There’s a reason I haven’t been posting as much as I’d like.

I decided in the prime of my mid-life to get implanted (I wince as I say this because it sounds so…robotic?).

No, I did not get breast implants.

I got something even better: a state-of-the-art cochlear implant from MED-EL.

(Note: It’s too much trouble to start a different blog about this journey.  Who knows, maybe hearing just a little better will make me a more focused philanthropist? Or maybe I will more easily be able to pick up newsworthy tidbits about the world of philanthropy.)

What exactly can I hear?

The last 3-5 years have seen a bit of a drop in my hearing- about 5 decibels (which is the measure of loudness of sound) in each ear, which doesn’t sound like much, but when you already have a 95-100 db loss in both ears, anything extra is noticeable.

Let me show you what I mean. Here is a picture of an audiogram, which shows the sounds that a person with intact hearing can hear at different frequencies (pitches) and decibels (loudness):

Audiogram of familiar sounds

So here is the audiogram of the last hearing test I had, which was a couple years ago:

Elizabeth’s audiogram

As you can see, the top line with the A symbol (aided with hearing aids) is how much sound my hearing aid gives me currently- and that is about 50-60 decibels and not much more than 500 hertz. This is not enough for me to hear many speech sounds, as you can see from the first picture, many of which lie in the 10-30 db and 1000+ hz range.

The X/O symbols show how much I can hear without hearing aids in each ear (X is left ear and O is right ear) .

Well, let me tell you, this is pretty bad hearing! Total deafness would be something like 110/115 decibels in each ear and hearing aids would pretty much be useless in that case.

Now, with a cochlear implant, it is possible to have a straight line across all the frequencies, at 20-30 decibels, which would mean that one could pick up all the important speech sounds. And that would be cool, because that would make understanding words a lot easier. You can find out more about what a cochlear implant is and how it works here.

But this will require a lot of training to re-learn a brand new sound and recognize what it stands for. Cochlear implants do not restore hearing! I may never achieve what my kids can do, for example, to overhear and talk on the phone. And that is ok, because my main goal is to help make lipreading easier all around, particularly in noisy situations and in large groups.

How I decided I was ready.

Someone asked me, “Why didn’t you get the implant ten years ago?”

I simply wasn’t ready. I was a busy mom, working, and didn’t have the time or luxury of thinking about myself, was my reply.

I’ve considered it fleetingly, on and off over the years. But nothing made me desire it. Even when one by one, my friends started getting one implant, then two. Even when my husband and two kids got one, then two (my son was the only one who got two at the same time). Even when my mother, who always wanted me to hear better, prodded me from time to time.

I had just never thought it would help me enough. I’d been doing “fine” all along.

I think my journey to really considering the implant began when I gradually started realizing I couldn’t hear the kids calling my name from the back of the car while I was driving. “Mommy!” they would scream and I’d be oblivious. Then my daughter started losing patience with me when I didn’t respond as quickly as she would have liked and even as “correctly” as she wanted. I started to get more and more tired by evening time, especially if I had been out in a noisy environment, like a restaurant, where it is a lot harder to make out words.

And I was starting not to like this series of events impinging on my lifestyle.

Then a friend told me she was getting an implant and for what seemed like the umpteenth time over the last few years, I started thinking about it again.

Checking it all out.

Impulsively, I made an appointment at the University of Washington to get assessed, which meant I’d get a CAT scan to check the anatomy of my ears (all was fine), get a hearing test, and talk with the surgeon. You have to do all this in order to get insurance approval (and get this: the whole shebang, including the assessment, surgery, and getting the implant equipment, is about $100k. Thank G-d insurance covers most of that).

I didn’t even bother shopping around for the surgeon I wanted: he operated on my husband and had inserted his second implant, I had met him several times, and he seemed pretty competent: “I’ve done between 500-1000 surgeries, as young as a 7-month old and as old as a 96-year old,” he told me. And because I am Jewish, it probably helped that he was also Jewish, which meant he was a perfectionist, which is exactly what I would want in someone who is gonna cut me open.

So I’m at the University of Washington and the audiologist, Nancy, puts me in this little soundproof booth, where I’m supposed to listen for sounds or words and either press a button if I heard something or repeat the words back. I’m very familiar with this booth. It’s about 5′ x 5′ x 7′- it’s not as small or claustrophobic as you might think. As a child, I had hearing tests once a year in a booth like this (my audiologist’s name was Elmo Knight- I wonder if he is still alive). It was just something I did routinely and my hearing stayed stable until I reached my 40′s.

So this time, though, I literally could not hear much of a n y t h i n g. Sure, I heard a few low-frequency beeps but that was it. And I could only make out a few vowels in some words and it dawned on me that I could no longer distinguish between the vowels. And forget those consonants– their frequencies are too high (see audiogram pictures above). And I could not understand a single word of the sentences that were spoken via a recording.

As a high schooler, I remember listening to the radio in the car and recognizing when Billy Joel was singing- that gave me a thrill. No longer can I do that. Musicals, which I adore, have become a cacophony of sounds, with words and music all mixed together instead of being distinct from each other.

After we were done testing each ear, then both ears together, Nancy, the audiologist, came in the booth and said, with a smile on her face, “I think you qualify for a cochlear implant!” Which was such a joke, because everyone already knew I was qualified- we were just going through the process of documenting the proof.

So I went home and thought, “Oh, I’ll just think about this over the summer and maybe I’ll get it done in the fall.”

Then a crazy idea started forming: my parents were coming to town in a few weeks. Maybe I could get it done while they were here and then my mom can just take care of me! And then I thought, “Nah, that’s just too short notice, and besides, they probably don’t have an opening.” Surgery was usually done on Mondays, so the only Monday that would work while they were here was June 17.

I emailed Jenny, the gal who keeps track of everything- insurance paperwork, appointments, etc. “Hey Jenny, I’m just curious — and I’m just thinking — I haven’t decided anything, but is there an opening on Monday June 17?”

The reply came back so fast: “Yes, that date works! Let me know asap so I can get the preauthorization for insurance approval ready.”

And you know, I just took it. I grabbed that appointment so fast before anyone could say, “Uncle!” And the amazing thing is, when I went for my pre-op appointments the following week, it had only taken one week for the insurance company to approve the surgery!

Stay tuned for Part 2: my pre-op appointments and my surgery!

My Pre-Op Appointment

A few weeks after I made the decision about the surgery date, I was scheduled to see the nurse for my shot, the surgeon (again), and the pre-anesthesia folks.

I had to get a meningitis shot– people who have cochlear implants apparently are more prone to getting meningitis because the anatomy around the ear has been mucked around with, making it easier for nasty things to get in there. Whatever, just immunize me.

Gigi, the nice nurse, punctured my arm with a nice-sized needle, which I barely felt, but my arm was sore for a few days afterwards.

Then I went to the anesthesia clinic and talked with a nurse named Judy. The whole time Judy talked to me, she over-articulated like crazy. It was like she was chewing bubble gum and her mouth was stretched twice as big and it actually made it harder for me to understand her.

“SO, WHEN YOU COME IN FOR SURGERY, YOU MUST GO TO THE SECOND FLOOR AND CHECK IN…” she droned on and on, all the while writing down notes for me as if I was clueless. I thought I would fall asleep because she was talking so slowly and carefully.

I could have just told her, “You know, I may be deaf, but I am not dumb. Please relax your lips.” But I decided to stay quiet and just nod understandingly (and sleepily), and use this opportunity as a fascinating study into human behavior.

After that obnoxious appointment, I saw my nice Jewish surgeon, Jay. He’s a man of few words and he has kind eyes.

“Ok, sign the consent form and pick which ear you want done,” he said.

Huh? I thought I had a little more time– I hadn’t yet decided which ear. I knew I only wanted to do one, wasn’t ready to do two at the same time. Call me chicken, but I’m taking my time! We talked for about 3 minutes about pros and cons of right versus left and in the end, I picked my right ear, figuring I since I’m right handed, I am dominant on that side anyway and it would be easier to manipulate the implant with my right hand.

When he did my husband Ed’s second implant a few years ago, Jay shaved the whole side of Ed’s head. I remember screaming after he took his bandage off! He looked like some war criminal or something. It was a little over-kill I thought. I said to Jay, “Don’t shave my head like that!” and he smiled and said, “Nah, I’m gonna cut a little swath just around your ear.”

And I signed the formal-looking paper giving consent for him to do my surgery and that was that. All that remained was to party it up til the day of surgery arrived.

My surgery

I got the call on Friday, June 14, that I needed to show up at the surgery check-in area at 9:45 Monday morning. I was a little disappointed as that late morning time meant I was not the first surgery of the day and wouldn’t get out until later in the evening.

So on Monday morning I get up and at the last minute remember I am not supposed to eat or drink anything after midnight the night before. Which was fine because I am not usually terribly hungry in the mornings anyway.

Got to the hospital on time and ended up waiting til almost noon before I was seen! The nurse weighed me and took my blood pressure (which is always sinfully low- it’s a miracle my heart is still pumping!). I got into a gown and went to the bathroom for the umpteenth time (nerves) and discovered my monthly friend had paid me a visit.

Great.

Once that was taken care of, I got in the bed which had a regular bed sheet and underneath that an inflatable plastic sheet with warm air running through it and snuggled down to wait for the inevitable.

Another nurse came in, asked me a few questions, and did a lot of typing on the computer. These questions were going to be repeated many times in the next thirty minutes by several other people. “Is your name Elizabeth Ralston?” “What is your date of birth?” “What kind of surgery will you be having?” “Who is this man sitting over there?” (my husband)

Then the anesthesiologist came in, a nice man named Christopher.

“Are you Helen Hastings?”

Um, no.

Ruffling through paperwork…”Oh, you must be Elizabeth Ralston.”

Heck, yeah. Just make sure I’m not getting triple bypass surgery or something, thank you very much.

So he chatted with me about the risks of anesthesia and described the procedure for making me go over to la la land. Then he left and his nice young anesthesiologist assistant came in and fussed over me, and set up my EKG, putting all over my chest and back these little sticky white pads with wires coming out that are supposed to monitor my heart (they later forgot to remove one of them and I found it two days later on my lower back!).

He solicitously asked me several times if I was warm enough.

It was really quite pleasant. I could have been at the Four Seasons for all I knew.

And all the while, my husband, Ed was there with me, which made me feel better, because I was starting to feel a little nervous. Where the heck was my drug cocktail to relax me??

Then Jack, the resident who would be working with Jay, came in, asked me the same ol’ questions and chatted with me about what would happen once I got into the operating room. When they wheeled me in there, they would ask me to move from my bed onto the operating table. He said they would give me an oxygen mask which would smell kind of funny.

Wait a minute, I thought I was going to be knocked out before you put the mask on?

Nope.

I had been worried I’d feel claustrophobic with that thing on, but as you will soon learn, I needn’t have worried.

Then Jack leaned down and marked my right ear with an X, so they knew which one was going to get the cochlear implant. That’s a relief. Can you imagine if they started cutting into me and realized it was the wrong ear?

The anesthesiologist assistant inserted my IV into the top of my left hand (what a weird place– not my wrist, but the middle of my hand)! Didn’t really feel much of anything. So far so good. Then he left the room for a while and I twiddled my thumbs a bit.

Finally, he came back and told me he was going to give me my cocktail and they would wheel me into the operating room. And just like that, I said good bye to my husband and the cocktail slowly flowed into my IV. Again, didn’t feel much of anything… maybe starting to feel a tad woozy? Hard to tell. At this point, I took my hearing aids off and put them in my waterproof Otter box (such a HUGE fan of those boxes) but kept my glasses on (I am legally blind in California without my glasses, apparently) because I still wanted to be able to communicate with folks.

Then they wheeled me into the operating room, which was this large, brightly lit room with all kinds of equipment here and there. They gestured with their hands to move out of my bed onto the operating table. Jack (or was it Chris?) gave me a thumbs up, and then I saw the oxygen mask was coming towards my face and I could smell that funny smell. Literally, all of this felt like it only took five minutes.

The next thing I sense is being lost in the middle of this delicious dream and I really don’t want to wake up. Groggily I come to and realize the dream was no longer delicious because I am in a hospital room. It takes me a few minutes to really wake up and then I see my husband walk in with a smile on his face.

I shift from my side onto my back and it was amazing how rapidly I reached full consciousness, which is what Chris, the anesthesiologist had mentioned- it’s pretty quick, coming out of that haze. It was a little freaky, to think about going from that oxygen mask to la la land and then suddenly be awake and conscious a moment later (but was really twoish hours later)!

I really had to go to the bathroom and they put me in a wheelchair and I was able to get out and do my business without a problem. I looked in the mirror and was shocked at the face that stared back at me, with what a friend called a “Civil War” bandage dressing covering my head.

Within an hour, I was sipping water, eating crackers, taking pain meds, and ready to go home. We were home by 7 pm. I pretty much sat in my living room like a zombie for a little while, then I went to bed.

The next couple days I pretty much slept a lot and popped the tylenol every 4-6 hours (took the big pain killer Oxycodone only a couple times, but didn’t want to become constipated, so I stopped).  Really, the pain was pretty manageable- the ultra-tight bandage was the real problem. It’s tight to keep down the swelling. BUT, on Wednesday, that freakin’ bandage came off and my energy surged back, full force. Whew. I started doing more than I should, and one evening I got into bed at 6 pm and didn’t get back out! It is easy to do too much- I really was just feeling great! No nausea, no dizziness. It was amazing!

Really, the whole thing was so easy and rather painless.  Judy, that mouthy pre-anesthesia nurse, had told me that she had had a total of about five surgeries on her ear and that she LOVED having surgery (and I was really weirded out by that). But now, I can kinda see what she was saying- it really wasn’t so bad!

Getting my stitches out

Eight days after my surgery, I got my stitches out. They made me wait for one whole hour before I was seen. I cleaned out my purse, checked my email, chatted with the nurses (“Were you able to have a bowel movement?” one of them asks me) and then finally Jay walks in.

“Ok, let’s get those stitches out.”

He makes me lie down on my side. I glance up and there is a monitor up on the wall and before I could blink, Jay was using some high-tech device to zoom in on my stitches. They were black and spooky and made me look like Frankenstein, except it was behind the ear. I think I had at least 15 stitches and I could see exactly what he was doing to remove them. But now and then I would close my eyes, because I really didn’t want to see any close cuts. Are you cringing yet?

He was very gentle and very perfectionistic (that’s good, right?) and cut each one first before he went back and pulled them out with a tweezers. Each stitch looked like a tiny black spider with a little knot in the middle but only 2 legs! I honestly did not feel a thing, maybe a twinge here and there but so fleetingly. Hooray!

Jay helps me sit up and says, “Everything looks perfect!” with a big smile. And he added, “You can wash your hair now.”

Um, are you telling me my hair looks dirty — because I already have been washing it!!

Stay tuned for Part 3: Activation

I’m grumpy.

I haven’t really heard in three days, since I have been activated. That means I have been relying entirely on lipreading this whole time. Which further means I am exhausted and therefore, irritable. Can’t blame mid-life hormones on this one.

Let me take that back. I haven’t “heard” in the usual way, with my trusty ol’ hearing aids. I am definitely hearing something with my implant. Although, I don’t quite trust that I am hearing– it’s all sensations right now, and more of a certain kind of feeling that I am having. Whether that means I am hearing something remains to be seen.

So, this past Wednesday, Ed, my husband, and I went for my 9 a.m. appointment with Nancy, the audiologist. Marybeth, the audiologist from Med-el who covers the NW region, was there as well, which was nice because that meant she could help Nancy troubleshoot the programming.

The first thing Nancy did was check the internal device. She put a coil/magnet on my head– this was attached to a wire which was plugged into to the computer. That was the first time I felt the sensation of a magnet on my head. It went on very smoothly, and it was a little cold at first, but I can’t really describe the sensation- except for “weird”. After a while, I forgot it was there.

So I just sat there while she typed on the computer, weaved some magic, and said that everything looked great. Basically, she went through each electrode (the Med-el electrode array has 12), and made sure it was functional. “There’s nothing broken in there,” she said with a smile. Well, that’s good.

Now it was time to turn on each electrode! Nancy took the testing magnet off of me and put on the fancy Rondo, the new Med-el product that has an all-in-one magnet and processor! It felt fine, but after a while my head started to feel a little tender– I am still healing in that area (I later switched to the regular behind the ear processor).

The Rondo

She put a sheet in front of me, which is going to become very valuable in my relationship with her: it is a way for me to communicate to her how soft or loud the sensation or sound is.

I’m not sure if you can see it in the picture, but at the bottom is off (0), then just noticeable (1), very soft (2), etc. And at the top it is too loud (10).

So I am waiting for something to happen and Nancy keeps looking at me, and I’m thinking, what, do I have a booger hanging out or something?

Then I feel it. It is almost impossible to describe. It was coming from the center of my head and it felt like some kind of bell was ringing.

“Is this it?” I ask. Nancy smiles and nods. She can tell something is happening.

It was very imperceptible at first, but then Nancy increased the volume and I started pointing to the sheet to where I felt I could perceive the sensation’s loudness. To me, it did not feel like a sound, not the sound I am used to, but rather, a feeling. Very strange. I was quite bewildered by it all. And later on, I would think to myself, “If this is what it’s going to be like, I am screwed.” But then I remember that many of my friends who have received implants thought this very same thing and then later say this was the best thing they ever did and they would never go back to using hearing aids.

Anyway, Nancy went through all 12 electrodes, turning them on and playing with the volume for each one.

Then she turned on the microphone on my processor, which meant that every single electrode was on at the same time! You would think it would be a blast of something horrendous, but it wasn’t really. Everyone in the room started talking to me. My head suddenly went sort of ring ring ring over and over again. Not the most pleasant of feelings. She tapped with her pencil on the desk but it was too soft for me to pick up anything. Basically, everything that made a sound, whether it be a voice, tapping, car, piano, etc. all gave me the same sensation. I could not distinguish between all those and even now, on Saturday, still can’t. However, I can tell that something is making a sound when my head goes “wheeee”- I just can’t make out the source of that sound.

Then Nancy went back through each electrode to make everything louder. Her goal was to get me to point to between 4 and 5 on the sheet  (comfortable but not too soft and comfortable but soft) for each electrode, because she did not want to overwhelm me at this first programming.

Then she turned the microphone on again and I could definitely “hear” or “feel” a little more. I excused myself to go to the bathroom and when I walked in the hallway, I could tell there was more sound out there. And after I flushed the toilet, my head went “wheeeee” with the sound of the flush.

Two hours later, after all this testing and programming, Nancy had made four programs for me, each one a bit louder than the other and told me to keep it at a manageable level and not to push myself. I started with the softest program when I walked out of there on Wednesday. Today, Saturday, I am on the fourth program, having maxed out on the other three (they are too soft now).

I was pretty wiped out and still am, from all this stimulation (I am only wearing my implant and not my hearing aid in the other ear) and trying to understand what everyone is saying. A few cool things:

• I felt a low rumble in my head a couple days ago and could not figure out what it was. Looked around and saw an airplane in the sky!
• Lying on my bed one evening, with the door closed to the bedroom, suddenly my head exploded with sensations. I quickly figured out it was my son knocking at the door!
• One evening there were six people sitting around the dinner table. I tried to pick up any differences between each person’s voice. I could always tell when Ed, my husband, was talking, because his voice was the loudest and he was sitting the closest to me.
• Whenever my son and daughter play the marimba or piano, my head goes wild with sensations! I am trying very hard to pick up the beat, but can’t do that just yet.
• When I facetimed with my mom on the phone a few days ago, I could not make out that she was talking, ie. I couldn’t feel/hear any sensations. Today, in the loudest program, I had some sensations while she was talking to me.
• Today, I had my daughter test me by saying one-syllable words or two-syllable words. I had to guess if it was a one or two syllable word she was saying. I can’t hear words, but I can sometimes tell if someone is speaking. I got every single one right! And then, she tricked me by saying a three-syllable word. I looked at her and said, “Was that three syllables??” and she gave me a broad smile with a nod.

My next appointment is this coming Wednesday. I have an appointment every week for the next month or so, then I think I will go a month between appointments.

Right now I am looking for auditory-verbal therapists to help me with listening exercises and practice and hope to line up friends to do some listening with me regularly.

Note: go to the Med-el website to learn how a cochlear implant works. Scroll down to the playlists and watch “How a cochlear implant works” under “Maestro”.

Today was my first day at my new job at FamilyWorks! I have been hired as the volunteer coordinator of this cool nonprofit, whose mission is to “nourish and strengthen individuals and families by connecting people with support, resources, and community.”

In a nutshell, FamilyWorks helps connect community members with important resources, such as the food bank, resource center, and parenting classes.

At FamilyWorks, I will be responsible for running the volunteer program which has about 200-250 volunteers, with 40-50 coming regularly. Volunteers are needed for the food bank, resource center, and special events, including festivals and fundraising events (of course, local Seattleites, if you are interested, contact me at FamilyWorks!).

I’m excited, because this is a place where I can finally put my “do good” aspirations into practice! I get to work with some fun and dedicated staff, interact with community members and help volunteers find meaningful and inspiring activities. That’s right up my alley.

This new position is very part-time, which will allow me to pursue consulting opportunities, such as writing profiles, editing websites, ghostblogging, materials development, social media, grantwriting, and other communications/marketing projects.

More to come…

A friend shared this great article about a unique way of getting your kid to be kind and helpful and to recognize those actions in themselves and in others.

I feel like I get into this rut when it comes to wanting my kids to “participate” in making our house a better place to live.

“What’s one thing you can do?” I am always asking. Or nagging them to put their shoes away, set the table, peel the carrots, and on and on. I don’t want to be the mom who constantly tells her kids what to do, instead of letting them figure it out and letting them WANT to help or WANT to “do good” as this article says.

But really, it’s more than that– it’s how can they get to a place where they regularly have positive affirmations about themselves and others.

I think I am going to try this out.

Thank you, J.J. for sharing.

Apparently today, Friday, August 9, is national book lover’s day. I guess that means we are supposed to just sit back and read a book? Today I just finished The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin. I gave it a 3.5 stars on Goodreads. Beautiful writing, but I couldn’t groove to the plot or the characters. It was also a little too much of a downer for me and I am on vacation!

I missed the boat and forgot to bring some books with me to read while we are on the beach (I truly feel unhinged without a stack of books in my backpack). We are now on our first leg of the trip to the beach and we are visiting my parents. I asked my mom if she had any good books for me to read.

“Yes, there’s a great PD James book on my night table.”

Mom is a lover of mysteries. I like them a lot, though they are not my genre of choice– although I remember one summer as an 11-year-old, fighting with my brother over who got to read the thick hardback Sherlock Holmes collection one summer as we did a road trip in Europe. And I like PD James. This one my mom recommended is called Death comes to Pemberley.

Does that ring a bell? Pemberley is the estate owned by Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice! Ok, as a lover of all things Austen (although not as much as my friend, MCG, who knows them all backwards and forwards), I am intrigued and am trying it out!

Have I mentioned before that I am mad about books? And I mean, truly, passionately, head-over-heels in love with books. You may notice that I have one little book review (The Count of Monte Cristo) in the “Books I like” tab of this blog– kind of pathetic, but it’s the only one I had time to write. I once harbored a fantasy (one of several, sad to say) that I would one day open a bookstore with a café attached to it. I also dreamed one day I would write book reviews for the New York Times Sunday Book Review section!

In terms of genres that I gravitate to, I’d say: any kind of nonfiction, especially memoirs and really, really good novels.

I’m sure I’ve mentioned my book club. We have been together for over 13 years and this group of 6 other women have come to mean so much to me. I see most of them just once a month and I look forward to our meetings with much anticipation. We share much more than our like or dislike of a particular book. And we do it all without wine (gasp…)!

I’m a little disturbed by all the e-readers out there. Granted, it is a little convenient to put a bunch of books on a kindle or Ipad reader, but there is just nothing the same as holding a real book and thumbing through its pages. My daughter, for example, is a voracious reader (as a child I was not a huge reader– I don’t think it was until I joined Peace Corps that I fell in love with reading), and the kindle really comes in handy for her because she whips through books so quickly. I feel so lucky that both my children love to read and are perfectly happy to sit quietly on a lazy summer afternoon ensconced in a great book.

There are some Ted talks about books, which I have yet to watch, but they look interesting. And I enjoyed this blogger’s list of reasons why she loves books. The only thing I might add is that it is wonderful to read aloud a timeless classic with your child. We are reading “Gone With the Wind” right now. Don’t ask me how long ago we started!!

Here’s a *partial* list of some books that I have loved (it would go on and on, really):

The Grass is Singing-  Doris Lessing

Angle of Repose- Wallace Stegner

A Country Year- Sue Hubbell

Beautiful Girl- Rachel Simon

The Birchbark House- Louise Erdrich

The Roundhouse- Louise Erdrich

Paula- Isabel Allende (love her novels too)

Interpreter of Maladies (short stories)- Jhumpa Lahiri

Mama Day- Gloria Naylor

Please post some of your recommendations in the comments section!

I was contacted by Heather Von St. James, who told me she was a mesothelioma survivor and that she was trying to raise awareness of this little known cancer, which is caused by exposure to asbestos.

It’s Mesothelioma Awareness Day in just a few days (Thursday, September 26).

Heather Von St. James, mesothelioma survivor

She wrote in an email: “My name is Heather and I am a wife, mother, and a mesothelioma survivor. When my daughter was 3 ½ months old, I was diagnosed with this rare and deadly cancer, and given 15 months to live. Despite my grim prognosis, I knew that I needed to beat the odds for my newborn daughter, Lily. It’s been 7 years now and I feel that it’s my duty to pay it forward by inspiring others.”

I was impressed by the video she made (and it is captioned too, way to go!!). Do check out her description of mesothelioma and feel free to share with your social networks.

At the beginning of September, I decided to give myself an early birthday present. It would be a four-day silent meditation retreat. The retreat itself was actually 10 days long, but I could not take that much time off from work and be away from my family for that long. Luckily, the leader of the retreat encouraged me to come even though I could not stay the whole time.

I think philanthropy is primarily an outward-based practice, where givers’ efforts are all about donating their time and efforts to others. This could be nurturing friends or family, trying to make a difference in your career, or simply writing a check to support your favorite organization. And too often, I find myself in the position of neglecting myself and not offering the same kind of philanthropy to myself. I run on adrenaline, excited about my next project, worried about what I am going to make for dinner that night, hoping my homestay student is comfortable and not too cold in her room which is located in our finished basement, wondering if my parents are doing well, feeling love for my family– the list just goes on and on.

I forget, so often, to pay attention to what’s going on inside, to have self-compassion, and even just to pamper myself a little bit.

So when this lovely woman, Becky, the retreat leader, invited me to join if only for a few days, I jumped, no, sprang for the opportunity. I have practiced meditation before but I have never done a silent meditation for days on end. And those who know me well would say I like to talk and engage in stimulating conversation! I just knew this was the right thing to do at this time, the beginning of the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur), where you reflect on the past year and what you want to do better in the coming year. It’s a time for introspection and renewal. And September is my birthday month, which always makes me reflective, as the season starts to change and I am consumed particularly with this thought: “What have I done thus far and what do I want to do next?”

And I am in the middle of my life (that is, if I should live to my 90′s) and that’s also a time of change: my body is getting older in very subtle ways, my parents are getting older, and my friends’ parents are starting to get older and die.

Ok, I’m not trying to make it all sound depressing. Really, this is the reality of what we know as life.

Have you seen the movie, “Logan’s Run”? It’s about this futuristic world where people don’t have to work and can indulge in any pleasure they wish. Here’s the catch: they only live to be 30. A light on their hand blinks and they must be sent to the “Carousel” where they will be reborn, but actually, they are executed.

And our life is sort of a countdown- we don’t know how long we have to live, but it’s a good reminder that we have the opportunity to live it to the fullest each day.

A silent meditation retreat is the perfect way to get grounded, to be able to deal with the “suffering” and curveballs that we as humans have to face. And as Becky so aptly put it, it’s a way to be mindful, to stay aware in the present moment, because that is really all we have right now- not the past, not the future, but right at this very moment.

It was such a gift, to reconnect with what it feels like in the present moment, rather than always thinking about what I did yesterday or the upcoming appointments I have. Everything slowed down — my thoughts and my actions (meals were not rushed and were eaten very slowly and mindfully). By the time the fourth day rolled around and it was time for me to leave, I was relaxed and my shoulders had dropped down a notch. It was just the tip of the iceberg- I was beginning to see how meditation or really, just being in a quiet space, can help one deal more effectively with the roller coaster that we call life.

Let me be clear: it was not easy. Sitting on a cushion throughout the day (this was interspersed with walking meditations, breaks, and meals) is physically painful. Guided by Becky’s amazing coaching and tapping into my meditation experience, I learned to put my focus on the location of the pain in my body, rather than dwell on the thought of “Oh, that hurts, let me shift.” or “Oh I wish this was over!” And I noticed something interesting: the pain would subside, but then it would shift to a new location. I just followed it wherever it went and it would dissipate pretty quickly. And then the 30-minute meditation session would be done before I knew it! Other times, the prominent thing wasn’t pain, but feelings. And these were all over the map. I experienced joy, sadness, contentment, anger…

Re-entry into my busy life wasn’t easy. I carried the effects of the meditation with me for the rest of the week and I still have yet to meditate regularly. I got a zafu cushion for my birthday and I intend to use it!

And it looks just like this!

Recently, I noticed Shiori, the Japanese student who has been living with us since September as part of a homestay program for college students, seemed a little sad.  Shiori attends the University of Washington and is in an international studies program.  She is our second student to live with us over the last couple of years and it has been great fun for all of us.

Anyway, I inquired if anything was going on. Shiori told me that day she was missing the Coming of Age ceremony in Japan, which is a national celebration for boys and girls who have just turned 20. This is a big deal, apparently, and it marks these young people as adults in the eyes of the Japanese.

She knew when she was planning her stay in the U.S. that she would miss this ceremony, but the significance of her absence didn’t really hit until it actually happened. All her friends were posting about their coming of age experiences on Facebook, and she was feeling sentimental.

When she heard this, my 11-year old daughter decided promptly, well, we would just have a ceremony right here in Seattle for Shiori! We decided to make this a surprise and right away, my daughter took the lead in planning the logistics:

• My daughter asked Shiori if she could eat dinner with us on the night of the ceremony (sometimes Shiori goes out with her friends on the weekend, so we wanted to make sure she planned to have dinner at home with us that night). Shiori was encouraged to dress up for a “special dinner”.
• Since it is a dressy affair- the girls wear kimonos and even the boys often do so too, but many wear suits- we looked for some material for Shiori to wear. I had bought some beautiful Japanese material years ago somewhere in East Africa (I have no idea where- I had bought a whole bunch of batik and tie-dye material back with me thinking I’d get some clothing made some day. The Japanese material somehow found its way into my stash.). We thought Shiori might want to wear it as a sash or draped over her shoulders.

• We planned a sushi roll meal for dinner, which included making sushi rice, and using the following fillings: mango, cucumber, avocado, crab meat, and omelet strips. Shiori made some miso soup for us as well, which has to be the easiest, fastest, and also an unbelievably delicious soup to make in a flash. We also had wasabi (not as good as the wasabi from the restaurants…) and soy sauce. I had special bamboo mats to roll the seaweed and its fillings and also little dishes for the soy sauce and wasabi.

And last, but not least, we had mochi for dessert!

Green tea is on the left and Chocolate is on the right!

• My daughter decided to do a speech as part of the ceremony. First she interviewed Shiori about her life. Her questions included: Describe your life in the U.S. What middle and high school did you go to? Describe your experiences there. How old were you when you went to these schools? She used the answers in a speech she wrote as the “mayor” of Seattle. Then she asked each of us (her dad, little brother, and me) what compliments we wanted to include in the speech.
• My daughter researched the translations for “Congratulations” and Shiori’s name in Japanese. She and my son worked together to make a banner for her that hung over the dinner table.

Top word says “Congratulations”, bottom word says “Shiori”

• My daughter bought some small presents for Shiori- assorted chocolates and lip gloss.

Chocolates posing over the speech

• We all got dressed up. It was fun for each of us to pick out a special outfit for the evening.

Shiori was very pleasantly surprised by the whole affair and had a grin on her face the whole evening! In fact, she posted on Facebook: “My host family held the coming-of-age ceremony for me! had a great dinner and amazing speech. They made me very very happy and I can’t say thank you enough!”

I was so proud of my daughter and moved by her compassion, caring, and empathy for this young woman.

Note: All pictures were taken by Shiori!

For the last 5 weeks I have been taking an online class through Acumen and the Ariel Group, called “Storytelling for Change.” The main task of the course is to tell a brief 1-2 minute personal story that frames the context of your key message for a social change issue you are passionate about. Each week we get tips about refining our message, different ways of presenting, and using your personal presence, expressiveness, body language and eye contact to make a connection with an audience.

Lately, I had been feeling a little jaded about my writing and was thinking it could use some perking up. A friend told me about this course and we invited three other people to join our team. It’s been a little challenging keeping up with the coursework and getting assignments submitted on time, but all in all, I am really enjoying my group and the course is helping me fine tune my key message: Philanthropy can easily be incorporated into your daily life and exposure to it needs to start early in life.

Anyway, I wanted to share the personal story I’ve been crafting. Here’s the context: I would like to present simple and accessible tips about how people can incorporate philanthropy in their lives, particularly for families with children. In so doing, I hope to normalize the word “philanthropy”, which I have been told turns people off because it implies that you have to be wealthy in order to fit in this category. I will begin my presentation by sharing the four components of philanthropy: giving your time, talent, treasure, and also caring for others through compassionate and empathetic acts. At this point I will probably tell my personal story to engage the audience and help them understand how my interest in philanthropy evolved from the time I was a young adolescent.

I would love any feedback: Is it inspiring? Does it compel you to find out more? Why or why not? (Sorry, I don’t include the tips– you’ll just have to come to one of my presentations to find out more!)

Elizabeth’s story

I stood there by the large conveyor belt platform with the other workers, picking up packages of suppositories and putting them into groups of threes.  We did this over and over again. The factory was dimly lit and the tasks were tedious and repetitive.

I was 16 years old and this was my first job. I felt empowered to be part of an operation that at the time, seemed important and worthwhile.

We all ate our lunches in a sparsely furnished room. There were large windows on one side of it so the light streamed in and gave the place a little more cheer to it. I have a fuzzy memory of one of the workers, a woman who had a colorful bandanna wrapped around her head to keep her hair out of her face as she worked. She acted on the young side, but the years of working here made her face look careworn and older beyond her years.

Everyone was kind to me. They were genuinely curious about my life and asked many questions. Where was I going to college? What did I want to do with my life?

I perceived their situation at the factory to be a dead end street as far as career advancement went. I felt incredibly humbled and privileged to work alongside these people.

Fast forward a few years to life in Malawi, Africa, where I was a Peace Corps Volunteer. Privilege hits me in the face once more as I am hitchhiking. It’s the easiest way to get around because busses were unreliable. I would often stand for hours in the relentless heat with many other African travelers who had been waiting much longer than me. And when the next transport came, despite my protestations, they insisted I board first even though there wasn’t room for others. It always left me feeling chastened and indignant about the inequity of it all.

These early experiences only served as fuel for unleashing those untapped reservoirs of my own compassion and empathy.

And these seeds, I believe, are essential to any kind of philanthropic action, and need to be sown early in the lives of young children.

Well, after that last downer post, I have something more uplifting to say! There’s been a couple cool things I have been inspired by:

• Last night after we ate out for dinner and were on our way to my son’s school play, we got stuck at an exit getting off of the highway. There was a man holding a small, battered sign that said one simple word: “Food”. As I passed him, Shiori (the Japanese student who is living with us) and I both looked down at our leftover packaged food, then looked at each other. She suddenly gave me her food and in that moment we made a split second decision to hand it over. I opened my window and called out to him but he did not hear me. So close and yet so far– I thought the moment had passed. I tried once more and gave a great bellow, “Hey, Sir!” and he turned and saw me waving vigorously (luckily the traffic was still deadlocked). He ambled over to us and I handed him the meals and said, “Enjoy!”His face broke out into a huge smile and he said, “Oh thank you, God Bless You!” I felt goosebumps break out all over. There was this incredible high that whooshed right through me, much like being on a zipline hurtling a gazillion miles per hour towards a very big and unmoving post at the other end.

• An acquaintance from middle school posted on facebook: “Day 365/365 of exercise”. Yup, that meant that every single day she exercised– whether it was walking, going to the gym, riding her bike, etc. Some plusses for her: she gets up early in the morning to exercise, her two kids are a bit older (teenagers), and on weekends she spends time exercising WITH them– nature walks, hikes, bike rides… Exercise really helps me in a major way, in terms of productivity, a healthy outlook, and just a better quality of life! Her accomplishment has gotten me thinking hard about this sort of goal– I really love goals and deadlines like this. Problem is, I am not a morning person before 6 am. Maybe it is time to be! I can feel that old determination creeping back in. Gotta do something like this.

Credit: futuresobright.com

Today I gave a presentation about philanthropy to a group of 7-8 year-old girl scouts. It was great fun and my 11 year-old daughter helped out. She took notes for me, recorded interesting quotes, and got me materials I needed.

From internet

It was a great experience and I’ll tell you why:

• These girls had fantastic ideas and a great attitude
• It gave me a chance to articulate and test drive some of my teaching tips about philanthropy
• I loved being there with my daughter doing stuff where I was truly in my “element”
• I really feel like these kids “got it” and learned some new ideas about ways to give back

Stay tuned for an in-depth article about the details of that event.

(I apologize for the brevity of my posts. I really want to get back into posting more regularly, but find I am stretched pretty thin these days.)

So, by now you may know I am juggling a few things in my career. I am a blogger for Parentmap, a freelancer for nonprofit work (I recently helped coordinate volunteers for an event- but more on that in another post), and I work as the Volunteer Coordinator for FamilyWorks. This is probably why I haven’t been able to post on my blog as regularly as I’d like. There are so many cool things happening and I wish I had the time to blog about them, but I will have to be satisfied with whatever I can push out.

I’d like to share a post I wrote for the FamilyWorks blog. We wanted to demonstrate how easy it is to create meaningful opportunities for the community to become involved with a local nonprofit. And in this case, the John Stanford International School, which is located in the same neighborhood, chose FamilyWorks as the site for its “Community Action Project.” Through the process of working with staff at the school and helping them plan the logistics for collecting the donations and educating the student representatives about what we do, we learned that it really is not that difficult to do something like this.

The rewards for both sides are so great: for FamilyWorks, it is getting donations, developing a great relationship with a community partner, and creating awareness about the issues we care most deeply about and for the school, it is creating a culture of philanthropy and educating students and their families about hunger and how a nonprofit works to create resiliency in families.

And heeeeere it is! My post about meeting Derrick Coleman and the fabulous experience helping to run a fundraising event. Read it and enjoy!

Elizabeth with Derrick Coleman. Photo credit: Corky Trewin, Seattle Seahawks Photographer

I took a Reiki workshop on a beautiful Saturday not too long ago. As I rode my bike there, I felt ambivalent about taking it and was not in the best mental space. A few troubling firestorms had occurred that week and were occupying some mental space, plus I am always reluctant to spend a beautiful day inside.

A friend had taken Terri Sandusky’s workshop and recommended it to me. It was close to where I lived (convenience is a big deal for me in this busy world of mine!) and lately I had been thinking about “what’s next” in terms of work/career stuff. It seemed like a good first step towards seeking clarity. And I’ve always been interested in health and how the body has an enormous capacity for self-healing.

So what is Reiki?

Reiki is a spiritual, healing practice, transmitted energetically through touch. It is great for stress reduction and induces a state of deep relaxation.

The class was small- there were three other folks. I like small classes- they  are more intimate and you get more one-on-one attention from the teacher. The teacher, Terri, was incredibly enthusiastic about what she was teaching and talked quite a lot. But when we got to the actual hands-on practicing of Reiki, that’s when things started to shift for me.

Each person in the class received Reiki at the same time from the others, which was pretty powerful. Imagine 3 pairs of hands gently placed on your body as you lie there in a state of extreme relaxation. The caring energy was palpable- you could really feel it. After my session I felt lighter and calmer, and my preoccupation with the week’s events was gone. The negative energy that had been bottled up inside me had just vanished.

Elizabeth having a Reiki session. Note the two pairs of hands. The third pair are down by my feet. Credit: Terri Sandusky

During the last Reiki session on one of the participants, the teacher had me encircling my hands around her head. A few minutes later, my eyes started tearing up.  The participant had been talking about a particularly troubling relationship and I think she had been feeling some sadness/anger/pain. Because my hands were on her head, I was able to sense the painful feelings behind her thoughts. I had no control over the tears that were flowing and actually felt detached from the emotion itself.

This type of intuition is no big surprise to me. I have noticed that when someone I am interacting with expresses grief or tells a painful story, I often find myself also feeling that emotion (which is why I would probably be a terrible therapist!). I think it runs deeper than just feeling compassion for someone– my body actually senses the emotion. This sense of intuition has allowed me to be compassionate as a listener and over the years I’ve been able to learn how to mute my reactions and somehow remain detached from the person’s emotions and feelings, while still being present and caring for the person.

Since I’ve taken the workshop, I have practiced Reiki on myself and my family with positive results. My daughter claimed her cough went away, my squirmy son relaxed quite a bit, and my husband fell asleep. What a great tool for self-healing and coping with stress!

Today is Monday. I am feeling sluggish- got a pain in my back and the weather is still ominously grey outside. It’s Seattle, after all. I swear I could be related to Garfield the cat sometimes.

I took my electric toothbrush out of my mouth too soon this morning and THIS is how it felt.

I keep reminding myself, I shouldn’t complain. I’m no longer an east coast gal (Buffalo, NY is where I lived til I went to college) and where I live now (Seattle, WA) is paradise compared to what’s happening over there, with those endless winter storms pummeling everyone with snow, snow snow. Global warming doesn’t seem to be affecting them over there! Over here, we are really feelin’ it.

Snoqualmie Ski Area. Taken by Steve Ringman, Seattle Times

The Snoqualmie ski area is just less than an hour away from my house. I feel lucky that I’m surrounded by mountains and water and can get to them fairly quickly.

Anyway, I gotta get off to work, but just writing this post makes me feel better. There’s a lot of good going on out there in spite of all the weather madness and the Brian Williams disaster. I’m determine to post something inspiring soon. Let me know if you have something you’d like me to share!

The words stayed there on the screen mocking me.

Day 365/365 of exercise.

I could not stop staring at them. I sort of wanted to slap my face for getting so hooked by this seemingly simple Facebook status update. My first thought: How is it possible to exercise EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR??

A classmate from middle school had written it. I emailed her immediately asking a barrage of questions: what does this mean…how did you do this…did you really exercise every day for a year?

And she wrote back and told me she got up very early in the mornings and went to the gym. Plus her kids were older teens so she was able to pull it off.

So then I thought: well, going to the gym at 5 am is not gonna work for me. I have an elementary-school age kid and a kid about to enter middle school in the fall- there will be lots of schlepping them around to school and activities and I’m not quite ready to leave them home alone.

But as I thought about that status update, something shifted inside me. Suddenly my state of inertia completely morphed into a state of extreme motivation. I realized I wanted, no, needed, this challenge really badly.

I had been bummed about feeling out of shape and not making the time to exercise regularly- that’s always been sort of a mantra for me, to be in shape and STAY in shape. I always felt better and stronger when I was active. And I felt like such a slug a year ago.

And here was a way for me to take charge and be motivated and stay motivated.

I started telling people about my goal to exercise every day for the next 365 days as a way to make it more real. I’m not a person who likes to fail, so saying the words out loud made me feel more accountable to my success.

Most people were thrilled and intrigued. One person said: you shouldn’t set unreasonable goals. It made me wonder why people say such things, and for a moment I dwelled on: why wasn’t it possible for this person to be supportive and say: wow, I hope you can do it! That would be hard for me! which is probably what they were really thinking and feeling at the time.

I didn’t dwell on that naysayer though. Luckily, I had a neighbor who exercised regularly and we started going for walks once a week in the morning before work, then when the weather turned nasty, as it ultimately does in Seattle, we started swimming also early in the morning. I was getting up at 6 am, which was certainly better than 5 am! In recent months right as daylight savings time was just about to kick in, we would look at each other and go: are we crazy? But it felt SO good afterwards.

My parameters for exercise: I had to move my body in some way for at least 20-30 minutes straight each day. My goal was not to do intense cardiovascular workouts every day for a year, but rather, get my muscles active and spend more time outside increasing my Vitamin D levels. And here were my main activities:

biking (usually twice a week), swimming (twice a week), hiking, walking (2-3 times a week), yoga (once a week), stair master at the gym (once a week), and playing frisbee or basketball. Skiing was out this season because the snow was nonexistent. Every week was different, depending on the weather and whether I was driving carpool or working at this job or that job.

In December I was sick for a week with a horrible sinus infection that had me completely drained of energy. But I made myself exercise- and it was very gentle and mostly consisted of me going for 20 minute walks around the neighborhood or doing yoga at home.

A friend commented that I seemed more peppy and cheerful than usual especially during the winter. And it is true, I have experienced many positive benefits of exercising every day: less moodiness and sadness, better sleep, feeling stronger and more toned, and it has now become a daily habit. I feel restless and stiff if I don’t make the time to move around.

I copied this status update on Facebook and hope it inspires someone else. I am undecided if I will continue the daily exercise regimen. Maybe it will be more like 5 days a week.

Next goal: I want to meditate every day for a year.  I will let you know when I start that :).

Today our family walked down to a neighborhood parade and on our way back home, ran into an elderly couple who could not remember where they parked their car. We stood with them on the sidewalk, trying to help them picture where they had left it. They didn’t seem to be terribly worried (the woman had this amazing grin on her face the whole time) and the man made a  few jokes here and there. They had thick accents and I wondered if they were Norwegians participating in the parade, which happened to be Syttende Mai, the 17th of May celebration of the Norway Constitution Day.

So we walked with them not even a block, when the man pointed excitedly to a parking lot and said, “That’s it!” And we ambled on over there and sure enough, their car was right there. We gave them directions to the freeway (clearly they do not have GPS on them) and we parted ways with big hugs and smiles from the woman and hearty handshakes from the man.

This event gave us warm fuzzies as we walked back to our house. We were glad to have been able to touch these people’s lives with kindness. It was a little bittersweet for me, because it reminded me of my own parents and where they are in their lives, attempting to maintain their independence and not having the easiest time getting around. I wish and hope they will be kind to the strangers they meet (my mother’s anxiety often gets in the way) if they ever need help as they navigate their new-ish environment.

Ever since the World Cup games several years ago, my son has become very interested in sports. He has tried out (in this order) ultimate frisbee, soccer, and most recently, basketball.

My son uses two cochlear implants to hear, and because basketball is pretty physical with lots of body parts moving around, the implants are in danger of getting knocked off. They are held in place pretty securely by an ear mold, but anything can happen. I had encouraged him to wear a headband to prevent them from falling off, but he refused, understandably, because he didn’t want to stick out as the odd player wearing something on his head. There was another player on his team who consistently wore a bright red headband, but still that didn’t sway my son.

Then the inevitable happened.

It was the second game of the season. My son was playing during the first period and not even three minutes into the period (there are eight minutes in each period), his implant went flying off. Maybe he bumped into another player whose arms brushed against them– who knows.

Apparently the implant was dislodged off of the tube that goes inside the ear mold which holds it in place. My son was momentarily confused as he rushed to pick it up and didn’t find the ear mold on it. All I know is, I am sitting on the bleachers experiencing that panicky feeling I didn’t want to experience as I watch the events unfold, and having it get stronger and stronger. I see him frantically searching for his implant, see him thinking he also lost his ear mold, see the game stop, see the coach come out to the court to help him look for the ear mold, feel the dead silence in the gym, and I am immediately flying (leaping? jumping?) out of my seat to reach my son who has run off the court crying from the humiliation and self-consciousness he feels.

I immediately look in his ear and see the ear mold resting in there, intact, called to the coach that we found it and the game resumed, thankfully.

My son was beside himself. After I comforted him and put his implant back together and back on his head, I told him it was time to go back in. He was reluctant and I thought for a teeny tiny second how easy it would be to just avoid all this and take him home. But instead I told him he couldn’t let this stop him from doing what he loved and perhaps we could talk about using a headband for future games. I told him his team needed him.

He went back in and lo and behold, a few minutes later, they came flying off again. Same scenario, him running off the court in tears, me rushing to him, comforting him, giving him a pep talk and encouraging him to go back.

After that incident, I immediately ordered a headband (in the most inconspicuous color possible- black) and when it came time to wear it for the next game, my son refused. Aside: my son is a very strong-willed young person and it is very common for him to say no to anything new. I told him he did not have an option. He went anyway, red-eyed and morose. However, that game went by without incident.

Before the next game, he asked me to put it on him (yes!).  As I watched the boys practicing, I noticed something was very different. It took me a minute to figure it out. Every single boy on my son’s team was wearing a bright red headband!!

Here’s what happened. The coach had seen that my son was struggling with this whole issue of his implants getting knocked off and seeing him feeling so self-conscious that he decided to order headbands for the whole team as a way of supporting him and making him feel like he didn’t stand out.

Gestures like that go a long way. It made me realize that even though people are watching what’s going on, they do care and are compassionate. Sometimes they simply don’t know what to do, but this coach, he just somehow knew he had to do SOMETHING. And for my son, I think he noticed that gesture and feels more a part of the team than ever before. Thank you, Coach, for that wonderful act of kindness. You make the world a better place.