Another Day, Another Humiliation.

This week our president was reported as having said something awful about impoverished third world countries.  He wondered why there were so many immigrants from these countries facing such awful circumstances. Reportedly he said we need more immigrants from countries that are doing well financially. The implication was we should have immigrants that really have no need to immigrate. 

Maybe we could have our INS agents sneak into wealthier countries and spirit a few of the more successful professionals from select European countries back to the US. Of course, then we can use some people from the other countries, the poor countries, to clean their houses, tend their gardens and make sure they don’t escape back to whatever paradise they were liberated from. 

Of course we will have to alter the wording on the Statue of Liberty, something along the lines of “give us your educated, successful, self-sufficient, or we will come for them.” 

In a surprising display of unity a couple of  republicans rushed to the president’s defense, after a couple of days.

“I was in town that day, and I did not hear the president say that.”  A senator I can’t remember from a state that escapes my memory for the moment.

“When?” The reporter asked.

“When what?” The senator asked, back.

“When didn’t you hear the president call several poor, unfortunate countries a toilet?”  The reporter rolled his eyes toward the heavens for strength.

“At the meeting.” The senator replied.

“Was that the only time he didn’t say it?”

“No, I never, always, didn’t hear him say that.”

“Thanks, we are all out of time.”

“No, thank you,” “No I insist, thank you,” “No, thank you, damnit,” On and on. 

Meanwhile American credibility falls around the world. The president is not welcome in London, the capitol of our staunchest ally. People look to China, Germany, and Russia for stability, and Nero tweets. It was nice while it lasted.

A Day With my Wife, part II

Just over a week ago my wife had her misadventure. It was long, trying, terrifying. Few things take a person to such a dark place as seeing someone who means so much tethered to a machine, electrodes, wires, tubes, all leading to a quiet little box, barely noticeable, steadily tracking her breathing, heartbeat, blood pressure, God knows what else. Watching her sit there can lead to some awful places.

A steady stream of doctors filed in, all asking the same questions. “On a scale of 1 to 10 how would you rank your chest pain?” Ten, “Has this ever happened before?” No, “What were you doing when the chest pain began?” Standing still. But, they were kind, smiled reassuringly, took her pulse, and looked deeply in to her eyes. Something about them made you feel comfortable. There was an air of knowledge, not in a smug, superior way, but in a way that seemed almost omnipotent, a “we know you are suffering, and are here to help” way.

When they left my wife would say, “I’m just crazy, they’re going to say, ‘you’re just crazy.’” Fear does strange things. Even to woman who is so strong, so caring. For years she has been my rock, my port in the storm, all of those storms, my light house through all the insecurity, all of the times I was so lost that it seemed impossible, and she would talk me back from the edge. How do you help someone cope with that kind of fear? What do you tell a person who was worried they were dying, then worried they were going crazy, when they have spent the last twenty seven years convincing you of your sanity?

All I could say was “No, you needed to come here. You need to be here.” I squeezed her hand, the hand that wasn’t wired. 

I didn’t say, I’m the crazy one, you don’t get that job, we can’t both be the crazy one. Who will make the grocery list, who will clip the coupons and celebrate the savings, who will come home and tell me excitedly about her day, and her “kids” all of the students, parading past her desk, every day, smiling, happy to see her. Who will stop to pick up the pennies, and take the time to turn them over to “heads” because I said that was the key to good luck? 

Eventually, after reading her EKG, and the abnormal lines tracking across the page, and asking, repeatedly about her family history they decided the symptoms, two cardiologists and a “hospitalist” decided, she was not crazy, there was something in the lines they didn’t like. They scheduled a stress test for the next morning.

A very kind, compassionate nurse, who kept calling her “girl friend” (he called everybody girlfriend), other patients, nurses, probably not the doctors, though), got her a sandwich, some soup, and some water.  She told me, later, that it could have used some salt, she likes salt. How do you say “it had plenty of salt, you use too much salt,” to a woman who walks past the elevator every day to take the stairs, a woman who is so faithful to taking her medicine, a woman who does so many healthy things? You don’t, you just add a little less salt when cooking, and let her think she is living on the edge.

Her stress test was the next morning, “I will be here, with your tennis shoes, by 7:00,” I promised, at 6:15 I was having coffee, by myself at the nurse’s station. Finally, brave enough, I ventured back to the little room, and she was watching television, by herself, in that big building, with all of those people, walking, riding, pushing carts, she was all alone, and in a way it made her comfortable, somehow she could carve out some quiet time to watch the morning news. She was not allowed any food, nothing except water until after the test.

At 9:00 they loaded her into a wheel chair, and took her away. When she came back the nurse said she could not have any food until the doctor approved. When the cardiologists came in they told her the results were irregular. Her "ejection fraction" was abnormal.  Not dramatically bad, but bad enough, combined with the chest pains, the odd nature of the lines on the EKG, and her family history they felt a heart catheterization was necessary, and they could fit her in that afternoon. Blood thinners, some other medicine for blood pressure, and some aspirin, a whole handful of aspirin, but she could have no lunch, and certainly no diet Coke. She did not complain, not even to me after they left, not even a little. She laughed, joked about losing weight, and smiled at me. “It will be ok, I will be fine,” she said. 

We sat, and waited, talking quietly between doctor visits, between checks on her vital statistics. Her blood pressure, pulse, respiration were monitored so closely, obsessively. It seemed ominous, dark, menacing. Doctors, kind, patient, smiling, stopped, took her pulse. Then came the bad bits, the warnings.

While explaining the catheterization procedure, which sounded awful, they had to take the precaution of explaining the risks. “As with any procedure, there is a small risk of death.” They said it so often it began to echo up and down the long, lonely hallways. I must have heard it repeated a thousand times, always with the same quiet dispassion, the same matter of fact indifference. “You could have kidney damage, a stroke, a heart attack, and there is always the possibility of death, always the case with a medical procedure." It hardly ever happens, but it might. You could be the lucky one, the big winner.
I wanted to scream, “why, if it is so unlikely, do you keep bringing it up? If she dies, and I complain you can say ‘well, we told you that might happen. You were warned, I don’t know what you are going on and on about.’” I wanted to grab her, throw her over my shoulder and run out the door, but I had no idea where the door was, and she seemed much more comfortable than I. She knew they had to say that. I knew that too, but did they have to keep saying it. It seemed everybody who walked past her little curtain tossed it out.

“Would you like some more water? It might be your last.”

It must have shown on my face, because when they took her away to have her catheterization she looked at me in a way that I had seen a hundred times, a way that said “you worry too much, you let things bother you too much. There are happy endings.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be ok.” I told her, I tried to make it sound like a joke, but not really sure how well I pulled that off.  She squeezed my hand.

“I know, and so will I.” she said.

In what had to be the longest forty five minutes of my life I waited, and wandered, I typed out an 800 word blog post, on my phone, my thumbs were flying, my mind was occupied, and it was better than staring at the clock, alone with my thoughts. Eventually, they took me to a small room where a doctor told me she was through, no stints, some plaque buildup, but nothing alarming. I would be taken back to see her when she was ready.

I have never seen a more beautiful sight. My wife trying to eat apple sauce using only her left hand, I wanted to laugh, and I wanted to cry, but I just smiled, and kissed her on the top of her head. Then I fed her the rest of the apple sauce. She wanted to cry because she had food, and Diet Coke.

They let her go home at 9:00 that night. On the way home she said, “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this.”

“You look fantastic,” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know how to say anything else. I was so relieved words got lost looking for the way out. I smiled and patted her hand, and drove her home. Two days can be an eternity.

Because of her problems, indefinable though they were, they told her to see a preventative care cardiologist, and she will, she has a new prescription, and she is faithful about taking it every day. The story is not over, I like to think it is only beginning. 

Finally, some summer fun.

"In the desert in the dry,

Before the breaking of the rain,

The temperature in the shade

Had reached 110 again."

"Is it Hot in here or is it just me?"

Since we are enjoying a break from the ruinous heat and humidity of summer, thank you Polar Vortex, long have we loved, and yearned for you, it seems like a good time to warn you about the dangers of over exposure to the harmful rays of the sun.  With such pleasant temperatures, it is easy to think I will get outdoors and do some stuff, lots of stuff, more stuff than wise, more stuff than anybody would think possible.

Whether you are going to do yard work, enjoy a little time in the pool, throw something on the grill, walk through park, or any number of things, make sure you are adequately protected, by using plenty of sunscreen.  It is not possible to stress the importance of this strongly enough.  It is so vital they stopped calling it suntan lotion.  No longer will we laud the attractiveness of a bronzed, summer sun worshipper.  Now we admire the pale, pasty complexion resembling potato soup.

"It follows me wherever I go!"

No, it is time to start lathering up with a balm that is waterproof, sweatproof, and keeps the damaging awful rays of the sun from your delicate, dainty skin.  Most doctors recommend a SPF (Sun Prohibiting Function) of at least 190 or 200.  This is the equivalent of staying indoors.

Of course most doctors recommend at least three servings of vegetables, and fruit with every meal, and snack.  Oh, and they also recommend that you put down the giant soda, you worthless slug!  And they would be happy if you would exercise a little more, and eat less fried food, and lay off the processed food, and would it kill you to take the stairs once in a while.  In fact, most doctors would like nothing better than to suck all of the fun out of your life, leaving you with nothing but a long, dull, tasteless life, filled with monotony and boredom, and exercise, and medicine.  And don't even get me started on dentists, they are a whole different form of cruel, and awful, and...  Oops, that is another post.

Anyway, enjoy yourself outdoors, try to be careful, don't forget your sunscreen, stay hydrated, and don't forget to take some Del Lords music with you, it makes everything seem a little better.

Another small victory for aging mice.

There is startling news from the world of science this week.  Hey, Brother can You Spare A Couple of Units of A Positive?  Three separate studies confirm that infusing elderly mice with the blood of younger, more vibrant, healthier mice have noticeable effects.  Among the many benefits were increased memory, strengthened and rejuvenated muscles, and an improved sense of smell, which may be a mixed blessing depending on the personal hygiene of the other mice in the area.  But, the implications are profound and exciting.

Scientists may be able to counteract some of the debilitating results of aging, including age dependent muscle deterioration, heart disease, stroke, diabetes, cancer, dementia, and other neurodegenerative disorders.  Of course, research is still in the early stages, but there is a lot of excitement.

Several well known doctors are taking notice of the potential benefits, and are expressing great interest in the process including Rudolph Tanzi, professor of neurology at Harvard, and Director of the Genetics and Aging Research at Massachusetts General Hospital, who is "kind of blown away, really."  Also, Countess Elizabeth Barthory "The Blood Countess" and Vlad of Walachia, "Vlad the Impaler," both of whom were quoted as saying "Wow, I was ahead of the curve on this one."

Buffy, and Van Helsing remain unconvinced, vowing to offer empirical evidence showing the best way to prevent aging is by dying, though they are not really talking about themselves, as they pat the pile of wooden stakes on the industrial, grey metal table.

One thing remains certain; in the battle against growing old scientists have made remarkable progress, but when I look in the mirror it is obvious they have a long way to go.

Reporting live from the heart of middle age, this is Tim for Life Explained.

Scientific Research, at it's Finest

According to a recent, scientific study conducted by Life Explained scientists, in a carefully controlled environment with adequate safeguards, and verifiable, quantified results there are two types of people in the world (at least the part of the world with cars).  Drive through people and walk in people.

Walk in people are more tolerant, and patient.  They weigh their options, and try to focus on the big picture.  Considered, rational, and charitable.  While drive through people are rushed, harried, and willing to settle for whatever they get.  Irritable, tyrannical, and domineering, drive through people can be a little tense.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"  The counter person will ask the walk in customer.

"Not quite yet, I am still deciding among the many beautiful, varied, and delicious options."  Is the answer, while the customer says a silent prayer for his brethren who is about ready to navigate the no mans land of the drive through lane.  After careful, thorough deliberation the patient, kind walk in customer orders a large coffee (any size only a dollar this week) no cream, no sugar (why ruin good coffee)  and a cream filled, chocolate donut that is so good it would make Dante rethink the 9 spheres of heaven.

While in the background is the sound of someone grunting into a speaker, "gimme doughnut!"

"Yes, sir.  Would you like anything to drink with "doughnut"?  The clerk asks.

Fast food.

"Gimme coffee, cram in the cream and sugar, and make it fast, I'm in a big dammed hurry."  The driver shrieks into the intercom.  Throwing the money in through the window, he grabs his cup, and bag and speeds away, stuffing the doughnut in his mouth, using the coffee to keep from choking.  While the next person in line revs the engine, waiting for the green flag to drop, when the pained scream of squealing tires and the sickening stench of burning rubber will provide the backdrop for breakfast on the go.

"Life is sweet"

The walk in customer walks, happily, (except for the terrified sprint across the drive through lane) whistling a cheerful tune, back to their car, stopping just long enough to lend a helping hand to a poor, lost soul, down on their luck.  Who, using the unique opportunity provided by this wonderful, charitable, beloved person, begins to make good choices, gets a job, goes to night school, earns a degree, finds a wife, gets married, has children and is elected to city council, where he helps usher in a new era of industrious prosperity, and hope for a desperate population.  Good fortune rides in on a chocolate covered, glazed chariot, with sprinkles.



While it is true that people are people, scientific evidence proves that some people are not the same people as other people, and there are people who are more people than other people.  It gets a little confusing for the those without the proper education, and framed diplomas, and white lab coats, but trust us, we are doctors.