It’s the Bones, Stupid
The endocrinologist and gynecologist both gasped at the results of my latest bone density scan. “If you don’t do something, you’ll wind up in a nursing home soon,” warned the endocrinologist.
They insist that I take either Prolia or Reclast, heavy duty medications Read more [...]
I suppose I’m depressed, but it’s not the slam-bang suck-out-my-soul torture of the early illness days when I choked inside my own Pigpen-like dust storm.
I have my distractions. I can laugh out loud at the satire of HBO’s “Last Week Tonight with John Oliver” and “Silicon Valley”. Read more [...]
"I do not hope for a cure or a radical positive change in my condition; instead I believe in the possibility of pleasurable moments." Carol Lefelt
I am overwhelmed by the large number of responses to my last piece about reaching the age of 70 and feeling that it might be time to stop my quest for Read more [...]
I felt particularly sick for a long time before our trek out west from New Jersey– woozy and aching and listless – and liable to crash miserably after almost anything, like unloading the dishwasher or washing and blow-drying my hair.
Maybe, as my husband hypothesized, anticipation of the Read more [...]
Christmas Week, 2013
Okay, so we all know the physical and emotional stresses for ME sufferers brought by the holidays. This year, I’m afraid, I added heaps more by agreeing to spend Christmas week in Hawaii at our time share with our children and now year-old grandson.
We have this timeshare Read more [...]
We humans define ourselves in terms of what we can DO. With CFS you have an existential crisis, cause you think, "If I can't DO, who or what AM I?"
I walk to the wooden cubbies in my school’s front office to pick up my mail. Usually my box is stuffed with notices, pamphlets, messages Read more [...]
Are You My Mother?
One of the first books we read to our sons was by P.D. Eastman called Are You My Mother? A mother bird, wearing her white polka-dotted red head scarf or babushka as a symbol of family life, leaves her unhatched egg alone in its nest while she flies away in search of food. Alas, Read more [...]
I am built like a skinny pear. Seems I inherited mixed up genes: my mother’s mother’s skinny upper torso and my father’s mother’s ample bottom. (Grandma Pauline’s maiden name was Gross. She was buxom, but I received only her thighs and thick calves and ankles—along with her Read more [...]