Stone Age

Insomnia.
It is raining.
The cat is curled up on the corner of the bed.  Asleep.
 I am not.
I have a few things on my mind.
I should not have eaten teriyaki last night.
Salty.
I am trying not to think about being thirsty.
No water after midnight.
It's only one.
Long way to go till I can drink water again.
Pretend I am lost in the desert.
The rain teases me.
Water. Water. Water.

The Titanic sailed one hundred years ago. 

On April 13th, the people aboard had no idea that on April 14th 

they would hit an iceberg.

Life is like that. Lots of icebergs.

One hundred years ago, yesterday, tomorrow-

we just never know what lurks beneath the surface.

One doesn't always know a kidney stone is there lurking in the body

until one feels the unmistakeable pain of that tiny rock moving down the ureter.

That something so small could cause so much pain is amazing to me.

Louise L. Hay, the holistic health guru, says in her book,  Heal Your Body,
 that kidney stones are "balls of unexpressed anger."
Gee. I didn't know I was so angry.
I've lost count of how many kidney stones I've had in my life time.
My first was thirty-five years ago when I was eighteen.
I'm having lithotripsy at eleven in the morning to dissolve all that "unexpressed anger. "
To pulverize it with up to 300 electrical shocks to my kidney.
I think therapy is less painful
but I guess calcium is harder to crack than the psyche.

An iceberg sank the Titanic.
A tiny stone can bring you to your knees. Ask Goliath.
Or me.
None of us is unsinkable.

Water.

A Lot to Think About

I'm thinking about the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.
I'm thinking about the sinking of our family business.
I'm thinking about the sinking of the housing market.
I'm thinking about the sinking of my heart.
I'm thinking about the sinking of a hole in one.
I'm thinking about the sinking of nations.
I'm thinking about the sinking of fortunes.
I'm thinking about the sinking of hopes.
I'm thinking about the sinking of dreams.

I'm thinking about how taken by surprise we are by the sinking of anything.

I'm thinking about those people in steerage holding their children's hands.
I'm thinking about my mother holding on to my father's legacy.
I'm thinking about all the people trying to hold on to their homes.
I'm thinking about how much I've held on to the past.
I'm thinking about chance.
I'm thinking about our country.
I'm thinking about how much I don't believe in the stock market.
I'm thinking about Molly Brown.
I'm thinking about how how quickly the time goes.

I'm thinking about hard it is to let go.

I'm thinking about lifeboats.
I'm thinking about being rescued.
I'm thinking about bale outs.
I'm thinking about memory.
I'm thinking about victory.
I'm thinking about idealism.
I'm thinking about luck.
I'm thinking about courage.
I'm thinking about the present.

I'm thinking about grace.

I'm thinking about sacrifice.
I'm thinking about loyalty.
I'm thinking about families.
I'm thinking about gratitude.
I'm thinking about optimism.
I'm thinking about nobility.
I'm thinking about blessing.
I'm thinking about choice.
I'm thinking about breath.

I'm thinking about friendship.

I'm thinking about myth.
I'm thinking about story.
I'm thinking about lies.
I'm thinking about secrets.
I'm thinking about heroes.
I'm thinking about war.
I'm thinking about generosity.
I'm thinking about willpower.
I'm thinking about love.

I'm thinking about death
and how it comes
and how surprised we are
when it does.

I'm thinking about saying what needs to be said.
I'm thinking about doing what I've put off.
I'm thinking about taking risks.
I'm thinking about destiny.
I'm thinking about strength.
I'm thinking about hitting a home run.
I'm thinking about standing up.
I'm thinking about doing the right thing.
I'm thinking about passion.

I'm thinking about my life.

The Missed Deadline

I missed it.  The deadline.

As hard as I tried to meet it, my body simply would not cooperate. 

Why I thought I could rush my recovery is something I now am pondering. 

 It has only been one week since my surgery.  Monday a week ago. 

 Last Tuesday was one of the most physically painful days of my life - next to labor. 

But with labor, there was a prize at the end.  

This pain birthed little jagged stone fragments from a 9 mm kidney stone that my urologist broke up with a laser on Monday. I spent Wednesday pounding water, and languishing in bed on Vicodin which did little to relieve the pain.  

And still that deadline loomed. I had to make it back to school by Friday.

 I called the doctor and begged him to remove the stent from my right ureter so that I could return to school.  

"You see," I explained,  "I have this deadline to meet."

 Reluctantly, he agreed. However it was a lot sooner than he would prefer.  By about two weeks. He cautioned me that I would likely experience some pain.  I doubted the pain could be any worse than it was with the stent. 

So Thursday, I pulled myself up and dressed. Even slapped on some makeup with the intent of going directly from the doctor's office to school.  Wrong. 

 The pain I experienced after the stent removal was excruciating. My husband drove me back home and I popped 2 Vicodins and writhed in pain.  Friday was almost here and I was still in pain. 

 Everyone told me to let it go.  To stay home and recover.  That is what extensions are for.

But how could I? 

 I don't miss deadlines.  

And I don't let my students miss deadlines.  

I still thought I'd make it Friday. Until Friday morning. Then I thought that maybe I could make it by Friday afternoon. 

 Letting that deadline go was almost as painful as passing the kidney stones.

So I missed the deadline. 

A deadline I set. Months ago. I pounded that deadline into the heads my students.  

I posted it on my bulletin board and wrote it on my white board. 

And I missed it. Not them.  Me.

Schedules are very important to me.  I rule my life by them.  Rehearsal schedules. Syllabi. Calendars. 

I pride myself in their accuracy. I feel immense satisfaction when I can put a little check mark next to a date and task that was scheduled - done. 

Schedules  provide a road map that when followed ensure that the destination will be met.  

Schedules carve out time to accomplish tasks.  

In my world, I am lost without a schedule. 

A missed deadline wreaks havoc on a schedule.

Now, I have to alter my schedule and make up for the missed deadline.

 I have to find time to do what should have happened on Friday.

There is much for me to learn from this experience.  

Lesson Learned.  You cannot rush your recovery from surgery. 

Lesson Learned. You should not rush your recovery from surgery.

Lesson Learned. Listen to your doctor. 

Lesson Learned. Listen to your body. 

Lesson Learned.  Sometimes, we get thrown off our schedule.  That's when we need to be flexible.

Lesson Learned.  Missing a deadline is not the worst thing in the world.

February's Lessons

I've been away from this for a while.  February has been one of those months.  A strange convergence of various medical issues left me, for the most part,  in bed.  Pretty sick.  Felt lousy. No, I felt like I was going to die. That is not an exaggeration.

 A sinus infection kicked off the month just before my birthday. Plans canceled, I took my antibiotic and  pushed on with what could only be described as sinuses that felt like they were on fire. Refusing to give in to my burning sinuses,  I drug myself to rehearsal and class ignoring the deep, rumbling cough  and fatigue that o'erwhelmed me.  Chest Xray. Diagnosis - Pneumonia.  Further tests - Dehydration. Fever. Aches. Chills.  Kidney infection. CT Scan.  A 9 mm kidney stone obstructing my right ureter. And, by the way, both kidneys look like a kidney stone quarry.  Multiple stones of varying sizes just waiting their turn to make my life miserable.
I've had a long history of kidney stones.  This may be my twentieth or so.  I've lost count. They started when I was eighteen. I gave birth to both of my children and both times ended up back in the hospital the next week giving birth again - to stones.

Suffice it to say, I do not take calcium supplements.

So there I was, back in my old urologist's office - feeling strangely at home.  A little emotional even.  I'd arrived there after a slight detour to another doctor whose bedside manner was too gruff for my liking and whose schedule could not fit me in for lithotripsy for a month.  I've had lithotripsy before - twice to be exact.  The idea that I would have to walk around with pain in my right flank and a whopping 9 mm stone stuck in my ureter for a month did not sit well with me.
So I returned to the familiar world of my former urologist - who, upon looking at my Xray on Friday, scheduled me for surgery on Monday.  Boom. Done. Handled. I wanted to hug him.

Sitting in the examining room, I thought about the rocky road that had led me to his office.  And I thought about how important it is to be your own health advocate.

 Lesson learned.  All doctors are not equal.  You need to be assertive. Question.  Push.  Don't be brushed aside. Don't be passive.
And if your gut tells you that this isn't the doctor for you - find a different doctor.

I have been blessed with mostly good health.  This is, after all, not cancer. They're kidney stones.  But they can lead to complications - including the infection I had that was, apparently, the cause of my fever, chills, and aches.

Lesson learned.  Pay attention to your body. I thought maybe I had the flu. So did the nurse practitioner I saw first.  I thought the chills and body aches were being caused by the pneumonia.

Lesson learned.  Pay attention to fevers and body ache.  The nurse practitioner would not have given me a urine test had I not asked if I was dehydrated.  This led to the discovery of my infection which led to me wondering what could be causing the infection - which led me to insist that they check for a kidney stone. Why? Because of my health history.

Lesson learned.  Pay attention to your health history.

I battled my own denial.  Am I being overly cautious? Am I being a hypochondriac? Am I imagining that I feel this pain in my right kidney?  I must have taken fifteen hot baths to relieve my body ache and to stop me from shivering uncontrollably with the chills - but was I really that sick?

Lesson learned.  When in doubt - check it out. The urologist told me I had dodged a bullet. Could have been septic which is life threatening.  This was no joke.

It would be cavalier of me not to reflect on the lessons of this past month.  I am, honestly, a bit mad at myself for not checking for the kidney stone sooner.  The nurse practitioner said that they match the tests to the symptoms.

Lesson learned.  Tell your doctor all of your symptoms.

I have been forced to face my own limitations.  I have a demanding job and I work long hours.  I need to face the facts that my own driving desire for perfection is hazardous to my health.   And I am responsible for taking care of myself.

Lesson learned. Do not ignore your own health.

I have written about denial before.  In fact I have written an entire memoir about the disastrous consequences of denial.   I believe that a human being's capacity for denial is possibly as strong as the capacity for love.  In fact the two are often confused. The Greeks knew this - hence the corner stone of all tragedy, Oedipus.

 As a wise counselor once told me,  "You say, I'm not drowning. I'm swimming."

Lesson learned.  Face the truth of your life. Own it.
Denial can be deadly.

Moving Day

Wow. Been here before.  Phew. Yikes.  I wish somebody had a "how to manual" for this.  Hmm...there's an idea. Maybe I will write it.
How to get through the day your kids move across the country.
The thing is, I've been doing this since 2003 when my daughter left for college in Washington State. You'd think I'd be used to it by now!  I know the drill.  The duffel filled with clothes.  The boxes stacked in the hallway waiting to be shipped.  The bedroom looking .... still...museum-like.  All the stuff of their childhood staring back at me - as if to say, "Yes, it went fast. They told you it would. And it did."
This time is easier by a degree.  The difference is, my son is not going off to school - he's moving to Chicago
for a job.
That sounds so.... so grown up!
Helloooo!!!
He is.
So I must behave myself.  No big emotional scenes.
Be helpful but not overbearing.
Walk that line.
Not too much mothering.
Breathe.
I mean he is going to Chicago not Afghanistan.  Keep this in perspective.
And I love Chicago.
I mean, hey, one kid in New York. One in Chicago.
Just keep those frequent flyer points coming.
I've spent a lot of time booking flights over the years for my kids.
For her
Four years back and forth
Off to college at UW
Long Beach to Seattle
Seattle to Long Beach
Study Abroad
LAX to Prague
Prague to LAX
LAX to Paris
Paris to LAX
Back to UW
LAX to Seattle
Seattle to Long Beach.
Home for two years
Off to NYU
Back and forth
Long Beach to JFK
JFK to Long Beach.
Long Beach to JFK

For him
Off to college at Villanova
OC to Philly
Philly to OC
OC to Philly
Philly to USC - I mean OC
Today, a new route.
LAX to Chicago.

So the nest will officially be empty as of today.
Their rooms are here for when they come "back to California" for a visit.
Thanks, Steve Jobs, for face time.
Right now at this juncture, I realize how important it is to marry the right person and have a life of your own!

When the child-rearing, college -commuting, twenty-something -gypsy-parent-stage is over -
it's back to where you started - only a little older, grayer, rounder, and wiser.

So tonight, we head off to a party with some friends from college.
Misery loves company.

Theatre Education Up to the Minute

Today I am bi-locating. As luck would have it, I am on semester break.  As luck would have it, it is a rainy day.  So here I sit at my desk - my laptop computer and my ipad opened to twitter, TEDxBroadway, and Howard Sherman's live blog from the one day conference being held  at New World Stages in New York. To say I wish I were there is an understatement. But thanks to technology and the world of social media, I'm as close to it as I could possibly be.  This year, TEDxBroadway's theme is WHAT'S THE BEST BROADWAY COULD BE IN 2032.
As a theatre educator this topic grabbed me and peeked my interest and curiosity.
In his blog, Howard Sherman quotes Patricia Martin:

Patricia Martin begins her talk titled, “Will the future ‘like’ you?” She talks about lying on the floor of the Vatican and wondering how that level of creativity happens. Her book prompted by that experience has thesis that we are poised on the edge of another Renaissance, despite difficult economic times. Cites mentor’s research: the same thing that creates a renaissance can also send us into the dark ages. As a result of hyper-progress, as what’s irrelevant is shed, making space for the new. Indicators of of a renaissance: 1) death comes first, 2 ) facilitating medium (in Rome, road; today, the internet), and 3) age of enlightenment (messy concept she often avoids; has everything to do with future of creative work and how we appeal to young audience). Talks about the dwindling of subscriber base at Steppenwolf Theater and charge to find global brands that were doing best work reaching young audiences; they all did one thing well, knowingly or not – they could speak at a higher frequency. Recipe to higher frequency: in young audiences’ upbringing, they experience truth by believing what they can feel, being heard above the din. Young audiences yearn for higher purpose through human connection; we are more and more becoming wired to be social and feel human connection. She studied science of consciousness: witness, empathize, imagine and then act; but there’s a caveat – it’s most powerful when it happens live. Speaks of difficulty in changing culture because you must walk against the tide of prevailing culture.So when do we get to renaissance? Currently deep in winter of discontent and have facilitating medium of Internet – so why are we still stuck? Because we don’t have a compelling story of the future. We’re waiting – what’s next? Martin cites Jung: “The creation of something truly new is not accomplished by the intellect, but by the play instinct, acting out of necessity.” So will to future like us? A conditional yes. “We need stories about the human condition that are told with love, because that is what helps people feel compassion towards each other and through compassion comes enlightenment.”

I couldn't agree more! The notion that we are in a Renaissance is a positive spin on the discomfort we feel with the revolutionary changes taking place in communication and technology.  But what role does live theatre have in today's world? There is one thing that cannot and will not change - human beings are human beings and they need to tell their story. Theatre is live and will always have the power to move an audience simply because it is a human experience.  This gives me faith as a theatre educator to encourage young artists. The theatre is not dead.  The theatre lives because it breathes - just like we all do.  Arthur Miller said, "The theatre makes us more human." Do not despair, fellow theatre educators.  The work we are doing continues to transform the world.

On Being Useful

Mother took a nap almost every afternoon on the couch in our living room.  Wearing a snap-front, cotton, permanent press house coat, her twisted, arthritic feet crossed at the ankle, she lay, her hand at her neck, her toes wiggling slowly in rhythm to the tugging of the  loose skin under her chin.  Toes so crippled looking and skin so dry it was hard to imagine how once they danced in heels, her little foot, kicking up, proudly showing off the "Reid legs" - catching my father's eye.

 Peering through the screen door, into the living room, I would see her there, a certainty of my life.   The backyard pool, where we all learned to swim, glimmering in the background through sliding glass doors.   It was a neighborhood where people  grew up and didn't move far. At least I didn't. For long.
I stayed close to Mother.  Two blocks to be exact. Home was a blend of  the street of my childhood - Resh and the street of my children's childhood -  Pine.

Whenever I approached the house, I was sure to find Mother  - reclining on the couch, on a lounge chair, on her bed, a paperback in her hands. The TV Guide and her Beagle by her side. Sometimes the TV blared. Especially as she got older and her hearing began to go. The radio in the kitchen blasted news of traffic jams and pileups on freeways nowhere near us  - but she never failed to report them.  Ever vigilant. Ever watchful of potential threats - invasions - the weather-  a full tank of gas and a full pantry her defense against impending doom.

She kept herself useful to the end even when, truth be known, her usefulness had run its course.  In her mind, even after dementia set in, four words never escaped her vocabulary - "do you need anything?"

A mother's usefulness is on my mind right now.

My mother remained useful because I allowed her to be.  I allowed her to continue mothering me even when I felt like I was being suffocated by her. Yet, Mother also had a way of keeping her distance.  She was not an interfering mother.  She was helpful.  Sometimes too helpful - evidenced by a few shrunken sweaters. But there was overall a bond so intense and so practical that for the most part, it worked. For both of us.

 Even at the bitter end, after four painfully difficult years of caregiving, it worked.  I was able to be there in the end. No guilt. No regrets.
Just a chapter I'd prefer not to have lived. Cutting pills, brushing dentures, trips to ER, radiation for a skin cancer overtaking her upper lip, battles over the caregivers - it was a nasty time. My lower back perpetually out from hoisting the wheel chair in and out of the trunk and jutting my hip a certain way to lift her into the car. I have seen old age up close. I know what it looks like. What it smells like.  What if feels like.  I have walked the halls of an Alzheimer's facility, shoveled food into my mother's mouth, and held her hand, silently looking into her eyes for hours on end. There were days I was at the breaking point. A crazy woman. Me.  Not her.  But her too. A crazy combination. She didn't like it any more than I did.

And when it was over - it was over.  We were both released from the bondage of those terrible days.

My father always said one of his greatest fears was that he would be a burden for his children.  He dropped dead long before he needed to worry about that.  Was Mother a burden? I would be less than honest if I said no.  Mother was a heavy load during those years. Ninety is a long life. But to the end, she thought herself useful.  And indeed she was.  Her old age taught me an important lesson.

 The lesson I learned is that usefulness, real or imagined,  is the key to combatting the inevitable decline.

Mother needed me to need her.
I believe all mothers need to be needed to one degree or another.

A mother's usefulness does not necessarily translate into washing dishes and doing laundry as it did for my mother.

Sometimes, the most useful thing a mother can do - is let go.
Circumstances dictate choices.
They certainly did in my case.
 I chose to stay close to my mother because our lives and losses made it nearly impossible not to.

But the lesson I learned is that a mother must be willing to release her children to their own destiny.
And her children must be willing to go.

Perhaps this lesson is one I was compelled to pass on to my children so not to perpetuate the legacy of a suffocating mother.  I have been forced to practice what I preach. Both of my children have chosen to venture across the country in search of their destinies.

And as I remain behind it is up to me to find new ways of being useful. That is my job. Not theirs.