Paying a Bill

 Earlier this year, the medical system our doctors belong to was purchased by someone else, and they took over just as the former owner (Ascension) was the target of a ransomware attack.  Apparently, an employee clicked on a malicious link. The result was, to put it mildly, a mess.

I won't bore you with the details from the patients' standpoint.  But it was a while before we were even told it was a ransomware attack.  We had to depend on rumors, which turned out to be true.

The recovery has come a long way and, as patients, my spouse and I had to set up accounts in the new owner's patient portals. We just received our first bill.

Electronically.

Because we had automatically been opted into electronic billing and didn't know it.

We were given 10 days (!) to pay the bill.

We didn't realize we weren't getting a paper bill (something the old owner always sent) until today, day nine, when I was checking the portal for some lab results and found the bill.  Turns out our only notification was a text, which spouse ignored because he thought we'd be getting a paper bill.

I spent part of the morning today trying to pay the bill by phone.

Several times we input information and the automated system hung up on us. Or, it rang busy.  Finally, I tried the option to talk to a representative "with a question".

I was told there was a 17 minute wait.

With the old owner, the pay by phone option was seamless and you spoke to a real person.

Did I mention that the new owner's phone calls are marked spam by our phone provider?

I've had other difficulties in the preceding months (much of it due from understaffing, which is a nationwide issue), and I am so disappointed.

We were told the new owners (Guthrie, and yes, I am calling you out by name) were going to be so much better than the old owners. The old owner had issues, lots of them, but I have a feeling we have been pulled (to use a cliche) from the frying pan into the fire.

There are only two health systems in our area.

The next few months are going to be interesting.

The Good and Bad of a New Hospital Building

The hospital addition that I blogged about last year because of its topping tree is completed and almost ready to open to patients.

Today, the public was invited to tour it.  I have no pictures of the outside because it was drizzling.

(Caution, if you proceed, there are pictures of hospital rooms and related views).

Inside, it was state of the art, which, nowadays, is both good and bad.

The good part:  the emergency department.  This hospital badly needed a good one and the new state of the art ED has negative pressure rooms and intentionally built in privacy.  Also, brand new state of the art patient rooms with lots and lots of windows and natural light.  More on that later.

How about a short tour of the non-emergency area, which is exciting to see when you don't have yourself or a family member inside.

Artwork everywhere (created by local artists). All are designed to be calming and to help promote healing.

An example of a patient room and the large window.

Part of the wall of the meditation room - an electronic wall with soothing (one hopes), changing art.

The bad part:   I'll get to it shortly. 

In this patient room, the old fashioned low-tech whiteboard has been replaced with a screen on which you can watch television (if you have a Netflix account you can even sign into it). You can view videos that will educate you if you have a newly diagnosed condition (and they will know if you've played it), and you can bring up info about your care team and your outcome goals.

Outside your room, this tells the professional about to enter more about you.  What's your preferred language?  Are you a falls risk?  

One of many nurses' stations.  This is  small one.

So, what is there not to like?

Wellllllllll....there are two hospital systems in my immediate home area.  The hospital above is part of one of them.  The other was sold to a new owner in February.  The old owner was hit by a ransomware attack on May 8, before the new owner could totally switch their IT infrastructure and related systems over to their own.

Ooops.  

We who are patients of doctors in that other system are still feeling the aftereffects of the attack, including their continued inability to access electronic records and make new appointments.

So, about all those electronic gadgets I showed you in those photos - we are assured the owners of this hospital system have strong measures in place to keep them up and running.  But, I also know that the weakest part of a security system is its human users, and the attackers get more sophisticated each day.

I was assured that there are backup systems "just in case".  Let's hope.

It was a beautiful building.

I just hope those whiteboards don't have to be pulled out of storage one day.

Merger Pains

A story of change....

As of February 1, a hospital system (lets call it Hospital System B) took over one of the two hospital systems (lets call it Hospital System A) in this area.

Hospital system A first opened in 1925.  It was a Catholic health care ministry. There were crucifixes in the hospital rooms.  There was be a daily prayer announcement around 7am each morning.

In 1999 they joined another system, and in 2017 took on their name.  Many people in our area, me included, felt the care deteriorated after 2017.  Their billing system certainly deteriorated, which is a story for another day.   (This is not a put down of the doctors and employees.  I believe the problems originated at a higher level.)

The parent of System A was a big outfit, operating in some 22 states as of 2017.  I believe System A was their only hospital in New York State. I had a lot of experience with doctors in System A. Sadly, a number of them retired during or after COVID, something that is happening nationwide.

Last year, when it was announced that System A would be acquired by System B, many local people rejoiced.  System B has a good reputation.  Of course, there would be growing pains.  And layoffs.

Fast forward to early March, when I received a letter reminding me I needed to make an appointment for my annual mammogram.

I always scheduled it online so I tried to do it.  But appointment systems were changing over to System B's, and it was hard to find the link.  I finally did find it, and made the appointment.

Last week, I got a call asking me to preregister.  This wasn't a surprise; System A preferred that you preregister so your appointment was verified and they had your current information. Apparently, System B was going to do the same thing.  Fine.  But imagine my surprise when the preregistration rep mentioned where my appointment was.  It wasn't for where I had scheduled.  I checked the verification I received from them.  I had registered for the location I wanted.

But no one told the computer.

If the rep hadn't mentioned the location, I would have gone to the wrong office, several miles away, and would have had to remake the appointment.  I had never run into this with System A. (The rep immediately offered, incidentally, to see if they could get me in at the location I wanted).

At the test, I was pleasantly surprised when the nurse asked me some questions about family history. She explained it was to ascertain my risk, and if I was considered high risk, they would contact me to discuss and present options for further testing.  They also asked if I had undergone certain genetic testing.  Hmmm.

I happen to have ancestry that puts me at a higher than normal risk of certain genetic mutations.  No one has ever offered that testing.  I found out that Medicare only has limited coverage for such testing.

That questionnaire was a pleasant surprise, though.

Interestingly, the day after the procedure, I received an email questionnaire from System B, something System A had never done, and I decided I would mention this issue.  There was a box to check if I wanted this information shared with staff.  I did.

Now I'll be curious to see if there are further growing pains, as the two systems mesh into one.  And, of course, I wonder if anything will come from my complaint.  I hope I was the only person this happened to.

The Medicare Wellness Exam

I was working full time when I turned 65 and became eligible for Medicare (the American health system for seniors).  When I first enrolled in Medicare, I became eligible for an annual "wellness exam" fully paid for by Medicare  I got the first one, then skipped the next couple. 

This year, I decided to get it.

The good news is, I don't have dementia.

The nurse said I scored 100% overall.

But the questions...This was a trip down memory lane and a peak into my future.  And, perhaps, yours.

The reason for this exam is to have a personalized care plan based on your risk factors for various conditions.

The questions the nurse asked brought back the times I was a part time caregiver for my late mother in law.  I remember when they tested her for dementia and other conditions.  Some of the questions were too familiar.

When she had her tests, they asked her if she did her own cooking and housework.  She said "yes". But she could do neither.  She was speaking her truth, though. In the world of her mind she was still fully independent at a time where she needed home health care.

"Have you fallen in the past year?"  My mother in law fell....too many times.

Meanwhile, back in the present, the nurse read down the list of questions mandated by Medicare for this type exam.

"What day of the week is it?"  (I don't know why they ask this; every retired person I know has a problem with this.  As a part timer, I have to know when I report to work and when I don't, so I always know.)

"Do you need help eating, toileting, dressing, bathing?" (but if you do, I pondered later, what then?  Medicare doesn't pay for most home health care and getting the same is a nightmare for every caregiver I know.  And I do know a couple right now.)

"Do you have trouble managing your money or your medication?" Back came the memory of the day my mother in law denied she needed any of her many prescriptions, even when we showed her the bottles with her name on them.

"What year is it?" (My mother in law couldn't handle this one, nor did she know who the President was, given that she watched a news channel most of the day).

"What town are we in?"  With all the doctor visits I had this month I actually had to think about that for a minute.  They are all in different places.

"Write a sentence with a noun and a verb in it." (Don't they know I'm not the best with grammar?)

I passed the three word test, where the nurse tells you three words and you have to remember them a few minutes later.

Then came, for me, the stumper. The nurse said:  "You have a choice between spelling "world" backwards, or counting backwards from 100 by sevens."

"By sevens, is that what you want?", I said, disbelieving.  "Yes", she said.

I chose spelling a word  backwards.  I've always had trouble with spacial concepts and I'm surprised I could do it.  (Later, at home, my spouse, who loves numbers, did the "count backwards by sevens" without any hesitation.  Showoff.)  I did manage "world", to my surprise.

There were, though, the questions they don't ask during this exam.  The answers many in the United States would give are all too familiar.

"Can you afford your prescription medication?"

"If we order tests today, will you be able to afford them?"

"How hard is it for your caregivers to provide care for you, and how many times do people they hire to help out never show up, quit without warning or interview and then ghost your family?"

"Do the programs we are referring you to have a long wait list, not enough funding, or have an income maximum that is just low enough for everyone to be ineligible?"

I can't help thinking back to when I was a caregiver for my mother in law, and ahead to when I will need help, if I live long enough.

Our system is broken.  Ask the woman I know whose mother has dementia and other health issues and needs someone with her 24 hours a day.  Ask the woman trying to take care of her 100 year old father and help out her only sibling, who has a serious and possibly fatal illness?  I know both those people.

There are millions more.

It's nice to have a Medicare wellness exam, but our country must ask itself:  How much longer will we fail our most vulnerable?

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.

Dr. Sam

Too many years ago, my late next door neighbor of many years was walking when he suddenly didn't feel too well.  Up ahead was a doctor's office.  

He went in.

The doctor dropped everything, examined him, and told him the news.

"If I don't do a bypass on you immediately, you will be dead in a few days."

The doctor was a cardiologist.  My neighbor underwent the procedure and lived many more years under the care of Dr. Abdelazim, the doctor he came to know as "Dr. Sam".  He loved to tell the story of how Dr. Sam saved his life.

In turn, when I started having heart palpitations that literally stopped me if I was walking, I came under his care for a time. (My issue ended up being something that normally wasn't serious.)  My spouse also was under his care for a time.  Dr. Abdelazim said to my spouse, "You aren't a race car anymore.  You are a vintage car.  Slow down."

Dr. Sam was..shall we say, a little flamboyant?  He was also a pioneer who brought modern cardiology into our community.  He was definitely one of a kind, and one of the most caring men you could ever know.  Our community was the richer for him having picked our community for where he would practice.

Here is his obituary.  I invite you to read it.  We can all strive to make a difference in others' lives.  Dr. Sam did just that.

Dr. Sam died earlier this week after a long struggle with Alzheimers.

He was not Jewish, but I think the Jewish expression of sympathy fits here:  May his memory be for a blessing.

A Medical Professional Coincidence?

A couple of weeks ago, we got letters from our dentist.  He's retiring this summer.

It wasn't a surprise.  We've been going to him for 30 years.  Actually, that's not totally true.  When we started going to him, he was practicing with his father, whom I saw several times.  He pulled one of my wisdom teeth, in fact.  But, for many years it was just been the son in the practice, who I figure is about my age.

Kind of makes me feel a bit old.

That's what happens, sometimes, when you get to be "my age" (late 60's). People retire. I get that.  But when a medical professional you like gets ready to retire, it's traumatic.   You know them.  They know you.  You don't know how a new person would work out.

Last year, my sole practitioner dentist and his staff merged with a multiple dentist practice, leaving the office they had inhabited for many years.  It must have been traumatic for them, too.

Now, I have to make a decision:  stay (I've never met any of the other dentists) or seek a different practice.

I thought about it some more, and realize I'm going to be facing the medical retirement situation more than once in the coming years.  I've seen the same primary care practitioner for nearly 25 years.  I've seen the same nurse practitioner at my OB/GYN's practice for about the same amount of time.    Both of them are in, I would estimate, late middle age.

My nurse practitioner has been working part time since last year.  I figured it might have been due to COVID but maybe not.

So, just out of curiosity, I went to my OB/GYN's website to review their current staff, and got a surprise. 

Besides "my" nurse practitioner, there are two others.  I know of one of them - I had seen her once, years ago, when I had an urgent situation and my nurse practitioner had the day off.

It seems the practice "recently" (not knowing when the website was last updated) hired a new practitioner, who has four years experience in a primary practice.  I'll bet she's relatively young based on her picture.  Her last name brought back a memory, although it is a somewhat common name.

When I went into labor with my one child, over 30 years ago now, my OB was off, and the OB on duty responded when it was time.  She (yes, a woman) arrived  in my hospital room with - I assume - her daughter.  This young girl, I would estimate (in the midst of labor, I have no idea how accurate my impressions were!), was perhaps seven years old.

It was quickly obvious that this wasn't the child's first labor and delivery experience.  The doctor patiently explained my status (I was a high risk pregnancy) to the young girl.

The doctor who delivered my baby had the same last name as the new nurse practitioner.

Could it be the young girl, now grown, from my labor and delivery?  Or is it coincidence?

I wonder.

Now I really feel old.

On The Cusp of the Future

We in the United States are about to be tested as never before.  Will we panic?  Will we make the wrong decisions?  Or will we work our way through and act on what we learn?

Today 14 states vote in Presidential primaries and few states have mail in voting.  Will the coronavirus be a factor in November?

Let's think of the times before.

BEFORE 

In the innocent days of last month....

This was something I barely had to think about, because I have good insurance.  But for many, that wouldn't have been the case.  Looking back, with the probability of a new virus becoming a pandemic (we are almost there, if we aren't there already, as I blog this) a simple visit to a walk in may not be something we can just do.

Back in February, I found myself seeking medical attention for a UTI (urinary tract infection).    I woke up one morning about 5am knowing, it was time to seek medical attention.

The walk ins where I live have online appointments available - yes, I know it really doesn't sound right to make an appointment for a "walk in" facility, but it's more like saving your place in line.  The facility opened at 8am, so I texted my job, then went online for an appointment.  They had an appointment for 8am.  I took it.  Registration was easy.

The last time I had used their walk in, this facility (which is part of the same medical system all my care goes through) didn't even have my medical records available.  That had been several years ago.

There were a couple of minor problems - their acknowledgement said "arrive 10 minutes early to fill out paperwork". Got there at 7:50 and they were locked up.  I might as well have arrived at 8.

But once they opened and the check in window opened, it was so smooth.  I had to show my drivers license and my medical card, which is standard, and then the check in woman smiled and said "you're all set".  No paperwork.  And maybe a five minute wait, which is good for someone who really needs to pee.

The nurse practitioner (female) I saw had a good bedside manner, gave me some advice on how to try to flush it out if it happened again (I know it will, knowing my past history) but admitted even she can't flush many of them out, and took my pee sample.  Several minutes later I had a diagnosis and two prescriptions.

NOW

So...what about the rest of the story?  This isn't February.  This is March and many of us may be exposed to a new virus we don't have immunity to.  Going to a walk in may become difficult.  Think of how many health care workers may become sick, themselves...

The best piece of advice people are giving are:  DON'T PANIC.

The second best:  Don't spread information about cures on social media.  Please.  Just don't.

Finally:  Soap is your best friend.     Panic is our worst enemy.  We will get through this. 

You are observing history in action.

Our community and medical system may be tested in ways they haven't been in years. Think about people who don't have the financial ability to go out and prepare for a possible community quarantine.  They may not have vacation or sick time to tide them over.  What about health care if they can't afford insurance?  What about the suggestion of stockpiling medication but insurance won't pay for it?

There are already some empty shelves in places where we shop, here in upstate New York.  I overheard a conversation in the local supermarket about when they might get hand sanitizer back in stock.  The employee being questioned had no idea.  And those empty shelves are only the beginning.

Will we face empty shelves in some markets dependent on goods made in China and other countries being hit by the virus?  Will we listen to politicians trying to whip up fear for their benefit?

It's a lot of ifs and, best case scenario, deaths will be minimal.  But in that best case scenario. so many weaknesses of our system will be unveiled.  Will they be addressed?

This is not a time to lose faith in our system.  But we must vote for those who show the ability to adapt to changing situations, and show compassionate leadership.

THE FUTURE?

Would I want the ability to see the blog post I write a month or two from now?

Adventures of the Heart

You could say I'm putting heart into this post.

A little over a month ago, my spouse of 45 years was released from the hospital after a two night stay.  The diagnosis:  aFib, short for Atrial Fibrillation. It's an irregular heartbeat that can lead to some serious complications, including stroke.

The drama started on a Monday morning, when spouse woke up not feeling well.  His heart was acting strangely.  It had happened a couple of times in the past weeks (not that he told me) but it resolved when he started to move around.  This time, it didn't.

My spouse had the good sense to call 911 (our emergency phone number in the United States) rather than try to drive himself to the hospital.The paramedics were able to start treatment right inside our house (my spouse thought he was having a heart attack - thankfully, not the case.)

Calling 911 resulted in two nights of hospitalization while the doctors managed to get his heart back into rhythm and establish him on a new medication.  The condition requires new medications (including a blood thinner) and some lifestyle changes. There is some enlargement of the upper chamber of his heart, meaning there has already been some damage.

In a way, it is not a surprise. There is some family history of aFib.

The good news is - he knows now, and there are treatments.  We were told that people can live with this condition for many years.

I am thankful to my co workers, especially the one who helped me get spouse back home after he was released, and stuck with me during a glitch getting one of his prescriptions filled (it turned out well).

So, now we go from here.  The bills are coming in.  He had several small episodes right after leaving the hospital but none in the last three or so weeks.

The other good news: at his post hospitalization checkup, his heart sounded good.  His cardiologist ran tests this past week and all was normal.

This is only the beginning of the realization that our lives are not forever.  We were fortunate enough to reach our 60's in good health.  Not everyone does.

Now it's going to be our turn, knowing for sure that we are not mortal.

But it could be worse - much worse.  That's not a fib.

The story will continue.

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?

What A Difference Two Years Make

Sometimes you have a chance to revisit something that happened years ago .  My 15 seconds of fame occurred in early January of 2014 - just two years ago.

It seems like a million years ago since I was interviewed for a TV segment on a controversial subject.

Since I wrote the below blog post, so much has changed.  The substance in question has been legalized in several more states for both medicinal and recreational use, and is now legal, in some forms (not the smokeable form) in my home state of New York.  In fact, one of the 20 statewide (at least at first) dispensaries for said now-legal substance is going to open a mile or so from where I live.

I never would have dreamed of that legalization in my 1950's/1960's childhood.

But the dispensary  was supposed to open today in Johnson City, New York, and didn't.  

Why am I not surprised?  Things never seem to work in a timely manner where I live.

Said substance is still illegal in many parts of the United States, and under Federal law, but we all know what it is.  I'm still not going to link to the interview, but it is out there if you look hard enough.

The former occupant of the space where the Johnson City dispensary is moving into was last occupied by a restaurant called the Grub House.

How much this opening will benefit our local, hurting economy (and sick people who can benefit from what will be sold there) waits to be seen.  

Now for my original post. What a difference two years makes.

My 15 Seconds (Or Less) of Fame

Think fast!  You just never know when your moment will come.

In my 61st year, I finally achieved a moment of local fame, at least with people I know.

Tuesday, I was interviewed for a local TV "person on the street" feature.  It happened like this:

Our temperature peaked, at midnight, at 48 degrees.  By noontime, it was touching freezing, with the wind whipping, and I knew it wouldn't end until we went below zero. (For those not using the F temperature system, zero is really, really cold.)

I hadn't seen my walking partner in perhaps a month or so, where I work in downtown Binghamton, New York. I was pleased but surprised when she messaged me and asked if I wanted to walk with her to her bank.  Well, I did want to get out, and out we went, fighting the wind. 

On a street corner, there was a young woman standing in that cold wind, next to a camera on a tripod.  On the sidewalk underneath the camera was a microphone.  She looked lonely.

We quickly walked past her, fighting the wind, and she watched us, not saying anything.

On the way back, about 10 minutes later, my walking partner (who is a very sociable person, unlike the shy yours truly) went up to the woman, and sympathized with her needing to stand there.  At that point, she asked us if we wanted to be interviewed. "Only if it's quick!" my companion replied.

She talked to both of us and asked me to go first.  She told me to stand in an exact place and look at an exact place.  And, during all this, my mind is churning away.  I did have an opinion on the topic but I wanted to say something smart, or at least coherent.  (I'm not providing a link because the topic might not be considered appropriate to a blog challenge I'm participating in).

The topic is one being discussed widely here in upstate New York because we may be following some other states' paths in legalizing something (for medical use) that has been illegal throughout the United States for a long time. 

It turned out the reporter is originally from a state that has gone all the way in legalizing this thing. We chatted briefly.  Then came the magic moment.  My 15 (or 10?) seconds of fame had arrived.  Would I be up to the challenge?

I think I did quite well. I seem poised and yes, I was coherent. 

So I saw myself on TV for one of the few times in my life, and I'm told the interview was repeated three times that evening.

And all I could think of, looking at myself, was:

"Gee!  My new glasses look pretty nice on me, don't they?"

Have you ever had a chance to be interviewed, unexpectedly?  How did you do?

Nostalgia Ain't All It's Cracked Up to Be - Cataract Edition

A while back, I blogged about how the good old days really weren't.  Today, as my spouse underwent cataract surgery on one eye, I was reminded again of how nostalgia ain't all it's cracked up to be.

I had a long time to ponder this, as first I waited for my spouse to be taken for prep, then waited nearly another 45 minutes for him to be taken to the operating room.  And then, another wait in the recovery room.  The entire process, including transportation to and from, took about four and a half hours.

Spouse has had the cataract for about a year, and in the past few months it deteriorated rapidly.  It got noticeably worse just in the last two weeks.

Basically, a cataract is a clouding of the lens of the eye.  It can occur in one or both eyes.  If both eyes develop cataracts at the same time, it can cause blindness.  In the case of my spouse, the cataract had "ripened" (meaning it was ready for surgery where insurance would pay)  and was causing him significant distress.

This cataract surgery is one a lot of older people have had, and it's almost like a routine procedure in our country. With modern medical technology, it's an outpatient procedure. The eye surgeon takes the natural lens out and replaces it with an artificial lens. With my spouse, the actual procedure took only about 10 minutes, and he remained conscious for the entire prep and procedure. (His report: it was painless, but weird, including an interesting light show in his field of vision.)

In certain instances, the patient may no longer need glasses.  It's a nice outcome if a surgery actually makes you better than you were, rather than just correcting a condition.

My spouse won't be one of those who can throw their glasses away, but it's only several hours after the surgery and he's already seeing improvement in his vision.  It's possible that he may be cleared for driving as early as tomorrow.  Now we need to hope that he doesn't develop a complication, or an infection.  He's taking three different types of eye drops to prevent the latter.

So, what's the point of all this?

I know someone who had cataract surgery in the 1980's.  Her procedure took about 2 hours, she had stitches (the thought of that gives me the creeps, a long recovery period, and she wasn't able to resume driving for several days. 

And prior to this surgery being available at all? All we need to do is look at the cataract situation in developing countries.

According to one statistic I read, 50% of "preventible" blindness cases in developing countries result from cataracts. Where families live "on the brink", a blind family member becomes a burden, and can affect the entire family's ability to survive.

Doctors have teamed to bring cataract surgery to these developing countries and to people who have been blind for years, the surgery is literally a miracle.

Am I nostalgic for the "good old days" before this surgery was available?

Quality of life isn't only about technology - and there are parts of modern life I would rather be without - but if you are facing blindness due to a cataract, technology is certainly something you want on your side.

Do you think the "good old days" were the good old days?

The Truth About Motherless Daughters

If my mother was alive today, she would be celebrating her 95th birthday.

But she isn't celebrating.  She never made it to age 50. She never made it past 1965, for that matter.

My mother was born in the wrong era.  She had a major health problem, rheumatoid arthritis (RA), which had no treatment back then.  On top of that, she was a heavy smoker.  That helped kill her, I am convinced.

When Mom died (suddenly), weeks short of my 13th birthday, I was adrift.  It was like a bomb went off in my life. And there was little support for me.

Like so many others of that era, I "sucked it up" and went on with my life.

Years later, I read an amazing book called Motherless Daughters  by Hope Edelman, recommended by a wise woman who worked in the same building that I did.  I could swear she was in my life, this Hope Edelman, taking notes.  It seems that motherless daughters have a lot in common.  For the first time, I understood why I seemed to be almost obsessive about certain things.  I also learned why I felt I didn't have a complete template for mothering within me.

It took me a long time to realize that a part of me was stuck at age 12.  I thought I had grown up but, when I became a Mom, I discovered part of me was still stuck at age 12.  I'd like to think that has changed, but it was a sometimes painful process. But now, possibly thanks in part to that same Hope Edelman, teen girls today do not have to suffer the way I did.  There are support groups for girls and women like me.

So, what is the truth about motherless daughters?  The truth is, all my female readers will be motherless daughters one day. Perhaps you already are.  Perhaps your Mom was there when you grew up, but not really there.  Each of us has had her own experience.

What else is true about motherless daughters? Well, we rock.  We're strong. And we make pretty good (I hope) bloggers.

Happy 95th birthday in Heaven, Mom.  If your Mom has been there for you, be there for her today if she is still on this Earth.  Contact her today and tell her that you love her.

When Is Someone Too Old for A Colonoscopy?

I have a dilemma.  Time for some caregiving fun....

My mother in law, who is in her mid-80's, got her annual physical last week.  Her doctor, who is a new doctor to her (her family doctor of many years retired last year), wants her to get a colonoscopy.

There is no medical problem leading to this request.

The last time she had one (7 years ago) she experienced a lot of discomfort.  But, more importantly, she has mobility issues.  She's supposed to use a walker.  Her balance is terrible.  Her bathroom is upstairs from her living area and she has a bad knee.

 I've had a colonoscopy twice and also had to do the same prep once for a different exam.  So I know "the prep drill" all too well.  So I know what an ordeal it would be for her.  I honestly do not know if she would be able to complete it.  At her age, I wouldn't be too crazy about the sedation, either.

I understand the doctor considered a virtual colonoscopy, but said Medicare wouldn't pay for it. (He's right - I checked.) I also read up on virtual colonoscopies.  According to what I read, she only misses the sedation fun, not the prep fun.  Still has to prep.  If they find anything,she needs the regular one, so has to prep again. Ugh.

I know none of my readers can give medical advice. So, I am asking: where can I get RELIABLE information to see if she really should go through this ordeal?

Or, if there is an "alternative" type of prep that could be done? (she lives near a major metropolitan area).

I've done some reading indicating an age 85 cut off for this test.

Can my readers help me research this?  There is so much unreliable medical information on the Internet.

Have you ever questioned a test a doctor wants to give?

The Fallout from Falling Friday - and a Senior Moment

On June 17, I posted about a fall I took while exercise walking on the West Side of Binghamton, NY. (I'm about 99% healed, and I thank everyone who commented on the fall - I appreciated your support.

What I didn't know at the time is that two other people I know fell the same day, which I had called "Falling Friday".  I didn't know about either incident at the time I made the post.  An acquaintance fell in downtown Binghamton (and then had to drive to North Carolina, which her husband did while she spent the trip with her ankle iced and elevated.)  The other person was the 90 plus year old mother of a very good friend.  She had a dizzy spell and fell into a china cabinet, breaking the glass.  She spent two days in the hospital and was released.  The doctor thought it was medication prescribed her after a value replacement.

So when I read this article written by a medical blogger, I got scared. I got really scared, because there are other elderly people in my life.  Like a 99 year old aunt in law, and my mother in law, who is in her 80's.  Thank you. Laura Newman, for writing this very important article. 

Do you have an elderly family member you care for? Or care about?  A friend?  Someone's friend?  Please read this article.  The life it saves may be your loved one's.

After all, how many of our elderly live their lives without taking medication?  Very few.  Yes, medication can be lifesaving.  I have a medical condition for which I take medication and I can also tell you that without modern medicine, I would not now be alive.  I suspect some of you reading this post could also make this statement.  Modern medicine can be a miracle.

Or, it can kill.  At least, the improper practice of it can kill.  Like fire, modern medicine has two "sides".

So again, please read the article.

Please educate yourself about the risks of overmedication, especially in the elderly.

Not that long ago, my husband took a AARP driver course (in NY, it allows for a credit on your car insurance).  One of the things the course covered was the fact that, in the elderly, medicine can work differently than in younger people.  It can cause some very serious side effects.  So, please take this article very seriously.

Now, what about the "senior moment" in my title?  When I think about how modern medicine can kill when not used properly, I take a moment and think about my spouse's 99 year old aunt.  She is so stooped over it is painful to watch her walk.  But her memory is sharp.  Her wit is intact.  She is a joy to be with when she visits my mother in law and we can spend time with her.  She lives with her son, still does cooking and housework, and loves to socialize with family.  Until the past 3 or 4 years, I am not sure she ever spent a day sick in the hospital.  I am so happy to be able to spend this moment thinking of her.

Oh yes, there is one other thing.

She is not on any medication.  She enjoys "spring tonics" and follows (much of the time) a vegetarian diet.  She loves life.  If she lives into next January, she will welcome her 100th year.

Coincidence?