Eulogy for a Polymath

I found out about his death nearly two weeks ago. A few times, I had started to blog about him and could not find the words to put down on the blank computer screen.  Finally, it's time.

I had read his blog for years.  I think I had been introduced to it, 10 or more years ago, through a blogging challenge.  We had also become Facebook friends.

He had gone into the hospital yet again and wrote about it on his blog.  He had been battling serious health issues for several years and blogged about them, one of many, many topics he blogged about.

His inventions and interests spanned (per his biography) the fields of kidney dialysis, colon electrolyte lavages, water reuse systems, and more.  He was an enrolled agent and blogged about tax matters, and also was a chemical engineer, among several career changes.  Self described as a polymath, I will call him one, too.

He blogged about civil rights 

He wrote about anti-Semitism.

He also loved music.  Here is one of his music posts.  I was honored to have him read, in turn, my Monday music posts.  

He loved wine.  He loved art, and collected art. 

He blogged about our duty to repair our world.  For him, it was a religious obligation.

He never hesitated to DM me on Facebook if I made a mistake in my blog.

Through his blog, I felt like I had come to know something about him.  I know few bloggers who shared as much about himself as he did.  Some of his blog posts, in all honesty (the scientific ones and the tax ones) were way above my head, but I looked at them, anyway.  He would have expected no less from me.  His was not a light and fluffy blog.  I learned from it.

Along all this, he loved his family and his children.  He was so proud of them.  One of the last interactions I had with Roy, in fact, was him sending me a copy of a book "One Bold Move a Day" written by one of his children.  I didn't ask for it.  He just did it.

Several days after he blogged about going into the hospital (for the last time, it turned out) I had a sinking feeling.  I've learned never to ignore that feeling.  I went online and, in mere seconds, found his obituary.  It wasn't hard.  Sadly, he had passed away a couple of days before I had that sinking feeling.

His earthly battles are over.

I miss his blog posts already.  

Roy A. Ackerman, Ph.D., E.A.  May your memory be for a blessing.

The Great Changes

Back in May of 2021, I blogged about my dentist of many years retiring.   

My dentist did retire at the end of summer 2021. I met my new dentist in early 2022, when he had to work on an old filling that needed to be worked on.

Life went on.

When my spouse had his doctors appointment in the fall of 2021, he found out his doctor (also of many years) was retiring at the end of the year.  The doctor was 70, and wanted to spend time with his family, especially his grandchildren. 

Then, not long after I got a letter from my gyn nurse practitioner.  The letter said she was retiring December 5, 2021.  I had my suspicions (my post link above also discussed her possible retirement) but thought I might get more notice.  Earlier this year, I met her replacement.

Of course, these professionals would have retired eventually, but maybe not when they did.  I will never know. 

The most recent retirement was earlier this month - our insurance agent of 36 years.  During that time, she raised a daughter, successfully underwent treatment for cancer, and took good care of us.  Now, her elderly mother has dementia, and she will become a full time caregiver.

We've all read about the "Great Resignation" but there is also the "Great Retirement". I technically wasn't part of the Great Retirement, because I gave my retirement notice before the pandemic arrived in my area, but I was fortunate enough to continue to work (part time) from home after I retired.  Many professionals don't have that luxury.

We are all getting older.  I just passed an age milestone myself.

Not all of us are so fortunate.

So, what next?

Life is all about change, after all.

Back in 2014, I wondered where I would be in 10 years.  How could I have imagined the world of 2022?

None of us could.  We are all making the best of a rapidly changing world.  Who would have thought of a war in Ukraine (and the hardships they face with winter taking hold)? Forces possibly driving our country towards a civil war?  A pandemic?  The illnesses striking us seemingly all at once?

Yet, life goes on.

All we can do is hope for the best, but also take actions we hope will benefit us, our families, and our societies.

And world peace, too.  Yes, that would be nice.

The Dead Goldfish and Other Colonoscopy Adventures

Yes, you read the title of my blog post correctly.  And fair warning, it's going to get a little gross.

But before I get into my latest colonoscopy adventure, I have a request for you.  If you are (in the United States) 45 or older, please please please get that colonoscopy.  Yes, the prep (which involves a liquid diet and then hours of drinking mass quantities of a liquid that makes you - um, empty out your colon) isn't fun.  

Yes, the prep and procedure itself ties up perhaps one and a half days of your life.  But please be the warrior and get it. 

Having said that, I was supposed to have my 10 year colonoscopy in January of 2021, right in the middle of Delta.  So I put it off.  And there were other delays caused by practicioners.  My pre-procedure appointment finally happened in November, 2021.

By November, we were surging with Omicron and some hospitals in New York State, where I live, were starting to temporarily halt outpatient surgery.  So I discussed at my November appointment and I got the bright idea of putting the colonoscopy off until late April, 2022.  The gastro's office was agreeable.

To make a painful story short, I started my late April prep in the afternoon of the day before the procedure, in the midst of a snowstorm.  That snowstorm ended up causing many downed trees and a lot of power failures by the morning of my procedure. The power failures included the hospital where I was supposed to get the colonoscopy.  An hour after I finished my prep I got the call - cancelled.

It was rescheduled for this past Friday.  

This time, all went well.  Friday morning, all cleaned out (I'll spare you the details), I reported to the hospital.  I was checked in and pointed to the waiting room.

The waiting room is right next to where all the nurses and other staff are. You couldn't see them but you could hear them. There was a lot of conversation, which I ignored, but then someone sounded upset.

"It died", a woman I couldn't see exclaimed.  Let's call her Woman 1.  My ears perked right up. What had died?

Someone else said, "well, flush it down the toilet!"

A minute or so later, the sound of a flush echoed through the waiting room.  Loudly. 

Right after that, I heard a co worker scold "I TOLD you it was going to die!" To which Woman 1 responded "It jumped out of the bowl!" Woman 1 also mentioned she was "going to get another one."

Bowls.....flushes. Childhood memories of the goldfish my Mom tried to keep alive.  Did one of the GI nurses seriously have a pet fish?  That's my guess. This is just a wild guess and maybe it's a hallucination hangover from the colonoscopy drugs.   Except that my spouse was with me until I was taken in, and he heard the conversation and flush, too.

(No pictures today).

About a million years later, my name was called. I was taken to a room, changed into a gown, and the nurses did what they needed to do.  I will say the nurses I saw that day were all wonderful.  After they prepped me and wheeled me into the colonoscopy room, the gastro asked me to start counting from 1 up.  I made it to 21 (a personal record). The next thing I knew, I was back in the room with my belongings. Finally, I had the procedure!

They found a polyp, the first I've had.  I'm waiting for the biopsy result.  My only concern is the year and a half I was late.  Some my doing, some the gastro's office. I was hoping this would be my last colonoscopy.  We'll have to see.

So, please don't wait.  Get it done.

Labor Day Shoutout

Tomorrow, in the United States, is Labor Day, a holiday supposed to honor those in the United States who labor.

In the year of COVID-19, of course, this has taken on new meaning.

Back in March and April, when a number of states (including my New York State) had to shut down, those classed as essential workers had to stay on the job.  I was fortunate - I am classed as an essential worker, but was able to telecommute. My son, on the other hand, had to continue to work at his workplace.  My spouse, now retired, would have been an essential worker in constant contact with the public if he was still working.  My spouse and I, both senior citizens, would have had to make the choice of continuing to work or not.

At least spouse and I had a choice.

Another of my cousins continued to work retail (and is still doing so) in an essential retail setting.  Another one of my cousins is a teacher in New York City.  I've been told by her mother, who also worked for the New York City schools but is now retired, that many teachers are taking early retirement.  They literally fear for their lives. 

Another one of my cousins is an emergency room in a Midwest hospital and his niece entered nursing school this past August.

For me, and many of my readers, this has become personal.

When my autistic brother in law contacted COVID-19 in April, my family entered a world where our only contact with him was through his health care workers.  He was hospitalized for three weeks and was in a skilled nursing facility set up by the agency that provides his housing and services for another two weeks.  One of their workers took him to the ER and stayed with him until the hospital made her go home.

Thankfully, she did not get COVID-19.  She's leaving her position later this month and our family wishes her the best.  Other employees at similar agencies paid the ultimate price.

The health care workers and support staff we spoke to almost always were able to take the time to talk to us, provide updates, and reassurance, and just kept on keeping on.  They worked hard and yet they took the time to support US.  I will never forget that.

(I will say here that his need for hospitalization was so rapid after he started to show initial symptoms that it was past scary.  I don't have words for anyone who thinks this disease is "the flu" or, worse, a hoax, or even thinks about harassing health care workers.)

I would like to say one last thing.

Essential workers do not care if you support the Democratic or Republican candidate for any office.  They are there to serve you.   By serving you, they sometimes put their lives in danger.

In return, it would be a wonderful thing if everyone in our country could show respect for them in turn by their actions.  Many of these workers put their lives on the line for our health, for our food, for our transportation, for our packages in the mail, each and every day.

This year, honor them on Labor Day with your actions, today, tomorrow and every day.

If you have a story about essential workers (yourself or someone who has helped you), I'd love to know in the comments.  And, as always, I reserve the right to remove attempted posts that are disrespectful or inappropriate.

The House in Upstate New York Leap Day Flower Show

Once every four years, we are given a bonus day.  Today is leap day.

Why do we leap?  It's interesting.

At my Weight Watchers meeting this week, we were asked if any of us were born on February 29 or, if not, if we knew anyone who was. No one born on that day, but a couple of us knew people.  The next question:  do they celebrate on February 28 or March 1?

Today they can celebrate on February 29.

But, the bonus day has been interesting so far for other reasons.

A Facebook friend reminisces about her late father, who was born on February 29, 1916.

A person I sometimes interact on Facebook with reported a scam.

And...I decided not to go to the Philadelphia Flower Show, a show I've wanted to go to for years.  I had taken off yesterday and Monday from work to do this.  We were waiting for the last minute because it's still winter, and a snowstorm could have prevented us going down this weekend.

But it wasn't the weather that stopped me. It was fear.  Not of the flowers and plants, but of the massive number of people expecting to attend - perhaps over 250,000 in a week's time.

It's true that the flower show is taking various precautions. And, there are no known cases of coronavirus in Philadelphia.  But this show also attracts people from various parts of the country and the world.

Ironically, in a way,  we did our normal food shopping this morning in a crowded 100,000 plus square foot supermarket.  Perhaps you are less fearful at home.

But even at the checkout, I looked over at the next checkout and a couple were rubbing their hands with hand sanitizer. And I find myself reading a bit obsessively about the virus and how to prepare (and we did go to the store for extra supplies.  Also, hand sanitizer - which I normally try to avoid using, being more of a believer in the power of soap.)  I'm becoming a lot more conscious of touching my face, and trying to break the habit.

Valentines Day Gift

So, I am going to do my own little flower show today.  No, it's not the Riviera theme of the Philadelphia Flower Show.  Call it the House in Upstate New York on Leap Day theme.

Black Friday special at Home Depot and still has some blooms

Usually I don't even have this many flowers.

But this year is special.  It's a leap year.  And my Thanksgiving cactii will all be in bloom a couple of days from now.

Do you get the idea that I like pink flowers?

A poinsettia from 2018 continues to rebloom, slowly.  Looks better than it did on the 15th.

With us posed on the knife edge of who knows what, all we can do is hope for the best, and take a flower break from time to time.

Happy Leap Day to you.

Flower Power!

The End of the Circle of Life

My heart goes out to a family we've never met - but then again, we have met, in a way.

Monday, my spouse called 911 because something was going on with his heart. (To reassure my readers: there is a problem, but it is treatable, and hopefully he will be getting out of the hospital today).

This hospital's ER is cramped and the people there work hard (and give good care) but everyone is on top of each other, almost literally.  The day we were there, so many people were coming in that there were people waiting in the hallways, on cots.

We were one of the lucky ones - we had an actual room, which was shared with another bed.

When my spouse arrived in the ambulance, he was wheeled into a room and the other bed in the room (separated from us only by a curtain) already had a patient.  Several minutes later, the other person was told "we have to move you somewhere else - a critical is coming in."  They moved him and shortly, the "critical" was moved into the other bed.

 I got a glimpse of the man's face as he was wheeled into our common entrance before the curtain cut off my sight. 

"Critical" was an understatement.  ER people rushed in. I heard talk of "crash cart" and "epipen" as they began work.   A man  called out names of what they should do.   It was obvious that the patient was dying.

They didn't save him.

I heard some more information as the team got ready to leave the area.  Then, several minutes later I heard crying as the family arrived. Not even three feet from us, this grieving family was grieving in as much privacy as the ER setting could allow.  We were unwilling spectators to their pain.  A hospital chaplain arrived and prayed with them.  The family shared some personal details and the chaplain offered comfort.

One of the family members said, more than once, "It's the circle of life."

There was no where to go to give them space because the small hallway was jammed with equipment and people waiting their turn in the hallway.  We were separated only by that curtain.  And, there was my spouse, leads on his chest, an IV in his arm.  He couldn't leave even if he wanted to.

I saw this man's obituary in the paper this morning. He lived in a small town in our county and I know three people who live there.  It's a small world sometimes.

Through my various ER visits due to my late mother in law, I'd become somewhat accustomed to them, and I admire the people who work in them, day after day (or night after night).

But sometimes...one could wish the system was different.



Wordless Wednesday should return next week.

The Healing Power of Music

I saw a feature today on the healing power of music.

It featured a non profit organization of musicians called Musicians on Call, who has been bringing musicians to the sick in hospitals for some 20 years.  Some musicians who have participated include Keith Urban and Nick Jonas.

They have played to over 600,000. patients in these past 20 or so years.

Doctors explain that music does indeed have healing power - decreasing anxiety, decreasing pain and increasing happiness.  The long term facility where my mother in law is now living has local musicians come into the facility several times a week.

Don't we all need more music in our lives?  If you agree, visit my blog each Monday for #MusicMovesMe.

If you want to hear more about Musicians on Call delivering their music of hope and health, please click on this link.

The Non-Persistance of Memory

They got out of the vehicle and walked into the chapel.  "They" being Prince Phillip, 96, and Queen Elizabeth II, his wife, 92.

They weren't assisted. They walked without canes or walkers. They had their memories, and fully participated in the events of today.

We had a wonderful time watching the royal wedding this morning, even waking up early to see it.

Later in the day, we visited my mother in law, 90, along with two relatives visiting from out of town.  My mother in law is in rehab after three hospitalizations since the beginning of April. 

She can't get out of bed by herself.  She needs assistance for many of what are called, in the United States, the "Activities of Daily Living" (dressing, continence, feeding, transferring, bathing).

Mother's Day, last Sunday, was good for her.  She had shrimp Newburg for lunch, courtesy of the rehab place, and then an Ultimate Chocolate Cake we bought for her.  She wore a wrist corsage.   Her grandson was there.  All three of her sons were there.  Her two daughter in laws were there.

Today, she didn't remember any of it.

Tomorrow she may not remember the out of town company that spent several hours with us, or the other relatives she FaceTimed with on their iPad.

Watching Prince Phillip and Queen Elizabeth II made me wonder:  is it just us?

Does dementia exist in other countries?  Are people this infirm?  Is it a function of our environment?  Our relative inactivity?  Has "modern medicine" failed us?

But my mother in law was never inactive. 

At one time she was so sharp we joked that she was sharper than either of us.

The other day she sat in the sun and asked two of her sons if it was sunny.

Yesterday, she couldn't remember where her autistic son lived. 

She steers conversations to the past, talking about her honeymoon (in 1950) as if it was yesterday.

And it's only the beginning.

One day, we know, she won't recognize us.  Already, she has forgotten that I work, and wondered (one day when I visited her on my lunchtime) where I had gone.

Without memory, do we even exist anymore?

Blue Christmas - #MusicMovesMe

Blue Christmas, by Elvis Presley.

The lyrics don't really match what I want to blog about today, but in a way, the title does.

If you love music, why don't you join Xmas Dolly and the other Elves under the mistletoe?

The Head Elf is XmasDolly.  Her co-elves are:  Callie of JAmerican Spice, and ♥Stacy of Stacy Uncorked♥   The Rockin' elf Cathy from Curious as a Cathy !


This throwback is from December 9, 2009, the first time I wrote about "Blue Christmas".  Repeating this post has become a holiday tradition for this blog, because not everyone has a happy holiday season.

In 2015, our family (inlaws) experienced holiday death in the family again. My brother in law's mother in law passed away right after Thanksgiving.  An aunt's sister died on Thanksgiving Day (November 26) .

I was so tired, for various reasons, that I never even decorated that year.

This year, I wanted to share with my friends at Music Moves Me.   My mother in law, who is 90, had a hospital experience last week that has become the norm for too many of our seniors.  It would be too exhausting to write about now. So we are going through another Blue Christmas.

My writing has become more polished over the years but I am not going to do any editing.  This voice from the past is speaking to me, and I hope its message will help some of my readers.

Here's the post from 2009.

Tis the Season....for Sadness

Happy Holidays!

No, that's not true.

The holidays are not happy for everyone. 

11 years ago December 25.....  Spouse and I were at my in-laws on Christmas Day.  They live about 150 miles from where we live.  We had a nice day with other family members, and settled down to watch "It's a Wonderful Life"  with my mother in law and father in law.  Then we went to bed.

My father in law never woke up.  He died during the night of a massive heart attack, his third.

Imagine my mother in law, spending the day after Christmas arranging for the funeral of her husband of nearly 50 years.    The decisions that had to be made quickly, oh so quickly.  The little things, like flowers being almost impossible to come by (flowers being a part of their culture's funeral tradition).  Or us having to borrow clothes for the funeral-most people don't visit for Christmas with black clothes in their suitcase!  Those little details, in a sea of all the major details, on a holiday weekend.

The family gathered again but this time for a much sadder occasion.  Many people came to the funeral home, and it was a great comfort.  But then everyone had to go home, including us.

And then the next Christmas rolled around.  It was not easy.  But we survived, and each year it became easier.  My mother in law has established her independence, and enjoys Christmas with family.

It never goes away but it does become easier.  Although, I have never watched "It's a Wonderful Life" again.

Years ago I worked with someone whose husband died from cancer on Thanksgiving.  In my youth I couldn't understand why Thanksgiving was so hard for her.

Now I understand.

"Blue Christmas" is more than an Elvis song.  For those who have experienced loss:  loss of a loved one, loss of a relationship, loss of a job, the holidays can be so hard to survive, even if you are not a Christian.  Wherever you go, you are surrounded by smiling Santa's, by holiday decorations, by endless carols blaring at work, at the supermarket, at the mall, by constant reminders that everyone is happy.  Except you.

But, you are not alone.  And you will get through it, although it may take a long time.

Time is your friend.  It was for me.  I hope it is for you.

Local Saturday - Dysfunction

Life has a strange way of teaching lessons.

Have you ever thought that the experiences in your life were put there to lead you to something?  I am not an extremely religious person, but as I grow older, I more and more suspect this is the case.

It's a funny thing.  For some reason, people at my job seek me out to ask Medicare questions (for those outside the United States, Medicare is the health system for the majority of people over 65, and certain people, such as those with certain disabilities or kidney failure, who are under 65.  It is complex, and a blend of government and private insurers.  Why they seek me (untrained, and not familiar with health insurance or health care except from persona experience) out for advice is beyond me, but they do.

When I was about to turn 65, I went to a nonprofit here in Binghamton, New York called Action for Older Persons, .  One of their missions is to help people with the Medicare process.  The volunteer assisting me said I would make an excellent volunteer when I retire (this was after we chatted about something), and told me to swing around so I could see what she was doing on the computer.

So that brings me to this Tuesday.  My mother in law, who is nearly 90, wasn't feeling well.  Another family member took her to the doctor.  The next day (Wednesday) we got a call.  Bottom line, she ended up in the ER and a local hospital Thursday for various tests, and was released yesterday, weak and the worst for wear.  And I wish I had known then what I know now.

Long story short, I learned more about Medicare and budget cuts than I probably ever want to know.  I saw a dysfunctional system in action.  My mother in law was in that hospital two years ago and they were wonderful.  It was like a totally different place now.  My mother in law was not served well.  If family had not been there I honestly don't know what would have happened.  I ended up making some phone calls with another couple of family members, trying to get answers, after a nurse told me "there was no one to talk to, they are all in meetings".  As we say here, BS. (that is an abbreviation for what bulls leave in the field after they digest their meals).

I am exhausted and there are three other family members exhausted.  And, oh yes.  When my mother in law was released she was so weak she could barely walk.  Home health care?  Well, that seems to be a scarce thing where we live in December.

I had a talk today with one of my mother in law's friends (someone who does have health care experience), who had a friend who died a day or two ago in the same hospital.  I've heard other stories before, here and in another part of upstate New York I know people in, with horror stories.  Now I've seen it firsthand.

We know our medical system in the United States is broken, but one day you see it in action, and you really see the dysfunction firsthand.

That volunteer position is calling for me, although I am not ready to retire, because it may be one of the few ways I can learn the system.  As a caregiver, I must know and be aware.  As someone now a senior herself, I must know, and be aware.  That person in the hospital may be me someday.

Thankfully, I am not on Medicare yet.

I've vented enough.

And starting tomorrow, I may go into reruns for a while.

Throwback Tuesday - The Country of Cancer

Back in 2011, I wrote the following blog post.  Both the people I blogged about below have since passed away due to their cancers.  One, a childhood friend, would have turned 65 yesterday.
 
In her honor, I repeat the blog post I wrote after she called me to tell me of her diagnosis.

I rarely write political posts, but I felt this was appropriate this week, as the Senate ponders major changes in health care.

She loved her roses so much, I will add one to this blog post in memory of her.

The Country of Cancer

This has not been a good few weeks for a couple of people I know.

Without going into any kind of specifics, in the past week, I have found out that a friend I have had since childhood, and someone I've known locally for a number of years, have cancer.  In one instance, the "patient" knows the cancer will be fatal - the question is when.  For the other person, that "patient" is in the middle of testing to find out the exact details. The question for that person will be if it was found early enough because that cancer does not have a high survival rate. 

Both of these people are highly educated - one has a masters degree. The other worked at one time in the medical field.  Both are taxpayers.

One is a reader of this blog.

I do not like to get political in this blog, but I am going to make an exception today. And I am going to run a bit longer than I normally do.  Please bear with me.

It takes a village to support someone with cancer, and our country is doing a horrible job of it.

You can have the best of insurance and still find yourself in the position of trying to pay overwhelming medical bills.  If you don't have "Cadillac" insurance, that old Buick insurance isn't going to get you very far.

What your caretaker(s) are going to end up with is an overwhelming pile of paperwork.  There are programs to help pay the bills out there, and those programs are going to require everything short of your firstborn son.  I'm not talking government programs here necessarily - I am talking nonprofit programs for co-pay relief, charities, programs run by the pharmaceutical company, programs run (perhaps) by where you are receiving treatment.

Government?  Well - there's the Department of Health and Human Services and Social Security, too. (and some people want to abolish them, don't they?) There's Medicare.  Just as a reminder, Medicare is a program of our Federal Government.

Need assistance?  You'd better have your income tax returns, your insurance card(s), your checking account statements, your savings account statements, your pay stubs, and about 50 or so other things (or so it will seem), all at the ready.  Make lots of copies because you are going to need them.  Stock up on stamps.  Hope you have a decent computer, and lots of time on your hands when you don't feel like absolute crud.

The caretaker and the cancer patient must struggle to pay those bills while juggling (maybe) a job, (definitely) either chemo, radiation, or both, and lots of issues.  Sounds like a job for the son or daughter of Superman.  If they are only human, and fallible, they are in trouble.  Do you know any of the children of Superman?  I don't.

Suddenly a caretaker?  There are federal job protections but we know how that can work, depending on how decent your employer is.  Cynical?  I personally know someone who was a caretaker for her father, and lost her job because of it.  The person wasn't a resident of New York State but she could have been. It does happen. 

We have a seriously broken system. We expect people to do all these things while fighting a dread illness.  Fighting that illness should be the first priority.  Financing that struggle should not be part of it.

But too many times, it is.

It hurts, but in our holiday season, it hurts more.  In an area recovering from a natural disaster like we are here in upstate NY, it hurts even more.

In the United States, we call ourselves "the greatest country in the world".

But, they and the people who care for them can rant all they want, but that cancer patient and his/her family needs help and ranting won't (so to speak) pay the rent.

So they will buckle down like so many others have done before them,  and walk that path of nails.  If they are lucky they will have a lot of support of family and friends.  But not everyone has that.  There are too many cracks to fall through for the citizens of this "greatest country of the world".

Become politically active, you say? It's hard to advocate for change when you are in a survival situation.

Observe it well.  Educate yourself.  Unless things change, the next time this dread disease knocks, one of us bystanders may be answering that door.

So sad that this is just as true in July of 2017 as it was in November of 2011.

The Brain Cramp

At least I didn't accidentally shoplift from a charity shop run by nuns, like this midlife blogger did.

But in the spirit of confession, here is my story of what you might call a brain cramp.

In downtown Johnson City, New York, there is a wonderful little health food store.  It has been in business for possibly close to 35 years.

Twice a year, they have a customer appreciation sale.   They had one on Saturday.  They advertise this with a postcard.  If you bring in the postcard, you get a free gift, or entered into a drawing, plus a discount.  Who can resist?

Spouse and I walked in with our postcard, and started down the first aisle (this isn't a big store, so there aren't too many aisles).  Right next to the checkout, one of the first aisle items caught my eye.

It was a bottle, about the size of a 16 oz soda:  Amish formula to treat leg and foot cramps.  

I suffer from foot cramps, and occasional restless leg.  So I stopped to look at the bottle.   The ingredients?   Apple cider vinegar, ginger plant juice and garlic juice. 

Wow, I thought.  It's Amish and it's healthy.  "Does this work?" I asked the young cashier.  "Well", he responded (probably as he's been trained to do), "other customers have told me it does."

I wanted to have both hands free for the remainder of my shopping, so I tucked the bottle under my left armpit and went my merry way.

In the back were samples - delicious tortilla chips fried in coconut oil, organic sparkling water (it was so good!), yogurt, and...sigh, chocolate.

Distracted by the chocolate, and the display of the delicious sparkling water (I drink sparkling water instead of soda, for the most part), I forgot all about the bottle of Amish foot cramp remedy nestling contentedly in my left armpit.  I browsed a few more minutes, picking up several more items.

Spouse and dropped off our selections at the checkout, manned by the same young man.  We paid for our purchase and started out the door.

"What about the bottle under your arm?" the cashier asked.

Uh....what bottle?

Oh, THAT bottle.  I must have turned five shades of red.

"Oh", he said "I thought you were holding it for a separate order."  Nice man.

So we paid for the Amish remedy, my cheeks burning, and left.

OK, it wasn't like stealing from nuns.  But stealing from a local business?   Could you see the headline now?  "Local Blogger AM Steals Foot Cramp Remedy from Store". I would have had to leave town.

So, here's my question: Is there an Amish remedy for brain cramps?

Wake Me Up Before I No-Go

Yesterday, several of my mother in law's relatives and a former neighbor drove about 150 miles (255 km) to visit the area where I live.  Until last August, my mother in law had lived her entire life in the suburbs of New York City.  Now, she is some 150 miles away from her lifetime home, and a lot of people downstate miss her.

Yesterday's visitors range in age from 70 to 83.  My mother in law is in her late 80's.  My spouse and I haven't quite hit 65, but we are heading towards those mid 60's.  So we were the young ones of the group, except for when our grown son joined us for dinner.

I could see the differences even five or ten years could make.  I don't usually like to make generalizations, but there were differences - not in attitude, not in the ability to enjoy life with a great attitude, but with energy level and health.  One person who was supposed to come had to cancel out earlier in the week, because it wasn't going to happen for her.  And then a second person cancelled because the first person cancelled.  The rest of us were a mixed group - cancer survivors, people with other health conditions, people of varying physical abilities.  For one person, getting out of a chair without assistance was an accomplishment.  She couldn't have done it a year ago.

It reminded me of something I read recently in an article about retirement planning.  There were stages of retirement, this article claimed, and spending patterns would change the older you got.

It seems that some retirement planners divide the retirement years into three "eras":
Go-go (on the go all or most of the time) lots of travel, activities, and so forth.
Slow-go (slowing down)
No-go (self explanatory) not only not traveling, but needing assistance to do what you could once do yourself.

There is some truth to this, but I think it is different for everyone.  For example, the 83 year old in the group lives by herself in her home of over 50 years.  She flies out from her home in a New York City suburb to visit a daughter and her family in California several times a year.  In fact, she's making that trip in August, despite having had some surgery earlier in the year.

Meanwhile, I can't tell you the last time I was on a plane.  Oh wait, yes I can.  It was in July of 1996.

**Ahem**.

While we make car trips each year, the maximum hours in transit we will tolerate without a lot of discomfort seems to shrink yearly.  And it isn't just long trips of hundreds of miles. Other trips we would have considered in our 20's on a day trip (mileage wise) now have morphed into overnights.

In the go-go years, the planners say, you should plan financially for a lot of travel and/or activities.  And then those expenses trend down as you age, while health expenses trend up.  And up.  And, you lose the ability to do things you once could without assistance.  And that assistance costs money.  A lot of money.

Again, this fade away may or may not happen to either me or my spouse.   But, we really don't want to assume that we are going to fade away in the sunset, going through go-go, slow go and no-go, just because a financial planner tells us that is how we should plan our Golden Years.

But, there is some need to try to plan for the unexpected.  I've, sadly, known too many people with cancer diagnoses in the recent past. I doubt that was in their plans.  But perhaps it is better not to try to plan for that, and take it as it comes.

All the more reason why we should go-go (in my humble opinion) while we can, for as long as we can, and enjoy every day of the ride.  And wake up with gratitude that another day of still go-going has been granted us.

What do you think?  Or, have you thought about it yet?

A Life or Death Decision

(Civil War Sunday is on a hopefully temporary hiatus).

I've never had to make a life or death decision concerning my health, but I know one day, that day will probably come.

For a friend of my mother in law's, that day has come.

Years ago, when my mother in law was more mobile, she used to go mall walking with a group of friends.  Afterwards, they went to a bagel shop for breakfast.

We lived some 150 miles away from my mother in law and her mall walking friends, but were able to meet these friends for bagels and coffee several times over the years.

Even after my mother in law could no longer walk with them, she kept in touch. 

One of her walking friends, "M", owned a beautiful classic car.  He had a great sense of humor.  He was also a man with a heart condition.  Over the years, his condition worsened.  His heart was operating at a fraction of its capacity.  He eventually needed a heart transplant, but due to his age and other issues, he was rejected.

So, instead, he lives on oxygen and medical devices.  It isn't easy.

Now, he's decided that he doesn't want to live like that anymore.  What this means is that he is probably going to die soon.

My mother in law's best friend, one of the mall walkers, called my mother in law with this news several days ago. 

Tomorrow, he is going to have the device he depends on for life removed.

The friend is heartbroken.  My mother in law, who has different heart issues, hasn't shared her thoughts.

Statistically, "M" will probably die within the week.

Non statistically - He could be like the late humorist Art Buchwald, who took himself off of kidney dialysis.  He checked into a hospice.  But he did not die.  Well, not for another 11 months.

Buchwald, whose column I enjoyed from time to time, wrote an amazing book during the last year of his life.  He also recorded a living obituary.

I can not judge "M's decision.  What I hope he gets is the death with dignity he wants, like Art Buchwald did, be it this week or months from now.

We all hope to be courageous when our time comes. We all hope to die with dignity, with no pain, with family surrounding us. I already have the example of family and friends who have gone before me, who made differing decisions. Some chose hospice.  Others chose to fight to the last drop.

"M" has made the choice that is right for him.  This much I have learned over the years.

Have you or a loved one ever been in this situation?

Haiku in Brooklyn

Last week at this time, my spouse and I traveled to visit an ill friend in Brooklyn, some 150 miles from where we live in upstate New York.

She was too sick to visit long with us, an indirect side effect of her treatment-a virus she couldn't fight off and became a bacterial situation.  And, in fact, she ended up in the hospital, and has been there the last week.  She was released yesterday.

The friend's husband graciously let us stay in their house, although we did have a "plan B" place to go. We had a lot of time to think, to walk, and to eat Brooklyn food.  We drank in all the good Brooklyn vibrations.  I took pictures which I hope to share with you next month (I've shared some already.)

Yesterday, on Facebook, a high school friend who also lives in Brooklyn told me about a haiku contest the New York Times was running.  

The contest runs until April 5.  This is not true Japanese haiku, just the 5-7-5 formation.  There are  six themes to choose from. You don't need to mention the actual theme, just be inspired by it.

I thought about how we walked in my friend's neighborhood while awaiting news of her condition.  It was warm, in the low 60's, with a strong wind blowing.  Trash (sadly, New York City is a city full of trash and it is everywhere) swirled around my legs, as birds sang everywhere.  Many side streets in Brooklyn are residential, and there are lots of trees.  And birds.  I loved especially the squawks of Quaker Parrots, an imported bird that can be a nuisance - but I, after all, am a visitor, not a resident.

 I chose loneliness.  Thanks to the WordCount Blogathon (a yearly month long blogging challenge) I had a little experience in writing haiku - writing haiku is one of their optional theme days.

This is my original entry, written on the spot,one of 444 (so far).   The birds (the small dots) in this photo are not Quaker parrots - I think they are starlings, another imported bird.  Alas, they weren't asking for photos, just haiku.

Lonely in Brooklyn

Wind swirls garbage around me 

Quaker parrots cry

Last Saturday beat all the rain we are getting today, here at my upstate New York home.

If you decide to enter the contest, feel free to share your haiku with me.  I have no idea what the prize is, but it would be a treat to be published in the New York Times.

Guest Post - Living with Bells Palsy

Sometimes, life strikes you with one of its lightning bolts, just like that.  One of my cousin's husbands  wrote this back in February, shortly after he was diagnosed with Bells Palsy. Sometimes, you just don't know what life has in store for you - you just have to make the best of it.  I have posted this without any editing.  But, I couldn't get the color of the font adjusted, for some reason, so I apologize for the appearance.  That's what I had to do to make it visible.  I could have retyped it but I don't love him THAT much - only kidding.

I'm happy to say he's shown slight improvement over the past few days  - but still has a long road to travel.


My cousin-in-law (is that a word) loves to write.  Maybe one day I can talk him into blogging - in the meantime, it would be great if you could show him some love.

                                 LIVING WITH BELLS PALSY

     I never knew anything about Bells Palsy until I got diagnosed about 10 days ago. No one knows what causes this condition and most folks recover in about 6 months. There is no cure. I've researched it like crazy. I just developed symptoms over night after a terrible ear ache.  For those who don't know..Bells Palsy is a neurological disorder of the facial nerves,(7th cranial nerve). It is basically a paralysis of the facial muscles. I have it on my right side. I can't blink that eye.

     So here I am..Day 10..But who's counting. After extensive research, I realize I do have many of the classic symptoms so I'm adjusting best I can.  I can't eat. drink, or kiss normal. SURE I can still eat but slower and in smaller pieces so as not to drool,  I can't spit or pucker  normal. More hugs in order I guess. No more triple Whoppers stuffed in my mouth. I suppose that's a good thing anyway

     I seem to be supersensitive to some loud noises. Even showering, it sounds like Niagara Falls or Bushkill Falls in the Poconos .. As bath water pours in, it feels like I'm canoeing down the rapids with Meryl Streep.

  My "B" and "P" sounds come out like I'm poofing as does my "F" words. No more cursing I guess. I'm blowing as I say these letters. If I yelled "FIRE" I could blow it out. .My wife says I sound like Elmer Fudd or Daffy Duck at times..at least she didn't say I talk like Goofy.

     I've seen so much on line with treatments that might help the symptoms..everything from certain vitamins,acupuncture, supplements, herbs, chiropractors, facial massages, electrical stimulation,moist heat,

 magnets..MAGNETS? Sure I want to have a positive outlook about recovery ..but magnets? Hey. I'd call an exorcist if I really thought one would help.  But I have my appetite and can still eat a Peter Lugers steak if I so desired, albeit cut in smaller pieces. Keeping my eye moist at work with drops and wash and eye ointment at night has not been fun..AND I'm wearing an old fashioned pirate patch on my affected eye before going to sleep. Yo ho Ho. Hopefully one day, maybe I can wear it if I ever act in The Pirates of Penzance.

So, How is Your Mental Health Today?

I read earlier this evening that tomorrow is World Mental Health Day.  Interesting, because nearly every day, I pass by a building occupied by a mental health advocacy organization.

Today, I noticed, there was something painted on their window.  It was a question.

"How's your mental health today?"

When I was growing up back in the 50's, asking someone that question would have been unthinkable.  Today, it can still be difficult. How many of your friends have ever underwent treatment for depression, anxiety, obsessive/compulsive behavior or something else considered in the arena  of "mental illness"?  You might be surprised, because most of these friends would never tell you.

But meanwhile, back to the 50's...

Rich people had shrinks.  Poor people had alcohol.  And no one talked about it.  Depressed?  That wasn't an illness, it was feeling sorry for yourself and you could talk yourself out of it!  Anxious?  Have a drink. Did you have a relative with a "problem?"  Well, you hid it away.  If you had a problem, you hid it, too.

Does anyone remember the (ha ha, not) saying "Support mental health or I'll kill you?"  I do.

It would seem a lot of us were "hiding it". How many U.S. Presidents were "mentally ill", just as an example?  A 2006 study claimed almost half of them.

And, of the presidents who "had a problem", almost half of them had depression.

Abraham Lincoln was perhaps the most famous example of a President who struggled with depression, but there were others, along with several very heavy drinkers and, here and there, some individuals who may (or may not) have had bipolar disorder.

So, this question posed by the downtown Binghamton window was very serious.

The good news is, today, the question has an answer.  There is help, and less of a stigma.  For many months after the flood our region suffered in September of 2011, mental health volunteers showed up at community events, at farmers markets, even at the annual home show.  Support groups were formed.  Sometimes, all that was needed was an empathetic ear.  If more was needed, referrals were made.

Mental health is NOT A JOKE. If the body can be ill, the mind can be ill, too. (sometimes, one can lead to the other.)  Getting help and support is not weakness.  Shout it from the rooftops.  How's your mental health today?

Or paint it on a window.

Blasted Back

Hurt my back again-this time, off all things, by getting out of a chair.  Not the most imaginative way. 

So I spent yesterday with ice packs and a lot of discomfort.

I do back exercises but obviously it isn't enough.  I have a feeling this is stress related sometimes.

A couple of friends have suggested acupuncture.  Needles creep me out but I may be desperate enough to try it.

In the meantime, I will keep this post short-need to start on those exercises for today.

The Disease Time Forgot

How can we forget about these kinds of things?, the historian in me wonders.

Recently, I saw the book "Asleep:  The Forgotten Epidemic that Remains One of Medicine's Greatest Mysteries" by Molly Caldwell Crosby  at the local library and picked it up to leaf through.  I haven't put it down yet.  I'm not into thrillers but this nonfiction story about the disease time forgot is one of the scariest books I've every read.


I remember seeing a movie a long time ago about survivors of an encephalitis epidemic starring Robin Williams.  When I read about the real Dr. Oliver Sacks I got chills.  He practiced at a hospital called Beth Abraham Hospital in the Bronx...the hospital where both my mother's mother and my mother's father died.  The institution still exists.  I remember going there to visit my grandmother.  I may have been so close to a great neurologist and writer.  And to some of the last survivors of the epidemic Molly Crosby wrote about, the ones fictionalized in the Awakenings movie.

Why should we care about an epidemic that started somewhere around 1915 and ended around 1927?   I never would have heard about it if I hadn't seen the movie, and more people may have heard of it only through the writings of Dr. Sacks.  But way too many people, including those in the medical people, have not paid much attention to it.

Well, the short answer is "H1N1".
If H1N1 scares you, Ms. Crosby's book will insure that...you never sleep again.

Her writing is so masterful, that you find yourself in the middle of early 20th century New York City, trying to solve a medical mystery that still hasn't been solved in 2010.  You walk right in the doctors' footsteps.  You feel the agony of the families touched by this unknown epidemic - including some very famous families.

(I highly recommend you read this Time magazine link.  Really.  How far have we come?)

Yet, most people, I bet, have never heard of sleeping sickness, except as a joke.  We all know about the 1918 flu pandemic.  We've heard of zombies, of Sleeping Beauty (intriguing thoughts that this illness has struck before.) But how could we have forgotten this part of our history?

The medical establishment would do well to increase their research into this disorder....and fast.  Just in case.

After all, George Santayana said, not long before this epidemic started, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

And now, back to my vacation musings.

Diabetes 1960's Style

I've been reading Mary Tyler Moore's recent book about her experiences in living with Type 1 diabetes.

It sure did resonate.

I don't have diabetes but my late father did.  He was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes at age 48, in the early 1960's.  He found out a very hard way-he had been hospitalized with pneumonia and somewhere along the line he got his diagnosis.

My Dad never had to take insulin, at least while I was growing up, but - as Mary Tyler Moore pointed out, diabetes management in the 1960's was a whole different world than today.

Although I don't have diabetes, it seems sometimes that I've been surrounded by people who do.  A good childhood friend had a sister in law with type 1 diabetes and her young child had it, too.   One of my managers at a former job had a wife with type 1 diabetes, and their three children all had type 1 diabetes.  So that, plus my father, and an assortment of other people in my life with type 2 diabetes has surrounded me with the knowledge of how bad a disease this can be. 

It seems people today trivialize diabetes.  You'd think all that was involved was occasionally poking yourself with a meter "you no longer have to code" (whatever that means-they never seem to explain that).  And oh yes, never ever ever being able to consume anything with even a trace of sugar.  And, that all people with diabetes are vastly overweight, and they only have themselves to blame.  And that, if you are diagnosed as an adult, you never will have to take insulin.

WRONG WRONG WRONG!  (for example, my Dad was never overweight-in fact for a lot of his life he was probably underweight - my son follows him in body build, too.)

But what I wanted to talk about was diabetes back in the early 1960's and what my Dad had to do.  This will show how far we have come, and tracks with some of what Mary Tyler Moore experienced.

My dad was sent home with a very strict "diabetic diet", which had obviously been designed by someone who never tried to stick to it, and a test tube with something called "Clinatest Tablets".

First was the testing.  Every morning and night, my Dad peed into a test tube and dropped one of the tablets in.  I would watch sometimes as my Dad would perform the test.  The tablet did its work and the contents would change color.  This was the moment of truth:  would the contents turn blue (good) or one of a wide range of yellow/orange/red (bad/worse/yikes).  I think, only one time in my presence, was it never blue.

Then again, I highly suspect this wasn't a very accurate test. But that is all they had for home use in those days.

Next, there was the Diabetic Diet.  This was something called an exchange diet, and I remember the various exchanges included:  bread exchanges (bread and related foods, pasta), fruit exchanges, meat exchanges, and two types of Vegetable exchanges.  Type A were unlimited foods, stuff like green beans, tomatoes, brocolli, lettuce.  Type B were things like corn, green peas, carrots.  There was also a fat exchange: butter, margarine, oil, and so forth.

I may not be remembering this exactly, but it is important to know that this is NOT exactly the exchange diet that some diabetics utilize today in the 21st century.

My Dad was allowed so many exchanges per meal, and a total numer of exchanges per day.  There were three meals and I believe two snacks.  He was not allowed any kind of sugar.  No more regular ice cream or cake/cookies.  He sweetened his coffee with saccharin tablets (that's all there was back then) which were more bitter than sweet.  He also wasn't allowed any type of alcohol.

I remember my Dad was very conscientious about following the diet, at least when I was growing up.  But it was a very hard diet and took a ton of willpower.

This influenced me in a lot of ways growing up.  For a while, I had thoughts of becoming a dietitian but I was not that science oriented and when I got to college I saw all the chemistry courses required-so I chose a different major.  But interestingly, what it also did was give me a taste for lightly salted or no-added salt foods.

In those days, much of what was canned or frozen without sugar was also processed without salt.  So unintentionally, my Dad created in me someone who does not crave salt.  I'm worse than when I was young, but I still find a lot of processed food way too salty.

Recently, I've become very interested in diabetes and "its state of today" and things are very different.  Diabetics do not have to say goodbye to their favorite food together.  And, blood sugar control is much easier to test.

And, insulin is not the only option, and if it is the option you must utilize, I am told it is a lot easier to administer.  (It still gives me the creeps-let's hope I never have to go that route.)

Diabetes, fortunately, is another one of those things that definitely was not better in the "days of black and white".