See Ya in the Obits!

I’ve reached that plateau in life when the daily death notices are featuring my generation. It was easier when the deceased were all old people, tragic when they were young people, and a warning when they were my contemporaries, but it’s a reality check when they are somewhat suddenly all my own age! There are more women than men on the list, which means that I may be at greater risk, but my doctor has often praised my general state of good health, so there may be other women moving toward the front of the line faster than I. But I am still in the line, waiting my turn to be called, a fact that can no longer be put back in the closet for next season.

The coverage of the Governor’s wife’s conference discussion about death with Susan St. James, Mrs. Edwards, and Patrick Swayze’s widow was interesting as all of them commented on their faith that they will be reunited with their loved ones who have gone before them. Mrs. Swayze’s husband’s death was an on-going public affair; Susan St. James’ teenage son died in a plane crash; Mrs. Edwards’ son also died; and Maria Shriver recently had to handle both the death of her uncle Ted Kennedy and her mother, Eunice Shriver, which she defined as devastating. Each of these women focused on the death process, their personal devastation at losing people close to them, but did not seem to acknowledge death as part of the life process in the clips I’ve seen in the media. We are born, we live, and we die: there is no way around that natural process. A century ago, people accepted that death is part of life; today, however, the death almost becomes more important than the living as society focuses on what has been forever lost, rather than what existed during the life.

Robert Frost is my favorite poet on many levels, but perhaps more because he simply wrote the words that make sense to me. In “The Death of the Hired Man,” Frost captures the feeling of an elderly man at the end of his life journey:

“And nothing to look backward to with pride,
And nothing to look forward to with hope”

Each of us knows when it is our time, when we reach the front of the line, and our hope at that moment is that someone will remember us, someone will grieve for us, but I doubt that many of us actually believe that more time will be spent mourning our death than was spent sharing our lives with us. I don’t want the page-long obit notice to take the place of a phone call when I was alive. I don’t want a glowing synopsis of my career to eclipse the personal qualities that make me unique. I don’t want anyone to spend more time standing over my grave than they did sitting at my table.

When the grief consumes our lives, it warps how we respond to the death. Frost addressed that issue in “Home Burial,” a poem that captures the dichotomy between the husband, who has to bury his infant son, “Three foggy mornings and one rainy day Will rot the best birch fence a man can build,” and his wife, who realizes that “Friends make pretence of following to the grave, But before one is in it, their minds are turned And making the best of their way back to life And living people, and things they understand.” The practical aspect of death is that someone has to dig the grave, someone has to bury the body, and the body rots, fulfilling the natural cycle of one's life. The wife, however, is focused on the loss of the life, a loss she cannot accept. She wails that “The nearest friends can go With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.” She cannot find comfort within herself and she refuses to find comfort from without, blaming her husband for the death because he dug the grave. Until she is able to let go of what cannot be changed, she will continue to live the death.

I hope that the expectations of each of the four women who participated in the conference are fulfilled when they die, that they are reunited with their loved ones, that they experience after death that which was denied them during life, but my pragmatic side assumes that death is simply the absence of life, that it is going to sleep, being “dead to the world,” for eternity. I don’t see the heavens filled with ancient souls waiting to be reunited with my soul, but perhaps I will be greeted at the Pearly Gates when the time comes with a huge shout of “Surprise!”

Unfortunately, I won’t be here to blog about that … .

No Mas!

I hate going to the doctor, but I do it once a year because my insurance insists on that. My health philosophy is if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, so I wait until I break something before I bother the doctor with it. However, a month ago I developed a touch sensitive spot on my back that was darn-right painful, so after asking a friend to tell me if there was anything there and her confirming there was a lump, I decided to see a doctor. The first visit to the doctor reinforced both the pain and the mass, as the doctor explained it, and the testing process began.

I don’t know what the blood tests were for, but that part of the diagnostic process was followed by the ultrasound, which showed nothing, confirmed today by the MRI that shows nothing: no lump, no mass, no nothing.

“Nothing” does not explain the unremitting, excruciating pain that I had to handle for almost a month to the extent that I contemplated an unscheduled visit to the ER two weekends ago. I have a high tolerance for pain, but this lump was beyond my comfort zone. Most especially, the stabbing pain kept me awake at night and the throbbing was one of those constant pulsations that keep the mind always on the edge of a headache. To have this end as “nothing” seems in direct contrast to the month-long pain process, but once the machines and the doctor say “it’s nothing,” the diagnostic process abruptly ends. No do-overs in the medical industry. No Doctor House on my case.

Do I now just accept that there is, indeed, a lump in my back because I can feel it, and it hurts like hell some days, but it’s nothing, so I can just put it out of my mind? When I had the chest pains that doubled me over and was sent to the ER, three days later the diagnosis was “nothing,” just premature ventricular contractions, but it was appropriate for me to seek medical care so I could know that it was "nothing." This time, it’s "nothing” again, so if it flares up again, do I ignore it or have it rechecked?

If you want my opinion, and no one ever does, had the swollen, painful lump on my back been MRI’d when it was still painful and swollen, perhaps the test results would be different, but after a month – it either cures or kills! The next time that a well-meaning friend and/or family member tells me to go the doctor, I have two words: no mass!!

It Must Be Magic

David Tutera comes into a bride's life 3 weeks before her scheduled wedding. She has her dress, her bridesmaid dresses, the venue, the cake, the flowers, the decorations all ready to go, which she shows to David, who wrinkles his nose, declares the death of anything FAKE, and steps in as wedding coordinator extraordinaire. Everything the bride thought she wanted is gone, replaced by what every bride would want if she had the budget to pay for it. For those of us in budget mode, $10k worth of fresh flowers is probably about what we have to spend on the whole event! Designer dresses are for designer budgets, not for the common folk. Ditto almost everything else that David brings to the table.

More importantly, Tutera spends the 3 weeks with the bride, building up her inner beauty and strength so she has a memorable experience that will keep her cozy in the rocker when she's old and grey. The men? Well, they are just accessories, right? The wedding is the bride's day any way you want to define that phrase. Even the more plain brides glow when David's team of magicians finish the transformation from ordinary to the star of the wedding universe.

It's not just about the result, but about the process: how many brides get to see and taste three different wedding cakes: not the pictures of the cake, but the cake? Or three different bouquets? Or try on three different gowns chosen just for her? Or see three different dresses for the bridal party, often including unique designer gowns most of us only see on Project Runway. Or indulge in a complete make-over, head to toes? Or wear jewelry borrowed to complete her outfit perfectly? Or go to a wine/chocolate bar to taste how well different wines can blend with just the right chocolate? Or to a martini bar so a special bride's drink can be created? And the team doesn't just meet ahead of the event: no, they come to the bride on the wedding day and create their make-up magic for her, every detail just as it should be on her special day: perfect, absolutely perfect.

I could go on, but wow. Who wouldn't want to experience this just once in a lifetime? Of all the reality shows on TV today, this one shows how good mankind can be, a quality solely lacking in most other shows of this genre (except for the cake shows!!).

Lights, camera, excellent, David Tutera.

'Lil Stinker

Whereas my front yard is all in yellows, reds, and oranges, my backyard is a profusion of purple. Yes, I had to replant, but it was an unusually HOT summer, so it was not unexpected. However, when I bought the ONE small purple "garlic" plant, I had no idea that it could fill my house with such a pungent odor from the patio!! Of course, at that time the windows were shut most of the time to keep the expensive conditioned air inside, but with the coming of fall, I'm using nature's own fresh air throughout.

Maybe we'll make that "was using" as I'm not so sure I can continue to open the doors and windows and live to enjoy the landscaping.

I'm sniffling, sneezing, blowing, hacking and coughing -- and underneath it all is the distinct odor of garlic. Took me a bit to put one and one together to come up with two as math is really not my strong suit, but I've made the connection and now have to figure out what to do about it. How big is that one itty bitty plant going to grow? How far from the patio do I have to relocate it to diffuse the stench? Are the delicate light lavendar blossoms worth the allergies?

The hummingbirds, the bees, the butterflies, the small little birds, the big, black crows -- nature loves my gardens, but it appears that my body isn't as enamored. I'm going to give it a couple of days to see if it all calms down before taking any definite action, but I'm certainly going to do a sniff test before I bring another plant home!

Write Right

The quickest way to alienate people from one another is to deny their freedom of speech, so it is perplexing that the current administration seems determined to point fingers at Fox News Network in an effort to silence them. Sure, it's uncomfortable when young college kids come to Fox News to expose the organization that underwrote the President's election campaign, but if there are honest answers to the questions all journalists should ask, the administration has nothing to fear from Fox News Network -- or any other news outlet, including talk radio, to which the Fox News Network is being compared, as if that is somehow a put-down. People do talk -- behind your back if you won't let them talk to your face. Somehow, I would think that a president would prefer to know upfront what is being said, instead of being slammed with it in an expose ala Watergate. By trying to shut down the coverage of the ACORN scandal, the administration brought more attention to it and gave a cache to Fox News Network that was not the administration's intent.

People's perception is their reality, and if the public's perception is that the President of the United States speaks with a forked tongue, he'll lose his support faster than he can create his hit list. Therefore, it behooves the administration, including each and every one of the sycophants delivering the message for the President, to stop attacking the press that has been determined less than friendly than other networks. Remember the old saw to keep your allies close -- and your enemies closer.

Yesterday, for the first time, the other networks reminded the administration about the press's right not just to know what the White House tells them, but to analayze, synthesize, and evaluate what's going on in the world by refusing to go along when the administration overtly refused equal access to the Fox News Network during a press briefing. If the administration discriminates against the Fox News Network now, every other network is a potential target in the future -- and don't think that they don't all know that to be the case. Every citizen needs a voice, not just those who favor the current administration and its policies and practices. Trying to shut down the communication highway backlashes in a way that the administration does not seem to anticipate: when the press supports the President, life is good, but when the press turns against the President, life can be hell. Just ask Bush.

Mr. President, if you want Fox Network News off your back, open your front door and invite them in, and, playing off another President's famous admonition, if you can't stand the heat, be prepared to be grilled in the kitchen.

Do Over

Yesterday, I arrived for my MRI a half-hour early to complete the paperwork and gown up for the process. I sat in the waiting room, reading some great recipe magazines from Family Circle, anxious to complete this appointment and find out what is wrong with my back. However, I suddenly began feeling not well, so I stepped outside to gulp fresh air before going back inside. Within 10 minutes, I was so nauseous that I thought I would vomit and knew that I had to leave.

Just then, I was called for my appointment, so I stood up -- and froze in place, looking for a waste basket. The employee asked me if I was okay, but I had to tell him, "No, I am going to be sick," before I started back to the lobby. I stopped long enough at the desk to apologize and tell them I would call back to reschedule, and I hustled to my car. I did not vomit then, but turned the air conditioning to blast me with frigid air as I drove back home.

Once I was safely home, my body purged itself of what I think may have been tainted chicken I bought last Friday and the remnants of which I made into a chicken quesadilla about 90 minutes before the appointment. I was incredibly hot, but also shaking with the chills, so after cleaning myself and pulling on jammies, I crawled beneath the covers, a waste basket beside the bed.

I woke up at 7 am this morning, feeling so much better. I've still had a bit of chills today, along with the sudden heat flushes, but ate my Coach's Oats for b'fast and actually cooked a healthy late lunch to put back into my system that which it lost yesterday. I rescheduled the MRI, which now won't be until Tuesday morning, so guess I have to handle the back pain for several more days.

Better back pain than more vomiting!!

Lightweights

This is the third episode of the forgotten that I’ve dvr’d and watched, each time wondering what it is about the show that leaves me questioning why I spent the time to watch it. One of the new season’s keep it/lose it surveys shows the program earning a grade of D, which is totally plausible after last night’s story.

The characters lack charisma, so they come across as a group of actors hired to play a role for which they will cash a paycheck. The penetrating stare of Christian Slater would be off-putting to most people, so garnering sympathy for his still-missing kidnapped daughter just doesn’t work – either for me as a viewer or for his fellow cast. If the viewer doesn’t engage with Slater, the star of the series, the rest of the lightweight cast isn’t going to overcome that deficit as they are not established, seasoned veterans, but that ubiqutous new face we see far too often ... for one season. Adding a very much younger, very much more attractive former wife to the mix last night came out of nowhere: because Slater is so totally non-sympathetic, it’s hard to believe that he ever got that woman!

Most casts have a sympathetic geek, a buffoon, a fiercely independent woman, and a sympathetic cop, all of whom form a cohesive, interactive let’s get it done team. This cast is just a collection of stereotypes that more often seem at cross-purposes than working together to achieve a common goal. Furthermore, even when they pretend to work together, it’s not there. Each of the characters has a job, but based on the incredible number of hours they spend on each case, as well as the resources it takes to get the job done, they must also be independently wealthy. The classroom teacher conducts business on a cell phone during bus duty, a huge no-no on any job, and the next time you want to know where the telephone installer is during the four-hour window you hope s/he will arrive at your home, look for missing persons who need to be both id’d and located so they can come home to their family because that's his/her service priority.

An amazing aspect of the show is how quickly this team identifies the missing, a job that the police do not seem able to do – even when there is a stack of left-behind mail at the former residence. They can find the victim’s car even when it was abandoned months ago. Canvassing even the seediest of neighborhoods brings instant results for these intrepid volunteers, a feat the police could never accomplish because … well, I guess it’s because they are cops, the central message of the cop drama. The reason WE have to do THEIR job is because THEY are basically incompetent, but the voice-over explains that it's because the police have moved on to more current cases.

What could save the forgotten is integration with one of the established cop shows, such as the CSI and/or Law & Order franchises. Going out on their own in the mid-West probably was meant to open up the range of possibilities, but it puts too much burden on this show’s shoulders, a weight it isn’t carrying.

NCIS-LA is in a similar situation cast-wise, with the current cast simply not cohesing and developing charisma. The two male leads are good, playing off each other in a believable manner, but the computer geek is no Abby, the psychologist is no Ducky, the newest Probie is no Ziva, and “Ned” will never be a Gibbs, nor come close. It’s a great concept, but the core charisma isn’t there; however, whereas I doubt that the forgotten will last past this season, NCIS-LA probably will because the two male leads are so strong and this iteration is well-morphed with the original series.

My *Gosselin moment came as I turned off the TV and realized I'm simply making do until the mid-season replacements and summer season come around again.
_____________
*(epiphany): I wonder who taught Jon the grown-up vocabulary word to use during media interviews to prove his sincerity in wanting his children off the show to improve family values. I bet he had to practice a dozen times saying it over and over until he could use it naturally, as if he had always known/used that word to describe his ah-ha moment.

In Case You're Ever Tempted ...

If you make instant Jell-O sugar free/fat free pudding mix using soy milk, it won't jell. I made it last night so it would be really cold before I garnished it with whipped cream today for my Sweetest Day dessert. If it were going to set, it would have by now, so I'm going to guess that not this week, nor the next, either.

Wish it said that on the box BEFORE I made two flavors and used a full quart of milk in the process.

Ya Want Ketchup with Those Lies?

The world was on the edge of its collective seat as the strangely-shaped mylar balloon rode the winds a distance of almost 50 miles. Our collective prayers were sent that the 6-year-old boy alledgedly aboard the balloon would be safe. As the aircraft and media chased it, confirmation came from the ground that yes, the boy was trapped in the cardboard container at the bottom of the Jiffy Pop-shaped contraption. A gasp was heard 'round the world as it was suddenly rumored that, perhaps, he had fallen out! Endless speculation followed endless speculation, experts testifying on-air to the effects of the current and whether the balloon would make it to Denver, shut down an airport, and/or crash into the skyscrapers in that heavily-populated city; to the surety that the suddenly tilting basket at the bottom was the direct result of the boy's weight shifting inside it, buffeted and battered by the turbulence of the currents; that the possibility of hypoxia decreased the closer the balloon came to the ground; that the angle of entry toward the ground would determine how hard the balloon hit the ground and the potential for injury or death of its sole occupant.

We learned that not only are there balloon experts, but they can be on-air to explain what we are seeing faster than the on-air talent can pronounce the boy's name correctly.

As the chase 'copter showed a close-up of the balloon as it rotated in the current, it was evident that there was no way into the cardboard container at the bottom of the balloon, nor a way out. That's when I knew there was no child trapped under the flying mylar saucer, a suspicion confirmed by the personnel both in the air and on the ground who let it go, the sense of urgency gone. I figured that the boys had been playing with it because, face it, it's cool, and while the rest of the family went inside for lunch, the boys loosened the tethers, then ran to hide when the balloon pulled free and began to soar across the skies. They knew how much trouble they would be in for setting the balloon free because they knew exactly how mad their father could get. One of the boys, thinking quickly, took the heat off himself by blaming Falcon, who, he told his family, climbed aboard before it left the backyard.

Problem was: great story, but implausible -- and the father knew that as it was he who designed and built it. At that point, at least tell law enforcement and the media that no one is in danger and let the world enjoy watching the balloon without the fear that it would kill a child when it returned to Earth. However, at that time, no one knew the family history, including video of the father's explosive temper demonstrated during two separate segments of Wife Swap: the desperate need for public acclaim outweighed the risk to the rescuers, as well as the trauma to the viewers who believed that a child's life was in danger.

The family chronicled the event with the media, telling lie after lie after lie, both during and following the incident. The collective "we" were duped again by someone who puts fame before fidelity -- and uses his children to make it happen. We can shake off a Jon Gosselin selling himself to the media at the expense of his children's future because we know the legal system will protect the children. However, when it's a 6-year-old child all alone on a runaway balloon that may become his coffin, we take it into our hearts.

Ratings pay for the broadcasts, and the first one on the air with the most dramatic coverage makes the most money. It no longer seems to matter whether what appears to be happening is what is happening: it's all about the ratings, and the on-air talent make it up as they go along, streaming live with an endless chain of experts who can speculate about any topic, any time of the day or night. When will the world no longer have to ask whether it's real or another ghastly prank on the public?

When will the public's right to know right now become secondary to the public's right to know the truth, not the endless speculation and hyperbole the journalists' substitute for solid research? Journalism used to rely on the test of time because the lies inevitably unravel, but no one watches that coverage.

President Obama & the Media (and other stuff)

Random thoughts bouncing through my brain during b'fast:

(1) The mainstream media has to halt coverage of both the Letterman Legacy (subtitle: How to Abuse Positional Power to Gain Decades of Sexual Gratification with Multiple Staffers) and the Gosselin Divorce escapades (subtitle: You, Too, Can Make a Career Off a Gullible Public). As my mother used to say, Fools' names, and fools' faces, are always found in public places.

(2) Refocus the President's press time on the Fox Network: if you make that network your go-to organization for press coverage, they will be so busy covering all the non-events of the presidency that they won't have time to question anything said/done by anyone! Caveat: once Fox is no longer the target of the administration's not-so-hidden private agenda, the "mainstream" media may have to spend some time/do some research to fill their broadcast hours, and they may begin to unearth some real news in the process.

(3) Rather than continuing to polarize the citizens into radical lunatics and liberal progressives, how about we just talk about ... citizens with differing points of view? It doesn't matter what your political philosophy is, as long as you are both exercising the responsibility to think for yourself and the Constitutional right to express yourself in public venues. Well, it does help if the citizen does a bit of research and knows the difference between fact and fiction, but even that is not a citzenship requirement in this nation.

(4) Keep in mind that for any event, private or public, there are two critical needs that must be met: parking and potties. Next time you sell tickets to an outdoor basketball game in a venue that seats 15k, don't stock the toilets with extra rolls of paper if the patrons cannot find parking and enter the venue. Missing the first half of the game this year could be a future deal-breaker.

(5) About the retro football uniforms: I'm sure that a designer spent far too many hours to create the retro look and the NFL ponied up significant monies to pay for them, but they are ugly! And about those sideline outfits worn by the Cleveland Brown's staff: were they designed and paid for by UPS?

(6) Clever workaround: if the voters will not approve gay marriage, the governor signs a bill and voila! The will of the special interest groups is law. Celebrate good times, come on!

(7) A man who relocated to my desert city was shot and killed in the parking lot of the grocery store down the street at 12:30 am by what is described as a "Hispanic" gunman. Facts do not make this a racist accusation: the gunman is described as Hispanic, a culture that comprises about 70% of the Valley's population. What may make this either a racist or a gang shooting is the fact that the man in the parking lot was Asian, and often Hispanics and Asian gangs share bad blood. Just as often, young gang bangers have to make their bones by shooting someone; hence, the victim is in the wrong place at the wrong time, but he wouldn't have known this because he relocated over the weekend and had just finished his second day on his new job.

(8) Sugar-free Jell-o and sugar-free/fat-free instant pudding are good, but so much better when the Jell-o is inside a poke cake frosted with pudding and Cool-Whip mixed together -- or baked into a chocolate pie, a lemon meringue pie, or used to create the jell in a fresh strawberry pie.

(9) So, if my A1C and my blood sugar are well within normal ranges and have been for the past two years, am I still diabetic? Or have I reverted to the "pre" diabetes grey area in which I've lived for about ... 40 years ... since my first pregnancy?

(10) If I had $10K, could I make changes to my kitchen that would not just make it more user-friendly, but also provide me with adequate storage for all the boxes marked "kitchen" that are still in the garage? I've been cleaning cupboards, but emptying what I have does NOT increase over-all storage!

Okay, I'll go back to reading during my morning meal, rather than just thinking about what I'm thinking about.

I Feel Healthy, Oh So Healthy!

Talk about impressive: I received a personal call from the doctor's office to assure me that all my labs came back just fine: every test is within normal ranges. That means both my A1C and my blood sugars are fine, so I continue to control the diabetes with diet and exercise. Good. I do not have a problem with cholesterol, which given my family history is amazing and another medical challenge I don't have to handle at this time.

However, I still have a spot in my back that hurts like hell, and getting an appointment for the ultrasound continues to be a challenge.

I called again yesterday, between classes, to make the appointment, confident that the doctor's orders were in the lab's office. Not so. I heard the same "we cannot make an appointment without the doctor's orders," and my response was predicated on my on-going back pain: "That is bullshit!" I explained how many phone calls I had made between the imaging lab and my doctor's office over a period of three days and concluded that even an incompetent staff at either location would have the doctor's orders by now.

To her credit, the employee on the receiving end of my temper tantrum said, "Let me put you on hold while I contact the doctor's office," which I assumed would be a ploy to add to my cell phone usage and end in frustration. Happily, I was wrong: within two minutes she said they had the doctor's orders, so we began the process of finding an appointment time that worked for both of us.

They manage four offices in four different parts of the Valley, including "up the hill," which is where I am on Wednesday. Since the other 3 offices did not have availability until later next week, I opted for stopping for the ultra-sounds on my way home tomorrow: my back hurts, and I want to know the cause.

I'll let you know how it goes.

La-La-La Labs

This morning, I drove to PS for the lab work required prior to my annual physical. I arrived, along with several other patients, at 7 am only to realize that the lab opens at 8 am, so I drove to Wal-Mart and bought non-perishables before returning to the lab at 7:45 am. By this time, there were already almost 2 dozen patients (and their family members; Hispanics enjoy family outings, even to the lab) lined up at the door. I joined their ranks, determined to be in and out and back home by 9 am.

Yeah, right. Each patient has to sign in, take a seat, and wait to be called for the check-in process that includes both the lab request and the insurance card. A new twist this visit was that each patient has to provide an "open" line of credit on a credit card so if the insurance does not pay within 45 days, it goes onto the patient's credit card.

My reaction: hell, no. I simply told them that I did not have a credit card with me, which is true as I only carry a debit card. I said that they are welcome to bill me if I owe a balance and I will be glad to send them a check -- but I'm not presenting them with a credit card! I added that there is no way I want my credit card information available in their files, along with my signed permission to debit the card, unless ALL of their employees, including delivery personnel and the custodial staff are licensed and bonded. And, I asked that the proof be presented to me before I signed the permission form.

They did my lab work this time, but I probably have not heard the end of the discussion.

However, because so many patients arrived for their lab work, the majority of us fasting for a blood work-up, my name was not called until 9:15 am. It only took a minute, but I ate my dinner at 6 pm yesterday, so it seemed like a really long time to go without eating. Presented with an opportunity to enjoy someone else's cooking, I drove to my favorite downtown diner for a breakfast burrito before driving back home.

What tickled my funny bones this morning was the elderly couple that arrived at the lab to find patients filling all the chairs, as well sitting on the brick wall outside the lab. The old man could not process all these people at the lab when it had just turned 8:00 and the lab had just opened its doors. He was convinced that the lab opened at 6:30 am, as it does on weekday mornings. He spoke loudly with his wife, with the people sitting to his side, and then got up to go through it all again with the lab staff. The woman sitting next to me got the giggles as she said, kinda loudly, "Which part of it doesn't he understand?" but then she really lost it when her husband's name was called, Gwen James, instead of James Whatever the real pronunciation of his last name.

Sad to say that she was probably the only person at the lab this morning having fun, and when I left, the old guy was still trying to convince his wife that the lab must have opened its doors at 6:30 this morning.

Starting Over -- Again

Why is it that each time I go see "my" doctor, we start over? It's as if I've never set foot in the office prior to this visit. This time, we updated my medical records, which show I have an allergy to shrimp, one of my favorite seafoods. When we checked the list of current medications, I said, "No, you told me not to continue taking that medication the last time I was here."

"Oh," was the response.

However, when I explained that I do have a concern this visit and described it, I was asked if I am "still taking" a medication that has never been prescribed for me! When I responded that I am not and why, I was told that "every patient with diabetes should be taking this medication to prevent kidney damage."

At that point, I asked why, if it is she who told me that I have diabetes three years ago, that medication was not prescribed at that time. "I'm not sure," was the reply.

Guess this is heavy-handed of me, but I expect my doctor to be "sure," not to make guesses. And, it may be that my present medical issue is related to that failure to prescribe the medication three years ago!

I also have spent 3 days making phone calls as I was supposed to have an ultra-sound "stat" on my back/kidney area, as well as the arteries in my neck, one to address the present issue and the other to follow-up on the vertigo that has been part of my life for about 18 months! The question was, "Have we tried anything else for the vertigo," to which I responded no, not after the five separate visits to the office did not produced the desired results, and that is what led to the "let's try an ultrasound on the arteries" because it could indicate hardening of the arteries, which I've been led to believe can be a significant medical issue, not an after-thought.

The reason for all the phone calls the past couple of days is that the lab never called me to schedule the procedure, so when I contacted the doctor's office, they told me to call the lab, which told me that they didn't have the doctor's orders, so I was directed to call the doctor back, who assured me that they have been faxed, which meant that I had to call the lab back, which would not schedule the procedure because they still don't have the orders!!!!!

At that point, I directed the lab to call the doctor directly because it is NOT my job to be the go-between. I am the patient; I need the procedures; set it up and do it. My "stat" procedure will now be sometime next week, I guess, as I still have not heard back from the lab to set up an appointment.

I am loathe to go the doctor because every office visit seems to result in the same scenario: I have a medical issue which (1) never turns out to be serious and (2) always turns into a fiasco.

Hey, Dave?

How 'bout this for an opening monologue:

Because I love and respect my wife, whom I have not just embarrassed, but hurt deeply with my betrayal of our marriage commitment, I apologize. To all the women with whom I abused my positional power beyond the boundaries of a professional relationship, I apologize. Because my conduct is as reprehensible as the actions of the person who used my inexcusable behavior to extort money from me to keep it hidden, I apologize for making this very private situation into a public spectacle.

This needs to become a private conversation that I have with my wife, not share with an audience, so I am discontinuing any public comment about the situation. I also will no longer use this event as the basis for comedy as I have finally come to my senses and realize that this is no laughing matter.

Is Doing Something Better Than Doing Nothing?

The rush-rush emergency supplies of anti-viral nose spray and injections to protect against the predicted world-wide H1N1 flu pandemic are on the way across the USA, paid for courtesy of the federal government, which to many recipients means that it's FREE! My county has already received 2-1/2 billion dollars from the federal government to distribute the doses to eligible recipients. Whoopee! The targeted demographic is individuals between the ages of 2 and 49; new-borns aren't as much at risk because they are usually cared for in a more isolated environment and senior citizens (which I guess means anyone age 50 and older; sorry those who think that 50 is the new 40) require an injectable dose, rather than a nasal spray, which takes longer to bring to market than a nasal spray.

Why am I concerned that this rush to protection may not be all that it's hyped to be? Primarily because the vaccine has been developed since April: that's 5 months to research, develop, test, approve, package, and distribute a drug, and that's simply not enough time. We have drugs that took a decade to develop that have caused irreparable harm to consumers and death for some victims of the side-effects of the drugs. A TV viewer cannot spend an hour in front of the flat screen without being subjected to ads run by legal firms that target the failure of popular medical treatments for common ailments: call 1-800 Sue the Bastards and we'll both make big bucks. If we don't win, you don't pay, and we wouldn't waste our time if we weren't going to win.

If every school-age child is mandated to receive the H1N1 anti-viral and the rest of the population is frightened into believing that death is imminent without H1N1 flu protection this year, the potential for harm is magnified beyond what anyone can imagine. If it works, great, but when it doesn't, here come the personal horror stories, the deaths, and the inevitable lawsuits, with the harm of using the vaccine out-weighing the good idea behind it.

A friend who is driving cross-country called her physician to ask if there was anything she should do before leaving: she has issues with chronic back pain and her question targeted that condition. Her doctor, however, advised her to be protected against H1N1 as she's in the target demographic, with a pre-existing medical condition that adds to her risk assessment, and she gave in to his persuasive argument about her potential exposure to H1N1. Her reaction: she's never been so sick from a flu shot! She's used to maybe having a reaction to a flu shot, but she said this reaction was worse than just having the flu and dealing with it: 5 days in bed, sicker than a dog.

We require two flu shots this year: the regular flu shot and the H1N1 anti-viral spray or injection (age-based). Nowhere can I find publications that discuss the interaction between these two products, which concerns me because many patients react to the annual flu shot and many others are going to react to the H1N1 anti-viral. What's going to happen with two vaccinations fighting internally to protect me from the annual flu season? Will they exacerbate the onset and severity of flu, leading to a higher mortality rate, or cancel each other's effectiveness? Can anyone answer that question?

Flu kills, regardless of what we do to protect ourselves in an attempt to prevent the bug from using us as its host. In what are commonly called third-world nations, the everyday living conditions almost guarantee that there will be more victims in those demographics than in a country that has one of the best medical care systems in the world. It makes sense to protect high-risk individuals, but I'm not sure it makes as much sense to target all US citizens because the basic health threshold is higher in this country. I'm not aware of national panic in other nations, so what do they know that we don't know?

Doctors are charged to do no harm, so medical professionals believe that doing something is better than doing nothing, especially when the federal government is paying for the vaccine. I lack faith in the pharmaceutical industry and do not believe that it's beneficial to use the hastily-concocted H1N1 vaccine. When the list of contra-indications and possible side effects require a page of disclaimer, doing something cannot be better than doing nothing.

Smokin' HOT!

Talk about HOT, HOT, HOT! Whether it's the neon pink Breast Cancer Awareness spots of color on the uniforms or Bret Favre schoolin' his former teammates about playing some Monday Night Football, this is one of the best halves of football I've ever watched.

The NFL is totally on the leading edge of cancer awareness: thanks, guys, for honoring Breast Cancer Awareness month. It's important for all of us to know that early detection can make the difference between victim and victory in the battle with cancer, and all that neon pink is sending a message world-wide.

However, if that damned announcer marvels one more time that Favre is FORTY next week, as if he should be in his rocker or on his death bed, I swear I'm gonna write another nasty letter! Favre is doing it his way all over the field: stop harpin' 'bout anythin' but the FOOTBALL!

OKAY, the game is over and it was intense. If a quarterback is going to retire, THIS is the legacy he wants to leave as he walks off the field. Way to go, Favre.

Anyone Could Be Me

Perhaps it’s part of the natural winding down process that occurs as I age, but there has been a feeling of oh, well about who I am and what I have accomplished with my life. There is such a long line of others waiting to take my place that there is an overwhelming feeling that anyone could be me. This week, my horoscope focused on the feeling in a way that says it how I think it:

Your horoscope for October 2, 2009

You may feel you can no longer explore your inner feelings, but alas, dear Liza, you must persevere. You have a tremendous capacity to bury problems deep, and you obliviously go through life surfing on top of them. It is true that this strategy of yours allows you to remain in a good mood. But you are never in such a good mood as to be profoundly happy, wouldn't you agree? (msn.com)

I do bury problems deep because that’s part of who I am from way back when. In my family, we never talked about pretty much anything because why waste the time, the effort, the energy when it had to be spent on so many other aspects of life? When there are 6 children and one working parent, who cares about what isn’t when there is so much that is to consume the hours/days/ weeks/months/ years? And that cycle continues: there are very few people with whom I share my self, rather than my persona. I have created a cocoon around my self, but eventually that covering either breaks open to reveal a metamorphosis or it disintegrates and returns to nature: ashes to ashes, dust to dust. It feels as if my cocoon is weathering away, and I’m not sure that I’m ready to live without, rather than within.

People have expectations based on their expectations, not on who we really are, and once others have created us in their image, that’s all they want to see and/or know. As long as I present the appropriate persona to the appropriate person at the appropriate time, we go along to get along; however, when I stop being who they have defined me to be, it’s time for us to go our separate ways, and that has happened several times during the past year. After trying to be who others needed me to be, I saturated myself with a falseness that I could no longer sustain. One day, it was all gone. I could no longer bite my tongue so I didn’t say what I was thinking, but when I spoke up, the other persons were incredulous that I didn’t agree with them and am willing to walk the rest of the way without them as part of my life.

It surprises me that everyone else in the world is personally empowered to speak his/her own mind, especially as it pertains to who I am and how I should live my life, but I’m not allowed to do the same – even when it’s about my own life! You cannot take from a person for years and then refuse to accept that they, too, have needs – needs that you refuse to accommodate. As long as I follow someone else’s script, my life goes along more evenly. As my horoscope puts it, however, I am “never in such a good mood as to be profoundly happy,” and I have finally come to the stage in my life when I want to be “profoundly happy.”

I just have absolutely no idea whatsoever how to make that happen, which is a sad commentary about my inner resources.

I can do a Letterman, I can admit that I have done horrible things in my life that if I could undo them, I would, but I’m too pragmatic to fool myself, much less anyone else. I did learn from the mistakes and have tried valiantly not to repeat them, but it’s the mistakes that wake me up in the middle of the night. I do live my life in a world of “if only” because that’s part of who I am, too. What’s that perspective that has found popularity with the younger "me" generations: it’s all about me, so whatever I did/do is okay and the rest of the world just has to deal with it because I’ve moved on? See, that’s not who I was/am/want to be, but it may become who I am as my protective covering continues shedding itself.

I do take it personally when I give my best and it’s thrown back at me in meanness, in disrespect, in anger: how can I not take it personally when it’s aimed at me? I know that many people displace their own life frustrations onto others so they can walk away from them, but I seem to be a target more often than others, probably because I present a self to the world that says, “I can take it.” That’s not always true, however, and all the attacks, both personal and professional, have taken a toll that is just now beginning to overwhelm me. The military talks about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder for those who live through the trauma of war, but I’ve lived through another war: my life, which has included 35 years of accepting responsibility for thousands of students, their parents, and colleagues who sloughed off their issues, situations, dysfunctions, and inability to cope with life onto my shoulders.

Yes, I’m serious. In an office setting, I’d never have to assume personal responsibility for the function of the workplace, as well as the individual dysfunctions of the customers who occupy the seats for an hour each day, five days a week. Do the quick math: 35 years of at least 200 students a day, and then add a parental unit to each of those students, as well as colleagues who picked the wrong job and hate what they are doing, as well as administrators who could not teach, so moved to the front office to tell those of us who can do our jobs well how to do it their way, never realizing that THEY FAILED: we haven’t.

That’s PTSD.

Yes, my strategy allows me to remain in a good mood, but it’s not a place where I feel good either about myself or about others. It used to be that I could not wait to go to work, to share my knowledge, my expertise, my experience in the classroom because my goal was to help students become better users of their English skills. A poorly-written essay reflects badly on my teaching, so I take the time to work one-on-one to help the student do a better job, which used to be enough. Not any longer: the response to a bad grade is that I personally want to hurt the student’s chances at a future that includes a good career with a great salary. It’s not professional for the student: it’s personal; but for me, it can only be professional because I’m not allowed to have it be personal.

That’s PTSD.

Life is on-going PTSD, one way or another, and we all have to learn how to cope with what is, rather than what we wish life could be, but we also have to learn how to move past where we are to closer to where we want to be. I cannot assume that “someone” is going to make my life better, so I have to do it myself. However, before I can engage that process, I have to put in place a goal, a vision of where/when/why. If I just start doing whatever I want, chances are I’ll make more bad decisions than good ones, which means spending time undoing that which doesn’t work so I can continue with what does work, a meaningless activity of nailing one foot to the floor and going around and around in circles, all the while thinking that I’m making progress toward whatever.

I want to be me, whoever that is: the good, the bad, the ugly. I don’t want to live the rest of my life in a continual process of self-censoring, while being barraged by other people’s dysfunction. I don’t want to deal with the people who ascribe meaning to words based on their interpretation of them, rather than on what was said in the course of a simple conversation. I don’t want to deal with people whose lives are imploding and expect me to accommodate the process. I don’t want to answer either my phone or my doorbell unless I’m in the frame of mind to deal with whoever’s there.

Sometimes, I just don’t want to deal with any of it – and that should be okay with the rest of the world. It should be my decision whether to go through the remainder of my life surfing across the problems or dealing with them head-on, as well as deciding whether I want others to think I’m in a good mood when I really want to be profoundly happy.

Yesterday, while watching an episode of one of the Law/Order shows during my sick day, a scene featured an actor accused of murder. His assessment: you can arrest me, but you'll never get a conviction because I'm the star of the show and without me, there is no show. I think that just maybe once or twice I'd like to be the "star" of my show and KNOW that no one can replace me, but deep down inside, anyone could be me. If I want that to be different, then I have to change to make it different. Let's see if I'm up to the task!

K8 and What's His Name

I have never watched the Plus 8 show because it’s just not interesting to me; however, tonight Jon and his new lawyer appeared on Larry King Live and it was interesting. Jon is an opportunist who has literally screwed his way through the last year of his life and when K8, fed up with his public immorality and hugely embarrassing conduct, dropped him from the show, SHAZAM! Jon is now apologizing for his past mistakes and, following the script, saying he’s made mistakes but now it’s time for him to man up and assert himself. He wants his kids off the show so he and K8 have time to talk things through and do what’s best for the children.

Really? That isn’t the message of the past year, Jon. Your actions have spoken much louder than your apology, and, by the way, crying that you didn't know what you were signing when you signed the contract for the show just doesn't cut it. You've been living much better than you ever dreamed, and none of the pretty young thangs you've been doing for the past year would have given you a second look without the money you've earned from the TV exposure.

The new buzz word is transparency, and Jon’s as transparent as glass. It’s NOT about the children: it’s about K8 pulling the plug on financing Jon’s disgusting lifestyle. Every question had the same scripted answers, and it got tedious. Poor, poor Jon has made mistakes in the past, but he's had an epiphany and realizes he's made mistakes and now he knows what he has to do. With the threat of losing his piece of the financial pie, Jon hired a lawyer who kept telling the viewers that we’re in the court of public opinion, and with the people standing behind Jon, we’ll win. Of course, what we’re going to win is never specified, so there is no way to know if the win is Jon back on the show so he continues to earn money he can spend on going out and getting drunk, or Jon gets his own show, or TLC has to start paying Jon more or he takes them to court.

Jon may say he wants the filming to stop, but if it stops, so does the lifestyle, and I'm thinking that's not what Jon really means to have happen. If that was what he really wanted, he'd be talking to K8 in person, not on Larry King Live! Again, the actions aren't in sync with the message, Jon, and I'm not buying the product you think you're selling.

K8’s lawyer was on via telephone and he kept shaking his head, an obvious reaction to the horse pucky being shoveled by Jon and his new lawyer. Jon wants to slow down the divorce? No, he’s already moved on. Haley, the newest girlfriend, is a rock and she’s standing behind him no matter what he does. Uh, maybe, but I wouldn't bet my future on it, Jon. Jon (or his lawyer) wants to slow down the cut-off date for the money machine by slowing down the divorce that he pushed for 6 months ago! Again, his motives are so transparent that he came across as in it to win it and willing to throw his not-quite-ex-wife and children under the bus in the process.

All in all, I better understand what I've heard from others: the show was REALLY Kate Plus 9 as being married to Jon was more like having another child to raise than sharing parenting with a spouse. You said it's time for you to grow up and be a man? K8 has already moved on, Jon, so do your growing up on your own dime.