“What is happiness except the simple harmony between a person and the life they live?” ~ Albert Camus
I have a friend who rose before dawn for six hundred days in a row. On every one of those mornings he took a cold shower, practiced a Kundalini yoga kriya, and exhaled a hundred vigorous Sat Nams into the dark. Along the way, he reported, he fell back in love with his life. He lost weight, found contentment, parented three kids and took a second job. He began teaching yoga himself and wearing white.
His dedication to the spiritual path was inspiring. The only things I’ve ever managed to do every day are brush my teeth and make my bed. My husband flosses seven nights a week. I try, but sometimes, for no good reason, I just skip it.
A decade ago, because I adored the teacher and because I was impressed by my friend’s dramatic transformation, I enrolled in a local Kundalini yoga teacher training and made my own commitment to cold showers and pre-dawn yoga practice. Getting out of a warm bed in the chilly darkness, leaving my sleeping husband and dog, gasping as the icy water hit my body at 4:30 in the morning, wrapping a white cotton scarf around my head before doing fifty squats and chanting mantras, I felt empowered but also tired and a little silly. Give it time, I told myself. You’ll get used to it. I didn’t.
Although the training was just one long weekend a month for ten months, the three-minute cold showers and pre-dawn yoga were meant to become daily lifelong rituals. I gave it a good try. Yet while my classmates reported emotional breakthroughs, newfound calm, and moments of epiphany, I felt increasingly resentful and exhausted and ridiculous. Also, I felt like a failure, by turns fraudulent and peevish, annoyed that this thing I had committed to doing seemed more like a ball and chain in my life than a liberation of my spirit.
Why, I wondered, did a routine that forms the basis of an entire school of yoga, one intended to calm your mind and energize your body, make me so miserable? I loved so much about that introduction to Kundalini yoga – the ethereal music, the chants, the energizing Breath of Fire, the sequences that were said to clear old hurts and scars and heal the endocrine system, and the spicy black tea we students sipped together after practice. But I also realized I was never going to become a Kundalini yogi. My entire system rebelled. I wanted to wake up with my husband, not an hour and a half before him. I wanted a hot shower. I felt uncomfortable with my head swaddled in a turban. I wanted to move my body in ways that felt supportive and good, not according to a sequence of poses written down years ago by someone who didn’t know me.
Most of all, I didn’t want to do anything every single day. Humbled, struggling to accept myself as a person lacking the self-discipline required for spiritual enlightenment or rigor, I left the training two months before it ended, rolled up my white headscarf and tucked it away in a drawer, and returned to my old weekly yoga class.
I had my first Dexa scan three years ago, a few weeks before my first hip replacement. The results, I was told in an email from my doctor’s office, could be found by logging into a patient portal: osteopenia. At the time, the news that my bone density was lower than normal seemed like the least of my worries. A dear friend had just died. I was preparing for two major surgeries. My doctor didn’t seem to think the condition warranted so much as a conversation, let alone an office visit. I made a mental note to think about buying some hand weights once my two new hips were in place and went back to reading about post-op PT. I barely gave osteopenia another thought
In November, realizing I’d met my insurance deductible for the year, I asked my doctor if it might be a good idea to recheck my bones. She’d never mentioned it again, and it wouldn’t have occurred to me to request a follow up had the test not been covered by insurance. This time, I got a phone call to come in to her office for the results.
“You have osteoporosis,” the doctor said mildly, without looking up. “A considerable amount of bone loss, which puts you at a high risk for fragility fractures, which are breaks that happen spontaneously, without any warning. I’ll write you a prescription. You can take this medication for four years. After that, we don’t recommend you continue because there are side effects with long-term use.”
I didn’t know much about osteoporosis at that point. But sitting there, absorbing this news as she stared at her computer, I did know one thing: my doctor was not seeing a person in front of her whose life expectancy had just grown dramatically shorter, she was seeing some numbers on a screen. She would be happy to write me a prescription, but she had no interest in the long-term health of my bones. Or in me. I was going to have to become my own student of bones.
Back at home, I scooped some yogurt (calcium!) into a bowl, switched on my laptop, and dove into my new assignment. If you’ve ever turned to Google to learn more about something happening in your body, you know: for every scrap of advice you turn up, there seems to be some other opinion that contradicts the first. But when it comes to bones there are quite a few facts that are universally agreed upon, from the mortality rates of hip fractures and the sobering statistic that one out of two women over fifty will experience an osteoporosis fracture in her life, to the importance of vitamin D, calcium-rich foods, and regular weight-bearing exercise.
To me the biggest surprise was that I had become so porous so fast, a fracture waiting to happen. I’d been pretty sure I was already taking good care of my bones. I exercise and practice yoga. I do eat well. I take a walk most days and turn my face to the sun. And yet, according to the numbers, my 60-year-old bones are equivalent in mass to those of an average 85-year-old woman. In three short years, I’d lost 27% of the bone density in my wrist and forearm. I was at risk for more bone loss, fragility fractures, and kyphosis. Suddenly, the possibility of a slip in the kitchen or a fall on the ice had become terrifying.
When I first sat down with my Dexa scan results in front of a website that helped me translate all the various measurements, I went from shock and disbelief to anger. Why had the doctor completely ignored the osteopenia three years earlier? Why had no physician ever talked with me in the past about my own high risk for osteoporosis and how to prevent it?
Would I have listened? If I’d known twenty years ago, at forty, what I now know at sixty, could I have avoided this condition altogether?
I suspect the answer to that last question is yes. There is so much I could have done, had I only known what to do. I also realize there’s no point in looking back with self-reproach to all the collard greens and almond butter I didn’t eat, the weights I didn’t lift, the Vitamin D I didn’t take.
But I feel certain I made the right call when I walked out of the doctor’s office that day without a prescription in my hand and went in search of another path.
Over these last few months, I’ve had so much blood drawn for further tests that the lab at the hospital sent me a “thank you” card signed by all the members of the staff. (When you get an osteoporosis diagnosis, the first thing you want to do is have some other things checked, especially your thyroid and Vitamin D level.) I’ve read a whole stack of books by doctors and chiropractors and nutritionists. I’ve spent countless hours on line and compared notes with friends who are in the same boat I am, our zest for life and our sense of ourselves as healthy and strong butting up against the reality of our fragile skeletons.
Bones, it turns out, are amazingly complex living structures that require knowledgeable care and feeding from many different sources. And it’s never too late to start making them stronger and healthier.
I’ve learned a lot about who’s most at risk for osteoporosis (white, thin, small-boned, fair-skinned, post-menopausal, women like me, for starters), why bones become brittle and how spontaneous fractures happen, why this condition, although invisible and painless until fractures occur, can’t be ignored, and how medication, though sometimes necessary, creates its own set of risks and problems. I’ve changed doctors and I’ve changed my diet. (I do not come home from the grocery store without brussels sprouts, bok choy, kale, almonds, and figs.) I’ve started a regime of supplements and vitamins. I’ve also changed the rhythm of my days, the way I spend my time, and even my attitude about being alive and growing old.
One of my first internet searches was “yoga and osteoporosis.” One click, and I was ordering Dr. Loren Fishman’s groundbreaking book Yoga for Osteoporosis, which offered exactly the encouragement I was desperate to hear: namely, it is possible to treat osteoporosis, in part, with the thing I like to do most. According to Dr. Fishman’s research, a regular practice of a series of twelve classical poses has been proven to strengthen bones and help prevent fractures. (He’s done a clinical study. It works. YAY!)
What I didn’t quite grasp, until my friend Maude and I took a fortuitously timed weekend workshop with Dr. Fishman at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health a few weeks later, was that just going through the motions wouldn’t build our bones. Therapeutic yoga poses for osteoporosis have to be done every day, seven days a week, for maximum benefit. Poses have to be held, ideally, for a full minute. Held with full-on effort, precise alignment, and maximum resistance. Held with every muscle engaged, every breath complete, every ounce of intention and energy summoned and brought to bear while you work harder at your yoga practice than you have ever worked before. (Gentle yoga? Forget it.)
For two days, we repeated the same twelve familiar yoga poses with every possible modification. We held them as if our lives depended on it, which, in a way, they do. We left on Sunday afternoon exhausted and exhilarated and hopeful, and feeling the very opposite of fragile.
“By our sixties,” Mary Pipher writes in her illuminating, insightful new book Women Rowing North, “we may think the way we did in our forties, but our bodies don’t act that age. Intimations of mortality can make us sad and fearful, but they can also wake us up. Until we understand how short life is, many of us make the mistake of thinking our routines will go on forever.”
Since turning fifty, I’ve lost three close friends who didn’t make it to sixty. Each of these dear women, in her own way, approached the too-soon end of life by finding deeper satisfaction in the small pleasures and unexpected moments of grace that are so easily missed or taken for granted in our mindless rush to get to the next thing. Each of them transformed their initial “Why me?” reaction to a terminal diagnosis into a philosophical “why not me?” acceptance of the truth: that life is random and death inevitable, that tragedy is universal, that good health is not a given, and that each moment that we’re still here on the planet with our loved ones is a gift. When death draws near, we see at last what really matters. We have an opportunity to approach what time is left with more awareness, intention, and gratitude. Suddenly we can choose to live as if the moments, the days, the years really count. I sensed that myself as I blew out the candles on my birthday cake last fall: there’s no more time to waste.
I still feel like a beginner at being old. But I learned so much about how precious life is, and how ephemeral, from my friends who are no longer here. “Live your life,” my friend Diane urged me during many of our final conversations. She wanted me to write my books and to spend time with my family, to travel and to keep climbing mountains. She wanted me to carry on after she was gone in a way that wouldn’t ever give rise to regret for moments missed or love unspoken.
“You have osteoporosis,” is not good news to receive, but it’s a far cry indeed from a terminal diagnosis. I am just one of the eight million other women in this country with low bone density. For me, however, this new reality has been a wake-up call.
This diagnosis has brought home to me, in a way that even three years of arthritis pain and two hip replacements did not, the fact that life is finite and so am I. It has revealed that my body and I (“I” being that voice inside my head) are in a partnership, and that we must work together for the greater good of us both for as long as we are able. Osteoporosis has given me no choice but to take charge of my own health, to learn all there is to know about how to take better care of myself, and to make well-informed choices about what medications and supplements I take, what I eat, and what I do.
I would like to live for a long time – to live without cracking a rib when I sneeze, without losing an inch of my height, without rounding forward with a succession of hairline spinal fractures, without fear of getting hurt.
Of course, I also want to live without giving up the things I love to do. And this is where surrender comes in. Adjustments must be made. And so I’m learning that, with the right attitude, letting go is possible. I may not run or shovel snow or do forward folds and headstands anymore, but perhaps the very fact that I must give up a few things allows a deeper sense of gratitude for all that’s left, which, at this point is plenty. I do take extra care walking across the driveway after it’s snowed, but I can also put on my IceSpikes and hike up the mountain with ease. I can return a backhand to my husband on a (clay) tennis court. The day will come when these physical activities, too, will be a memory. My hope is that by then I’ll have grown more skilled at this task of accepting what can’t be changed.
As I watch my parents, both in their eighties, greet each day with good cheer and appreciation, I realize how much they still have to teach me — lessons of fortitude, resilience, and grace. Their own health issues are never far from any of our minds, and yet they do what they can with joy and good humor. This week, I’m with them in Florida, savoring the pleasure of being nothing but a daughter. Each morning, we gather in the living room and I guide my mom and dad through a yoga practice; for an hour or so they are my willing students, breathing their bodies into unfamiliar shapes and places, stretching muscles they had forgotten they even possessed. The learning, if our hearts and minds are open, can flow both ways.
“We shouldn’t be taking all this time out of your day,” my dad protested yesterday. On the contrary. My father is a man who feels naked without his shoes and socks on. To watch him lift and spread his bare toes, inhaling and exhaling, trying something brand new at age eighty-three, is both a delight and a memory to be stored. There is nothing I’d rather be doing.
Maybe this is how enlightenment works. You get the wake-up call, the clunk on the head, the message that is too loud and too insistent to ignore. And then you have a choice. You can turn away and go back to sleep, or you can dive in deep and allow the current of your life to carry you to places you never expected to go. As the time in front of us grows shorter, life’s beauty comes into sharper focus. There is something energizing about seeing the truth of one’s own mortality more clearly.
These days, I’m more aware than ever before that the moments I spend with the people I love are to be treasured not squandered. I’m more grateful than ever before that I am fit enough to climb that mountain, to take a nine-mile hike, to sweat it out for thirty minutes on the elliptical machine at the gym. In deference to my bones’ need for exercise, I actually find myself sitting less and moving more. (That does also mean writing less, alas, at least for now.)
And there is this. Ten years after my failed attempt at pre-dawn cold showers and Kundalini kryas, I’m doing something I never thought I could: thirty minutes of intense, challenging yoga a day. Every day. I stand in tree pose, unwavering, for a minute, breathing steadily. I am stronger than I’ve been in years. I’m not quite ready to say that my low T score was a gift, but it may turn out to be.
some resources
If you wish to strengthen your bones with yoga, Dr. Loren Fishman’s Yoga for Osteoporosis is your bible. There’s also a YouTube video to get you started. Work hard. Wrap your muscles around your bones. Hold the poses.
The best book I’ve found about the science of osteoporosis, what steps to take if you’re diagnosed, and the general care and feeding of your bones is Dr. Keith McCormick’s The Whole-Body Approach to Osteoporosis. Grab your highlighter.
Dr. Lani Simpson’s No-Nonsense Bone Health Guide is an invaluable resource packed with advice and encouragement. Also, she offers a comprehensive discussion of calcium supplementation and how to do it right.
In a holistic approach to healing, your kitchen is your pharmacy. Start feeding your bones (and learn what foods to avoid) with Annemarie Colbin’s The Whole-Food Guide to Strong Bones.
I swore I would buy no more cookbooks, but I did succumb to The Healthy Bones Nutrition Plan and Cookbook by daughter and mother team Dr. Laura Kelly and Helen Bryman Kelly. Lots to chew on here, with 100 practical, inspiring, tasty recipes.
Finally, I can’t recommend Mary Pipher’s Women Rowing North: Navigating Life’s Currents as We Age highly enough. Although Mary claims to have written this book specifically for women crossing from middle age into old age (if we’re being literal, that means anyone over 50, right?), her wisdom and insight into change, loss, and growth are welcome no matter how old you are. She’s the kind of writer who feels like a friend. I found myself on every page.
Thank you! I am in my mid sixties and this has been my focus since my 50s and seeing my mother deal with this. I am headed to the gym that I do each day. I also changed my diet years ago. Never being a yoga fan, more a cardio junkie, I am going to look into this daily yoga for my bones. Thank you again for sharing and yes…everyday is s gift. I look forward onecday to life in Florida. It is the fountain of youth as one ages. So much better than the cold.
All the best.
Thank you for the sincere and upbeat message.
The yoga for osteoporosis video has been tested by more than 1000 people over eight years: more than 80% of them have gained bone, and on the average, the whole group was losing bone to start with and showed statistically significant gain and bone for both the spine and the femur when tested two years later. There were no fractures or serious injuries of any kind.
May the warm bright sun shine on you.
Loren Fishman, MD
Facing 70 this June has been startling and a real wake up call to get real and get on with the important things in life; do the things and make the choices I have been putting off for years before they’re not doable anymore. My younger son told me this week “Mom, you’re a battle axe but in the best way!” I think it’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received! But even battle axes have to face reality! Thank you for the list of recommended books, Katrina, and for sharing your journey.
Your words are always honest and true and moving to me. And while I don’t have these concerns or issues now, you certainly inspire me and remain a light on the path for so many.
Thank you Katrina for this article. I had a dexa this year again which showed “moderate bone loss”. My doctor suggested calcium but I realized I would have to do my homework. I appreciate your recommendations and will order these books to further my education. So much out there I am grateful you sifted through the hype! Thank you always for your inspiration. I’ve read your books over and over and they are like a warm blanket on a cold night! Blessings!
Katrina, this reflection is spot on! I had a similar experience with my physician, and left her a couple years ago. After five or six years of feeling like she didn’t see me as a person but as numbers on a computer screen, little to no eye contact during my 15 minutes a year with her, feelings of frustration each year because I always had to ask for tests to be done that should be routine (cholesterol and diabetes screenings, thyroid panel, bone density, etc.), I was certain the “care” I was receiving was less than thorough. Each year I was reassured that my blood work was normal, so you can imagine my surprise when I received a phone call to years ago telling me that my TSH was critically low, and that I needed to “come right in.” Out of town at the time, I made to her office a few days later. The urgency was gone, and I was encouraged to meet with an endocrinologist “soon.” There was a 15-week wait time to see the endocrinologist, so it was almost 4 months before I saw her. I was horrified when she said my TSH had been trending downward for quite a while and was “dangerously low, in fact critical”, that my thyroid function “should have been properly addressed years earlier”. I was also surprised to learn from her that I have osteopenia (which could have been caused by the thyroid dysfunction, as well as other risk factors, including being a post-menopausal woman over 50), and that my vitamin D levels were “critically low.” This did not happen overnight, and while I take some blame for being an uneducated consumer, I absolutely hold my previous PCP responsible for sloppy care and poor communication. I am 58, have been taking “Caltrate 600 + D” since I was 27, am on my feet 8-12 hours a day at work, and am active (walking, bicycling, dancing, weight-bearing exercises 3-4 times a week). I am fit and feel great! These diagnoses stunned me! In addition to all that you had to say, I would add that if you think you’re too young in your 20s or 30s, or even your 40s, think again: it is never too early to be educated about these health risks (which have a higher incidence rate in women), never too early to be proactive about your health, and never okay to have a health care provider who doesn’t care about your health. Advocate for yourself, ask questions, take action, and never hesitate to walk away from someone who dismisses your concerns.
For quick reference, these web sites, as well as the Mayo Clinic and NIH web sites, also have helpful information:
https://www.webmd.com/diet/guide/vitamin-d-deficiency
https://www.webmd.com/osteoporosis/guide/osteopenia-early-signs-of-bone-loss
Thank you once again for your thoughts and wisdom, for sharing your stories, and for inspiring us all to be open to change and to grab life and enjoy it. I wish you well with your health and am sorry about what happened from osteopenia to osteoporosis – the medical professionals could have done better. Bully for you in taking charge of your health and thank you for sharing so much info on osteoporosis.
Today is my birthday and what a gift to have your latest blog in my inbox- I am 61 and everything you wrote rings true-:)
Blessings to you!
Katrina, you have this uncanny knack of writing about the things I’ve been chewing on myself and trying to find the right words to express. Once again, you’ve reached into the heart of all the things I’ve been dealing with.
I received that osteoporosis diagnosis two years ago, with a similar comment from the doctor. “You have the spine of a 75 year old woman” is not what anyone wants to hear at the age of 60. Nor is the warning, “you are at severe risk of fracture from falling.”
I had been diagnosed with osteopenia several years prior, and the doctor had advised medication. I hate medication. Like you, I walk, do weight bearing exercise, eat (pretty) well.
The osteoporosis diagnosis made me rethink. I took medication for two years, and there has been slight improvement, but I’ve also increased my strentgh training and modified my diet. I’m interested in doing more of that so I’m grateful for your recommendations of books and videos.
It’s all part of this new country we call “aging.” I’m grateful to have the company of so many strong, smart, and expressive women to travel with.
Thank you Katrina for being such an inspirational guide throughout my life. I’m 45 and have been seeing a chiropractor since grad school (age ~23). I spend a lot of time at my computer for my career, and while standing desks, yoga and taking walks in the sun are staples of my every day, I still deal with hip and back pain and worry about my future, including things like osteoporosis. These recommendations are so helpful, from someone I trust and admire. I’ve gained from every book and blog post you have written. Thank you, thank you thank you!!
it is a stunning thing to have a machine look into your bones, and declare them “fragile,” or “hollowed.” it makes for an extraordinary vulnerability, a sense that “i could crumble.”
it was, for me, as for you, a trumpet call to rise up and make myself as strong as could be. thank you for the vast repertoire of ways to do that. and the knowledge of sisterhood, the knowing there are hands — strong hands — to reach toward and hold.
resiliently…
” You can turn away and go back to sleep, or you can dive in deep and allow the current of your life to carry you to places you never expected to go.”
This is so timely for me and so relevant. Even though I don’t have osteoporsis, I was fairly recently diagnosed with RA and the mental exercise you just gave me is as valuable as the physical. I think I “went back to sleep” and maybe gave up a little. I tried some yoga exercises and meditation early on, but I never really dove in. Breaking the surface is not diving. Thank you for the reminder that the greatest care I will experience with this disease is the care I give to myself. Thank you for your insight and honesty. White light to you ♡
Hi, Katrina – this was really helpful and came at a good time. I’ve just looked at the video and appreciate the visuals which show me how some of the poses can be done by a relative beginner and by someone with bad wrists (arthritis makes any pressure painful at times). With your experience in yoga, can you point out which of the 12 poses have the most focus on the spine vs. hips?
As much joy as snow shoveling can bring, perhaps this is one of the easier things to let go of? 🙂
Hi Betsy. The seated twists and revolved triangle are all about the spine. Tree pose is for balance. Supta Badukonasana (or, leg in strap!) is a hamstring stretch that of course also opens the hips. Warrior, triangle, and side angle work everything together. In all the poses, the idea is to energetically wrap the muscles around the bones, press into the earth with your feet, reach powerfully through your arms, create some internal resistance. Oh, and BREATHE. Hope this helps.
Thank you for that lovely, bittersweet and informative post. I’ve just sent it to many of my friends.
Oh how I loved this post and could relate on so many levels… even as parents spending time in Glorida with our daughter… I have osteoporosis as well and enjoy http://www.saveourbones.com
I have found much helpful infor there..
Thanks again kindred heart for this post!
How I enjoyed this article — let me count the ways! I also loved the comments I read and said to myself, I want a gathering of Katrina fans, what a glorious bunch we would be! I don’t suppose you would entertain the thought of a weekend retreat. Hiking and yoga and books, oh my. I’ll keep this brief, I too was diagnosed with osteoporosis, this after 4 marathons and lots of yoga. What I didn’t do is take care of the nutrition during the years that it mattered. Shame on me, osteopenia is when I could have been more pro-active. So I believe more education when we’re younger on our bones is vital. Thank you for all the new book suggestions, and might I say you’re in good company, let’s stay strong, yoga united.
I am deeply grateful for this latest post and the resources you’ve posted. Just ordered Yoga for Osteoporosis, thanks to you. At the age of 39, I herniated 2 discs in my neck requiring surgery, a follow up diagnosis of osteoporosis, and the end of a 16 yr career as a physical therapist. After 10 yrs of fosamax, I left osteoporosis behind, or so I thought. Now, at the age of 60, osteopenia is clearly present. Your post is inspirational and motivating! Thank you! I love your writing and own your books!
I love, love, love this piece. I’ve been very worried about bone loss… and the other kinds of loss that aging brings.
I love your voice.Your voice is Our Voice. My Voice. So often, you articulate concepts that are just vague feelings swirling under the surface. I feel them, but don’t quite know these truths until you put them into eloquent words and share them.
Of course, this most recent life passage must be the subject of your next book. And I know it will be.
Thank you for this, Katrina. A wellness exam in December showed me as borderline pre-diabetic. I was shocked. I was told to limit carbs to 20/meal. Well, I wanted to lose some weight, this was the best incentive to get with a program. I educated myself to what was high carb. Shocked again at what was not so good that I thought was healthy (e.g. low-fat yogurt and homemade granola that I had for breakfast most mornings) and what I thought was not good that is good (e.g. fat). I started eating with new awareness and returned for a follow-up blood test two months later. I had lost 15 lbs and my glucose level was back in normal range. Did I mention I feel better too? It was a wake-up call and I heard it loud and clear.
Dear Katrina
Thank you for your post and insights about the medical profession and the benefits of yoga.. It is such a relief to me to hear that Yoga can be hard! I have always thought that I must be doing it ‘wrong’. I enjoy the mindfulness of it but always feel that I am ‘worst in the class’. Your post has inspired me to ‘try again’ for my own sake.
Kind regards
Natasha
Thank you for this gem of a post Katrina. I will turn 80 soon and like you am an author with severe osteoporosis. I used to practice yoga daily but have grown slack. A Yoga class at the Y this weekend showed me how far I’ve slipped. I ache all over. But your message has punched a hole into the center of my nonchalance about my health. I resent the time needed to take care of my needs rather than being grateful my health is as good as it is.
Thanks for sharing your journey here, Katrina. I’m glad to hear that you are taking your health into your own hands, and not leaving it in the hands of someone who doesn’t seem to think outside the box to find out what is in your best interest. Enjoy your daily yoga <3
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this essay. I’ve been in a funk since my doctor offhandedly commented during my “Welcome to Medicare” physical that, statistically speaking, I have about 12 years left. That was a breathtaking moment. As arthritis pains and asthma increase (and, oh yes, an osteopenia diagnosis), I’ve been feeling hopeless. You’ve inspired me to get to work, to try to create a yoga practice I can stick with and to eat better. And especially thank you for bringing up Maty Pfifer’s new book – I so love her writing! So, thanks – gotta go get to work!
Katrina: My dear lifetime friend shared your touching post knowing that I would appreciate all that you have written. Many steps of your journey resonated with me and your writing style was the icing on the cake. I’ve been working in the world of bone health since 2007 teaching people how to eat for strong bones. All online. Building community has been the greatest gift for my clients, as once that diagnosis comes around a feeling of denial and isolation often accompanies an osteoporosis diagnosis.
The books you highlighted are dog-eared in my Bones library. I was blessed to work with Annemarie Colbin. She was a true pioneer in the world of Food as Medicine and is sorely missed by our community.
Sat, March 9th, I presented with Keith McCormick educating our guests on The Whole Body Approach to Osteoporosis and hope to take our presentation on the road.
It’s so important to get the word out.
Thank you again, Katrina
From my bones to yours,
Irma Jennings
Katrina- thank you for sharing your wisdom. Your pure and gentle ways of interrogating the spirit is empowering. I’ll be sharing this one with others.
This came at a point in my life where I am starting to feel old. I am a retired Nurse and was diagnosed with A-Fib in 2015. I did not understand how this happened. But thinking back both my parents had it and according to my Cardiologist, it has familial tendencies. So I was told to see an Electrophysiologist. And was told I needed to do a procedure called Ablation and to wear an internal monitor. This will show you how important it is to be your own advocate. I said no and was put on Amiodarone and Eliquis which I have done well on. I also said no to an internal monitor and suggested an external one for one month. It was agreed upon. 2018 A-Fib came back why/ I had Hyperthyroidism. But I had to ask for all of these options. My Vitamin D level was 23. I started taking Vit D 2,000 units. During this time I did Yoga and Planet fitness. I just turned 66 and am now doing well. Sorry, this is so long. but your article came at just the right time to forge ahead and make more changes. Thank you. We must be always proactive with our choices. I will certainly look into this info you gave us all.
Thank you Katrina! The timing of this was beyond perfect. I just got my bone density results back this week, with the diagnosis of early osteopenia. With my husbands prostate cancer surgery and children’s upcoming weddings I thought “I’ll deal with that later.” But your wonderful writing woke me up to the fact I need to make changes now! I’ve ordered the books and plan on incorporating the yoga and dietary changes immediately. Thanks for sharing your story and research. Best to you on your journey!
Dear Katrina,
As always your beautiful post has touched, reassured and inspired me. As we age we are all encountering challenges along our paths. I love how you encourage us to meet these challenges and embrace fully what we do have. Your ability to express these ideas is such a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us. Xo
Dear Katrina,
I am so sorry. As someone who has broken many bones, I understand the struggle of inhabiting such a fragile cage. You are so brave to write about it the way you did. Getting older is such a hassle, isn’t it? And it’s also the most immaculate privilege. I think the beauty of your writing is always found in your beginner-ness. A beginner at getting old. I love that and you give all of us permission to be beginners too. Thank you. I love this so much:
Maybe this is how enlightenment works. You get the wake-up call, the clunk on the head, the message that is too loud and too insistent to ignore. And then you have a choice. You can turn away and go back to sleep, or you can dive in deep and allow the current of your life to carry you to places you never expected to go. As the time in front of us grows shorter, life’s beauty comes into sharper focus. There is something energizing about seeing the truth of one’s own mortality more clearly.
I am sending you wishes of strength and fortitude and ease. Xoxo