Loving Lola

It’s Christmas Eve tonight, and I’m pretty much all alone - my brother is on his way to Mexico with his in-laws, friends are at various family functions, and anyone else I know that doesn’t celebrate has seemingly forgotten about me! 

Christmas is happy for a lot of people, and for some not so much. For me, this year is “not so much.” I had a rough year, and there were definitely times that I did think “I’m just so exhausted from dealing with everything on my own, and I can’t do it anymore.” But whenever that would enter my mind, I would turn to ball of fluff lying next to me, and immediately smile. You see, on a very cold, snowy, grey January day in New York, almost 4 years ago, unemployed and depressed, I did something I had been wanting to do for years…became a mom… a dog mom, that is!

For as long as I can remember, I longed for a dog. I’m sure this longing was wrapped up in the fact that I never had kids, had a very fractured childhood and had been alone for a long time. Working 12-hour days for an advertising agency made it impossible for me to have something that would be so dependent on me - how could I leave a puppy alone for so long every day – it didn’t seem right, and I would feel guilty every day.

As I lay in my bed that cold January day four years ago trying to decide what to do with my life, I knew the time to become a family of 2 was here. All my life, I was very happy and content living alone, but inwardly I longed for live and to love something...unconditionally. I didn’t know if I could be responsible for another living thing, and it scared me. I had friends that would say “you’re going to be tied to home,” or “you’ll never be free again.” I was ok with this - I was 51 years old - if I stayed out till 11pm I was happy. I knew getting a puppy would drastically change my life, and I was ready for the change – little did I know exactly how much my life and myself would change from said puppy.

After an exhaustive search on puppy find websites, I found a breeder that had adorable Shih Tzu/Bichon  - these dogs are called “Shichons,” or “Teddybear” dogs. I immediately saw a picture of a 5-week-old girl named “Pepper” - she was white with brown spots on her torso and around her eyes and she had a look about her that said, “take me!”  I fell in love right then and there – I put a deposit on her and arranged for her to fly into Newark Airport on February 13^th when she was 8 weeks old. Originally, I had in mind to name her “Bella,” but when a friend said to me “there is no way you can name her Bella – that is the number one girl dog name!” After looking it up, I realized it was true and, anyway, looking at Pepper’s picture, she didn’t seem like a “Bella,” so Lola it was.

As I was nervously waiting for February 13^th to arrive, I was alternatively petrified of a) keeping Lola alive, and b) worried that she was going to be boring with no personality. So, when I drove to Delta Cargo on that 10-degree day I had no idea what to expect. I showed the attendant my paperwork and ID and a few minutes later he came out with a little travel crate. I opened the door and inside was this little 2-pound ball of fluff that came out to me right away. I wrapped her up in my coat, got in the car where she started crawling all over me – as if she had known me forever. After 5 minutes I was in love and knew I did not have a boring dog.

I likened being a dog mom to the same as a human mom, in that you’re never really 100% prepared for how much your life will change, and you really have no idea what you’re doing in the beginning. 

For instance, I had no idea that puppies sleep…a lot…like newborn babies. The second night I had Lola, my niece was with me and a friend came over to see her. Lola was very lively, running around my apartment and playing, etc. and then she basically passed out. I thought she was dying, and made my friend watch her while I raced to the drug store to get a rectal thermometer to check her temperature, which I then made my friend stick up her butt. After assuring me that she was ok, I finally believed her and realized that having an 8-week-old puppy was exactly like having a baby – and I was completely clueless. 

I also would wake Lola up in the middle of the night to go potty on her pad, since I read that puppies need to pee every 3-4 hours. Every night I would take her out of my bed and put her on the pad in my living room. I would look at her and gingerly repeat “go potty on the pad” about 20 times a session. Lola would just sit there and star at me, with her big black eyes, that I knew were saying “what are we doing out here at 3am?  Finally, after about what seemed like an eternity, she would give me a pity pee just so we could go back to sleep. 

There was also the time, I put a 3-pound dog in my bath tub to bathe her instead of just putting her in the kitchen sink – the poor thing was holding on for her life - I’m not sure who was crying more during this process.

All of this is nothing compared to the angst and agony of buying food for your new fur baby. When I was growing up, dogs ate Purina or Alpo – either dry or wet - and that was really the only choice you had to make. Now, when you go to your pet store you are met with row after row of food options – there’s dry, wet, raw, semi-raw, freeze dried, frozen, refrigerated, dehydrated, limited ingredient, etc. And, lest I forget, it absolutely must be grain free. Yes, just like us, dogs are not allowed to eat carbs either. My head was spinning as I wandered around Petco – I wanted to feed my baby the best puppy food but had no idea what was best. I became obsessed with dog food and surveyed every dog owner I met as to what they fed their dogs. 

Through all this, Lola thrived and I managed to not feed her grapes, onions, macadamia nuts, chocolate and other various death traps for dogs – we lived through her having a parasite at 10 weeks, a sore bum after getting her first vaccinations, getting spayed, where I cried like a baby when I had to drop her off, and the nightmare of dropping her off at the groomer the first time where her cries at being separated for me still reverberate in my head. It was torture hearing my little girl cry at being separated from me, but it must be done. Just like mom’s have a hard time dropping their offspring off at nursery or daycare for the first time, dog moms are no different. Our dogs become our babies – we love them, nurture them, teach them, play with them, sleep with them, comfort them – just like humans. The bond is the same.

We had become a team -  I relied on her as much as she relied on me, and in short order she became my best friend. I take her everyplace with me - planes, trains, automobiles - we’ve done it all. My family and friends think I’m crazy sometimes because she is always with me, but I’ve come to rely on her companionship as much as she relies on me to take care of her needs every day; and besides, I meet a lot more people with her, than without her. For someone who lived alone their entire adult life, I finally realized how important it is to love something unconditionally and be loved in return. Whether it’s from a dog, cat, human – it fills you up and nourishes you. You become a family unit like any other.

Whenever times get shitty, and believe me, I’ve had some crappy days this year, all I have to do is walk in my door and hear the pitter patter of four feet coming towards me like she hasn’t seen me in years, look at her adorable little face, and I instantly forget my troubles and smile. I never felt love like this, nor have I ever given love so unconditionally - It fills me up every day, and I can’t imagine living without it now.

With Lola I’m never alone anymore – yes, I do not travel as much or go out as much – but that’s ok because I can’t even remember what life was like before the joy of loving a dog came into my life. 

Ageless?

Why can't I be ok with aging?

I really want to be like Oprah, Deepak, Tina Turner and others who try to convince me that getting older is the greatest thing since sliced bread. Of course, I probably would be much happier if I lived in a huge estate in Montecito, traveled by private plane and had money to spend on the best of the best in health care and new medical technology. But, unfortunately, I am not on board with this mind set yet.

Don't be fooled by the countless celebrities you read about telling you how fabulous it is to be in your 50's, 60's, etc. I love when I hear someone like Jennifer Aniston, who I really adore, say she "wants to celebrate aging," and "life doesn't stop after 50." Life doesn't stop, but the only real upside to life after 50 is that you're not dead!

I'm sick of reading about how free you feel to be you and do what you want - yes, you do attain a certain amount of acceptance of you and all the wonderful idiosyncrasies that make you you; but on the other hand, I could take a week's vacation and spend it all going on doctor visits.

But, with all your newfound acceptance and peaceful inner self comes aches, pains, worrying and my personal favorites - the countless drug ads for everything from arthritis, leaky bladder (only for women), blood pressure, depression, memory loss, Alzheimer's - all with a list of side effects that could put me in the hospital, if I don't already die from any of the aforementioned illnesses. My blood pressure automatically rises every time I have to go to the doctor and they put that cuff around my arm.

And when I tell you I could take a week's vacation just going to doctor's, I'm not joking. By the time you reach 50 there are a lovely bunch of medial tests waiting for you to let you know if you are in danger of dropping dead anytime soon. If I wanted to, I could have a colonoscopy, stress test, heart ultrasound, mammogram, bone density and a multitude of blood tests. I also need to go to a sleep lab because I no longer can sleep without waking up 20 times, and I may have sleep apnea and then have to sleep with an oxygen contraption. I also need to go to an orthopedic doctor for my aching back. You see after years of running, pounding the pavement of NYC and general wear and tear my back is in need of some attention.

I really envy the young adults of the world that can take a high deductible insurance plan as they only go to the doctor once a year. I remember those days, and I long to have them back. The days of youthful naiveté, the beauty of not worrying if the pain on the left side of my head is a headache or a brain tumor.

Of course, woman have more to worry about than their male counterparts. In addition to worrying about aging out of corporate America, aging in general and becoming irrelevant as a target market - we also have to worry about our insides rotting away, declining hormones, grey hair on our head and grey hair in places we really don't want grey hair. You know what I'm talking about! It seems like a cruel twist of fate that women have to bear the burden of bleeding every month for 30ish years, birthing children, and lack of hormones - isn't just getting your period every month enough?

As i head into my 55th year, I can't help but long for that mindless obliviousness that comes with youth, and those halcyon days when menopause was something your mom had and "hot flashes" were not part of your vocabulary.

About Face...

I have pretty much come to the conclusion that all my extra money until I am at least 80 is going to my dermatologist in a supreme effort to keep my face looking as smooth as a baby's bottom!

20 years ago, when you went to a dermatologist you went mostly due to medical reasons - maybe you had a rash or perhaps quelle horreur, a bad pimple that you need a cortisone injection for.  Now, you don't go to the derm any more - you go to a dermatologist that works in a "MedSpa" where they have a never ending list of procedures you choose to combat the evil enemy - aging skin!

I started reading fashion magazines when I was in my teens - mostly Seventeen and Glamour.  I was enthralled by the fresh faced beauty of Cheryl Tiegs, Patty Hansen (now married to Keith Richards), and Christie Brinkley.  They were tall, thin and gorgeous and I desperately wanted to be one of them. Alas, at being only 5'4" with size D boobs, that was never going to happen, buy my life long obsession with beauty products was in it's early stages.  When I was 16 or so I purchased my first bottle of Oil of Olay - I still remember the pale pink color and the smell. From that day on, I have had a love affair with products and skin care.  I will admit that I have been blessed by the gods with good skin, but my idea of heaven is being stranded overnight in a  Sephora.

Yes, I will admit I have dabbed my toes into this never ending abyss of lasers and injections.  The Fraxel laser I had last year was an experience in how much pain women endure in the never ending quest for youth.

It started innocently enough.  I went to my med spa - yes, they are not even called dermatologists anymore - for a glycol peel - just something to give me a little glow.  I innocently inquired with the PA about laser technology.  I love being on the forefront of technology and skin technology is no exception.  My PA casually told me that the procedure was really easy and if I did it on a Friday I would be ok to go to work on Monday.

I should have know it was not as easy as all that when they put metal contacts into my eyes after sitting for 45 minutes with numbing cream on my face.  It went very fast and was secretly impressed with myself when PA told me I am handing the pain really well.  When it was all over and they put ice pads on my face and steam rose off of them, I pretty much knew this was serious business.  By the time I got home, my face was the deepest shade of crimson you can possibly imagine and to constantly keep putting ice pads on my face to battle the extreme heat of my face.  In hindsight I will definitely ask for Valium next time.

The redness went down over the next two days, but by Monday I was not looking all that great and really did not want to go to work and have everyone ask me what happened to my face.  By the 3rd or 4th day your skin starts flaking off and you look like you have leprosy due to having new skin in some spots and old skin in others.  During all this time, people at work and on the street are going to wonder what happened to you - just hold your head high and know in a week or so you will look like you just came back from a month in Bali.

This is not me, but pretty much what my face looked like afterwards.

After about 2 weeks you are rewarded with skin as smooth as a baby's bottom.  Not only that, but you are also building collagen to help plump your skin to stave off future sagging.  Win win!

Next up, Restylane under my eyes.  While contemplating another Fraxel treatment (yes, I am a masochist), my PA said she thinks that some Restylane under my eyes to fill up the deep valleys are forming from volume loss.  She showed me before and after pictures of herself and I was sold...it doesn't take much!

One month later, I am back with numbing cream under my eyes and then injections of filler into the "deep pockets" under my eyes. This was obviously not was intense as the laser, but still had black and blue marks under my eyes for about a week. I kept examining my eyes in my magnifying mirror and was not sure I was happy since it looked kind of lumpy to me, but after about 2 week everything smoothed out and I decided I had another addiction.

It's pretty amazing all the things you can do without resorting to surgery, and I firmly believe that after 30 it's all about maintenance and doing little things to help maintain a youthful appearance. Note, did not say look like you're 20 - but as we all know, women are held to a higher standard personally and professionally. After you turn 50 and you start becoming menopausal and the lack of estrogen in your body rapidly speeds up the aging process.   Doing little things definitely makes you look better, and feel better. melissazodicoff@blogspot.com

Date Of Birth, Please...

Maybe it's me and the fact that I am 51 years old, but why is it that every doctor and drug store asks you for your date of birth as a form of ID?

When did things change to giving your date of birth for everything?  It used to be that they either asked you to spell your last name or give your social security number.  I was ok with that. Now that I'm 51 it's just not fair and I am pissed!

This seriously drives me crazy, since for the last 8 years or so I have sat in an open seating plan at work where everyone hears what you say.  So basically, every time I call one of my numerous doctors' offices, I have to go find someplace private so nobody hears me say 10/25/62!  What happened to giving your social security number?  Nobody has the same social security number, and while I know the chances are slim, there is a chance that someone could have the same date of birth.

Even going to the drug store is painful - everytime I go to pick up a prescription at CVS, they ask me at the counter to state my date of birth.  What if there is some cute guy standing by me and I don't want him to know how old I am?  Why in god's name can they not check my ID another way? Duane Reade used to ask for your date of birth, but now they make you put in your phone number.  I like that!

Not only do I not want to be reminded about how old I am, I definitely do not want my 20-something co-workers knowing that I am "old" - at least in the physical sense.  Working in an advertising agency where every 20 people are 20-something hipsters from Williamsburg, I am super sensitive to people knowing how old I am.  It pigeon holes you as "older," i.e. not hip or cool.  Dam it, I am still cool...and hip!

What even pisses me off more, is when I call my dermatologist for make an appointment for a skin treatment, they ask for my date of birth - of all the doctor's they should be especially sensitive to a women's age.  After all, they are in the business of trying to make you look younger so why do they insist on having you state your age every time I make an appointment?

If anyone who works in a doctor's office reads this, please take note of this post - women over 40 do NOT like to have to state how old they are when calling for an appointment.

Does this bother any one else or is it only me?

Is 50 Really The New 40?

Are you like me and woke up the morning of your 50th birthday felling life had irrevocably shifted? Overnight I went from cool, hip 40-something to basically just "old" -  I was definitely not having an Oprah "aha" moment!  If 50 is the new 40, I am definitely not feeling it.  When I was in my 40's I still felt young, vital and relevant.  Now, the steady onslaught of mail from AARP ensures that I never feel young(ish) again! Is this how Sharon Stone felt? Katie Couric? I know it's not how Oprah felt - live your best life, the best is yet to come - blah, blah, blah.

And to top it off, I was 50 years old and single! If there is anything worse than being 50 and single, I don't know what it is?  I didn't feel sexy anymore - I felt old! Let's be honest - dating is hard enough in your 30's and 40's - dating in your 50's has to be misery.  Let's face it, it's a young world out there. It's a fact that men are genetically programmed to be attracted to women who are in their child bearing years - as men are blessed with the gift of being able to procreate until they are basically dead. Even in they don't particularly want children, they want to be with someone who can have them.  That's the way it is - you're pretty much screwed if you don't meet your mate by the time you are in your mid-40's.  It used to be you were screwed if you didn't meet someone by the time you were 30, but things have gotten better for women, and now we have until our early 40's at least.  It's not much, but it's something.

Nothing prepares you for this "change of life" as they call it for women.  You can read all the articles from Oprah, More, Good Housekeeping about how fantastic it is to turn 50, but in truth it completely sucks.  That's right, it sucks! Nobody writes about how the lack of estrogen coursing through your body makes your ovaries shrivel up like dried out grapes, your sex drive tanks, your skin itches like crazy and puts you in a state of mind that you have never experienced in your life.  I felt as if a black cloud had plopped itself right on top of my head and was not leaving.  I walked into my 50th birthday party feeling more depressed and lonely than I ever had - and not knowing what to do about it. 

At the last minute, I had reluctantly organized a small dinner for my family and some friends.  A lot of people who I had wanted to be there, let me down.  My cousins had tickets to some concert, one of my best friends from England could not afford to come over, one friend had just had a baby and one of my oldest friends canceled the day before for some crap reason.  Sitting around the dinner table with friends and family I realized how alone I was.  I had no parents, no boyfriend, no husband.  I had just moved back to NY from Delaware and was living in a crappy apartment in Harlem. Looking around this table I realized that I was not special to anybody.  I had nobody who I was their #1.  It was probably the saddest day of my life.

I would keep asking myself, what have I accomplished in the past 30 years?  What was I going to do with the next, hopefully, 30 or 40?  You really have a moment where you look back while trying to figure out the way forward.  I was never really happy in my job, and all of a sudden I knew that was not good enough any more.  I didn't want to live the rest of my life clocking in the hours and not deriving any satisfaction from it.  But, on the other hand I did not have a clear alternative path to take. 

So, I started taking anti-depressants - they helped a little, but I still was not the "old" me that I knew so well. I knew I had to get out of this funk - that I could not live the rest of my life feeling like this.  It wasn't me, and I was not prepared to deal with this for the long term.

It's amazing the wealth of information you can find on the internet - on any given subject.  I researched HRT like a girl gone wild. And, of course, I turned to every girl over 45's best friend, Suzanne Sommers.  Suzanne has been touting the benefits of bio identical hormones for years, and you know what? Her book was a wealth of information, and totally clued me in as to what was going on with my body and the fact that I was not going nuts.   Suzanne is in her 60's and she claims, still getting it on with her hubby numerous times a week. Sounds good to me!

Armed with a ton of knowledge on the pros and cons, I went to my gyn to discuss hormone replacement, and you know what I found out? Western doctors do not want to have anything to do with this phase of a women's life.  They all refer to the 2002 HRT study that claimed hormone replacement therapy caused increased rates of breast cancer, heart disease and stroke. Every doctor has the same line "we really don't recommend it unless your symptoms are very, very bad." What? So, I have to basically be completely depressed, where I'm ready to kill myself before you will even discuss this with me?  Crazy, you say - but this is the attitude of doctor's when it comes to dealing with menopause - "just suffer" or put your life in jeopardy by taking hormones. If men went through this, you can bet there would be something safe that they can take to get them through it.  I mean, they found a way to give a guy an erection lasting maybe 4 hours before they were able to find a cure for breast cancer, ovarian cancer or any type of cancer for that matter.

Needless to say, I finally found my way to a fantastic doctor that specializes in health for women in their 40's, 50's, and 60's.  She even refers to me as one of her "younger" patients, which I love.  She put me on a regime of estrogen and progesterone and with days, I was feeling better.  You never appreciate estrogen as much as when you don't have that much.

I'm still trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life and how to find fulfillment. I'm going on line so I can start dating again, and starting to take chances that I did not do in my 30's or 40's.  I always played it safe and thought happiness and fulfillment would find me. But, turning 50 made me realize that I have to go out and find it, and if I don't make changes soon it might be too late. I guess that is one benefit to turning 50 - you realize your time here is finite and you need to take charge of your own happiness.