The Value of Laughter

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I've been interviewed a lot lately about my book, ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS.  One of the frequent questions I'm asked is, "How does a caregiver de-stress, since caregiving is a 24/7 job that is often frustrating, thankless, and tiresome physically as well as emotionally?"

I respond that it's imperative a caregiver attend to his/her own well-being, in order to continue to provide for the loved one.  That is often easier said than done in a crisis or long-term care situation.

One of the first suggestions I have is to find and use humor wherever possible. Laughter forms a great bond between people and is also a stress reliever.

In Sunday's Palm Beach Post, November 2, 2014, Dr. Michael Roizen and Dr. Mehmet Oz reported that from 1995-2014, comedies at the box office brought in $38.6 billion -  more than action, adventure, and horror movies.  There's a scientific reason for this.

A University of Maryland study found that laughter helps your blood vessels relax, promoting healthy blood flow and good blood pressure.

Other studies indicate that laughter boosts levels of antibodies that help the body fight off upper-respiratory infections.

When you laugh, you lower cortisol and epinephrine levels that are "implicated" in weight gain, blood vessel damage, and depression.  Certainly caregivers, as well as the elderly, must deal with depression on a regular basis.

Laughter also keeps glucose levels stable.  Post-meal blood sugar spikes will be slower and lower.  In other words, laugh while you're eating, if possible.

For those of you who appreciate "senior" humor, I urge you to watch stand-up comedian Fritz Coleman in a 15-minute YouTube routine at the Conference on Aging, Pasadena, California. I guarantee you'll feel relaxed afterward!

http://youtu.be/LR2qZ0A8vic

Other suggestions I have for maintaining health and sanity while caregiving are:

- Do something therapeutic for yourself as often as possible (walk, work out, read,
   paint, write, play music, knit, garden, cook, or immerse yourself in a project at
   work -
   whatever interests you to relieve stress)
- Ask for help!!! And don't be afraid to delegate.  Support systems to tap into might
   include friends, family members, church members.  Of course, there are also
   professional services available, such as pastors, counselors, and healthcare
   managers.
  The website www.aarp.org has lots of specific advice for caregivers.
- Make great memories with a loved one.  Offer your hand, your heart, your time,
  even if it's just to talk. The time spent together, even if brief, will remind you later
  why that person was important to you.
- Eat at least one balanced meal every day and keep a supply of healthy snacks
  with you
  (such as nuts, granola bars, yogurt, fruit).  Poor nutrition will wear you down.
- Get enough sleep.  If you are unable to sleep, ask your physician for a mild
   sedative
  or become a fan of Sleepytime or chamomile teas and yoga.
- Keep your social life alive and try not to take your "significant other" for granted.
  Interact with friends as often as possible.  It's restorative and you'll need support.
  Tell your
  "significant other" how much you appreciate his/her involvement and ask for
   patience.

Conference Detox

I've just returned from three days at the annual Florida Writer's Conference in Lake Mary, Florida. There were over four hundred of us, each hoping to unlock the secrets for publishing a best-seller.  I have an entire journal of notes.

There were three sessions each morning, starting at 8 a.m.  For each session we had a choice of several presentations by writers, marketing experts, financial experts, lawyers, publishers, agents, or screen writers. Fortunately there was a mid-morning break for some liquid and a cookie, granola bar, or yogurt.  I chose the cookie.

There were three sessions each afternoon, again with a choice of several presentations or panel discussions. During my mid-afternoon break I chose an ice cream on a stick.

There was a dinner each of the two evenings I attended, with a keynote speaker or awards.  Having walked for thirty minutes before each dinner, I felt righteous and ate a dessert at each - the carrot cake and chocolate mousse.  I managed to waddle into my book signing for ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS.

However, extra poundage wasn't the only thing I gained from this Conference.  The amount of information we gained was dizzying. Here are some of the presentations I attended:

"Sell Truckloads on Amazon"
"Change Your Characterizations through Syntax, Grammar, and Diction"
"What to Do and Not to Do in a Book Signing"
""Financials of Book Selling"
"Contracts and the Creative Process"
"How to Use Social Media to Sell Your Book"
"Using Writing Competitions to Advance Your Career"
"Book Trailers"
"Satisfying Endings."

With Margie Miklas
FWA Conference  Lake Mary, Fla.

In addition to seeing old friends from my critique group, I also made new friends - one in particular.  Her name is Margie Miklas, a recently-retired open-heart surgical nurse.  She won an award at the Conference for her memoir of travels through Italy (my favorite place in the world).  It's called MEMOIRS OF A SOLO TRAVELER: MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ITALY, so check it out at www.margieinitaly.wordpress.com.

Now I've got to digest and absorb all the information. That goes for the food, too.

Sixty Is the New Sixty

This post is by friend, pharmacist, and mystery writer Don Weiss.

So fellow sexagenarians, here is something that unfortunately is not new to men and women of our vintage: too young to retire, too young for Medicare, too young for social security, and out of work.

I’ve recently joined the ranks of the unemployed, going from a six figure salary to zilch with the stroke of a pen, and from the primary bread winner to a collector (if you can even get it) of unemployment.  In Florida, by the way, that is $275.00/week.

When you have fewer years in front of you than behind you, when you’ve collected as many bruises on our collective butts as we have, and your approaching golden years have turned to lead, you get hit with a harder dose of reality than you’ve ever been hit with before.  When your spouse has to bear the entire burden, when you begin to dip into your savings and prepare for the possibility of cashing out your IRAs, 401Ks, 403Bs or whatever nest egg you’ve managed to build up, you’re in total survival mode. You stop spending money except for necessities and all your plans go out the window. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to you, because you followed all of the rules and paid your dues.

You send out resume after resume, only to find out how much the world has changed.  Everything is online. Application after application is filled out and disappears into the ether. No longer do you talk to a person. Everything is detached, and if you do get an interview, chances are you'll get an email saying: We’re sorry, but we’re pursuing other candidates whose experience fits our needs better. But thanks for your interest in our company.  In English that means: we’ve got younger applicants and we can pay a lot less than we have to pay you. When people started to become human resources, everything became depersonalized.  When Bob Dylan wrote "The Times They Are Changin'," they did; but not for the better.  You consider taking jobs for a lot less money just so you can work again, just so you have your self-respect.  You start to second-guess everything and your confidence is at an all-time low.

Then something happens. You get news that someone you know, someone just like you, has been diagnosed with a terminal illness.  Then this bump in the road becomes just that, a bump. Sure you have the aches and pains that come from getting older. You’ve had this blow to your self confidence and self respect but you’re going to live to fight another day, and that’s what you do. You spit in their eye and say, I’m still here, and you send out more resumes.

Elderly Healthcare News

According to Jennifer Smith's article in The Wall Street Journal on October 3, 2014, lawyers have discovered a get-rich scheme as America ages:  suing for-profit nursing home chains.

As defined in the appendix of my book, ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS, skilled nursing facilities (nursing homes) may be for-profit or non-profit and are licensed by each state. Professional nurses, social workers, psychologists, physical and occupational therapists, doctors, and clergy are on staff.

Attorneys are now filing neglect and abuse cases which allege, typically, that "patients were harmed not just by neglect or medical errors but because the corporate owners skimped on patient care to boost profits" in large chains of for-profit nursing homes.

Operators of the facilities are already grappling with falling reimbursement rates from the government.  The increase in litigation is prompting some chains to abandon certain states where there are limited or nonexistent curbs on non-economic damages.  Lawsuits that elsewhere might be settled for $50,000 can generate much larger settlements or verdicts.

Large for-profit facilities are more likely to be cited for severe health deficiencies, despite beefing up staff and making other improvements, according to data from Centers for Medicare and Medicare Services.

The lawyers take the cases on a contingency basis, paying upfront costs in exchange for a cut - up to 45% - of any settlement or award, plus expenses.

"If you have a good case," attorney Brian Reddick said, "jurors are very sympathetic."

The October 3, 2014, Wall Street Journal also reported that Medicare will cut payments to 2610 hospitals across the country, because too many patients were readmitted within thirty days, according to an analysis by Kaiser Health News.

The hospitals selected will see Medicare reimbursements reduced from .01% to 3% for every beneficiary they treat from October 1, '14, to September 30, '15.

The penalties will save Medicare an estimated $428 million, a spokesman for Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services said.

The Obama Administration has emphasized reducing readmission to hospitals to reduce Medicare spending and spur hospitals to pay more attention to patients who are being discharged "quicker and sicker."

Squeaky-Clean in Morocco

My friend, Pat, followed her tour guide to the waiting bus.  There were four men and seven women who had signed up for the hammam experience in Tangier, after two days in the desert.  One of the men was Pat's husband.

The hammam is a bathhouse. Since the Moroccans visit the hammam just once a week, there were probably more foul-smelling visitors than the Western travelers.

They drove to the Ouifak Hammam, where two gorgeous ladies, Yatto (age 30) and Etoh (age 26), greeted the seven women.  The men in the group expressed their disappointment that they had been greeted by a Moroccan male.

The seven women followed Yatto and Etoh into a changing room, where a large number of women stood in nothing but their panties.  Young daughters stood next to their mothers in the same state of un-dress. Their djellabas and hijabs (robes and headscarves) hung from pegs.

Any female who's tried on clothing in a communal dressing room can picture the scene - perky boobs still pointing at the ceiling that hadn't nursed, saggy boobs in a race to reach the navel, minuscule boobs that raised the question, "Male or female?"

Like the others, Pat and her fellow travelers stripped to their panties.  Etoh led them through two rooms of white marble to a wall, where she instructed them to sit on a colorful tile floor covered with hot water.

 Istanbul hammam

She put a blob of dark olive oil soap in each visitor's palm and asked them to lather themselves, except for their faces.

SURPRISE!  As in the ice bucket challenge, Pat felt the shock of a bucket of water flung at her.  The only difference was there were no ice cubes.

Pat was first in the lineup.  She heard Etoh say something and point at her. Etoh wanted her to lie on the hot, wet tiles on her back.  Immediately, Pat felt a loofah mit scratching her arm.  It seemed like steel wool rubbing her skin off. When that arm was complete, the attendant scrubbed Pat's other arm and then her legs, ending with the stomach and chest. The attendant turned her over like a flopping fish, and the torture began on her back and legs.

"Back to the wall, please," she heard and obeyed, waiting till everyone had had a turn with the loofah.

SURPRISE AGAIN!  More buckets of hot water flung at her to wash the dead skin and soap down the drain.

"Please stand up," Etoh said.  She led the seven Westerners in a column to a cooler room, where they sat against another wall to.....SING.  The only English song Etoh knew was "Cum - bye - ah, my Lord," so that's what they sang.  Seven naked ladies sitting against a wall singing "Cum - bye - ah."

One by one Etoh brought Pat and her now-best-buddies forward for the olive oil rub. Up one side and down the other again, but this time Pat's beet-red skin stayed in place.

Shampoos followed.  On the wet tile floor, her back to the attendant, Pat aimed her nose to the ceiling and felt water splashing on her head, as if a neophyte in baptism. The attendant worked olive oil shampoo into the wet strands and combed it through without restraint.  More buckets of hot water!

But wait...Pat's feet were still unclean!  A pumice stone fixed that, removing calluses that had built up hiking in the desert, as well as some live skin.

Ninety minutes later Pat and her best-best-friends emerged looking radiant.  She didn't tell me how much the hammam had cost, but she said her husband looked like a new man, so it was probably worth it.

From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

Nikki Falls accompanied by her dad and my sister

Together with my sister's extended family, we celebrated her step-daughter's wedding in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. We removed our shoes to walk to our seats in the sand, cooled from the wind and rain of the previous day. Sunlight bounced off the tips of waves, and a huge fish jumped out of the sea in front of us. The steel drummer announced the bride, accompanied by my sister and her husband. The junior high school cheerleader had blossomed into a responsible, loving woman, starting a new life full of hope and promise.

On the almost-nine-hour drive home, Charley and I got off Route 95 in southern Connecticut at Exit 5/ Riverside/Old Greenwich.  It's where I grew up, and we knew the McDonald's was right off the exit.  In fact, it's where we took our two sons over the years we visited my parents.

After we got our bag of burgers and drinks, a woman entered the restaurant.  She was approximately six feet tall, wore black patent stiletto heels (which added another six inches), tights in a flowered pattern, and a very, very low tank top.  As she came toward me, my mouth began to smile its proverbial "Hi," but stopped, frozen. My focus became not her eyes, but the globes that faced me.

I do not mean perfect round breasts peeking from the top of the tank top.  I mean perfect round globes, as in the kind that spin to show us the world.....which is what she was doing. The Amazon and Southern Hemisphere were clear outlines under the flimsy material.

It's a wonder she didn't approach Charley to proposition him, but he was standing with a smirk on his face and had no idea Diet Coke had overflowed from his cup all over him while he tried to get the lid on.

This was MY McDonald's - the McDonald's where my parents and my kids

My parents, Evelyn and Walter Plumb, on their wedding day, 1938

used to eat.

"Eyes ahead, forward, march!" I commanded. Arm-in-arm we exited, as brides and grooms have done for centuries into their new life. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

My Television Appearances

     For my first book, MINOR LEAGUE MOM: A MOTHER'S JOURNEY THROUGH THE RED SOX FARM TEAMS, my publicist got me a five-minute spot on Fox television in Providence, R.I.  It was a show called, "The Rhode Show," and featured locals with stories to tell.

     I agonized for weeks over what to wear and finally decided on a black dress with a red jacket.  I didn't want to disappear into the backdrop but I didn't want to be too flashy.  My necklace and earrings had to be visible but not overwhelming.  I decided on a string of black beads and black earrings.

     I had talked about the book for weeks in radio interviews and speeches, so the topic was no problem. Besides, the studio had been sent an advance copy.

     When I arrived thirty minutes early, I had to be buzzed into the locked studio.  I signed in and the News Director took me to a waiting room, where four others sat in plastic chairs.  She offered me donuts, coffee, or water and told me the order of our appearances.  I went to use the restroom.

     When the person before me was "on air," an intern led me past miles of wiring and props to the set. Behind a partition was a fake kitchen.  Well, the appliances, sink, and counter were real.  It was where the chef exhibited his talents during the cooking segment.  We walked through the pretend kitchen toward the set for "The Rhode Show."  The intern attached a tiny microphone to my lapel and told me to stand with her till the previous guest was finished.  During an advertisement, I took my position on the couch next to the show's hostess, while the previous guest scrambled off.  My book was propped on the coffee table in front of us. Lights glared down from the darkened exterior.  The intern was attaching a microphone to the guest that would follow me, in the same spot where I'd stood.

     The dynamic of having to respond with information and wit within seconds on live television is entirely different from being on the radio in the comfort of my living room or standing in front of an audience with notes.  I gave lots of information but my eyes bugged out.  My hands felt glued together on the side of my lap.  I made sure to keep my legs together.  My publicist told me I appeared stiff.  Although I nodded, smiled, and shook hands with the hostess, I hadn't been dynamic enough. "Television is a visual medium, after all!" the publicist said with an exclamation point in her voice.

     For my second book, ELDERLY PARENTS WITH ALL THEIR MARBLES: A SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR THE KIDS, a new publicist got me a two-minute spot on ABC6 "Noon News" in Providence.  This time when I arrived thirty minutes before air-time, I'd gone to the bathroom first.  I wore the same red and black combination, but the red was a blouse and the black was a skirt.  As it turned out, I would be sitting behind a news desk.

     I was met by the News Director, who introduced me to the News Anchor named Matt. He had to be younger than my kids!  I handed him my book so he could look it over. The News Director escorted me to an 8x8' waiting room, where I sat alone for twenty-five minutes. No donuts, no coffee, only water.  Same plastic chairs.  Finally an intern brought me past a room with hair brushes and make-up (nobody was there, so guests were on their own!).  We continued past the darkened control room, where the News Director sat, and other tidy rooms to the news set.  I stood in the wings with the intern, till Matt motioned me into a swivel chair next to him behind the elongated desk.  "How much time left?" he asked the intern.

     "About thirty seconds," she said, fastening the microphone to my blouse and draping the wire behind my neck and down my back.

     '"Just look over there at the camera, unless you look at me," Matt said, giving a swipe of his arm to a vague area in complete darkness.

     We began.  I smiled at the cameras in every direction, since I didn't know where I was supposed to look. I smiled at Matt.  I used my hands and arms.  I picked up the book lying on the news desk, and gave lots of animated information.  I even flashed a sign I'd made about caregiving:  ASK FOR HELP!  I tried to be dynamic without spinning in the chair or dancing on the desk. The two minutes were over in a flash.

     I stepped off the news platform and the same intern disengaged my microphone. Matt mouthed a "Thank you" during an advertisement.  I waved good-bye and turned into the open office to retrieve my purse.

     "You smiled too much," my new publicist said.  "You looked unnatural.  And you were looking in different directions.  But you gave lots of good information. If you want me to market your book for nation-wide television audiences, you'll have to make a video trailer," she said.

     I'll put that on my blog when it's ready.  Meanwhile, the ABC6 segment is linked below.

www.abc6.com/story/26458647/noon-guest-author-pam-carey