Tuesday, April 11, 2017


Whenever someone gets seriously ill, I often ask what the symptoms were.  Not that I am a hypochondriac, let’s just say I am curious.

From the symptoms of people I knew, mainly men, their heart attacks were fatal.  They clutched their chest, were full of sweat and sometimes knew it was the end.

Other men disregarded their symptoms of feeling lethargic, having indigestion, nausea, and mild chest  and arm pain. The pains were equated with too much exercise, not enough exercise, too much bad food, etc.  They will make a doctor’s appointment when their schedule works out for them. Sometimes this attitude can be fatal.

On the other hand a woman’s symptoms are a little different.  In very rare cases it can be too late to know she had a heart attack, as she would be in pain clutching her chest. The norm as I experienced, can be very deceiving. Many medical doctors are just learning of the many different symptoms a woman can have. A few years ago, I experienced gas pains.  I’ve had them all my life on and off so I did not take too much attention to it. But when the discomfort came and went every few hours like contractions before giving birth, I became concerned.  Each time it returned the indigestion got worse. Then the magic symptom came which was my jaw and teeth radiating.  My arm started to feel pressure, like a very slight pain.

Because the pain was not severe in my chest, I thought there was no need for an ambulance. Thus my husband drove me to the hospital for tests.  It was revealed I had a heart attack and received two stents on the left arteries

Interestingly, when we think heart attack, we think “ouch” severe pain to the chest.

When an artery is clogged blood cannot flow to the heart and if not repaired within 12 hours it could be fatal or at least severe heart damage.

My second attack was different from the first.  I had no indigestion, just pressure on my chest, shoulder and arm.  It came and went every few minutes like my previous attack. However the jaw and arm discomfort was the sign to get to my primary doctor.  He gave me a cardiogram which did not look good and advised me to go to the hospital.  Since there was no bad pain only a discomfort I asked to take blood work to see if I had cardiac disease.  While waiting for a lab tech to take blood, the discomfort was coming faster than I expected.  I made my husband drive to the emergency as quickly as possible.

Later, I learned never to drive to the emergency but to call an ambulance.  My heart attack was a bad one at the RCA(Right Coronary Artery)  I was told if I waited up to 12 hours I may not have lived

In both cases I did not panic nor took my heart attack too seriously because I was not in severe pain. Had I waited for the pain it might have been too late





With broken hearts over losing our eleven in a half year old Maltese, we started looking for another puppy about a year go.  At first I felt disloyal to our beloved little Mindy, however, I had to stop our heartache and sobbing.  People advised us to look at animal shelters. Years ago we did and adopted a cute puppy which worked out well. Another time we adopted an adorable Schnoodle that just came in, but we had to sign a statement that if the dog owner claims the dog within a certain time, we had to release it to the rightful owner. That day came when we had to give her back.


Among the newspaper listings was a Ft. Lauderdale pet store. They directed us to their web site where we chose adorable Mayla. She was all white with black points. (nose and eyes). We rushed to the store on a very hot Fourth of July.  Impressed with the upscale store, we couldn’t wait to meet her...


The sales person whom we spoke on the phone showed us a white and tan puppy stinking with bad perfume. We told him that was not the puppy we saw on his web site..  He scratched his head and led us into another room with tiny puppies sleeping on their backs as if all drugged. While soft music was playing, we were told to be very quiet. “Wake them up” I said.” We are here to buy a puppy” The salesman escorted us to another room with about eight to ten puppies all awake in one cage about two feet by two feet. Because it was shocking to see them cramped, we stormed out saying they should be ashamed.


Breeders were our next choice, or are they really breeders? Some advertised saying they were breeders or kennels, but they were really brokers. I was unaware of puppy brokers at that time and soon learned to ask questions about the puppy's parents and to request to see them in person. None were available and they were indignant about offering me their last name. When I asked for their home address it wound up off a highway, at a supermarket, or they said they will meet me half way.


We were impressed with beautiful airbrushed professional photographs of the puppies, only to find out puppy brokers stole those pictures by putting them on their own websites or they text it to me making us believe that was the puppy they are selling.


Other red flags are lower priced puppy ads, free shipping from God knows where, only to find a dead or dying puppy or one that was not what they prepaid for.  Someone told me her mother prepaid for a particular breed.  On arrival the dog was not what she ordered. She could not get her money back and after time got attached to it. Some breeders take nonrefundable deposits for puppies before they are born.

There have been warnings regarding purchasing pets from pet stores as they usually come from puppy mills. I am afraid puppy brokers are included. Besides the Maltese in pet stores cost as much money as the private breeders only you are not getting the pick of the litter.


Thus our choices are to pay big money to well-known breeders or go to the animal shelters.


One late evening, I recently got spooked out of my mind. For the past sixteen years I have always enjoyed sitting at my glass dinette table researching on my lap top computer. A week earlier I remember getting interrupted by my religious young aunt, reminding me to light a Yahrtzeit candle for my mother. It was the anniversary of her passing.

It was just last week while typing, my glass top slid off the table base as though someone pushed it off.  The glass naturally crashed on the floor leaving tons of broken glass everywhere. My computer and vase fell on top of the glass, miraculously leaving both unbroken.

Flabbergasted, I could not figure how that could happen.  I knew my glass top was a little unsteady lately but it was impossible for a heavy glass top to just push its way off the base and crash. For the past years we applied cyclone disks under the glass which usually worked well, but noticed it had not worked well for months 

It took hours of picking up the glass, sweeping, vacuuming and mopping.  We took out another heavy round glass top from the garage which we luckily saved from another piece of furniture and placed it on the table base. The following day, I attempted to continue working on my computer at the same table when I noticed the glass, in slow motion, sliding off the table falling on to the floor again. At that point, how do I tell my husband who was happily enjoying himself at the gym what had occurred. “Guess what”, I said. “You’re never going to believe this”.

To my astonishment, the glass did not break nor chip.  My computer and vase was unharmed. Should I have remembered to buy that Yahrzeit candle for my mother?  Was she angry with me?  Was her spirit talking to me?  Do Spirts really exist? Crazy things were going in my mind. 

The following day it dawned on me what might have happened.  I recently hired a cleaning lady who is marvelous.   I watched her pick up the heavy glass to shine it.  I did not know where this little young  woman got her  strength.  She also polished the steel base with furniture polishl to shine and preserve it.  It never occurred to me that she lifted the glass much higher to shine the top of the base.  That was why the cyclone disks did not stuck on the glass and the oil caused the slippery glass to move

To satisfy my theory, I used ammonia on top of the base and glass, washing and wiping them thoroughly.  After placing the glass top on the base, we found it difficult to move.  When I heard a squeak, it meant it no longer was slippery.  Did this mean it may be the end of my Spirit theory?




Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect to enjoy the experience of becoming a producer and director of a show.  As a young child most little girls like me dreamed of acting and becoming an Oscar winner. As I matured and continued my adult life, those dreams totally faded away.

Living in an active adult community in Florida,  I was a bystander enjoying other leaders of the community creating entertainment and improving our community. I’ve complained and applauded various events like most of our residents. It never dawned on me that I too would make a small contribution.

Joining our entertainment committee fascinated me and I loved going to the Show Cases.  Taking part of a vote to decide which entertainers would best be enjoyed by our residents gave me a sense of importance.

Hardly volunteering in anything worthwhile other than setting up tables before an event, a question was asked by our co chair lady of our committee.  “What can we give back to the community that will cost nothing and yet be entertaining?”

Looking around the room, with no hands raised, I suggested a Talent Show.  “Let’s see who comes out of the woodwork that has talent.” Our co chairs were not receptive at first, as they believed in professional talent. Due to our democratic process in our committee, a vote was taken and it was decided we have one. I was picked to run it since it was my idea. “This was going to be a piece of cake.” I thought.

To my disappointment not too many people came forward from our flyers.  Calling many folks whom I knew had talent, just seemed it was not the right time to perform.  Therefore I decided to make up my own skits, researching on line. They included music and dancing.  The problem with dancing was we had to use our arms, and legs together with our hips.  One complained it was difficult to raise one arm, while the other complained their other arm was difficult. Bending was out and so were cartwheels.

We chuckled about our bodies not being able to do what we used to do and tried our best to move the parts that still work.

Meanwhile people took bets we would not have enough time for a show, as we began two months prior to the opening with only three good performers signed on.. It took only one month to rehearse the dances plus more performers stepped up to the plate. During those few weeks, the performers each had their own agendas at separate times and were missing for full rehearsals. But in the end they did great

Producing and directing the show, which I loved, brought back memories of my earlier years. I created beautiful jewelry which was loved by all the buyers in department stores and boutiques across the county. My mind was active again and I felt very alive.