About Me:

Aloha! I'm Wendy Kennar. I'm the mother of a seven-year-old son and a wife living in Los Angeles. I was a public school teacher for twelve years until a chronic medical condition made it necessary to leave my teaching career.

I've always been described as "quiet" - really, I'm just biting my tongue. I've got lots to say, and lots of thoughts to share, I just prefer to write them. That's the purpose of this blog. Each Wednesday, I post a personal essay offering my observations and thoughts.

A few fun facts about me: I've wanted to be a writer since second grade, when my teacher, Mrs. Jones, made me a "book" with a yellow construction paper cover. I have never learned to whistle, have always preferred sunflowers to roses, and have spent my life living within the same zip code.

Through the years, my writing has been published in the Los Angeles Times, Christian Science Monitor, United Teacher, GreenPrints, L.A. Parent, DivineCaroline.com, RoleReboot.org, XOJane, and Brain, Child Magazine. Additionally, my personal essays have been included in several anthologies, including: The Barefoot Review, Beyond the Diaper Bag, Lessons From My Parents, Write for Light, Being a Grown-Up: A User's Manual for the Real World, Ka-Pow!, How Writing Can Get You Through Tough Times, Breath and Shadow, The Grey Wolfe Storybook, and Sisters Born, Sisters Found.
I am a regular contributor at MomsLA.com, and you can also find me at Goodreads.

Thanks for stopping by and reading my blog. Feel free to comment and share my blog with others!

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Leg Drama

                                                                           Wish I was here

   Within the last week, I’ve put my body through two very different types of situations. First it was an MRI. I never considered myself claustrophobic until I had my first MRI several years ago. This year’s scan was my doctor’s attempt to get a sense of what was going on inside my leg, what exactly was causing all of the additional pain and fatigue I’ve been experiencing. 

   I feigned enthusiasm when I told my son I’d be going to this appointment.  I explained it to him as a special machine that takes a picture of the inside of my leg.  I told him that I lie down very still, and my body is pushed into this sort of tunnel.  The machine gets very loud, and while the machine is taking pictures, I have to remain very still.

   That’s basically what an MRI is.  I didn’t tell my son about the “panic button” that remained close by in case I needed to be pulled out of the tunnel.  I didn’t tell him that my legs were wrapped tightly together.  And I didn’t tell him about the shot I received that inserted some sort of contrast into my system and would provide a different set of images for my doctor to examine.

   I didn’t tell my son that I was afraid of what my doctor would fine.  And I didn’t tell Ryan that I really wasn’t sure what I was hoping for -- would finding something be better or worse than not finding anything at all? 

   The second event was a mild yoga/stretching class.  A friend of mine had attended one session and told me she really enjoyed it, had found it quite relaxing, and so I was intrigued.  I haven’t been stretching at home.  My pain level has been pretty high lately and by the time my son is in bed, I just don’t feel like getting on the floor to stretch as my physical therapist had suggested I do.

   I had never attended a yoga class before.  In my head, I heard “yoga” and envisioned stick-thin people getting themselves in and out of pretzel-like poses.  And that definitely wasn’t me.  This yoga instructor was very welcoming and very accommodating to every one’s different abilities.  The five of us were guided through different stretches and poses.  Some of the times, I was inhaling when she was telling us to exhale.  And there were a few stretches that I couldn’t do completely, but I attempted each one she guided us through. 

   This room had soft music playing and soft lighting.  It was a room designed to promote a sense of serenity.  Participants didn’t talk much (or at all, now that I think about it).  On the other hand, when I went for my MRI, it was very isolating.  My husband came with me, but while I was strapped down, I couldn’t see him.  And when I did open my eyes, there was nothing really to look at except the ceiling and the large Siemens machine (ironically named “Symphony”) that was manufactured in Germany.  

   In both cases, the end result is a hope of feeling better.  Better meaning less pain and less fatigue, more leg strength and more stamina.  And in both cases, I don’t know if I’ve found the answers.  After one yoga class, I’m not sure yet if I want to try it again.  And after the MRI’s findings, I’m now waiting to see another specialist in September. 


  1. It kills me to see you in so much pain.I am sorry you have to keep going through all these tests.I know the pain has been worse the last few weeks.I hope between the MRI and the new specialist you won't be in so much pain.I still say if it were possible I would put your pain unto me in a minute.I love you and I am very proud of you.

  2. Honey,
    I am so sorry that you have to go through all of this. I hope we can get some answers that will help us find some relief for you! I Love You!
    Love, me

  3. Your mother & I pray everyday that your pain eases up. We only want the best for you. Your mother & I are proud of you.
    Love, dad