My friend Carol Baldwin says I sometimes write about gutsy stuff  (which I’m hoping is a compliment, Carol). Since she has a daughter’s wedding coming up, I’m dedicating this post to her!

The purse above is the purse I carried on Katherine’s big day.

For Laura’s upcoming nuptials, I thought it would be fun to get a new one.

But alas, pennies are spilling from our pocketbooks like lucky rice tossed into the wedding wind.

Carrying the same purse again would save a few of those pennies.

And the silver sequins match the silver beads on my royal blue dress.

So I plucked the purse off my closet shelf.

Look what I found tucked  inside…

A tampon and two safety pins.

Don’t need that tampon anymore.

Toss it to the wind!

So…

My encouraging words for those of you in the throes of iffy, spotty, who-knows-when periods or still having plain old here-it-is-again periods:

You’ll get your chance to smile when you see a tampon tucked inside an old purse.

And that, Dearly Beloved, will be a day to celebrate!

P.S. The safety pins are coming along with me. I’m in charge of bustling the dress. Olga, the wedding dress rescuer who created the bustle, demonstrated the process to me.  Be still my spinning head.

If worse comes to worse, I’ll abandon the hooks and eyes and just pin up the fluffs of tulle.  That’s my plan, but of course, I haven’t mentioned this to the bride…

A post from Marilyn Suttle, the Light Bladder Leakage blogger at Poise:

So, you’re having night sweats, hot flashes, vaginal dryness, and on top of all that – you leak. Welcome to the transition toward menopause (sometimes called perimenopause.)

Perimenopause is that time in life when your periods diminish and eventually come to a stop. The transition affects every woman differently. Your passage may be smooth sailing, or you may experience any number of symptoms in varying degrees.

Menopause (the permanent end of menstruation and fertility) is typically reached once you experience 12 consecutive months without a menstrual period.

During this transition, a decline in estrogen levels may result in weakening of the pelvic floor muscles that support bladder control, contributing to LBL (light bladder leakage.)

Though not all menopausal women experience LBL, it is common. One in three women experiences it.

We reached out to urologist, Jason Gilleran, MD at Beaumont Women’s Urology Center in Royal Oak, Michigan for his insights on ways to manage LBL during menopause.

“The sooner women address their bladder leakage, the better their results,” Dr. Gilleran said. By changing the habits that contribute to light bladder leakage during menopause, you may sidestep, reverse, or even eliminate those little leaks.

Seek out support

LBL can improve dramatically in some women by strengthening the pelvic floor muscles with Kegel exercises. However, telling a woman to do Kegels without instruction is a lot like sending someone to the gym without telling her how to use the equipment.

Dr. Gilleran recommends pelvic floor therapy as a first course of action. “I refer a lot of young women, who are perimenopausal and noticing early signs, to a pelvic floor physical therapist,” he said, “They can accelerate your ability to do Kegel exercises correctly and get results. They’re not as expensive as some of the other treatments, and there are no harmful side effects.”

If you aren’t getting the kind of support you’d like from your regular physician or gynecologist, be proactive and ask to be referred to someone with special training, like a pelvic floor physical therapist or urogynecologist.

What else can you do to prevent, reverse or eliminate LBL in menopause?

Dr. Gilleran suggests the following:

Stop smoking. Smoking is a contributing factor for bladder leakage during menopause.

Minimize weight gain. Women tend to gain weight during menopause. A noted research study showed that women with an average weight of about 200 pounds who lost 10% of their body weight, had a 70% reduction in leakage.

Treat chronic coughs and allergies. A chronic cough causes ongoing pressure on the pelvic floor and, over time, can weaken it. Get pulmonary issues like persistent coughing and sneezing under control.

Go to the gym. There are many benefits to exercising. It can even improve your mood and outlook. Some patients have told Dr. Gilleran, “I don’t let LBL stop me from exercising. I wear a pad and get on with things.” Others say they don’t want to go to the gym because they’re self-conscious about leaking. “High impact exercise may not be the best thing for the pelvic floor,” Dr. Gilleran said. “Doing core strengthening exercise like Pilates or yoga is better from that stand point.”

Be gentle with yourself

While some factors contributing to LBL are within your control, others are not. “Childbirth or a family history that predisposes you to issues, like prolapse, can contribute to a weakened pelvic floor,” Dr. Gilleran said. “If you’re predisposed then you’re more likely to experience some level of leakage after menopause.”

Remember, you are not alone. One in three women experiences LBL, and there are ways both surgical and non-surgical to manage it.

“Once a woman has gone through menopause completely, LBL is a factor of what has happened to the pelvic floor tissue,” said Dr. Gilleran. “Some women come in with signs that they have changes in their vaginal tissues, while other women’s tissues are still in pre-menopausal shape. After menopause, women, in their mid-50′s or 60′s, who have intact muscles in their pelvic floor, tend to have better results with a pelvic floor physical therapy.”

When women experience bladder leakage and wait too long to see a pelvic floor physical therapist, it’s more likely that muscle loss may have taken place. The earlier you intervene, the better results you’ll have long term.

When to consider surgery

The reason some women are likely to opt for surgery is that they’ve tried conservative treatments, like pelvic floor therapy, and it failed. The surgery for LBL has changed over the years. “It used to be a fairly invasive surgery involving a bladder lift or bladder suspension, which would be done sometimes through a cut in the abdomen,” Dr. Gilleran said, “Now, most everything, is done through three small incisions in the vagina, sometimes only one. The most common type is called a sling surgery.”

The goal of the sling surgery is to place a type of backboard under the urethra. It acts as a mechanism to stabilize the tissues so that with exercise, coughing, and sneezing, the urethra itself doesn’t fall down. “It’s not designed to lift it up like we did in the past, but keep it from falling down,” Dr. Gilleran said, “To better understand it, picture yourself trying to sit down and you have no chair. What we’re doing is putting a chair there.”

Sometimes Dr. Gillleran has patients use a tampon. A tampon can actually act to stabilize, a bit like what a sling does except they use it externally. When women use a tampon and they don’t leak as much, it’s a good sign sling surgery will help them.”

Controversy over hormone replacement

Some women wonder if hormone replacement is the answer to eliminating LBL during menopause. “From a risk/benefit standpoint, it’s not something I use as an everyday practice for LBL alone,” said Dr. Gilleran, “I tend to avoid it because of the concerns with breast cancer, uterine cancer, blood clots, heart attack, and stroke – those things that have been associated with it. Hormone replacement is a very controversial issue.”

You are not alone

Dealing with menopause can be challenging, especially when it includes light bladder leakage.

If you find yourself feeling down, resist the urge to withdraw and isolate yourself.

You are not alone. One out of every three women experiences LBL – that’s about 40 million women! This is a time to reach out to your close friends and family. Many of them may be going through it too.

When you start the conversation about LBL, you will find support and camaraderie with the women in your life. It’s possible to manage LBL, and move on to living your life to the fullest.

Choose to be your most vibrant self, and enjoy your mid-life adventure.

Marilyn Suttle is a women’s success coach and the Poise LBL blogger. You can learn more about Marilyn and the Poise products for feminine wellness at www.poise.com.

Top Photo:  Since Light Bladder Leakage often makes its first appearance during a sneeze, I offer you my handkerchief collection POISED (pun slightly intended) on old handkerchief box.

I’ve always been pretty good at looking at life with humor.

In fact, my fourth grade teacher, instead of praising my scholarship, wrote on my report card:  ”Barbara has a fine sense of humor.”

But when it came to MENOPAUSE…

That sense of humor was zapped faster than a fourth grader in the sixties could say “Beatles haircut” or “Duncan yo-yo.”

Nothing about menopause was funny to me.

I wasn’t a good sport.

I didn’t giggle with the punches.

I didn’t find humor in the wackiness of my wacky body.

But Mary Roach could.

Her latest book Gulp: Adventures in the Alimentary Canal, tracks food as it dives in one end and oozes and squirts out the other. (Read the New York Times review here.)

In her collection of essays, My Planet: Finding Humor in the Oddest Places, Mary demonstrates how to look at life with  keen, whimsical eyes.

She makes brushing teeth with husbands, shopping for bathing suits, a first massage, list-making, medical research on the Internet, and plenty more laugh out loud funny.

Although she doesn’t directly address menopause, I bet she found the humor in the experience that I sure didn’t.

Let’s hope she covers the Change of Life in her next volume.  (She’s 54, and I was pleased to discover that we have the same March birthday, although a few years apart.)

Check out Mary’s website  here (and don’t miss the roach!)

My Planet Giveaway: Reader’s Digest books is offering Friend for the Ride one copy of My Planet: Finding Humor in the Oddest Places. Please leave a comment by  June 6 saying you’d like to be the winner.

And what about your funny bone?

Are you a menopausal wit?

Or are you finding The Great Pause  oh so dry (pun slightly intended) and dreary?

Solar Shades Giveaway:  Congrat to Cathy, the winner!

Rehearsal dinner slide show in the works! Laura’s childhood photos were my job.

When you’re a mom, some of those days are long, but the years sure are short, as Gretchen Rubin of The Happiness Project reminds us in her quick but insightful video.

I only wish I’d understood it then.

Now I tell every young mother to relax and enjoy.

They’re probably not finding my advice that relaxing, but I can’t help it.

The years really are short.

A post by writer Ann Jacobus:

As a writer, everything is a story for me, with a beginning, a point of no return, a crisis and a climax, a resolution, and a theme or moral.

I lost my mother, 74, in December of 2011,

My father died at 82 in January of this year, thirteen months later.

And they weren’t even married.

But they both battled cancer of one kind and another for many years.

I got a double crash course in dying, or in the “final stage” as Hospice calls it.

And the theme or moral I’ve determined is that we all should be less wiggy about death.

My folks died as they lived.

Mom, laid back and accepting on one hand; not afraid, yet on the other hand, enjoying some denial right up to the end.

Dad, fighting and refusing to relinquish control until the last forty-eight hours. That’s when, after nine months of serious illness, Hospice finally became a part of his care.

They raged against the dying of the light in their own ways, but I’m convinced they both finally made peace with their departures and went gentle, even gratefully “into that good night.” (Thanks Dylan Thomas)

I find this encouraging.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not advocating just giving up.

But we’ll all have to die eventually.

And as we get older (versus the alternative), we all have to watch it happen to those we love.

If every plant and animal and human goes through the life cycle, with death being not only a normal part of this, but the most certain, guaranteed thing we’ve got, maybe we shouldn’t fear it so much.

There clearly comes a point when accepting it and moving forward into it makes sense. Even if it’s just the last day or two.

My mom was at home under Hospice care.

Dad was in the Hospice unit in the hospital.

I cannot say enough good things about Hospice.

They are such an antidote to our society’s fear and discomfort with death, dealing with both patients and their loved ones with dignity, in a gentle but straight forward manner, helping to make the “final stage” as rich and rewarding as it can be stressful and emotional.

I was honored and ultimately reassured to be present with both of my parents at the moment they stopped breathing in the quiet early morning hours.

The preceding days, two in my father’s case, four in my mom’s, were intense, sad, and full of wonder as the family found its own rhythms of coming and going, talking and silence, laughing and crying, keeping vigil at their bedsides.

The moment a loved one leaves this world is a sacred moment, difficult to describe in its power and awesomeness.

Being present at a birth (let alone giving birth) for me was a similar experience.

It brings us right up close with those big questions.

There’s that really big question: what happens to my parents, or to me, when we die?

Whether you are a religious and/or spiritual person, or not, check out this story—Neurosurgeon Dr. Eben Alexander’s experience: Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon’s Journey into the Afterlife. He’s written a book, but was also featured heavily in other media a few months ago. My sister, a doctor, sent it to me after Dad died.

Story, myth, spirituality and science (sort of), all intersect here.

For someone who just sent both parents off from this world, it’s comforting to contemplate reports of such a happy ending, and support for the theme of being less wiggy.

Ann Jacobus lives in San Francisco with her family, where she writes YA and middle grade fiction, blogs regularly at www.ReaderkidZ.com, and is trying to be less wiggy about a lot of things.  Learn more about Ann at her website,www.annjacobus.com

Photos:

Top–Jake Jacobus at the helm in Edgartown Harbor, Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts

Middle– Jake and Ann in Midland,Texas

Bottom– Ann Jacobus

A  post by writer Ann Jacobus:

During our fifties, many of our parents are reaching the ends of their lives and many of us are helping care for them.

It’s a difficult and emotional time; however, it can also be incredibly rich and fruitful.

Dying can teach us a lot about living.

There’s a great post by a palliative care worker, Bronnie Ware, called “Regrets of the Dying.” The concerns expressed by those who have accepted that they are in the “final stage” of their life, as Hospice refers to it, are pretty consistent.

The main regret of the dying is that they wish they’d lived life true to themselves and not to the expectations others had for them.

Got that? Our most likely regret when time is up: Not being true to oneself.

No one wishes they worked more and spent less time with family.

Most wish they’d maintained better connections with friends, and had the courage to express their true feelings

And last but not least, the dying wish they had let themselves be happy. Happiness is a choice.

A year and a half ago, I was flying back and forth to Dallas to help take care of my mom who had aggressive, small cell carcinoma in her lungs, colon, internal organs and eventually her brain.

She died peacefully December 1, 2011 at the age of seventy-four.  She was otherwise in good shape and participated joyfully in all the events she could, including a shopping spree at the discount store Tuesday Morning, a mere two weeks earlier.

About a week before she died, we sat in her room.

I was leaving the next morning for California, planning on returning in eight days. I had been two weeks “on” caretaking, so was tired and ready to get home.

I didn’t know it was our last conscious time and conversation alone.

Lying in bed, she kicked up one of her legs and patted it. “I’m really going to miss them,” she said. “These have been good legs.”

I had to agree.

Then she said, “I really thought I would have more time.”

She knew the end was near.

She never did many of the things Hospice said were typical (like withdrawing), so I assumed she still had some time.

I ended up rushing back two days later because she took a sudden downturn, and didn’t really speak again.

Family members nearly always want to know how much time there is. Hospice wisely refrains from predicting. Things can change quickly and people die slower, faster and occasionally not at all.

The “final stage” of life though, is all about learning to give up control and taking full advantage of each moment.

Lessons not just for the dying.

Paradoxically, as a caretaker, you can get caught up in the taxing day-to-day and lose sight of the main event.

That night, Mom looked at me, her eyes bright with so much love it was unsettling.

Our family tends toward undemonstrative, but Mom and I hugged a long time and said how much we meant to each other.

I’m so grateful that I seized that moment to express my love one last time and say goodbye even though I didn’t realize I was.

That I didn’t put it off, certain of having more time.

Because I didn’t.

So, to your folks, and all those you love, say everything you need to say.

Hug a lot.

Also:  Appreciate your body. It’s a great piece of engineering and biology.

Ann Jacobus lives in San Francisco with her family, where she writes YA and middle grade fiction and blogs regularly at www.ReaderkidZ.com. Learn more about Ann at her website, www.annjacobus.com

Photos:

Top–Ann’s mom, Libby Jacobus, in Dallas, Texas

Middle– Libby, Ann, and Ann’s sister Lacy near Mexico City

Bottom–Ann Jacobus

]]> http://friendfortheride.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/lessons-for-the-living/feed/ 13 bkyounger Lib Mom, Lacy, Annie dsc_0186ann-1 http://friendfortheride.wordpress.com/2013/05/09/revision/ http://friendfortheride.wordpress.com/2013/05/09/revision/#comments Thu, 09 May 2013 22:00:36 +0000 Barbara Younger http://friendfortheride.wordpress.com/?p=8911 ]]>

As a writer, revision is my middle name. I revise, almost, until the cows come home.

But what about as a menopausal woman?

Do I need to turn myself into ice cream?

Or should I just be happy with spilled milk, no crying allowed?

Cliff, my husband the engineer, goes into semi-heart failure if he spills anything. A splash of pickle juice.  A dollop of coffee grounds.

The cries from the kitchen make me think the stove has caught fire, again, or the refrigerator is emitting poisonous gas.

To me, a spill isn’t such a big deal, unless it ruins a silk blouse or my daughter’s hard-earned diploma.

And so perhaps it should be with our bodies.  Our houses. Our goals.  Our disappointments.

Maybe we simply need to chill and embrace the spill.

I have a friend who’s in graduate school while working a full-time job. On top of that, she’s planning a wedding.  The other day she said, “I think, in terms of my grades in grad school, I just need to lower my standards a bit.”

I’ve thought the same thing about me.

That, as a woman of a certain age, I can lower my standards and quit fretting about revising my very own self.  (Although I’m not going to give up on my Wedding Arms, at least not yet.)

What about you?

Did The Great Pause put you into more accepting pastures?

Are you learning to embrace the spill?

Photo: Thanks to  Write4Kids.com for the Katherine Paterson quote.

Katherine Paterson is the author of over thirty books including the much beloved Bridge to Terabithia.  Read more about her writing process in this interview posted on the Scholastic Books website. 

My story “Christabel and Mr. Reader,” inspired by my reading husband Cliff, was a Finalist for the Katherine Paterson Prize. You can read the story here, on the website of Hunger Mountain: The VCFA Journal of the Arts.

Congrats to Judy Brown who won the copy of  Black Pearls: A Faerie Strand by Louise Hawes.

In honor of us menopausal types, my poem, “The Scale”:

Do you cringe

When you deliver

The bad news to me,

Or is smirking

More your style?

Someday, Scale,

I hope you’ll speak

Kindly, firmly, fondly

With words since 

Your numbers fail me.

Are you a scale girl?

A waistband girl?

So lucky you don’t need to measure your weight in any way at all?

Or so carefree, it’s not a concern?

Giveaway:  Speaking of weight and weight issues, Mika Brzezinski chronicles her eating troubles as well as her friend Diane’s and much of America’s in OBSESSED: America’s Food Addiction – And My Own.

Get the inside scoop on the eating habits of Gayle King, Charles Barkley, Jennifer Hudson, Padma Lakshmi, and others.  Best of all, read Kathleen Turner’s comments on appearing naked, at 46, as Mrs. Robinson in the stage version of  The Graduate.

For a chance to win a copy, simply enter a comment by May 25 saying you’d like to be the winner.

About fifteen years ago, my friend Lisa Flinn commented, “When you go through menopause, I read that a layer of fat on you feet disappears. It makes walking more uncomfortable.”

We were talking on the phone when she gave me this bit of info.

And like a lot of things you hear on the phone, I didn’t quite believe it.

Menopause and feet?

What could feet have to do with menopause?

I was a Menopause Virgin.

I thought menopause was all about the end of your periods, hot flashes, and maybe feeling grumpy.

Oh Barbara.

How could you ever be so naive.

About two years ago, my feet started to feel odd, as if…

Yep.

As if a layer of padding was gone.

As if my bones were actually scraping the hardwood floors of this old house.

Here’s what one foot doctor has to say:

“Aging results in loss of fat below the bottom of the foot, even as unwanted fat is gained in most other parts of the body. This fat once provided cushioning, and we now find ourselves walking on the foot bones and skin.”

The doc goes on to recommend orthotics. If those don’t work, she suggests the injection of some fluffy substance into the actual foot.  Ouch!

Perhaps I’ll get to that point, but for now, I’ve found a cheaper, easier solution.

I bought super duper extra thick tennis socks. It almost feels like you’re putting a baby bunny on your feet.

Spring’s here, and my feet are ready to roll.

So far, pretty good.

High quality walking shoes help too.

Anybody else have a similar foot story to tell?

Solutions?

P.S.:  I don”t really know much about this brand. I just picked them out after googling “extra thick socks.”  My uncle isn’t chairman of the board or anything along those lines.

But Thorlo, if you read this post, a Friend for the Ride giveaway would be oh so fluffy cool and fun.

Presents.

A fun game that gets everyone thinking about marriage and love and weddings and the years ahead.

Flowers in the wedding colors on a table splashed with more color.

Chocolate and berries.

Sandwiches, oh so dainty and ladylike.

Punch, gently spiked.

Cake!

Bridesmaids and sisters-in-law-to be.

And most of all, the good wishes and wise advice of  the sisterhood, women young and old.

The sisterhood comes out in enthusiastic force for showers!

Thanks to my friends Lisa and Judy and Gail, who put on this festive shower for Laura, and to the friends who joined us with gifts and good wishes. I’m sorry we didn’t capture your pictures.

And to the Shower Sisterhood Universal I say, “Cake and punch and advice forever!  Hooray!”

Any shower stories to share?

With thanks to my blogging daughters, Katherine and Laura for letting me use their photos. I can hardly bear to look at that cake. That’s how delicious it was.