Category Archives: Health

Cry, cry, baby

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In a recent blog post, I mentioned a statistic that startled some readers: It stated that women cry 43 times per year compared to six times for men. Some female readers said they don’t cry nearly that often,  while others thought the number was far too low.

Me, I’m a cryer. I’m very comfortable with my tears. I cry when I hear the National Anthem, when I recall a poignant moment that happened years ago, when someone gives me a sincere compliment. I cry when I’m angry, when I’m sad, when I’m frustrated. My heritage is Irish and German, but I fall more on the Irish side when it comes to my emotions. After all, there’s an Irish saying about tears: “Your bladder is too close to your eyes.”

Tears are cathartic, or at least they are for me. They’re an emotional release, even though I’m sometimes left with a lingering headache after a good weeping session.

I mentioned in the earlier blog that crying has an unexpected benefit. My eyes are often brighter and bluer after the tears flow. Sometimes, though, I’m left with annoying redness in the whites of my eyes. Certain eyeshadow colors can also play up redness, tears or no.

When my eyes are bloodshot, I reach for eye drops. But not just any eye drops: I prefer the Japanese Rohto brand, which I order from Amazon. You can also find them at Walmart and CVS. I use the Ice or Cool versions, which can take some getting used to because they feel minty. That might sound strange, but it’s true. The initial feeling is odd; it’s almost like Icy Hot for your eyes. Once you are accustomed to the sensation, it’s amazingly refreshing. Not only will annoying redness disappear, but your eyes will feel clear and cool.

How cancer gave me better skin (and a better life)

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 No one wants to find out they have cancer, especially a mother with one child starting high school and another in elementary school. I had just turned 40 when I got the bad news. I’d found a lump in my right breast. It didn’t show up on my mammogram and my doctor told me to stop worrying. It was just fibrocystic lumps, he said. Go home and relax, he said.

I knew I couldn’t relax with a lump the size of a cat’s-eye marble just behind my right nipple, so I demanded a biopsy. A few days later, my doctor called to deliver the news that I, indeed, had cancer. I met with a surgeon that very day. The verdict: a mastectomy followed by six months of chemotherapy.

A half-year later, cancer-free and with tufts of hair resembling the fuzzy down of a baby duck, I took a good look at my skin. It wasn’t good. I looked older, drawn and somewhat gray. I was still 40 years old but I looked a good 10 years older. The survivor in me said, “This will not do. I am not dead. I’m alive and want to look like it, damn it.” In that instant, my skin-care journey began.

I can’t say my skin is perfect today, but people tell me it doesn’t look 56. I have a few fine lines, but nothing that gives me pause. How did I go from gray and lifeless to vibrant and alive? Quite simply, I never skip my skincare routine. I don’t care whether I’m tired, sick, cold or sleepy, it will be done. I have it down to a science: cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer, eye cream, eyelash serum, lip balm.  Sometimes I use a face mask while I’m writing or watching television. Many nights I wear one to bed. I exfoliate to remove dead skin cells and promote turnover. I wear sunscreen and avoid the sun.I apply firming cream to my neck and décolletage. I take skin-care supplements.

Would I do all of those things if I hadn’t had breast cancer? Maybe. Eventually. I probably would have waited until wrinkles and lines appeared. And really, that’s a bit late. It’s always better to prevent the signs of aging than to deal with them once they’ve taken root. So my advice to women, all women, is this: Start taking care of your skin right now. Today. Baby it. Pamper it. Show it some love. It will love you back.

Speaking of showing love …

I mentioned that having cancer gave me a better life. It’s true. It did. At the back of my mind every day is the knowledge that breast cancer isn’t like other cancers. There’s no magical date upon which you’re considered cured. It can come back one year, five years, 15 years, 20 years later. When it does, it’s often with a vengeance.

Every day for me is a gift. Every person I love, friend or family, is a gift. The number is limited, just like our time on earth. I love each member of that elite circle fiercely and irrevocably. I tell them so, often. And I know, without a doubt, that my love is returned.

If you can’t say something nice …

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I woke up this morning feeling let down … let down by myself. I try to put my chin up and ignore slings and arrows, but every so often I disappoint myself and fire back with both barrels. While it feels good at the moment of impact, it feels less so when my temper cools.

The good news is that spring is in the air and there’s a distinct change afoot. Green blades are springing up on the lawn and a wild daffodil is blooming in the corner of the yard. I live in a historic district and I often wonder about the long-ago woman who planted it. Best of all, my Carolina Wren – the one that sleeps beneath my back-porch rafters – has returned with his puffed-up feathers and sweet, sweet song.

The change of seasons is a good time to make some changes in my life. I’ve already started. For the first time, I’ve joined a gym. And I’ve embarked on a healthier eating plan by replacing some meals with healthy juices. Although those changes are good, it’s also time to make personal changes too. After all, my mother always says that pretty is as pretty does – and lately, I haven’t been feeling so pretty. With that in mind, here are four things on tap:

• I’m going to stop borrowing trouble. I’m a stewer and a brewer; I’ve always been. I dwell on things that ultimately aren’t serious at all. (You know, the whole mountains out of molehills thing.) I’ll lie awake at night, my mind churning over issues that in the light of day amount to nothing: something I said, something someone else said, a real or imagined slight. I’m going to work on that.

• I’m going to relax. It’s not so much that I don’t like change; it’s that I like being in control. I want to decide if and when something happens or doesn’t happen. I don’t like to cede decisions to anyone else. I like to chart my own course, steer my own ship. I must learn to be more graceful and accepting when that’s not possible.

• I’m going to listen more and talk less. I don’t like silences. Sometimes I catch myself babbling just to smooth over quiet moments that seem awkward. I once watched a film in which the protagonist left silences for others to fill. The things people said in those quiet times were fascinating and extraordinarily revealing. It’s a technique I employed in my work life as a reporter and I want to apply it to my personal life too. Sometimes I get tired of my own voice!

• I’m going to be my own best friend. My husband’s job is in another state and I’m a writer who works from home. While I enjoy my own company, that kind of solitude on a daily basis can be daunting. As I mentioned, I joined a gym. I’ve resolved to take a group class at least three times per week. That will keep me moving about and active. And I’m going to take myself out to lunch or dinner at least twice per week without fail. My home is lovely and my two cats are sweet creatures, but it will be refreshing and healthy to get out more.

Finally, and not insignificantly, I’m going to work on those take-no-prisoners blasts. When I’m tempted to go in with guns blazing, I want to employ Thumper’s quote to his mother from Disney’s Bambi: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”