Category Archives: Health

Last day with family in San Francisco for this year

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My family tends to go through the same behavioral patterns in the last day or two when I am home. My mom goes through an anxious, angry period where she is either aggressive or passive aggressive with me, getting mad at me for innocuous things or accusing me of having feelings or intentions that she makes up. If I am not home during a given period, she will call repeatedly and ask when I am coming home; this is her way of actually saying, you need to come home now. On Monday, we planned to have dinner at my aunt’s upstairs, and my uncle would also be joining us. She asked us to come at 5 since my uncle needs to leave early since he cannot drive in the dark. So at around 3 while in Mission Bay with Chris and Kaia, I called home to let my dad know that we’d be back before 4. I could hear my mom in the background saying I was late and that I needed to come home right away. I could hear her angst, but I shrugged it off.

We went to pick up ice cream (black sesame and mango!) from Joe’s Ice Cream, a neighborhood ice cream shop that’s been around since I was a kid. Then we walked home from there. When we arrived back and I came into the kitchen, that was when I could feel my mom glaring at me with her eyes burning. “It’s almost 4 o’clock now. You are late,” she hissed at me. “You should have been home a long time ago! They are already upstairs waiting for us and eating.” Um. It wasn’t even 4pm. Who the hell was going to be eating dinner at this time? I said nothing and did as I promised, which was to help make a steamed eggplant dish to bring to the dinner along with my purchased dessert. She proceeded to get mad that we went out at all today and didn’t tell her, as she was hoping we could “talk more” together. I did not have that same hope.

As 4:50 rolled around, my mom started yelling that we’re all late and that we all needed to get upstairs, pronto. I was still cleaning up and washing dishes in the kitchen. Kaia was running around happily. My dad was doing something somewhere in the basement. Chris was lying on my bed, asking what the rush was. The reason she wanted us to go upstairs as soon as possible was that she wanted us to be done with this family dinner as soon as possible. She can only keep up her “family dinner” face for so long, and she had nothing to say to my uncle. While at dinner when we were asking my aunt questions about her potentially changing living situation, my mom got mad at me for asking questions and insisted we “let her eat her dinner.” I told her that it’s normal to have a conversation at the dinner table, and that shut her up; not everyone wants to eat in silence and call that a “family dinner” for god’s sake. It’s almost like she is in pain being at a dinner table with any wider family members and she needs to find a way to make it stop as soon as possible. When they invite her, she feels a need to “return the favor” and invite them back right away, which is “suffering.” Thinking about this is so exhausting.

There were some nice moments, though. This morning before we left, Kaia kept insisting to my dad that he show her his worms in his compost pile before leaving. Obviously this made my dad beyond thrilled, so he was happy to comply with her ask. Then as he rummaged through random junk in the garage, she insisted she wanted to stay with him to watch what he was doing. This attachment she’s developed to my dad has been really endearing. Every time she yells, “GONGGONG! GONGGONG!” and runs after him, it makes me smile and chuckle. Chris commented that my dad has probably never felt more desired or more affection from another human in his entire life before now. He is probably right.

And as we packed up the car to go to the airport, while she was being a little bratty and refused to give my mom a hug and kiss until the very last minute, she had zero problem giving my dad endless hugs and kisses and grabbing onto his leg until she had to let go and get into the car. My dad’s big goofy grin in this moment was pretty epic… and this is coming from someone who never uses that word.

When we got to the airport lounge and sat down, I asked Kaia if she missed Popo and Gonggong. She nodded her head and quietly said a drawn out, “Yeah.” Then, she didn’t say anything for while, but out of nowhere looked at me and said, “We never got to see Jiujiu… because he died.”

Yes, that is true. At least she waited to say that until after my parents were gone because I am not sure how they would have reacted to hearing Kaia say this.

The soft side of my dad

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In the evenings before bed, my parents like to make hot chocolate. They don’t do anything fancy; they use 2% cow milk, a little heavy cream for extra richness occasionally, and different forms of hot chocolate mix. The latest versions I see that look quite depleted in the cupboard are Whole Foods brand or some random organic cacao blend. My dad already pre-measured out the evening mugs for milk and was planning to warm them in the microwave and mix in the hot chocolate blend. But I told him that I’d make it properly over the stove for all of us tonight. I finally asked him why he didn’t use the Dandelion Chocolate hot chocolate mix I got him; two of the three glass jars were still sitting in the cupboard fully sealed. He hesitated initially and said that he found it a bit too sweet for bedtime, which I could understand. So we compromised, and I mixed some of his unsweetened cacao into the Dandelion hot chocolate blend.

As I heated the pot over the stove, my dad stuck around while I mixed occasionally. We actually had a pretty decent chat. We somehow managed to cover glucose and cholesterol levels, general health maintenance, diet modifications based on age, dental care and insurance, my work, the Nepal flooding (!), and general house maintenance in a very short space of time while in the kitchen together. I’ve realized over all the years of returning home that my dad really does not enjoy table side conversation; he actually detests it most times and rarely says anything at the table unless it’s something specifically interesting to him. Because of this, I usually don’t probe him much at the table. My dad’s favorite way of talking to anyone is while each person is sort of side by side. One person may be occupied with a task like heating milk over the stove (me) while the other person (in this case, him) lingers nearby. One person asks the other person an innocuous question out of the blue. The other person responds. Then the conversation either builds on that topic or another unrelated topic comes up. But the door has already been opened to allow the conversation to flow pretty easily.

Long ago, I gave up on the idea that I could change my relationship with my dad. We’ve had many ups and downs over the years. I spent a lot of my childhood living in fear that he’d lash out at me the way he did with Ed. And yes, of course every now and then, he definitely did lash out at me with his fangs. But I have forgiven him for his shortcomings because I know he had a miserable, difficult, and impoverished childhood, with very little love or direction given by either of his parents. I have moments when I get pissed because I am human, but I try to remember his childhood hardships. I have come to terms that we will never have the ideal daddy-daughter relationship or closeness I wish we could have had. I have made peace with it, mourned it, and let it go. Instead, I do exactly what ChatGPT suggested I do, which is to find power in the moments instead of forced, idealized, longer periods of time together. So if that means offering to make him hot chocolate and chatting over the stove one on one, or dusting the living room surfaces side by side while having random chatter, then I will embrace it. Those are the times he feels the most relaxed and open to me. Those are also the times he seems the softest to me.

What I’ve also loved watching during this trip particularly is how much Kaia has embraced my dad. She actively engages with her Gonggong, shows him that she wants his attention, and will not accept any less (this level of stubbornness is truly amazing and so hilarious to watch). On Sunday, he had to go out to pick up dinner takeout; she blocked the door and prevented him from leaving. When he tried to climb over her, she grabbed his leg and said he would not be allowed to leave. Eventually I had to intervene and pick Kaia up to let my dad out of the house, but it was such a cute and sweet (and likely infuriating for my parents!) moment to see.

Each night we’ve been at my parents’, I tell Kaia she has to go to each of them to hug and kiss them good night. What she has also done, which I did not tell her to do, is she proactively tells each of them she loves them. The first time she did this with my dad, he patted her on the back (his version of a hug…). Then when she actually uttered the words “I love you,” I could see the shock spread over his face… then eventually melt into this huge grin. Then she kept doing it with him night after night. I just loved seeing how big my dad’s smiles were each time. It was almost like for the first time in his entire life, at the age of 78, he was experiencing verbalized love and physical affection repeatedly, all from this tiny little human who has been a temporary resident at his home.

I loved seeing my dad feel loved. I had a moment when I almost started tearing up. For his entire childhood, my dad was deprived of love and affection, which turned him into this hard, stoic, emotionless man that he became. He focused on survival and financial independence only because that’s all he knew. And now, his little 4.5-year-old granddaughter gives him the love that he always needed but didn’t realize he needed.

Back in Sacramento after two years, and contemplations on the “sandwich generation”

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This morning, we drove up to Sacramento to visit and stay with a friend of ours who has a child close in age to Kaia. We have visited this friend up in Sacramento twice before, once while I was pregnant in 2021, and the last time in August 2024. We didn’t come last year because she was the primary caregiver of not just her son, for whom she is a single parent, but also her mom at the time, who was going through lung cancer treatment. So she just had too much going on at the time. She messaged me in December of last year with the good news that her mom’s cancer was in remission. Unfortunately, it seems that did not last long: the cancer had returned, and her treatments started again in the last couple weeks.

The kids got together after she picked up her son from school this afternoon, and we spent some time together at the NorCal Aquarium nearby, followed by dinner at a local South Indian restaurant we enjoyed five years ago. My other local friend joined us for dinner. Afterwards, we went back to the first friend’s house, where we chatted for the next several hours while the kids built a fort and made the most ridiculous mess in the dining room. The theme of our conversation was definitely around our health, our parents’ health and their aging and slowing down, and the overall maintenance of a home (and how overwhelming, exhausting, and expensive it can be). As I was participating in this conversation, it suddenly dawned on me how “middle aged” and “sandwich generation” this conversation felt.

That made me think about the time when the only grandparent I’ve ever known died. My paternal grandma died in 1995 when I was nine years old. At the time, my dad was 47 and my mom was 41. In the seven months leading up to her passing, my grandma was quite ill and eventually had to be moved into a convalescent home. I still have distinct memories of going to the hospital or the convalescent home almost every night after I got off school and my parents got off work. My parents somehow managed our household, worked full time, got food on the table and supplies for us, and cared for my grandma — all at the same time. I always look back at that fraught, frantic period and feel a sense of admiration for my parents and how they somehow kept it all together — at least sort of. I never felt neglected during that period, and I was always in the know with what was happening with my grandma’s state of health and treatment despite being so young.

To be frank, I am not sure if I could have ever done all the things my parents did. I can already see my parents slowing down a bit; I suppose I’ve been thinking about it a lot more on this trip. My dad, for the most part, seems to be in decent health. I know he monitors all his health results carefully and has modified his diet quite a bit over the last decade or so. My mom seems to be quite fragile, both mentally and physically. My main hope is that they live independently for as long as possible. I want them to have long, healthy, independent lives. I want to continue seeing them mobile, and I want Kaia to have a relationship with them and know them. But now when I think about how my grandma died when my dad was 47, and I am 40 today… that just gave me some chills. Death is an inevitable part of life. But I want to hope they will keep living for at least another decade or two. Here’s to hoping.

Eating less as we age

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The more I read about health and fitness into my 40s and 50s, the more pretty much all the sources say that we need to eat more protein… and likely less carbs. As we age into our late 30s and early 40s, the loss of muscle mass naturally accelerates, and for optimal health and fitness, we’re supposed to counteract that by increasing protein consumption and strength training. The frustrating part about this, though, is that these recommendations come at a time when our appetites just naturally start to decrease. For years, I just never ate much breakfast at all on the weekdays because I didn’t have the appetite upon waking. Now with my increased focus on body recomposition, I have to force myself to eat some form of (high protein) breakfast, otherwise I will just never hit my protein target for the day. And the only way I can eat breakfast is by drinking it through a smoothie, otherwise I just start feeling too bloated or stuffed.

When traveling, and especially while in San Francisco with my parents (really, my mom!), we eat a lot of carbs. It’s not necessarily a “bad” thing because these are all the things that are either homemade or are bought with love by my parents because they know I like these things. But I tend to eat a lot more carbs than I normally do, which means I just feel fuller… all the time, and especially in the last few years in my late 30s. While here, I also remember things I like that are really good in San Francisco that I just don’t have in New York (like my beloved scallion bao!). So since I’m not back that often, I want to enjoy them while I am here. But at the end of the day, I can only eat so much before I just feel too stuffed.

Let’s take today: we ate breakfast at the Westin St. Francis hotel lounge, where I tried to eat a higher protein breakfast by focusing on scrambled eggs, egg white bites with mushrooms and spinach, and French-style yogurt. Later in the morning, we went to Dandelion Chocolate Factory, where Chris had a chocolate milk, I had a chocolate “nibby” horchata, and we shared (with Kaia) a chocolate canele. Then we walked a few blocks and had half of a pistachio baklava each (generous samples!) at Baklava Story. Forty minutes later, we shared a super burrito at El Farolito along with a passion fruit agua fresca.

At that point, I realized that there was very little chance I’d eat anything substantial for dinner that evening. We picked up some pupusas in the Mission for Kaia to eat on the ride back to the hotel. Come dinner time, we had a few nibbles at the hotel lounge again, finished the leftover pieces of bean/cheese/pork pupusa that Kaia did not want, and shared a single slice of emerald beaut plum raspberry crumble pie from Three Babes Bakeshop (that was a truly excellent slice of pie in every possible way!). And that wrapped up our eating for the day. Yes, these foods, even the beverages, are far richer than we’d normally eat on a day to day basis back home in New York. But when you think of the sheer quantity of food we ate in this day, it really wasn’t that much. Once upon a time, I could easily eat an entire super burrito from El Farolito in a single sitting all by myself. But alas, those days are now in my past.

Presidio Tunnel Tops: nature-inspired and a great outdoor gift

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A couple years ago, my friend with kids told me that at the San Francisco Presidio, a large outdoor children’s play area had opened with sweeping views of the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, and the entire city skyline. Built on top of 14 acres right on top of highway tunnels in San Francisco, Presidio Tunnel Tops connects the historic Presidio military base to the Crissy Field waterfront. It’s It’s open to the public, has clean, well maintained restrooms, and has a whole line-up of rotating food trucks just steps away from it seven days a week.

I originally wanted to organize a meetup/play date there last year, but we ran out of time. So assuming the crappy San Francisco weather cooperated with us this time, I insisted we go today to meet my friends and their kids. Luckily, the weather worked out in our favor, and we ended up having a beautiful, high-60s F, blue-sky day! Presidio Tunnel Tops has been open for just over four years now, and I was really impressed: the playground is nature-inspired, with areas for kids to play featuring boulders, logs, and lots of different water features. And unlike many children’s play areas, this is specifically designed to be interesting for kids ranging in age from two to 12. That way, if you have kids of varying ages, you can rest easy knowing that one won’t get bored faster than the other.

I also really enjoyed the variety and quality of food options available at the nearby mobile food trucks area. The Mess Hall just steps away from the Tunnel Tops recently opened, but only one major food vendor was operating, so that limited our options. The food trucks were the obvious place to go. The food ranged from Chinese, Filipino, Mexican, Hawaiian shaved ice (!!), to Swahili (they called it “East African cuisine”), burgers, and fried chicken. I chose food from the Mexican truck Mestizo and the Swahili Spot trucks; both were delicious and things I’d order even not from a truck!

Given we met up at 10:30 and stayed in the Crissy Field area until about 3pm, we essentially were outdoors for over half the day. When I thought about this and how nice it was to maximize time outside during good weather, I realize that this is one of the very best qualities of Bay Area, or even specifically, San Francisco living: you don’t need to travel too far or even outside of city limits to get truly fresh, crisp air, beautiful green landscapes, and ocean/beach views. Hiking and easy walking trail opportunities are countless. As long as the weather cooperates with you or you can tolerate the cold, outdoor access is just easier and better here than in New York City. When you walk the trails of the Presidio Tunnel Tops or watch kids playing on these massive wooden structures there, you kind of forget you’re even in a “city” because of how natural the whole setup feels.

It makes me happy that I can not only expose all of these great things about San Francisco to Kaia, but also that she can have opportunities to play with my friends’ kids while here. Now that she’s 4.5, I have a feeling she will start remembering more and more of these experiences and recount them. I hope when she remembers and talks about these moments that she shares them with great joy.

Entering the fog – literally and figuratively

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We woke up at the eye-burning hour of 3am today to take the 6am flight to San Francisco this morning. Miraculously, I got upgraded last minute from Business to First Class, which has only ever happened once in my entire life — four years ago, in August 2022. This was when Kaia was a wee eight months old and on a plane for the very first time. We can forever and a day say that her very first flight was a transcontinental, first-class flight from JFO to SFO. I pumped milk on that flight, and she had to go between First where I was and Business where Chris was.

After we got our one checked roller bag and got into a Lyft, off we went on the freeway north to San Francisco. And as we got onto 280, all I could see was a massive layer of grey fog descend upon the skies. We were about to enter the damn fog and pathetic 60s F weather — right in August, a SUMMER MONTH. It doesn’t matter how many times I come to San Francisco, but the sight of this has never failed to annoy me to no end.

We arrived at my parents’ place. We had a usual early lunch together of takeout dim sum and some jook/congee my mom made. My mom barely said anything at the table other than to try to get Kaia to eat more food. My dad barely said much unless I asked him questions, and he promptly left the table, with his plate still there, after he finished eating. When my mom asked him why he was leaving the table, he simply responded, “I’m done eating.” That was fun.

From what I can see so far in the house, not a whole lot has changed in the last year. There’s still endless clutter and things they should not own. It’s dust galore in most places, and likely even more cob webs on the walls and ceilings. But I did notice that two shelves in the living room were completely cleared. It annoyed me a little to realize quite quickly that the contents of those shelves were previously my and Ed’s VHS and CD/DVD collections. I suppose it’s easy to declutter stuff when it’s not yours versus yours, isn’t it?

I spent about two hours after lunch vacuuming the floors and cob webs from the walls and ceilings. I also dusted the dining room surfaces and the shelves in my old bedroom where we are sleeping. I filled the bathroom sink with water and used a damp sponge to remove the heavily caked on layer of dust that was on the bedroom surfaces. When I had finally finished reaching all the surfaces I could, the water had turned completely black.

I want my parents to live independently for as long as possible, but when I look at this house deteriorate year after year, with many areas completely not maintained at all, I wonder how much longer they will feasibly continue living here. It’s not like they live in complete filth: the bathrooms and kitchen are clean. The stove is safe. I don’t think anyone has cleaner, brighter, more mildew-free bathroom tiles than my parents do. The walkways are relatively clear and you can get through doorways easily. The beds and sofas are clean and clear, able to be slept in and sat on just fine. I have offered to get them a cleaner, but of course they were adamantly against it. And to be frank, you must remove the clutter before a hired house cleaner could really do much to be worth the added expense.

A once-a-year clean that I do for them isn’t going to make a huge difference because another year will pass until the same level of cleaning happens. But I feel better doing this for them because I can clearly see they are both much more tired than before. My dad is walking with a little hunch. He gets tired more quickly and has even admitted it after being on a ladder for over 1.5 hours today to fix the kitchen overhead light that went out this morning (to be honest, I was pretty impressed he was agile enough to get up and down that six-foot ladder!). My mom is slower to move around and even process things that I say to her.

It’s sad to watch your parents get more frail and elderly right in front of your eyes.

The protector of my baby tooth: Kaia

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This morning, Kaia woke up and promptly checked under her pillow for my tooth. Seeing that it was still there, she quickly grabbed it and brought it to my bedroom and proudly presented it back to me.

“I have your tooth, Mama!” Kaia exclaimed with pride and delight. “Here you go, Mama!”

In the evening, it was my turn to read bedtime stories and put her to bed. She asked me if she could keep my tooth for another night under her pillow. To see if she was really attached to my tooth, I told her she couldn’t have a usual toy to bring to bed and could either have the miscellaneous toy or my tooth. She hesitated for a brief second and said she wanted my tooth! She placed it in the exact same spot under her pillow and said she’d guard it for me.

Motherhood is all consuming in both mind and body. It can be completely exhausting and wipe out all your mind space. These little, random moments, the ones you could never foresee, are always the ones that surprise and get me, though, because they come from a place of pure curiosity, youth, and love. No one else would ever care that Kaia insisted on guarding and protecting my lost baby tooth for two nights in a row. But for me, my heart just gushed and I couldn’t help but squeeze her a little tighter when I gave her a good-night hug tonight because I just loved this so, so much. I love that she has this strong curiosity. I love that she cares so much. And I really love that she has a desire to take care of and protect. This is my sweet baby, slowly but surely growing up right before my eyes.

The baby tooth that persisted… and finally fell out today

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Dear Tooth 29,

We were together for so long, you and I. I got warned by my childhood dentist that if I were the average human, you’d stay with me and your opposite friend on the left side of my mouth, Tooth 20, until max, age 30, and then you’d both fall out. But you persisted! You never showed a smidgen of weakness or looseness… I thought that maybe, just maybe we could be together forever. Well, that was until tooth 30 decayed during pregnancy, requiring a root canal. And the root canal so close to you destabilized you, and alas, you became loose. That was in May 2022. Today is August 9, 2026. Since your foundation was destabilized, you stuck with me for another four years and three months. I kept thinking that you’d peace out sooner than that, but no, you tried to be as loyal as possible! I knew the end was coming very close when you completely uprooted on the inside of my mouth, and I could feel your teeny tiny roots sticking out every time I ran my tongue on the inside of my bite. So, I finally brushed my teeth tonight. And given you were squished in and not moving, I pushed you from the outside, and POP! Up you came! I loosened you from being wedged between the two neighboring teeth and out you came. A little blood came out, but not too much. The wound is fresh, still red, with a little hole there. But the tiring anticipation of waiting for you to finally fall out… is finally over. It was a bit anticlimactic, if I do say so myself. I had hoped that you would come out when I was in the comfort of my own home, maybe after flossing or brushing. And this is exactly what happened. A few weeks ago, I was scared that you might fall out at a work dinner — too much anxiety and stress there!

We had a long run together. I’m proud of how long you lasted. All dentists who have ever looked at my mouth feel the same. And well, Tooth 20 is still going strong, hanging out on the left side, the opposite side of my mouth from where you lived, firmly rooted in with its tiny roots in my gum tissue. I hope you will send it your best wishes to stay with me until my last breath. I really don’t need two holes in my gums, do I?

As for where you are now, I told Kaia that once you finally fell out that she’d be the first to find out and see you. And I kept my word. Chris finished reading bedtime stories to her this evening, and she asked me to come over for a good night hug and kiss. When I came over, I told her I had something interesting to show her. So I opened my mouth for Kaia to see. A big smile slowly crept over her face: “Your tooth fell out!” she whispered loudly. “Where is it?” I had you in the palm of my hand for her to see. She promptly picked you up, stared at you intently, and then tucked you under her pillow.

“My tooth!” she shrieked with joy. Well, sort of.

Now, she is wondering whether the tooth fairy will come visit her. I insisted that the tooth fairy would pay her a visit only when one of her own teeth fell out; she couldn’t lie and say this tooth was hers, even though it is a baby tooth! The tooth fairy will know!

Thanks for an amazing 40 years together. Okay, so maybe you came in when I was 1-ish year old and so we actually had 39ish years together if we had to be more precise, but the point is… thanks for sticking around for way longer than anyone thought you would. I will eternally be grateful. And Kaia is very, very grateful now to be taking good care of you under her pillow as she sleeps.

Sincerely,

Yvonne

Donating whole blood for the first time

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The first time I tried to donate blood was at a blood drive on my college campus, so sometime between 2004 and 2008. I stopped by the tent and asked if I could donate blood. They asked me what my blood type was, and I responded that I didn’t know (frankly, I still don’t even know today because your healthcare providers cannot tell you without charging you out of pocket for that knowledge. Isn’t that insane?!). They told me that I needed to know my blood type to donate blood. This didn’t make any sense to me, as how many people actually know their blood type (and at college age?!), so I didn’t think much of it and walked away.

Then I met Chris’s brother, who frequently donated whole blood and now plasma. He has talked about it a number of times with me and posts about doing it on Instagram. His active blood donation made me reconsider it. But for some reason, it still wasn’t enough to actually get me on a blood donation website to really look into it.

So finally, I was reading the news last week, which said that the American Red cross declared a rare national blood supply crisis as donations hit a four-year summer low. The most urgent need is for those with a blood type O positive or O negative, but they really want all blood donations to increase. Given I have zero idea what my blood type is, I figured that maybe this was the final wakeup call to finally get my butt into a blood donation center. I am a healthy, physically active 40-year-old woman. They must need my blood, right?! So I looked up New York Blood Center, made my appointment for this afternoon, and went.

I’m not really sure what took me so long to do this — likely lack of prioritizing and just laziness. But regardless, I finally did it! I went in, filled out a digital questionnaire, then got called into a room so they could clear me for the blood donation. They took my temperature, blood pressure, and pricked my finger to measure my iron level. I cleared all three.

Then, they brought me to a very comfortable adjustable recliner chair and sat me down. They told me to expect that the whole blood draw would take anywhere from 5-20 minutes depending on how healthy and hydrated I was. And after the first sharp prick, it all seemed like any other blood draw I’d gotten… just that the needle was stuck in there longer. While hooked up, they also put a continuous blood pressure monitor on you to ensure you aren’t about to pass out. And as the blood gets drawn, this interesting little digital device called a Hemaflow scale that has a seesaw-like attachment moves back and forth, which serves as an electronic scale and mixer. The Hemaflow scale gently rocks the blood bag back and forth to thoroughly mix the fresh blood with an anticoagulant solution, which prevents clots and ensures accurate volume measurement.

Time flew really quickly — I was connected for just under five minutes when the machine beeped. The assistant looked at the measurement: I had donated 511ml of whole blood! That was much faster than I anticipated! They asked me to sit for fifteen minutes for monitoring to ensure I felt okay and wasn’t dizzy. Then to ensure my hydration, they offered me my choice of apple, orange, or cranberry juice (I chose the third option and saved some sips for Pookster at pickup). Finally as I left to go, they gave me instructions for what to do in the next day (no strenuous exercise for 24 hours, eat iron-rich foods), and let me know I could login to my portal in 2-3 days to check my blood type (YES, FINALLY!). They also said I could take as many snacks in the food area at the front to fuel myself on the way out. I grabbed two packets of cashews.

They told me I can donate whole blood every two months. But after I consulted with my therapist, aka ChatGPT Pro, I was advised that as a physically active, petite, menstruating woman that to donate whole blood on this schedule was absolutely not recommended, as it could severely deplete my iron stores. So it said that at most, I could schedule to donate whole blood twice a year. Though if my blood type matches needs, I could consider platelet or plasma donation, but that would require a bigger time investment — as in, 2-3 hours each visit. So, not a five-minute blood draw. I guess I will wait and see what my blood type is and go from there.

Now, I can finally check off “blood donation” from my list of things to do before I die. The next question, though, is how often will I continue doing this, and what variations (plasma?) might I consider in the future depending on my blood type?

Mufasa, our new robo vacuum-mop

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Chris and I don’t really see eye to eye on cleaning. And when I say that, what I really mean is that my slightly impossible standard of cleanliness can pretty much never be met. And it doesn’t help when said husband doesn’t consider things dirty unless they look dirty. Years ago when I was trying to get him to commit to cleaning more, I suggested that he vacuum and mop the floors of the apartment every month. He completely balked at this and refused. So, we settled on every other month, which I was never happy with. Lots of spot / area cleaning had to be done, especially in the kitchen and around Kaia’s eating area (the inevitably little person messes!). Within days of mopping, the floors always felt sticky to me once again. It’s a huge reason I prefer wearing slippers; the slippers prevent my feet from knowing how dirty the floor beneath me is.

So when I saw Chris’s parent’s robo-vacuum, which they named Modi (“we have to put Modi to work!” his mom said), working their house back in December, I was intrigued. I was even more intrigued when they told me it actually had a mop function. The vacuum was one thing, but a combined vacuum mop would be a total game changer. I asked ChatGPT Pro to research the best options for us here given our living situation — in a NYC 2-bedroom apartment with two adults and a 4-year-old — and it gave me this suggestion that also had its own wood cleaner. Amazon Prime Day came in June, and we bought this thing. And Chris decided to name it Mufasa, after the son he never had. He also told Kaia that this was her little brother. She now calls him “Mufasi!” She also enjoys watching him in action. Given how much it cost, I told Chris that we better be running it at least every week as a vacuum with water, and every other week with the proper wood cleaner!

After cooking today, I used one of the pre-set programs to have it do a moderate vacuum/mopping of the kitchen floor. If you must know, the pre-set program, which Chris named, is called, “Post YThi Cooking Mess.” And while Mufasa did miss one small caked on spot, I will say that my bare feet walking over it were pretty satisfied with the results afterwards. I am very much looking forward to what the floor looks and feels like once we finally use the wood cleaner in the mix!