If you\’re in healthcare, this is probably your worst winter ever. Between the COVIDs, scarce resources, shutdowns, homeschooling, bureaucracy, hoaxers, and checking the in-laws\’ rashes online, you must feel cooked.

You\’re frustrated. Your patients die calling COVID a hoax. People refuse to wear masks. So many loved parents die alone. Bureaucrats don\’t prioritize people\’s lives. Even some of our own sold their soul for fame or money.

You\’re tired of being strong. You care for others\’ families, while your own must fend for themselves. You\’re tired of fighting COVID, ignorance, administrators, even your relatives over the Thanksgiving virtual table. You\’re tired of the mask burning your face, filthy gloves, people shrinking when you hug them. You\’re tired of being treated like a pariah whenever you stop to get coffee at the gas station. You\’re tired of your scrubs shrinking since the gym\’s closed and you live on junk food.

You miss your parents. But they\’re old, frail, and COVID-prone, so you avoid them. So much so that Dad asked if that new Ancestry test taught you something he should know about, and Mom apologized for mentioning your ex that last time you visited.

You love your kids. You\’d die a thousand deaths for them, but homeschooling? Oregon Trail and core math? Having them home every hour of every day? They don\’t know you need to sleep after your nightshift.  And you just can\’t watch Frozen three times a day.

Your spouse?  Things weren\’t that bad when you both worked and the kids went to school. Family time was sacred but limited. Now, you struggle to bite your tongue and stick those fists in your pockets. No more date nights to rekindle a flailing relationship, no more vacations to break the monotony, no more nights out with your buddies to blow up steam.

How can you survive this winter holding on to your temper, family, and job?

Look out for #1.

That\’s you. To care for others, you must care for yourself first.  Like the in-flight safety videos say: \”Put on your own mask before you help others.\” You won\’t save anyone if you run out of oxygen. To care for those who need you, you must keep afloat. You\’re everybody\’s keeper. If you get sick, they might too. If you go crazy, your family will suffer. If you fall apart, who\’ll care for your elderly parents?

That\’s not selfish. That\’s smart. To protect those who need you, you must stay healthy and sane.

How? These are my tips.

1. Set rules for others and for yourself. Your sleep should be sacred. So should whatever time off you can schedule.
2. Enlist help. There are so many grateful folks who want to help the healthcare workers. Your neighbors may be glad to walk your dog, run some errands, or grab a gallon of milk.
3. Prioritize yourself. Pay someone to plow, buy groceries online, hire a housekeeper to save time for the things that really matter.
4. Schedule time for yourself. To exercise, meditate, pray, journal –  whatever helps fill your well.
5. Shut off the TV. Whether you\’re Democrat or Republican, you won\’t enjoy the news. Watch Hallmark, the nature channel, or the food channel. Watching food is fun, and it won\’t make you fat.
6. Go outdoors. There\’s magic in nature and sunlight, whatever\’s left of it. Hike, snowshoe, and allow your lungs to breathe real air instead of the reconditioned germs they allow you in the hospital.
7. Say no. That\’s a survival technique. Say no to parties, to hugging strangers, to doing things you shouldn\’t, in order to protect other\’s feelings. Let them take care of their feelings. You take care of yourself.
8. Cut yourself some slack. You aren\’t perfect. Nobody is. You\’ll make mistakes, gain a few pounds, step on some toes, maybe even lose it at times. So what? Just do the best you can.
9. Read a book. Remember those things made of paper? You turn a page and land in a new world? These three always make me happy: The art of Racing in the Rain, Holes, and Because of Winn Dixie. What works for you? Please share.
10. Be careful with alcohol and substance use. They may feel good at the moment, but you\’ll be worse off in the long run.
11. Watch old movies that make you laugh. My favorites: A fish called Wanda, Hopscotch, and Naked Gun. And MASH. It\’s on HULU. How about you?
12. Take a break from social media. Picking fights with random strangers won\’t help your mental health. Sadly, not everyone posts sunrises and puppies. Cut off those who hurt you.
13. Get a cat. They have nine lives; That\’s why they are masters of survival. They ignore all unpleasantness, from dogs to COVID, and they\’ll show you how to do it too. And they\’re the best nap helpers.
14. Communicate. Ask your coworkers how they handle the stress. They may teach you something, but even if they don\’t, sharing the burden will help you both.
15. Seek help before you lose it. Check out the CDC resources below.
16. Pat yourself on the back. You\’re a darn hero! In recycled PPE instead of shining armor you saved fair maidens of all genders, ages, and persuasions. With a vaccine in sight, there\’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Wishing you all health, joy, and happiness. See you all on the other side.

Rada

Rada Jones is an ER doc. She lives in Upstate NY with her husband Steve, Paxil, his deaf cat, and a tsunami named Guinness who loves brushing her teeth.

Rada authored three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays

Free confidential resources: 

• National Suicide Prevention:  1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255
•  Lifeline Crisis Chat, free, will connect you to a counselor in your area.
• Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 and TTY 1-800-787-3224

If you\’re in healthcare, this is probably your worst winter ever. Between the COVIDs, scarce resources, shutdowns, homeschooling, bureaucracy, hoaxers, and checking the in-laws\’ rashes online, you must feel cooked.

You\’re frustrated. Your patients die calling COVID a hoax. People refuse to wear masks. So many loved parents die alone. Bureaucrats don\’t prioritize people\’s lives. Even some of our own sold their soul for fame or money.

You\’re tired of being strong. You care for others\’ families, while your own must fend for themselves. You\’re tired of fighting COVID, ignorance, administrators, even your relatives over the Thanksgiving virtual table. You\’re tired of the mask burning your face, filthy gloves, people shrinking when you hug them. You\’re tired of being treated like a pariah whenever you stop to get coffee at the gas station. You\’re tired of your scrubs shrinking since the gym\’s closed and you live on junk food.

You miss your parents. But they\’re old, frail, and COVID-prone, so you avoid them. So much so that Dad asked if that new Ancestry test taught you something he should know about, and Mom apologized for mentioning your ex that last time you visited.

You love your kids. You\’d die a thousand deaths for them, but homeschooling? Oregon Trail and core math? Having them home every hour of every day? They don\’t know you need to sleep after your nightshift.  And you just can\’t watch Frozen three times a day.

Your spouse?  Things weren\’t that bad when you both worked and the kids went to school. Family time was sacred but limited. Now, you struggle to bite your tongue and stick those fists in your pockets. No more date nights to rekindle a flailing relationship, no more vacations to break the monotony, no more nights out with your buddies to blow up steam.

How can you survive this winter holding on to your temper, family, and job?

Look out for #1.

That\’s you. To care for others, you must care for yourself first.  Like the in-flight safety videos say: \”Put on your own mask before you help others.\” You won\’t save anyone if you run out of oxygen. To care for those who need you, you must keep afloat. You\’re everybody\’s keeper. If you get sick, they might too. If you go crazy, your family will suffer. If you fall apart, who\’ll care for your elderly parents?

That\’s not selfish. That\’s smart. To protect those who need you, you must stay healthy and sane.

How? These are my tips.

1. Set rules for others and for yourself. Your sleep should be sacred. So should whatever time off you can schedule.
2. Enlist help. There are so many grateful folks who want to help the healthcare workers. Your neighbors may be glad to walk your dog, run some errands, or grab a gallon of milk.
3. Prioritize yourself. Pay someone to plow, buy groceries online, hire a housekeeper to save time for the things that really matter.
4. Schedule time for yourself. To exercise, meditate, pray, journal –  whatever helps fill your well.
5. Shut off the TV. Whether you\’re Democrat or Republican, you won\’t enjoy the news. Watch Hallmark, the nature channel, or the food channel. Watching food is fun, and it won\’t make you fat.
6. Go outdoors. There\’s magic in nature and sunlight, whatever\’s left of it. Hike, snowshoe, and allow your lungs to breathe real air instead of the reconditioned germs they allow you in the hospital.
7. Say no. That\’s a survival technique. Say no to parties, to hugging strangers, to doing things you shouldn\’t, in order to protect other\’s feelings. Let them take care of their feelings. You take care of yourself.
8. Cut yourself some slack. You aren\’t perfect. Nobody is. You\’ll make mistakes, gain a few pounds, step on some toes, maybe even lose it at times. So what? Just do the best you can.
9. Read a book. Remember those things made of paper? You turn a page and land in a new world? These three always make me happy: The art of Racing in the Rain, Holes, and Because of Winn Dixie. What works for you? Please share.
10. Be careful with alcohol and substance use. They may feel good at the moment, but you\’ll be worse off in the long run.
11. Watch old movies that make you laugh. My favorites: A fish called Wanda, Hopscotch, and Naked Gun. And MASH. It\’s on HULU. How about you?
12. Take a break from social media. Picking fights with random strangers won\’t help your mental health. Sadly, not everyone posts sunrises and puppies. Cut off those who hurt you.
13. Get a cat. They have nine lives; That\’s why they are masters of survival. They ignore all unpleasantness, from dogs to COVID, and they\’ll show you how to do it too. And they\’re the best nap helpers.
14. Communicate. Ask your coworkers how they handle the stress. They may teach you something, but even if they don\’t, sharing the burden will help you both.
15. Seek help before you lose it. Check out the CDC resources below.
16. Pat yourself on the back. You\’re a darn hero! In recycled PPE instead of shining armor you saved fair maidens of all genders, ages, and persuasions. With a vaccine in sight, there\’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Wishing you all health, joy, and happiness. See you all on the other side.

Rada

Rada Jones is an ER doc. She lives in Upstate NY with her husband Steve, Paxil, his deaf cat, and a tsunami named Guinness who loves brushing her teeth.

Rada authored three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays

Free confidential resources: 

• National Suicide Prevention:  1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255
•  Lifeline Crisis Chat, free, will connect you to a counselor in your area.
• Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233 and TTY 1-800-787-3224

I hate 2020. It\’s the worst year I can remember. Between the pandemic, the shutdown, the plunging economy, the overloaded medical system, the mask debate, and the looming elections, I can\’t remember a worse one.

And it\’s not over yet.

From doctors to politicians, all those who know what they\’re talking about, and some who don\’t, think that the coming winter will be worse. And, unlike the calendar, winter doesn\’t end with December. We\’re talking months of the 2020 misery compounded by short days, bad weather, and socially isolated winter celebrations.

How will we stay alive and slightly sane until it\’s over?

That\’s what I asked myself as I listened to the news while struggling to zip my raincoat to take the dog out in the nasty rain – after cleaning the puddle in the dining room.

Organized as always, I made a list you may find useful. If you happen to be one of those who don\’t need a social life, don\’t worry about money, and don\’t long for spring, feel free to share your recipe with us, the humans. We\’ll all think of you lovingly. As for me, this is my list.

1. Accept reality. No matter how much you wish, it wasn\’t so, this is the reality we all live in. Denying it won\’t make it go away. It will just make it harder to deal with it.
2. Get ready for more shutdowns. That\’s what happened to France, Great Britain, and others. It may happen here. Stock what you\’ll need, besides toilet paper. A generator? Your medications? Batteries? Hair dye?
3. Behave like you may have the virus, even at home. Don\’t share your cutlery, your glass, your toothbrush. Wash your hands often, and don\’t lick the kids\’ ice-cream.
4. Make a plan in case you get sick. How will you self-isolate? Who\’ll care for the kids? Walk the dog? Speak to those who\’ll have to take over.
5. Start a project and set deadlines. Whether it\’s cleaning the pantry, training the cat, or becoming vegetarian, committing to a project will make time go faster. And give you something to brag about.
6. Rest. Tired people make mistakes, get compassion fatigue, and lose touch with the joy in their life. Say no to that extra shift. Health trumps money.
7. Learn a new skill. The internet is full of online courses. You can learn anything, from dog training to poker, as you sit on your sofa. Whether it\’s photography, knitting, or getting a degree, use this time to enrich yourself.
8. Do something you enjoy every day. Watch a movie, quilt, take a hot bath. Doing something you love will lower your stress and help keep you sane.
9. Work out every day. Whether it\’s kickboxing, chair yoga, or walking the dog, working out will make you healthier, stronger, and happier.
10. Do something to make others happy. Bake a cake for your coworkers, grab some groceries to help your neighbor, or call Grandma, even if she\’s not sure who you are. Making others happy will give you purpose and joy.
11. Watch your weight. Few say it, but obesity is a substantial COVID risk factor. Not great for your heart and joints, either. If you\’re overweight, losing weight will help keep you healthy.
12. Connect with people. Call your high-school buddies, look up your old friends, send a birthday card to your ex. Connecting, even virtually, will help keep you grounded.
13. Make a plan for the winter celebrations. Avoid large gatherings. Look for alternatives: a Zoom Thanksgiving dinner, mailing stocking stuffers, meet for a hike. But if you must meet in person, don\’t go if you\’re sick, social distance, and keep the windows open.
14. List your happy memories: Your first time fishing; your son\’s graduation; your wedding (or your divorce). Make a list and put it on the fridge for those pesky low days.
15. Stay in touch with your doctor. No matter who says what, your doctor wants you to be well. If for no other reason, because they\’re already overworked. Follow their instructions, take your medications, and call them if you\’re having trouble.
16. Take time for yourself. Find a couple of hours every week to check on your inner self. Are you hanging from a thread? If you\’re losing it, seek help. It\’s not wimpy. It\’s smart.
17. Turn off the news. No matter what, half of us will feel broken after the elections. There\’s no point in rubbing salt in the wound – yours or others\’. If you lose, remember that that\’s democracy. Everybody\’s vote counts. In four years, you\’ll get a redo. If you win, remember that so many are mourning. Don\’t be a sore winner. Let them grieve.
18. Wear a mask. It will protect you not only from COVID but also from the flu and pesky colds. The flu season is here, and the flu sucks. You\’ll be even more miserable if you get sick.
19. Be kind to others. Most people aren\’t evil. Their mistakes are born of ignorance, anger, or hurt, and we can all use some learning.
20. Finally, remember that this too shall pass.

Good luck, stay safe, and stay sane. As always, I can\’t wait to hear from you.

Rada

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY, where she lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She is the author of three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays.

I miss Thailand and my Chiang Mai friends. I miss the spices, the heat, and swimming before the pool opening time. I miss the orange-clad monks collecting alms as I returned from the market loaded with fruit, vegetables, and the meat-du-jour: anything from beef tongue to pig head via fried chicken. I miss the jasmine leis around my neck and the orchids, an armful for one dollar. I miss always trying something new: spiky fruits, stuffed bitter cucumber, crispy golden triangles with a spicy-sweet sauce. It took me months to learn they were fried tofu. I miss the back massages at Kad Suan Kaew, coffee with Steve, and chatting to my writer friends. I miss Thailand.

But that was then, and this is now. We got back for the last golden days of the fall, the final lawn mowing, the last hauntingly beautiful kayak trip before fall falls apart into winter.

We hugged our son that we hadn\’t seen in a year, petted old Paxil, who looks younger thanks to his care, found friends we missed. We raided the wine shop, I savored my best burger in a year, and I got back to Instagramming the sunrise. I try to focus on the things I missed: Cheese. M*A*S*H. Our cabin in the woods.

But nothing is the same. Gone is our Sam\’s membership. Gone are my ski pants. Steve dispoed them with most of my clothes. Gone are my skis, my pots, even the San Marzano peeled tomatoes.

I wasn\’t pleased, and we had a few rough days. It was hard to forgive and compromise, but we did. We had to. It looks like we\’ll be here for a while.

So much happened. COVID 19 – the mourning and the hoax. Fighting over masks. The economy. The elections. Neighbors fighting neighbors. The hate.

We try to make sense of it, and we struggle to deal with it, whether it makes sense or not.

We have to. Thailand is closed because of Covid. So is most of the world these days. Between the growing anger and raising Covid rates, Steve isn\’t into RVing, and I can\’t disagree.

Many have it worse. The sick. The mourning. The jobless. The mentally ill and isolated. The health workers, living in fear for their families. We are lucky, even though it doesn\’t feel that way.

The news suck. Struggling to close my raincoat around the new curves I gained, feasting on Turkish Delight isn\’t as much fun as eating. Looking at the skunks hunting for grubs in the back yard makes me wish they smelled better. Or not at all.

Instead of a birthday party, I took a 20K walk to think about the future. What should I do with myself?

I could spend my time writing a book, reading, watching old movies. Wait for the world to come back to its senses. After all, a year is no big deal.

But there\’s no guarantee. Even less these days. This year may be the last we can still enjoy life. How can we make the most of it?

We\’ll get a dog. We\’re dog people. We\’ve been orphans since Gypsy died two years ago. A dog will fill our hearts and our lives.

We adopted Guinness. She was born to a Mennonite family in Pen Yan twelve weeks ago. She LOVES people, dogs, and cats, but walking? Not so much. She\’d rather be carried. She has a taste for horse manure, grubs, and dead fish, but she\’ll eat whatever she can find, from crocs to carpets—anything but her food.

Gone are the days I wondered what to do with myself. Thanks to Guinness, I ran out of time to watch the news and complain.

So we go on, hoping that once the elections are over, we can be a nation again. Like all of you, I know that my choice is the best. And I hope we win. But, whoever wins, remember we\’re all in the same boat. Bragging, shaming, and humiliating the others, is uncool and unAmerican. Let\’s get ourselves together and move on.

Remember that love trumps hate, kindness trumps judging, and we\’re stronger together.

I wish you health, safety, and love. See you on the other side.

Rada

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY, where she lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She is the author of three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER,” a collection of medical essays.

I called her #1. She called me #3.

Like seasons inhabiting the same garden, #1 and I married the same husband at different times. She was his spring, blooming with hope. I\’m his fall, as we ripen into winter.

He\’s no longer the man she married fifty years ago. Life smoothed his corners and softened him a little. But he still throws water over pigeons, stands on the horn at traffic lights, and puts empty bottles in the fridge like he used to, as #1 and I glance at each other and laugh.

No longer. #1 died yesterday, and my world got emptier.

She was kind to me, twenty-some years ago. I came to America with a kid and two suitcases to join a husband I barely knew. We had some rough times, and we needed a friend. She took us in like she did her many strays.

We stayed friends even when her relationship with her ex went sour. They shared fifty years of friendship broken by fights that not even their divorce could end.

I haven\’t seen her in a year. We lived far apart, and our last visit didn\’t end well. I went to bed to let them talk, and I woke up to find her gone. Her shoes, their toes touching, were still where she\’d left them. They fought; she left without saying goodbye, and I still wonder how she made it home.

I loved her sharp sarcasm, dark sense of humor, and love of animals. I loved her sprawling Vermont home that made mine look tidy. She collected everything: old magazines, Ukuleles, her dog\’s hair to make a sweater. Her home was rich with memories, though not with places to sit. One time we showed up with wine. We stood drinking around an old MG, watching the llamas roam around disaffected cars and a hen scratching the dirt to teach her chicks how to look for worms.

We had a lot in common, #1 and me: our love of food, wine, and animals, our interest in psychology, our dark humor, our husband. We were close friends.

Whether you like it or not, you have a lot in common with your spouse\’s ex. You must like similar people since you chose the same partner. They\’ll know a lot about your relationship, since they walked in your shoes, got the blisters, and lived to tell the tale. They\’ve been through it all: the toilet paper hanging backward, the moments of doubt, the harsh words, the failed expectations. They\’ve been there.

#1 and I, we were lucky. Buffered by #2, we never had anything to fight over. I didn\’t envy her, she didn\’t envy me, and we understood each other without words. We shared a smile over our husband\’s head whenever he said something we both found outrageous. But it\’s over now.

Never again will I feel the warmth of her hug, inhale her earthy smell, and laugh at her stories about our mother-in-law before she became our mother-in-law. Never again will I have a sister-wife who knows how it feels.

She passed away, and my world got emptier. Just like it did years ago when my ex died. His name was Romeo, and I miss him. After we finally called it quits and got over our anger, we rediscovered why we got together in the first place. He was my best friend until he died.

So what\’s your point, you ask?

Get over your grudges and befriend your exes if you can. Treasure them while you have them. They are part of you in so many ways: part of your life, your children, your memories, your unfulfilled hopes. Your world will be emptier with them gone.

Rada Jones is an ER doc in Upstate NY. She lives with her husband and his deaf black cat Paxil. She authored three ER thrillers, Overdose, Mercy and Poison, and “Stay Away From My ER” a collection of medical essays.

It\’s that time. Christmas music, shoppers looking for deals on things they don\’t need and can\’t afford, an orgy of eating and drinking ruining a year\’s worth of healthy living. Tis\’ the season to be jolly – never mind your bank account, your scale or your liver. After all, you only live once.

Moreover, this year is almost done, so we get to start over. Yet another chance to become that better person: slimmer, nonsmoking, responsible. You just hang the new calendar and BAM! A new you is about to emerge. Whole industries, from treadmill vendors to juicer makers, rely upon this recurring miracle to help their bottom line.

Unfortunately, then the party\’s over. Real work begins. Whipped by guilt, we muddle through January struggling to keep our promises. By February, most of New Year\’s resolutions went up in smoke. Only 8% of them ever come to fruition.

Why?

There\’s no worse time to make resolutions than New Year\’s. You\’re chock-full of food and drink, exhausted by parties, and overwhelmed by guilt. To atone, you\’ll agree to whatever your conscience demands. \”OK. Starting on January 1st, I\’ll stop eating, drinking, and smoking. I\’ll get up at 4AM to work out.\” By February, the treadmill crumbles under the weight of clothes, the gym membership expired, and you subsist on donuts, cake, and whatever junk gets you through the day.

So, if you\’re into resolutions, make them in June, when days are long, pools open, trails snowless, and fruit and vegetables abound. Life is easier in summer.

Even better, forget the resolutions. They\’re nothing but a showy way to announce that you\’re about to change. Don\’t bother with announcing, just change. Just do it, whether it\’s November 23rd or Friday 13th. Well, maybe not Friday 13th. Wait till Saturday.

To succeed, you\’ll need a plan that includes:

• How you\’ll go about making the changes,
• What obstacles you foresee
• How will you avoid them, and, most importantly,
• How you\’ll get back on the wagon after you fall off.

Because you will. I know. I quit smoking 24 years ago. Not once. Not twice. Thirty, maybe? I stopped counting, but I did it.

Even more important than planning for your change, is planning for your life.

Every once in a great while – yearly, maybe – you need to have a leisurely conversation with yourself. Get in touch with the person underneath the daily emergencies, the perpetual worries, the running around the clock. The person who lives inside your soul, but you seldom get to talk to.

Take time to examine your life and ask yourself these questions:

1. Am I living the life I want?
2. Is this the life I hope to have in a year?
3. Is this where I want to be in ten years?

If you answered YES to all, you\’re golden. Keep on doing what you\’re doing.  Every once in a great while check to make sure you\’re still on track. If your answer is NO, you have work to do. You need to build a life that makes you happy.

How?

Start with the end and map back. Where do you want to be? You are the only one who has the answers. You need to find them.

What about your life makes you unhappy? A bad marriage? A lousy job? Bad health? Maybe there\’s nothing wrong per se, but you long for things that are out of your reach. Perhaps you want kids or hope to become famous or wish to see the world. I don\’t know, but you should. Look inside and find out what you\’re missing.

That may be hard. Shiny objects will distract you. You may think you need a bigger house since your spouse gets on your nerves. You may look for a new hairdo if you don\’t like who you see in the mirror.  You may plan a vacation if you hate going to work. And you may be right. But if that doesn\’t fix your problem, they\’re just distractions. To get to the heart of the matter you need to go beyond them. The bigger house, the vacation, the hair, they\’re all temporary fixes. It\’s like taking Motrin for a headache when you have cancer: you feel better, but you didn\’t fix the problem. Then years fly, and you\’re still where you started instead of where you need to be. You need to find the real issues.

Once you figured out what you need, you have to go and get it. The first step is narrowly defining your question: \”How do I get to make 100K a year?\” \”How do I write a play?\” \”How to travel the world and get paid for it? \”

Once you have the question, look for the answer: Talk to people; go to the library; look it up on the internet. How did others do it?

Then make it happen. You\’ll need a plan with clear steps, and SMART goals: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, Time-bound.

Schedule times to reassess. Are you on track? If you are, Kudos to you. If you\’re not, get back on the wagon and start over. Persist until you reach your goal. Then celebrate, and monitor.

This is my gift to you: Instead of New Year\’s resolutions, I offer you a life plan that will get you to where you want to be.

Make a date with yourself.

1. Think about your life. Are you where you want to be? If not,
2. Make a plan.
3. Write it down.
4. Post it and send it to your friends to keep you accountable.
5. Reassess it often – set reminders.
6. Get back on track whenever you stray.

Isn\’t that better than a treadmill gathering dust? That\’s how I got from doing dishes in cold water in Romania to volunteering with dogs in Thailand. Let me know how you did. I\’m rooting for you.

Rada Jones MD. is an Emergency Doc in Upstate NY and the author of three ER novels: OVERDOSE, MERCY, and POISON.