My Zuzu

I’ve written about my beautiful kid sister Laurie – my Zuzu – who died in 2015 at age 61 after a long and painful battle with MS.   (See Take Care of Your Sister,  Look for the Helpers –  for Laurie)

Laurie was gifted,  and at the time of her illness an NIH research biologist working on the genetics of cancer.

But her private life was quite tragic.   Her husband Andy was always a very difficult and belligerent guy,  and their only child,  a beautiful boy named Michael is severely autistic.

When Michael was diagnosed at age 2,  family and friends rallied in support.   My folks were ready with financial and whatever other help they could give to see that Michael had the best special schooling,  tutoring,  therapy and other available interventions.   But Andy very ungraciously refused all help and shunned any advice.

And then my sister’s MS diagnosis came on the heels of Michael’s,  and to our dismay Andy again refused help and advice.   He antagonized Laurie’s friends,  basically  forbade our visits,  and insisted on keeping Laurie home when it was obvious she needed 24/7 nursing care.

My parents didn’t live to see my sister become ill – and for that I am grateful.  But I was left with the unbearable burden of knowing she was suffering,  both physically and emotionally,  and I felt I had to intercede.

Laurie was living in another state,  and I started researching legal steps there I could take,  the medical and social services that could help,  and the possibility of bringing her to New York to be near me.  But my brother-in-law was her next of kin,  not I,  and Michael’s situation was another consideration,  so I felt my hands were tied.

Then fate intervened,  Andy suffered a heart attack at home,  called 911,  and the responders found my bedridden and incoherent sister in the house as well.   She and Andy were taken to the same hospital,  but Andy was soon transferred to a cardiac unit elsewhere.

By then Laurie’s condition was dire –  incredibly Andy had stopped her neurologist visits and her medication thinking he knew best how to treat her.   Seeing this,  the hospital staff asked me to stand in as her temporary medical decision-maker which was possible while Andy himself was incapacitated.

Then I was asked to take the next step and petition the court to become my sister’s legal guardian,  which I did.  Thankfully Michael was able to become a resident in the county-run special needs program in which he had been a day student – a placement that has been a godsend as my nephew has gone on to thrive there.

Laurie spent several weeks in the hospital and when she was stable enough,  we transferred her to a wonderful nursing home.  There she spent two years under the care of an amazingly compassionate medical and nursing staff,  and eventually a caring hospice team.

I’m grateful for the loving care my sister had during the last years of her life,  but my greatest regret is that I didn’t act sooner,  and it will weigh forever on my heart.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Within the next few years, the American Academy of Pediatrics would declare that no child should have her or his recess taken away because of their classroom conduct,..
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The Chain Letter and the Fender Bender

The first story I wrote for Retro was about some rather costly auto body damage I caused when I was driving my husband’s beloved T-bird.   Needless to say he wasn’t happy about that.   (See Fender Bender)

Years before we had another fender bender and although that time my husband was driving,  he nevertheless blamed me for that one too.   Here’s what happened.

As a kid I was a sucker for chain letters.  I’d dutifully cross off the top name on the list,  add my name and address to the bottom,  make 10 copies,  and send it on to 10 friends.  That was all well before the tech revolution,  so of course all those letters were snail mailed back and forth.

Although I think in all those years I may have received only one paperback book and one tube of lipstick,  I dared never break the chain.   Who knew what bounties I’d receive the next time if I followed the directions,  or what disasters would befall me if I didn’t!

Now I must confess I continued to reply to those silly chain letters even as an adult – after all what did I have to lose?  And by that time I had friends and family across the country and abroad,  and I thought it fun to include them –  my cousin in Italy,  a high school friend who’d moved to Atlanta,   family and college friends now living in California,  relatives in Israel,  and several good friends in England.  So one day I addressed my 10 latest chain letters and put them in my poke-nook meaning to take them to the mailbox.   (If you don’t know about my poke-nook see Poke-Nook, the Lost Glove, and My Cousin Isly)

But for the next few days my 10 chain letters were forgotten and lay unmailed in the depths of my bag,  until I suddenly remembered them when my husband and I were on our way somewhere in the car.  I can’t remember where we were going,  although I know we had left a bit late and were pressed for time.

But I was obsessing over those chain letters in my bag and was on the lookout for a mailbox,   and as soon as I spotted one I told my husband he had to stop the car immediately.   Not knowing what the problem was,  he heard the urgency in my voice and slammed on the brakes.   Then,  you guessed it,  we were rear-ended.

And then I had to explain that the urgency was my 10 chain letters.   “Chain letters are supposed to be forwarded right away,”  I told my husband,  “but I forgot and they were in my bag for days,  and so I have to mail them right away or I’ll break the chain!”

Needless to say he wasn’t sympathetic to my plight,  and in fact it took him a long time to forget about my role in that fender bender.

So if you meet my husband you can talk about politics or baseball or old movies,  but please don’t bring up the subject of chain letters!

– Dana Susan Lehrman

I spend time inundated by regret. I spend = and opposite time beset by anticipatory dread, a phrase taught me by JE.

I am happy to be free of JE. I sadly miss JE.

Freedom. Loss.

Regret for the past, dread for the future.

But wait! I can be here now.

Zip!

No regrets. No dread. How Zen!

Me + Lao Tzu.

Be here now allows for a do-nothing sit. Enjoy peace, comfort, simplicity.

But wait! Regret ≠ Dread.

I learn from past regrets. I only imagine the future.

Damn. Back to the drawing board.

Lao Tzu! Wait up!