are these wonderful treats? I'll share the recipe with you, just in time for Valentine's Day. You can make someone very happy with these!

photo courtesy of Hersheys

                            

The Best Brownies in the World

            1 box of whatever brownie mix you prefer- make sure it is for a 9 x 13 pan!

            eggs, oil per brownie mix instructions

            1 12-oz bag mini semi-sweet chocolate chips

            1/2 bag Heath Bar chips

Prepare the brownie mix as directed on package. Just before pouring the mixture into the prepared pan, stir in 1/2 bag of mini chocolate chips. Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle top with the remaining chocolate chips and the Heath Bar chips. Bake as directed on package.  

Cool before cutting into squares.

     We will be going out to dinner, and I am hoping for some roses too. And a mushy card... but no chocolate. I will try to eat healthy too, which will take a little of the pleasure out of the meal. Or maybe not-- being healthy is the best gift I can give my husband, and myself too. But boy, I will miss the chocolate. Try the brownies... and have one for me!!!

This is me with my Valentine!!

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!!!

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

~ Sammy Cahn

     It snowed on and off all day today. The ground was warm enough that it didn't stick, but the sight of falling snow outside the window made me smile, then get to work on a pot of chili. My husband got a fire going, and together we have spent the better part of the day by the fire. I have been able to knit at my leisure, which is one of my favorite past times. I know we are both very lucky that we no longer must go out in bad weather, or worry about how much the heat bill will be, or forage for food like the animals and birds outside our window. 

      I love snow! I say this knowing full well most adults in Indiana hate it. My sister and best friend both live in the south, and both tease me regularly about the "bad weather" we have here. Hoosiers head an masse to the south any chance they can in the winter. We're called "snow birds" down there... people who come just for the winter. Not me... any time it snows I am up for a walk. I love it... falling snow forces everyone to slow down a little, and that's a good thing. A brisk walk in the cold, when there is falling snow, warms me from the inside out. Lanny has learned that when it starts snowing, he needs to go put his boots on because most likely we're going for a walk. Often, we end up down by the creek, one of my favorite places!

     I grew up in Buffalo, and have many happy memories of times spent in the snow. As kids we played in it all winter. Snow forts, snowball fights, sledding and tobogganing, and ice skating were all activities I loved. We don't get enough snow in Indiana for kids to do much of any of this, and I miss it. The weather is still cold, but stays snowless and gray most of the winter. I don't like that at all!

     Our dog Siggy has mixed emotions about snow. He is always up for a good run in it, but he is a heat seeker, so the fire in the fireplace or snuggled under an afghan is his favorite place to be in the winter.

      Snow also quiets our woods and creek, and forces most of the animals underground either to stay warm or to hibernate. The birds must eat more and so are more frequent guests at the feeders we have outside the dinette window. When there is enough snow to see animal tracks, we can see what beasts have been out and about-- something we can't see unless there is snow.  And when we are lucky enough to have a lot of snow, the beauty of our woods and creek is worth photographing. 

     My wish for everyone today is that at some point this winter you too can slow down and enjoy the winter weather. If you happen to be lucky enough to live where it snows, go for a walk! Or, if you can't do that, put on a pot of chili and watch the world change before your eyes!

Change

    

“The only thing that stays the same is change” 

                                      - Melissa Etheridge 

People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.

     I will be attending a "going away" reception later today for one of the administrators of the last hospital I worked at. He is staying within the big network our hospital was a part of, and moving on with a well-deserved promotion. Tomorrow there will be another reception for another administrators at the same hospital who is moving on, outside the network we worked for, in a job that will more closely fit her passion for quality improvement. For both of these people, this is a big step and an exciting new chapter in their professional lives-- much as retirement was for me. Huge change!

     It got me to thinking about change, how inevitable it is, and how it is good most of the time. Sometimes we seek out the change and embrace it, other times we see it as a threat and try to avoid it. As I have aged, the pattern in my life of change has spread itself out so I can see how each big change worked to help me grow in some new way.

     The hospital I retired from is a great example. Clarian West Medical Center (now Indiana University Health West Hospital) was started 8 years ago as the first suburban hospital in a growing network of healthcare providers in central Indiana.

 I was very fortunate to have been chosen to be a part of the team of department directors who planned the hospital. Not the building itself-- that had been planned and was in the final phases of construction. We planned the workings inside the building. All that stuff that goes on behind the scenes when a patient comes to the hospital for care. Such things as the admission process-- where the patients would park, what door they would come in, who would greet them, how would we complete the registration process, what information would be obtained when, what if it was an emergency and the patient could not provide any information? What if they came in through the Emergency Department instead of regular admissions? What if they needed lab work? Imaging like xrays? All of this had to be planned out in excruciating detail. The layout of supplies, what supplies, how many, the reorder process all had to be figured out. I had to determine staffing needs and then recruit, interview and hire an entire new staff. It was a huge job, and I spent many, many very long work weeks-- often exceeding 70 hours in a week and no days off to accomplish. I worked very closely with the other department directors. We often sat in meetings of two, three or four of us, hashing out the details of a particular process. We worked long and very hard together. Additionally, the CEO of our new venture had the remarkable idea that we could create an environment in our new hospital that he called "a sanctuary of healing".

The grounds included this atrium garden, complete with waterfall!

and a rose garden!

     I may write more on this subject in another blog, but the end result was there was as much emphasis placed on the way West felt to work at or be a patient at as in the medical details. For the new department directors, there was a huge emphasis on working together and supporting one another. A remarkable work environment developed that had an esprit des corps unlike anything I had ever experienced. We all grew very close as friends as well as coworkers.

The original OB nursing staff at Clarian West-- that's me in the lab coat upper right

     The hospital opened a little over 7 years ago. Excellent care was rendered, the word was spread that this was a great place to go for care, and the hospital grew by leaps and bounds. My little unit, the OB department, had 4 building expansions in the first 4 years we were open. As time passed, the network we were a part of also grew. As it grew, it not only built new hospitals, but "partnered" with other hospitals looking for help with finances and resources. It continues to grow today, and is the largest health care network in our state.  And, over time, each of those department directors, VP's and our first CEO have almost all either left for retirement or gone on to other jobs. Of the 15 or so directors, I believe only 2 remain. The rest of us have either retired or gone on to jobs elsewhere.  Two have been promoted to a VP level. Of the original 4 VP's, only 2 remain. Our original CEO is gone too. When you have turnover like that, the hospital itself will change too, and of course it has. There are lots of changes there.  I think back and remember my days at West fondly, and find myself sad that the original group is no longer there. Everything feels different when I walk through the building... even though it looks the same, I realize I am not a part of it any more. Clarian West was in my life for a season and a reason, but it has moved on, as have I.

Bragging a little... here we are (myself in middle and most of my leadership within the OB department) accepting the JD Power & Associates award for excellence - national recognition only 6 years after we opened!!

      There are other events like this-- graduation from high school is a time of dramatic change. We have all seen kids who flourish in what comes after and others for whom high school was the pinnacle of their lives. College, military service, moving from one town to another, even divorce, are all life events that bring about huge change. We have all known people who couldn't make the break, move on to something new-- people who keep taking college courses their entire lives, people who spend all their time after the military with veterans' groups reliving old glory days, people who return to the town they moved from for too frequent visits, people who cling to a marriage no matter how awful. From my perspective, not embracing the change that is inevitable can lead to a less than full life. Reliving old moments of glory to the exclusion of experiencing new moments means we miss out on all that our lives can offer us. Not for me!!!

     So, I will return to West and bid my old friend a fond farewell and a hearty congratulations. It will be good to see old friends and relive a few old memories, but I will return to my new life as a retiree knowing that my new life holds great adventure and promise. I am not afraid of this change,  I embrace it. A new season, a new reason, and new people to meet-- what a wonderful way to look at life!!

Lessons learned on crutches

     I had surgery on my achilles tendon 8 weeks ago. I had suffered from what I'll call "nurse's foot" for a long time, and it became obvious when we tried to do some hiking on our trip to the mountains that the conservative approach was not going to work. So, off to the surgery center we went, with the same nervous anticipation that everybody has right before they have surgery.

     First, let me say the surgeon is a very nice guy, and came highly recommended. He is apparently very good at what he does. The whole thing went well. Home in a big splint on crutches, with instructions to keep it iced and no weight bearing. Back to the office in a week for a more permanent cast. I had broken an ankle 30 some years before and had walked on crutches then for 8 weeks with no problem-- I had a 9 month old at the time, and managed it. So I thought this time would be pretty much the same thing.

     WRONG... I am 30 years older, and despite my denial, age does make a difference. After the first week my upper arms, shoulders and the palms of my hands hurt almost as much as the ankle did! I rented a knee scooter, but discovered after a few days that using it made my arthritic hip hurt and it didn't get me close enough to the kitchen counter to be usable in that area. Lanny did most of the kitchen work.

     Christmas came, and with it my intense need to provide the photo-perfect event for family. For the first time ever I had a kitchen full of family helping me-- not that they didn't offer in years past. I was so hell bent on everything being perfect I had to do it myself. Not this year... it hurt too much!! Lanny and I only put up three of the usual Christmas trees too. Another of my addictions-- I usually put up at least 4, one of which is 12 feet tall. This year we didn't do the tall one-- as it takes two of us on ladders to get it up and decorated. We could have put it up before the surgery, but getting it down was going to be an issue. And my shopping was done online. No crowded stores or cold weather shopping for me. Boxes arrived on the front porch almost daily.

     Right after New Year's my father-in-law passed away. We traveled to Kentucky for his memorial and burial. Navigating hotels and restaurants, funeral homes and cemeteries was tricky, but again there were family members at each step to jump in and help. I found that strangers, when faced with a woman on crutches, became most helpful. A hostess at Cracker Barrel worked hard to find me a seat while we waited for a table, a young man who probably was not used to being chivalrous held a door for me, a rest room attendant at an interstate rest area walked all the way from the Ladies room to the main door to hold it open for me...

     I received get well gifts from family with support from afar. I received phone calls and emails from local friends. A dear girlfriend picked me up and took me to lunch with another close friend, and also took me to my favorite knitting store for an afternoon out. My sister sent us gift certificates to a gourmet food business that ships the food in individual servings, frozen and ready to nuke and eat, so we didn't have to cook.

     The winter days were dark and gray, but since my husband had retired as of January first, he was home to brighten the days and help me out. He, above all, has been helpful, supportive, loving in ways I cannot begin to count. Since I can't carry anything when using crutches, he has done all the emptying of the dishwasher, picking up around the house, sweeping the floors, etc. He has been a chauffeur, and a patient listener as I whined.

     So... the lesson here is that I am blessed beyond measure to have such support from those around me. This condition is temporary. I will walk without a limp and be able to become active again. I  have been given a unique glimpse into how people with permanent disabilities must live, and how important things like handicapped ramps are (my little knitting shop has one-- and it made all the difference!). I have been humbled into having to ask for help and discovered that I don't have to do it all, and that Christmas doesn't have to be perfect to be perfect. I am, above all, grateful for my loving husband, who very patiently helped me in a million little ways, often at the expense of his own comfort.

     Yesterday I was told I didn't need to use the crutches any more. The freedom of just getting in the car and not having to haul the crutches around was wonderful. Not going up and down stairs on my butt is fabulous... Carrying my knitting bag upstairs so I could knit while watching TV in the bedroom last night was no big deal... Today I may tackle emptying the dishwasher with a new sense of appreciation.

No crutches! Just a big support boot for a couple more weeks... Freedom! Mobility!!

     Even in painful medical events there are lessons to learn, and I hope I remember the lessons from this one. Many thanks to all the people who helped me, some I never met, others very close to me. I am challenged now to "pay it forward" and  help those I know cope with their own events.