So it is Monday morning and I’m not going to the office today. I am exactly one day shy of two weeks since having elective surgery on my neck. Why one would elect to have surgery on their neck is a curious notion. Suffice it to say that I “elected” to have surgery sooner rather than later to prevent further problems down the line.

My experience as a patient has been a poignant reminder that to be a truly caring doctor, one must be both empathetic and compassionate. According to the  Merriam-Webster Dictionary, “Compassion is the sympathetic awareness of another’s distress together with the desire to alleviate it. Empathy is the ability to share someone else’s feelings or experience by imagining what it would be like to be in their situation.”  Well my dear friends, I am walking in the shoes of a patient (actually they were more like slippers) and know firsthand the angst and anxiety of anticipating  treatment as well as the actual aftermath of spinal surgery.

The Backstory:

Some years ago, I was told that I had evidence of spinal stenosis developing in my neck. I took the news in stride. As gruesome as it may sound, it’s actually quite common; one does not reach middle age without some form of arthritis. Remember that old football injury? Well, I didn’t play football but, thirty years of dentistry and lugging around this big head of mine (no, not my ego, I actually have a big head) had done their damage. Thankfully, I had no symptoms to report…..that is until I sold my house, began the never ending remodeling of our NYC apartment (15 months and counting) and slept on a Murphy bed for four months. Talk about STRESS! OH MY ACHING NECK!!!!!!!

Physical therapy and chiropractic care helped control the pain. BUT, who has the time to run for treatment four days/week for months and months? Well, you make the time! And so I did for more than six months. As a patient, I was burning out on the endless run of office visits. I was frustrated by the incremental improvement. I felt imprisoned by my predicament and I have no doubt that I was losing an important part of myself i.e., my joie de vivre.

So, after two MRI’s and two EMG studies (not the most pleasant experience having electricity shot down your nerves), I consulted with three surgeons. I elected to have Dr. Michael Neuwirth, Head of the Spine Institute at Beth Israel Hospital, perform conservative surgery on the back of my neck. Strangely, once I made the decision to have the surgery, I began to feel better. Literally, my symptoms all but disappeared, which certainly speaks volumes about the mind/body connection. The problem still existed, but perhaps the mental and emotional relief of an imminent “fix” reduced the muscle tension that was exacerbating my condition. I knew rationally that I was doing the right thing despite my fears of “going under the knife.”

Update:

So it’s been said that life is what happens when you’re busy making plans. I was planning on and looking forward to being in the office today. Ha! A” funny” thing happened on my way to recovery…I developed an infection, had to be readmitted to the hospital and had more surgery on Saturday.

So instead of taking care of my patients, it is I who is the patient. And, I can say that I am  being cared for very well. I feel very fortunate to be in the hands of such wonderful healers. I don’t use the term healer lightly. There are doctors, nurses and therapists who perform their duties responsibly and competently. Then there are those who go above and beyond reasonable expectations and care for you because they really CARE FOR YOU. Healers don’t do anything TO their patients, they do whatever they can FOR them to help them get well. I am so lucky to be in such wonderful hands. This medical set -back could have been a disaster if it were not for the dedication, compassion and quick action of my healers.

While this experience as a patient has been a literal pain in the neck, I do believe that the insight I have gained will help make me not just a better doctor, but a more compassionate healer as well.

I hope to be back in the office soon. In the meantime, cards, letters, flowers, and snacks are welcome.

Boxes, boxes everywhere. The movers just left and I’m sitting in our NYC living room for the first time (amen)! Our 15-month period of displacement is drawing to a close with the delivery of our worldly possessions not seen since they were put into storage in September 2010. I’m not going to rehash the exasperating details of our odyssey from Ardsley to the Upper West Side via a 51-week layover in Yonkers, but in the words of the Grateful Dead, “what long strange trip it’s been.”

So here I am on December 30th staring at all of these boxes filled with stuff that we accumulated over the decades and realize that if I never saw half of it again, I wouldn’t miss it. I honestly don’t remember everything that we decided to pack up and deemed important enough to pay $400/month to keep in storage. But as I delved into the first cartons, I was struck with a certain curiosity as to what our mind-set was when we were deciding what was worth keeping. Interestingly, the first three things I randomly unpacked were a beer stein, our wedding picture, and a book about dental esthetics (all very important). Then came the plastic potted plants, LEGO’s, old college text books, decorative ornaments of all types including an assortment of soap dishes, countless chargers that don’t match our current phones….I mean what were we thinking?

So I stepped back from the columns of corrugated containers and began to ponder (metaphorically) about the baggage we all carry. Much if not most of it is volitional; that is, we have what we have because we have worked hard to get it. But some of this baggage that we schlep around is not wanted at all-we’re just too busy to notice. The baggage I am referring to is stress and the burden of carrying this extra load does take its toll both physically and mentally. These past few years have been extremely difficult for many of us. Some are working harder than ever just to keep their heads above water. Being bogged down and pulled under by the “extra weight” of stress only makes for tougher going. While as individuals we can’t change the reality of a poor economy, we can unburden ourselves by taking better care of ourselves. Being more health conscious when eating, exercising more, perhaps joining a yoga class or taking a time out for a walk are just a few suggestions to help reduce stress.

I know that aside from a lot of useless stuff that I have boxed up and carried to New York at no small expense, I have put on 25 unwanted pounds (talk about extra baggage) over the past 15 months because of stress. Comfort food can be so soothing after battling with contractors. But when it’s all said and done, I’m the one stuck holding the bag (actually it’s more of a roll and a belly.)

So, as we are about to embark on a new year, I wish you all a happy, healthy and prosperous 2012. And if I may be so bold, take a moment to take stock of your stuff, perhaps there is some baggage you can shed to lighten your load.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

I recall a time when it was considered impolite to ask a woman her age (perhaps it still is), but there does come a time in one’s life that one’s age becomes a source of great pride and accomplishment. Something that was once kept discreetly private is transformed into a medal of honor to be proudly displayed.

My Mom

Last weekend, I flew to California with my family to celebrate my mother’s 80^th birthday. A veritable gala was thrown by her wonderful friends Donna and Irene (24 years and 10 years her junior). Some forty celebrants were there to pay tribute to my mother’s youth, and I do mean youth. Half the people there had no idea that my mother is an octogenarian (that is until they received the invitation).

Many were her bowling pals who have witnessed her prowess in the alley where her average hovers around 150. Some have gone out dancing with her into the wee hours. And all of them know her to be a ball of fire and the life of any party-especially her own.

So with her cover blown, my mother’s birthday was a celebration of life lived with enthusiasm and joy. No mention of decades past, but much anticipation for the days to come. Perhaps the secret to aging gracefully is not to look back and mourn days gone by, but instead to look forward to the future for new experiences that have yet to occur.

Yesterday, I treated three successive patients with the following birthdates:

• 7/25/1920

• 10/22/1920

• 9/20/1916

I’ll do the math for you, two 91 year olds, and one 95 year old. Each had their own “Je ne sais quoi.” Sylvia watched CNBC while in the dental chair to follow her investments. She had been living with chronic back pain for years until she found a doctor earlier this year willing to perform surgery. Now pain-free and with a bounce in her step, she never has an idle moment.

Teresa sadly lost her two sisters this year. For the past 3½ years she was caretaker for one of them. With no children of her own, she suddenly finds herself to be the family matriarch with her five nephews and nieces vying for her attention. A novel experience for her, which she describes with a smile on her face.

And then there’s Mr. Goldmark who survived the Russian front during WWII while fighting in the Hungarian army. He is a veritable speed demon with his two canes. Always on time (even in the snow), he couldn’t get out of the chair fast enough to race home. His wife broke her hip three weeks ago and is still (but not for long) in a wheel chair. He wanted to take her outside to enjoy the beautiful weather. (And yes, he pushes the wheel chair himself).

So my point: Happy Birthday Mom; and to Sylvia, Teresa, Mr. Goldmark, and all of you who are young at heart:

Carpe Diem (SEIZE THE DAY!)

Dr. Michael Sinkin has been practicing dentistry for over two decades. He truly cares about the experience his patients have and takes great pride in making them feel relaxed and comfortable during every visit. Come in for an appointment and experience a different kind of dental practice. You may even receive a healthy dose of Dr. Sinkin’s famous comic relief!
To find out more about Dr. Sinkin, please click here

I would like to share a tale or more precisely a tail that is, in my estimation, a quintessential New York experience that proves to me that the milk of human kindness flows as freely in NYC as does the Hudson River along the western banks of this unique island.

Sunday was a gorgeous sunny summer-like day, which inspired Ann and me to take Willy, our 15-year-old Golden Retriever for a walk in Riverside Park. We had seen the NYC Greenway along the Hudson many times during our daily commute from Westchester and couldn’t wait to hit “our” trail. Willy was excited to see the water and with tail wagging, the three of us began our trek at 99th Street and headed north. There were people and their canine companions galore. Runners, walkers, and cyclists breezing by us as we pranced, then plodded, along our route uptown.

At about 120th Street our pace had slowed markedly, that is until Willy decided he had gone far enough and just plopped down on a patch of grass and wouldn’t budge. A woman cyclist came to a stop to behold our pooped-out pooch. She dismounted from her bike and began to give Willy copious amounts of water from her bottle all the while cooling and caressing him. She offered to put Willy on her bicycle, but somehow I couldn’t picture a 75 lb. dog sitting in her basket. We thanked her for her kindness and decided to rest along the riverbank.

After a while, we decided to head back home—that is Ann and I decided. Willy had other ideas; namely, he wasn’t going anywhere. His 15-year-old arthritic hips had had it. What’s a father to do?

I hoisted Willy upon my shoulder and began the march downtown. UGGH! After ten minutes, I had to stop. People were watching us with amusement and while Willy was content to be coddled and carried, I did not see the humor in our predicament. Some time passed and once again, alley-oop! Willy was on my shoulder and away we went.

This continued on and off for while (a long while), when from out of the blue a couple of roller-bladers came along side us with a stroller and asked us if they could help. They offered us the use of their stroller (I wondered what they were going to do with their child in as much as they were on skates). They were as insistent as I was bewildered. Joyce and Jeremy were Willy’s saviors. Joyce popped off her skates and slaked Willy’s thirst with her water. Jeremy opened the top of the stroller to reveal two tiny pugs (no baby). The baby stroller was in fact a pet stroller and with Jeremy’s help, Willy was hoisted into his red “chariot.” Jeremy and Joyce were a young couple and avid dog lovers and to me they represent all that’s special about New Yorkers. They urged us along and would meet us at 99th Street.

Twenty minutes later, Willy dismounted refreshed and renewed and the wheeled footed Jeremy appeared to reclaim his canine carriage. Refusing any form of gratitude besides a heart-felt thank you, Jeremy disappeared as quickly as he arrived. What a wonderful welcome to New York. Thank you Jeremy and Joyce.

So my son just completed another year of college and came “home” for a well-deserved vacation. I say “home” in quotes because Ann and I are still in temporary digs in Yonkers while we do the co-op shuffle trying to get work done in our real but as yet unoccupied apartment in NYC (we were warned about the hazards of co-op life where it seems everyone has a horror story; the problem is that you don’t know the story until you’re sucked into it and then it’s too late-you’ve entered the twilight zone).

So Jon came “home” last Sunday and after a nice dinner out (we don’t use the kitchen), we watched a movie and got ready for bed. Ann and I gave up on the Murphy bed and climbed onto our mattress and box spring on the floor. Jon got the sofa bed. We felt nice and cozy in our single room and I drifted off to sleep only to be awakened every 1/2 hour or so with shouts “Dad stop snoring!”

I was exhausted the next day. Sleep interrupted. I called Jon from the office, “I know I snore. Mom knows I snore. You know I snore. DO NOT WAKE ME UP AGAIN TO TELL ME I SNORE. Go to CVS and get ear plugs.”

The next evening was uneventful. I slept soundly even through my wife’s 4:45am alarm. When I awoke at 6:15, I had company. My 6’2 230lb baby was sleeping next to me. Certainly not the pajama-clad tot from yesteryear, but still my baby boy.

I couldn’t resist smelling his head and giving him a peck before getting up. I guess my snoring isn’t as bad as he moaned it was, or maybe the metal bar on the sofa bed is worse.

Who said you can never go back home?

As I write this piece, I am sitting on an airplane homeward bound after a 12 day “sabbatical” from New York and clinical practice.

The first leg of my trip was to San Antonio, Texas where I attended the annual meeting of AADPA (American Academy of Dental Practice Administration). Essentially, this is a four-day conference dedicated to raising the awareness of its members in pursuit of excellence without necessarily talking about the clinical dentistry (though there is always time set aside to discuss emerging technology). Business leaders, psychologists, futurists are among the invited lecturers. There are also a variety of motivational speakers who discuss a wide range of topics designed to inspire introspection and personal growth.

Such topics include the art of listening and healing, the essential qualities of leadership, how to embrace change as a growth experience, how to live a balanced life….

In the past I have heard some truly remarkable people share their insights: Rabbi Harold Kushner (Why Bad Things Happen To Good People and When All You Ever Wanted Isn’t Enough), Steven Covey (Seven Habits of Highly Successful People), John Izzo (Second Innocence: Rediscovering Joy and Wonder), and Mark Hansen and Jack Canfield (Chicken Soup For The Soul). To hear their eloquence, to feel the power of their words, to see an audience of professionals moved to tears, is akin to experiencing an epiphany.

One of the most empowering speakers this year was Chad Hymas who at age 27 tragically broke his neck and was left a quadriplegic. With two small children and a wife, his was a tale of overcoming unimaginable and overwhelming obstacles. His personal triumphs are a testament of sheer determination spurred by the unrelenting tough love of his father. His message: “If I can cope with the challenges I face each and every day (dressing, bathing being an involved husband and father), what’s your excuse?”

Chad has over 100 speaking engagements a year throughout the country and travels alone confined to a wheelchair with limited use of his hands. In fact the day after he spoke to us, he was travelling to Africa to speak before an audience of 10,000. WOW!

So after four days of meetings from 7am-4:30pm, I left San Antonio for Vail, Colorado for six days of skiing with my wife in the beautiful awe-inspiring vistas of the Rocky Mountains. What a wonderful setting to take a time-out and cogitate over what I had just experienced, and to recognize and appreciate how wonderful life truly is.
I count my blessings and am truly thankful.

I return to New York renewed in spirit and rested in mind and body (rubber legs not withstanding!).

So, moving day has finally arrived: 75 boxes, 2 miles of packing tape, several hundred yards of bubble wrap, reams of newspaper and countless contractor bags; we are sealed up, stacked up and waiting for the movers to arrive.

Staring at all of these boxes in an otherwise empty room, did I just hear our collective sigh of relief that we actually pulled this all together or our gasp of abject terror that we are about to vacate our home of nearly two decades?

I have often told my children that in order to expand one’s comfort zone, one must step out  of it and thus by definition, be uncomfortable. Well, the movers are late, we met with the co-  op board last night and as yet don’t know their decision on our “desirability” and I haven’t  had a cup of coffee this morning because the coffee maker is in one of the boxes that we’ve  been staring at for the last five minutes. So no doubt about it, I’m pretty damn uncomfortable.

“Why did we decide to leave home sweet home?” I think this, but I dare not say it (not with Ann standing right next to me.) My mind is in overdrive filled with conflicting thoughts: New adventures await us?  (I’m going to miss my friend Richie.) The vibrancy of the city will awaken our intellectual and cultural curiosity? (This is such a nice neighborhood.) Leave the familiar for the yet to be discovered? Broaden our horizon-expand our comfort zone? (The backyard sure looks beautiful.)

Ah! The movers have arrived and Ann and I get caught up in a whirlwind of activity. “These boxes go into long-term storage; that carton is for temporary storage; I’ll put that one in my car and bring it down to Yonkers.”  We are in full swing now. A cadre of muscular men marches up and down the stairs moving all that was in…out. I’m now getting excited from all of the activity.

As the house empties, my sentimental attachment loosens its bonds. This was lovely house made beautiful by my wife’s creativity, enlivened by my children’s activities, and enriched by precious moments with friends and family. It is filled with many wonderful memories; but now it is nearly void of all that was ours. It is indeed a lovely house, but is no longer our home.

The moving truck is nearly full. The phone rings! It’s our wonderful realtor, Valerie Sherman, with timely news: the co-op board has approved our application and extends their welcome. West End Avenue, here we come! (with a short layover in Yonkers, N.Y.)

The truck pulls out of the driveway with Ann and I in tow. One door closed, another has opened.  This feels right. I am indeed excited.

I am comfortable.

My wife and I are in the midst of making some exciting changes in our lives (no, we are not getting a divorce!). Our daughter Ashley is halfway through her Masters degree for Occupational Therapy and living on The Lower Eastside. Our 6’2” baby, Jonathan, is entering his senior year at the University at Buffalo. That means Ann and I are EMPTY-NESTERS!!!

Now, for all of you young parents, (I mean those of you with young children because I certainly don’t think of myself as old, far from it!), the thought of being in a house without your kids might seem a bit daunting. Just realize, we are not sending 6 year olds out on their own: they grew-up on us! Life inches by, day to day, but the years do fly.

So, I say again with a sense of the bittersweet and a whole bunch of excitement, WE ARE EMPTY-NESTERS!!!

This past spring, we put our Westchester home on the market and began the search for a new abode in Manhattan. It’s hard to believe that eighteen years of child rearing with memories of many milestones have passed (first day of school, first time bicycling without training wheels, first basketball game, first time giving a driving lesson, first car accident….second car accident , first boyfriend, first girlfriend, nursery school, middle school, high school graduations, etc, etc.) Yes, lots of wonderful times! And here we are about to begin a new chapter in our personal history and embark on a new adventure in the Big Apple! (Let the record show that our children are neither sad nor indifferent-which would be much worse. They are actually psyched for us!)

Eastside, Westside, all around the town …we searched…Uptown, Downtown….almost landed in the West Village. Home selling and house hunting is quite a process with lots of drama, characters and emotions (hmm, maybe the makings of a reality TV show).

About four weeks ago, everything fell into place. We nailed down the sale of our house and were able negotiate and sign contracts for an Upper Westside apartment in a prewar building on West End Avenue (love those 10 foot ceilings!) Even in this “depressed real estate market”, we managed to get into a last minute bidding war (where do these mysterious out-of-the-blue all cash offers come from anyway?).  One last hurdle to clear: we need co-op board approval. (Was it Groucho Marx who, said, “I wouldn’t want to join a club that would have me as a member). In the meantime, we are busy packing.

Ann and I are “over the top” excited, nervous and ready to take on Manhattan. The first time we saw the “almost-ours” apartment, we each encountered respective patients of ours in the building. We took it as a welcoming sign.

Our time is now. We are ready to become a couple again and go out on dates and rediscover the wonders of the city as we did in our formative years. We are singularly in a New York State of Mind.