Mom and me, summer 2013
 

“I’m sorry,” Mom said when shared the diagnosis in 2008. It’s what we were supposed to say to her, yet she worried about the toll the disease would take on her family.

In July she lost a calculated and hard-fought battle against lung cancer. And yet she won in so many ways.

She chose a clinical trial, booking chemotherapy on Thursdays, wedging it into her three-league bowling schedule on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

When she lost her hair, Mom bought a wig. It was close-cropped and mousy brown. A few months later, she bought another that was bigger and blonder. “That’s more like me,” I remember her saying. In the last few weeks of her life, she had another wig on layaway, and was determined to claim it.

Long retired from the postal service, Mom spent summers traveling to places like Reno and Kansas City for her women’s bowling association, and to Martha’s Vineyard for fellowship with house loads of women and kids. When my sister Terri and I weren’t home in Michigan for holidays, Mom visited Terri in Las Vegas or me in New York City.

She kept up with her monthly women’s card club meetings and her girlfriends’ birthday club, and continued to volunteer as a poll worker on election days. She shopped too much – buying stuff that filled her closets and garage, and that often became gifts. “What else can I do?” she would ask, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Go sit down somewhere and wait to die?”

Clearly, Mom had no time for being sick – or for dying.

Between the bowling and the trips and the cancer that eventually consumed her body, Mom taught us about living. In these new days without her, where the wounds of her absence are still fresh and tender, I choose to remember not just the song of her voice and her loving, easy, loving manner; not just her dry wit and adventurous spirit, but also the strength of her determination. Among the many life lessons that I’ve learned from her, these resonate most profoundly and bring me comfort. Some even make me smile.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself

In the nearly six years that she battled cancer, Mom sought to keep her illness to herself and a few of those closest to her. She recalled the troubling responses to friends who had made public their diagnoses. If you don’t feel sorry for yourself, she said, you have no idea whether other people feel sorry for you, and you really don’t care.

With my son, Zach, in 2012.
 

Take a chance

She chose a clinical trial. Black folks are underrepresented in experimental treatment programs – that’s no surprise given our legacy of medical mistrust stemming from brutal and unethical “research” like the Tuskegee syphilis study. A result: doctors are not as clear about how new medical treatments might affect Black patients. There’s no way to know for sure, but I believe that taking a chance bought Mom some time. Of course rates vary for people and their circumstances, butdata show that only 1 percent of stage 4 lung cancer patients survive at least 5 years after diagnosis. Mom lived for nearly 6 years. “I thought this might help me and somebody else,” she said when I once asked what motivated her to try the experimental treatment. And then she smiled. “And they said I wouldn’t lose my hair.”

 Even in illness, your dignity matters

After the experimental treatment was followed by traditional lines of chemo, Mom’s hair had fallen out and returned in uneven patches. She kept it covered with a wig in public and a soft black cotton terrycloth turban at home.

I returned to town the week before Mom passed. When I first saw her in the hospital, I thought not about how tiny and fragile she looked, or how labored her breathing was, but where was her turban? In the rush to get Mom relief from late-stage symptoms, the turban was left at home.

At the hospital the next morning, I greeted her with a grin and a kiss, and asked, Mommy do you want your turban? She smiled and nodded yes. She raised her head slightly and I gently fit the turban on. She whispered, “thank you.” Mom wasn’t vain, but decorum was important – even when receiving company in the hospital.

Say what you need to say however you need to say it

In April, a particularly bad scare brought Terri and me to Michigan. Mom did not ooze sentimentality. We laughed but rarely cried together. As we sat near her hospital bed, Mom told us that she loved us and that she tried to do her best by us. She acknowledged that she may not have been the most effusive mom, and that she even may have been too harsh at times, but whatever she did, she did out of love. We all hugged and cried that day. Terri and I wondered why Mom seemed to be making peace when the doctors did not reflect any sense of urgency. Even so, Mom seemed relieved to share what she needed to share.

Mom's 70th b-day party, with my Stepdad, Oct. 2013.

Make your wishes known

One of the last instructions that Mom gave was that she wanted to go home. And so in her final days, we made arrangements to bring her home from the hospital. Back when she was diagnosed, she also gave instructions – in the form of a living will. She made it clear that she wanted no extraordinary measures to resuscitate and keep her alive if she could not function on her own. She designated her husband, my stepfather, Allen, and me to make medical decisions in the event that she couldn’t. She made those tough choices to spare us all heartache and confusion later. I thank her for her ability to think through the unthinkable.

Have faith
On Friday, July 18, Mom was released from the hospital to hospice care at home. She was scheduled to host her monthly women’s club meeting that Sunday, and all through the week she had been planning her menu. She had asked Aunt Gwen to make the spaghetti that everybody likes, and reminded Cousin Michele to bring the cheese and crackers. Terri and I were assigned salads, lemonade and ice tea. Don’t forget dessert, she said, instructing us to thaw a yellow pound cake she had made and stored in the big freezer in the garage.

Even in her last days, as she no longer ate or drank, she planned away – and asked again and again if we had fetched her new hair from the layaway.

On Sunday morning, July 20, we reluctantly cancelled the club meeting. At 9:50 that evening, Mom made her transition, surrounded by her girls and her oldest granddaughter, her husband and a hospice nurse. All that day it was bright and sunny. I couldn’t help thinking that had she not been ill, Mom would have been with her girlfriends or in her garden or out shopping some more.

With my sister Terri and the girls, 2005.
 

Keep going

At the hospital a few days before she came home, Mom’s doctors gathered my sister, stepfather and me around a light box with a sonogram picture to help us understand how the cancer had advanced. As he illuminated the image, one doctor pointed out the white masses that indicated cancer in her liver. “You see, this one’s from April,” he said. “April?” We all responded at once. She had told none of us about that major development. Looking back, it all made sense. 

On June 15, Mom was on a plane bound for Las Vegas. She wanted to meet her first great-grandchild, Micah, who was born the week before to Bridgette, Terri’s oldest daughter. My aunt Zeola called me. “She wants to go,” she said. “Do you think she’s strong enough?” I asked. “Probably not,” my aunt replied, “but she wants to go. What can we do?” Doctors instructed her to wear an antiviral facemask from airport to airport. Her immune system was just that weak. And so she took her 90-pound self, and with a wheelchair escort, boarded a flight to Vegas where she held her great-grandson and counted his fingers and toes and cooed over him for a week. Then she returned home and asked about her next round of chemo. Let’s wait and see, her doctors said, knowing they could do no more.

We buried Mom in a favorite gauzy peach dress, along with her new wig, a dusky blonde that perfectly complemented her skin. We tucked her bowling shoes and a deck of cards in the casket, with the last book that she was reading. It was our way of acknowledging that her transition wasn’t the end but a pause in her busy schedule.

I am grateful to Mom for showing the courage to look death in the eye and not blink. To embrace life and squeeze out every drop. To go ragged, worn, tired, spent.

As the pastor who eulogized her said, Ora Lee Hughes never gave up – her body just gave out. She knew she didn’t have a say in when she would go. But she would be damned if she’d just sit down somewhere, waiting to die.

Have you heard of interval training? It’s at the core of trainer Shaun T’s crazy workout sensation known as Insanity. If you can get through Insanity – even halfway through – high-five to you. If you’re like the rest of us, then you may need to set your sights a little – OK maybe a lot – lower than that hour-long high-intensity drill.

Good news: New research backs up the theory behind interval training – where you exercise in intense bursts at maximum capacity with short breaks in between – and suggests that a little goes a long way.

“There’s very good evidence” that high-intensity interval training provides “many of the fitness benefits of prolonged endurance training but in much less time,” Chris Jordan, the director of exercise physiology at the Human Performance Institute in Orlando, Fla., and one of the study’s authors, told The New York Times.

The researchers studied the effects of a seven-minute routine of 30-second bursts of intense activity intermingled with 10-second rest periods. This workout ain’t easy, but researchers likened results to taking a long run and a visit to the weight room. Hmm. Seven minutes of Insanity …

Check out the research and the moves.

I once had a client who swore she didn’t like to exercise. “Nope, nah, no way,” were her responses to my suggestions to do yoga, lift weights or try a spin class.

She found workout routines boring and was adamant that boredom kept her from including regular exercise in her routine. Instead of reminding her about the benefits of exercise for weight loss, which she already knew, I suggested that she not do anything she felt “forced” to do, but to consider what kind of movement she liked.

“Really?” she said, “All I like to do is dance.”

And really, that was all she needed.

I suggested she put together a “move your body” soundtrack and sent her fun DVDs like Shaun T’s “Hip-Hop Abs.” And I encouraged her to commit to dancing for 30 minutes straight at least twice a week.

Not everybody likes the gym, or to work with trainers, or to even put on a sports bra. But I don’t know anybody who doesn’t like to dance.  Getting your groove thing on goes beyond burning calories; it can even lift your spirits.  Just get moving and keep moving until you work up a sweat. Start in the privacy of your own home, and if you’re adventurous enough to give a class a twirl, sign up at your local community center or Y, your house of worship or more formal studios.

From salsa to African to tap to belly dancing, you can find a class that suits your taste and level. If you’re a couple, take a class together as a new way to connect.  If you’re single, try a dance class to meet and mingle. 

Dancing boosts our bodies and our moods: It burns calories (anywhere from 250 to 500 per hour) and builds endurance and muscle strength – improving posture as it works your core.  It also releases those feel-good hormones called endorphins.

Dancing also helps your mind and memory. Studies have found that folks who practice ballroom dancing have a reduced incidence of dementia.  Evidently, the mental concentration you need to learn new dance moves keeps your mind agile, like crossword puzzles or learning a new language.

 So if you’re like my client and all you like to do is dance, then get on the good foot – and get it in!

So they still know how to let the good times roll in New Orleans!

I had an amazing experience there recently, as well as the honor to share the stage with some phenomenal women to discuss smart, simple ways that we can take better care of ourselves.

The panel, "Health Journeys and Transformations," was part of ESSENCE magazine's spectacular ESSENCE Fest, a 4th of July weekend jam-packed with great music, empowering, uplifting dialogues, rich, flavorful food and parties all night long!  

The panel covered a wide range of topics, from how to eat more healthfully to the importance of getting in regular exercise to thriving in spite of health challenges such as diabetes, digestive problems or severe alopecia (hair loss). 

One of the delights of the Fest was meeting the talented and suave actor Blair Underwood and his lovely wife and children. They all look to be the epitome of health!

Here are some of the highlights from my whirlwind weekend:

For video: Panelists included Denise Warren, far right, founder of Body by Denise fitness center in New York City, and Laschaunda Cogburn and Michele Bercy, two of her clients who, combined, have lost hundreds of pounds!

Talking "Health Journeys and Transformations" before more than 3,000 people. Dr. Aletha Maybank, left, myself, interior designer and author Sheila Bridges and moderator Sharon Boone, ESSENCE's health editor. 

The one and only fine and friendly Blair Underwood! So great to connect with him and his fam. Catch him in "Ironside" on NBC this fall!

Greeting guests at the book-signing for my book No Secrets No Lies. During that power hour, I also had the pleasure to get to know the gorgeous and talented interior designer Sheila Bridges, whose searing new memoir, The Bald Mermaid, explores her experience of losing her hair to alopecia.

My all-access Talent pass.

Panel's done-- now time to play!

Caught Les Nubians schooling folks on their Afropean soul in one of the intimate superlounges.

Did I mention the crowds? More than 500k -- a record for ESSENCE in New Orleans! 

Many of us have a hate-hate relationship with calories. If you’ve counted then till the cows came home but lost not one pound, you know what I mean. But here’s how calories can be our friend.

We typically fall into one of three calorie-counting camps: The counter, who tallies every last one of them, the guesstimator, who rounds off, and let’s say the ignorer, who eats “what’s good” for them. All three have pros and cons, and all influence how we lose (or gain) weight. 

Counters have a solid sense of calories and fat, cholesterol, sodium, and for those on eating plans, “points,” but when focusing on numbers alone and not nutrients and other values in food, counters can end up making not-so-good choices. Ever substitute an order of fries for a hearty salad because they have about the same calories count? You already know which is better, but if you’re in counting mode, you tell yourself the swap is OK because it’s even – even though you know it’s not. If you’re a counter, you may also feel like a ship without a rudder navigating a restaurant menu or dinner party spread because you have no idea how much salt (or sugar!) went into that pasta dish. 

“Guestimating” works because it gives you a general sense of your calorie count. But guestimators can run into trouble when they “round down,” shaving calories here and there. If you round your calories, you may end up consuming more than you think. The only person you’re cheating is yourself. 

The Ignorer who pays no attention to calories and focuses on “eating what’s good” is on solid ground with clean, whole foods. But challenges lurk because “what’s good” can be vague, and when stressed or frustrated, what’s good may be a “treat” of something sweet (cake), chewy (candy), salty (pretzels) or crunchy (chips) instead of real, whole foods. 

Whether you’re a counter or an estimator or you play it by ear, calories in are calories in. What we need to focus on more is calories out. 

Think of it like bad budgeting: in order to lose weight, you must run a deficit: Calories in must be less than calories out. For maintenance, of course, calories in must equal calories out. You can’t cheat your checkbook because the numbers don’t lie. So let’s shift the spotlight to the cals you burn. Here are some estimates for an hour workout for a 200-pound person (see more exercises courtesy of the Mayo Clinic): 

Low-impact aerobics: 455

Bowling: 273

Bicycling (10 mph) 364

Rollerblading 683

Running (5 mph) 755

Stairmaster 819

Walking (3.5 mph) 391

Other ways to zap cals: 

Invest in a good pedometer so you’re counting your steps each day. The rule of thumb is 10,000, which equals about 5 miles. If you’re not losing enough, take more steps. Inactive people walk about 3,000 SPD. Don’t be one of them.

Stand when you’re on the phone, reading, or working at your computer. Studies show that sitting for long periods of time is not good for your health and in fact can cancel out all that work at the gym. And too many of us (me included) spend too much of our time glued to our computers, tabs and smartphones. So stand up and even – God forbid – step away. And keep steppin’ for a bit. 

Next time you’re inclined to count calories or guestimate or ignore the numbers, base what you eat on the number of calories you’ll burn. Light activity = light breakfast, lunch and dinner. A half-hour of high-impact Zumba plus stretching and walking = heartier dining. Keep counting or guessing or whatever you’ve done, but beware of the downsides, and at the end of the day, make sure to run a deficit. In a week or a month, the losses will add up big time. Want to tailor a diet and exercise combo that works just for you? Book your consultation now. 

Have a Healthy Day! 
Robin

Author Alice Randall has no trouble calling folks out. The writer of four books, including The Wind Done Gone, a provocative take on the “classic” novel ­­Gone With the Wind, does it again through Ada’s Rules: A Sexy Skinny Novel  (Bloomsbury, $15), a charming novel that’s part love story, part diet guide, now in paperback.

Eyes rolled big time when Randall opined last year in The New York Times that “Black women are fat because they want to be.” If you could get past the offense, you could hear her urgent cry that Black people – women in particular, who have a higher obesity rate than men or women of other races – need an attitude adjustment on eating and living more healthfully. 

The larger point, she says: “What we need is a body-culture revolution in Black America.”

She tries to make that point through Ada Howard, the feisty yet vulnerable protagonist in Ada’s Rules. In the course of a year, Ada changes her diet, adds more exercise, spends less time taking care of husband, ailing parents, and everybody else so she can take better care of herself, and encourages her family and friends to improve their health too.  And all the while, Ada’s trying to determine whether her preoccupied hubby, pastor of Nashville’s Full Love Baptist Tabernacle, is transgressing with one of the flock. In the end, if you follow even some of Ada’s 53 rules, you will be on your way toward positive changes that you might see reflected on the scale.

Why a Black woman’s weight-loss story when it seems everybody else is struggling with weight? It’s personal, says Randall, who’s dropped 40 lbs. “I’ve said I want to be the last fat Black woman in my family, and that struck a chord in people’s heart. At the rate we’re going, frankly there will be no old Black ladies in the next generation.”

Here’s what else she had to say:

HealthJones: You share your own struggle with weight loss. How did that influence Ada’s Rules?

Randall: I decided to go on a weight loss journey to get under 200 pounds or have the [weight-loss] surgery. I was reading and getting advice and decided that if I wrote a book at the same time, that would help me stay focused on my goals. I wouldn’t do anything a poor woman couldn’t do. No personal trainer, no one to cook in the house. I wanted to identify low-cost and no-cost ways. The rules came to me as I figured out what worked. I consider myself to be an Ada.

I lost about 40 plus pounds. That’s important because losing just 10 percent of your weight leads to major health improvements. I started at over 225, so just 22.5 pounds equals 10 percent of your body weight – you see a reduction in diabetes risk and cancer risk. I want to empower women to aim for that 10 percent in weight loss. For me, I focused on just getting to 200 pounds. That was a good goal – it got me past 10 percent.

HealthJones: You said black women are fat because they want to be. Why do you say this?

Randall: It’s not just about are you overweight because this is what your husband likes. Many Black men and women appreciate larger Black women. It’s not just a sexual or romantic connection. Think about our grandmothers – my grandmother was big as two houses. I say that admiringly. No one can convince me that she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the world.

Being larger can be the embodiment of political disobedience when your family’s labor has been commodified. Labor and fitness are no longer a simple thing when your fitness has been used for the benefit of others. So the choice can not to be fit can be a political choice.

I grew up in Detroit. My grandmother came up from Selma, Ala. She was born in 1900s. In 1900 Selma, Black women went to the fields to pick cotton from day they were children. If you were a sharecropper working somebody’s land you didn’t get fat. That a Black woman could sit on the porch and get fat was a cultural revolution. We need a new cultural revolution.

HealthJones: In the book, Ada struggles with issues that many may find familiar. What did you want to explore though Ada?

Randall: Low self-esteem; I was was speaking to that. Stress. There are strong relationships between stress, overwork, a history of sexual abuse, workplace trauma and lack of respect.  That’s why one of Ada’s rules is massage your own feet. So much is not in our control. You may not be able to control what causes stress but you can control the processing of stress.

HealthJones: How do you address that cultural change in your own home, say when your sweetie thinks you’re fine just the way you are?

Randall: I had to tell my husband [David] if he did not get out of my way … and I really like him! He liked to encourage me to eat something or figure out some reason to not get on the treadmill. He was benefitting when I was overweight – all the decadent meals. But I introduced him to high-protein Greek yogurt, to scrambled egg whites with spinach. He’s now benefitting with a wife who’s healthier and happier and more peaceful.

HealthJones: What do you want readers to take away from Ada’s Rules?

Randall: I want women know they can enjoy their bodies and their lives more if they take care of their health. Even if they don’t lose one pound, just moving, drinking water and sleeping more has emotional benefits, spiritual benefits. And everybody needs to do it her own way. I want them to put themselves on their own to-do list – it’s a way of showing self-respect.

With New Year’s resolutions fading fast in the rear-view mirror, you might be considering a detox diet to balance out holiday binge or jump-start a commitment to more healthful living.
 

Detox diets, also known as colon-cleansing diets or cleanses, promise benefits like reducing fatigue and alleviating ailments like allergies, asthma and arthritis. Detoxes can also brighten your appearance: A nutritional detox rich in superfoods like leafy green veggies (Vitamins A and C, calcium, iron), salmon, seeds and nuts (Omega-3 fatty acids, B and E Vitamins), chicken, turkey and beans (protein, zinc, iron) and whole grains (zinc, iron, B Vitamins) promotes healthy skin and growth of strong, resilient hair.

The theory behind detoxing: Strictly limit and control what you eat and drink for a period of time to help your digestive system get rid of internal and environmental toxins – and to help identify possible allergy triggers. Though there’s little scientific evidence that detoxing works any faster or better than your body's own natural cleansing system, some health care practitioners and detoxers swear by it.

Detoxes range from the “Master Cleanse” cayenne pepper/lemon juice/maple syrup fast to juice or soup cleanses to a “nutritional cleanse” of high-fiber shakes and supplements and simple meals made of fresh, whole ingredients. Detoxers beware: any eating plan that severely restricts nutrients for an extended period of time can be detrimental to your health. And even in the short run, a detox diet can backfire if you rebound to old habits.

I consider a healthy detox a way to reset your eating habits, rid your diet of foods that aren’t good for you and try new foods that are. A couple of years ago I completed a 21-day nutritional cleanse. It left me with lots of energy, “recalibrated” taste buds and a few pounds lighter. Because I ate whole, fresh, flavorful foods, I didn’t feel as if I was depriving myself. Today when I’ve been super indulgent, (say, Christmas through New Year’s) I return to the principles of my cleanse to get back on track.

If you want to detox, check with your doctor first, especially if you have chronic health issues and take medication. Figure out what type of detox will work for you, your level of patience and your lifestyle. Then be sure to do the following:  

1. Drink 8 to 10 glasses of water daily.
2. Avoid all processed foods. Prepare your own meals as often as you can.
3. Give yourself at least 12 hours’ digestion time between evening and morning meals (snacks too).
4. Commit and stick to it. But be mindful of your body’s mental and physical changes. Temporary side effects, depending on the cleanse, might include tiredness, headache, acne and constipation. If they are prolonged or worsen, stop and see your health professional.

Once you’re done, maintain your results by eating a well-rounded fruit-and-veggie based diet with whole grains, beans, nuts and legumes and lean protein.

If you ask them, most of my friends and family would say I’m a certified health nut. I don’t see myself that way. But I do get excited about making a “traditional” recipe just as tasty but better for your body. And the seasons’ bests thrill me: summer’s sweet, sweet strawberries, cherries and corn on the cob, fall’s full-bodied squash, pumpkins and yams and spring’s awesome asparagus.

I eat real food and for the most part avoid stuff that’s fake—that is, stuff that’s processed or bioengineered or and packaged in boxes or bags. I don’t really care for working out or taking the stairs instead of the escalator, but I like the results: doing so keeps me fit, firm and feeling my best. I regularly make time to move my body and quiet my mind.

The last time I was in a fast-food spot, it was for a bathroom break last spring while visiting the World Trade Center memorial. As soon as I stepped in, I knew why I hadn’t been in a fast-food restaurant in years. The smell of grease and hyperprocessed food turned my stomach so much that I had to wait for my friend outside. I could "hold it" till I got somewhere less offensive. Call me a health nut, but my body knows when stuff is no good for me. 

I believe in Hippocrates’ quote “Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food.” We have become addicted to eating, turning to foods to nourish areas of our lives that it can’t: relationships, satisfaction on the job or in a career, spiritual peace, entertainment, happiness. Meanwhile, we’re growing sicker and sicker, and looking to drugs and medical intervention to heal us when it only salves the symptoms and patches us up. The answer to what ails us usually starts with what we put in our grocery carts. We simply need to stop and think before we buy.

That’s why I started HealthJones, a holistic health and nutritional consulting practice. I work with women in particular to help them learn to think before they buy what will ultimately heal or harm them. Often that means helping them get out of their own way so they can identify, embrace and then realize their health goals. I’m thrilled when I can help my clients to do just that: Whether its losing 20 pounds or getting rid of GERD or finding more energy or reviving long-dormant dreams, we work together, step by step, to drop old habits and adopt a new way of looking at food, fulfillment and fitness that works just for them.

On a bright day in late fall, with mellow jazz in the background and mimosas front and center, I shared that philosophy with more than 40 guests who joined me to celebrate the official launch of HealthJones. We feasted on a gluten-free menu featuring a seasonal favorite, squash-infused Carrot-Ginger Soup, along with Tortilla Quinoa Salad with Cilantro-Lime Dressing (so good somebody asked if they could take the dressing home), Turkey Chili and a Salmon Pasta Salad (made with Ancient Harvest quinoa “Pagoda” pasta and low-fat mayo). For dessert: a wheat-free version of my “world famous” Oatmeal-Cranberry Flaxseed Cookies (gone in no time flat). All dishes made by me and with love (and all recipes found on this site).

We chatted about women’s most common and pressing health challenges: sorting through conflicting and confusing information. Feeding a hungry family. Finding time and making room for simple changes that have profound and lasting effects. Generating energy. Quieting a turbulent digestive system. Conditioning a body to serve you well. My HealthJones custom program does all of that and more.

I told my guests that, as I neared my 48th birthday, I intended to enjoy another 52 summers (my favorite season) and I want them all to be able to celebrate with me. I want clients to take the long view – to look beyond tomorrow’s parent-teacher meeting and Sunday’s service, that big project at work and parent’s doctors’ appointments. To—as the flight attendants say in the event of an emergency—put your mask on first. Do you first. That way, you’ll be here to do all those other things too. That’s what HealthJones is—your fix for healthy living. And what’s nutty about that?