January 21, 2009

Please join the Hot Flashes team and help fight multiple sclerosis! Sunday, April 19, 2009 at Rye Playland or Saturday, May 16 at Bear Mountain

Filed under: Uncategorized — Administrator @ 6:45 pm

Walk with “The Hot Flashes” team at Rye Playland on Sunday, April 19th, or at Bear Mountain on Saturday, May 16th, and be part of the quest to “stamp out” Multiple Sclerosis .

Click on the logo above to sign up on line, or come to the walk and look for “The Hot Flashes” T-shirts.

Vadim Fitness Studio, Ltd. is a proud sponsor of the “Hot Flashes” MS Walk Team.

January 9, 2009

How to lose the holiday weight

Filed under: By Tamra Rosenfeld — Administrator @ 6:25 pm

   Tamra Rosenfeld

So you ate a bit too much at the holiday parties.  Now you have to start the new year fresh and keep your resolutions.  Remember 2 extra pounds a year can lead to a 20 pound weight gain in 10 years.  Here are some 10 tips that may help remove the holiday pounds

·        Take your time eating.  Savor each bite and chew well.  Eating too quickly allows you to eat more than you need to feel full.

·        Stop eating when you begin to feel full.  A few extra bites at each meal can really add up.

·        Have soup or salad before your meal.  Most soups and salads (with light dressing and without the extra fixings) are low in calories and will fill you up so you won’t consume as much at your meal.

·        Use a smaller size plate.  The more you have on your plate, the more you will eat.

·        Leave food on the stovetop instead of in the center of the table.  You are less likely to get up for second helpings than if the food is in front of you.

·        Make half your meal vegetables.  Generally vegetables are 25 calories for a half a cup cooked and the fiber in vegetables will help you feel full.

·        If you plan to eat out make your decision before reaching the restaurant.  Most restaurants have their menu on-line.  Look at the menu when you feel full to make an educated choice.  If you wait until you are hungry unhealthy choices are more likely to be made.

·        Go food shopping when you are full so you won’t be influenced by hunger.

·        Brush your teeth after dinner.  This will help curb nighttime snacking.

·        Have easily accessible healthy snacks at home such as carrot sticks, fresh fruit, low fat yogurt, or low fat cheese. 

January 7, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Administrator @ 4:09 pm

January 6, 2009


Filed under: By Paul Jason — Administrator @ 7:38 pm
    Paul Jason       

                                                                         The Recovery – Part II.

The physical therapists (I say therapists because two different people attended me)  visited about three or four times and gave me some simple exercises to help regain some strength for everyday activities, and to stretch out major muscle groups.  They also supervised me as I practiced ascending and descending an interior staircase.

On top of all of this, my appetite was not good.  I hurt too much to consume much food, although my significant other made sure that my meals were low fat, low sodium.  She’s an enthusiastic, as well as competent, cook, so the meals were a lot tastier than the hospital meals. I had always enjoyed her cooking, but my usual capacity for food was missing . . .  at least for the first three or four weeks.
Also in Weeks Three and Four the pain began to subside somewhat, and the swelling in my left leg receded a bit. But I still could not climb into the bathtub to take a shower without assistance; and, for the first time in a long time, I missed not having a stall shower I could just step into.  My appetite slowly improved, but my breathing was shallow.  I was still using that little plastic lung-exercising device (the “incentive deep breathing exerciser”), but it felt as though my deep breathing would never return.  I was discouraged.

My ability to negotiate the interior staircase and the series of steps leading from the front of the house to street level slowly progressed, but after walking twenty steps or so I felt tired and needed to rest.  I learned something that I had never really had occasion to contemplate before: that when your lungs are not functioning correctly, not introducing an adequate oxygen supply into your bloodstream,  your fingers, toes and other extremities don’t work very well either.  I guess that’s a major problem for emphysema victims that I never thought about before.  All I know is that I became obsessed with a  longing to take one deep breath, but the weakness of my chest and lungs made me too afraid to attempt it.

Perhaps the most agonizing part of this recovery was that the days dragged on at a piteously slow pace, and I had no ability to concentrate on anything that could have filled those endless hours.  Normally an avid reader, I could not bring myself to read any book or magazine for more than a few minutes at a time.  I also enjoy watching movies on television or video.  Now, at a time when I begged for any diversion from my misery and my inactivity, I found that my attention span was more limited than at any other point in my adult life.




To make matters worse, every workday morning my significant other would leave for her office and I was totally alone.  The only redeeming feature was that she worked nearby and came home every day at lunchtime to check up on me.  Of course, she was there every evening and the entire weekends.  Occasionally a relative or friend would stop by to see me, but, to tell the truth I wasn’t too enthusiastic about having visitors.  I looked dreadful, I felt dreadful, and I’m sure I wasn’t much of a conversationalist during those first few weeks.

One person who unexpectedly communicated with me regularly was the very same client who had arranged the surgical second opinion.  He called me at least two or three times every week to ask me how I was getting along, and more importantly, to ask me if there was anything that I needed or that he could do for me.  Kindness like that is unforgettable.

In any event, about two weeks after I returned home I was scheduled to visit my thoracic surgeon for a follow-up examination.  Of course I couldn’t drive a car at this point, so I was driven to his office.  Merely getting into and out of an automobile continued to be a hassle. I was apprehensive and uncomfortable.  This was the first time away from the security of my home since my return from the hospital.

I arrived at the doctor’s office at the appointed hour and proceeded to wait a half hour for him to see me.  Parenthetically, this is one of my pet grievances – - waiting for doctors.  Over the years, I have found them, almost to a man (or woman, as the case may be), to be intolerant if they have to wait more than a few moments in my office.

When the doctor did finally did see me, I was amazed that he spent less than five minutes looking at my wounds, which were still somewhat covered by the surgical strips that had been affixed in the operating room.  He announced that my recovery was proceeding normally and that barring any unforeseen problems there would be no reason for him to examine me again.  I was stunned.  That was all?  This man, who had held my life in his hands in the operating room, needed no more than five minutes to determine that the surgery had been a success?  I didn’t know whether to be angry or amazed.  Didn’t he want to know how I was coping with the results of his handiwork?  Apparently not.  The patient survived, the patient will heal, bring on the next patient.

The fact of the matter is that I have never seen that man again.  Thus, in the span of approximately three weeks, this stranger entered my life, saved it and walked away as though we had never met.

Nevertheless, I now had the assurances of my thoracic surgeon that I was on the road to recovery, and I left his office with no alternative but to make it a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Easier said than done.  The recovery was sluggish and maddening.  Slowly, with each day’s shower, one after another of the surgical strips pulled away from my wounds, exposing the scars I was hesitant to observe. Previously, my body had been moderately muscular and unscarred.  Now, the nine-inch incision down the middle of my chest, and the series of incisions down the length of my bloated left leg, riveted my attention and played havoc with my psyche.  Would I ever be the same?  Could I ever be the same?

To be continued…











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