health

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream, My Ass

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Shakespeare* wrote those words–except for “My Ass”– hundreds of years ago when a well-known, porcine-related character discussed death with himself. It is a profound, deep-meaning soliloquy with oft-quoted-out-of-context short and long sentences with clauses, semi-colons, and dramatic commas resulting in an excellent rant about Existence and the The End**.

Modern American Seniors have their own opinions, however, on what The Bard of Avon was really referring to: actual loss of sleep. It is odd how William makes “the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to” seem so dramatic when all we really hear is there is too much going on to get some, good, solid, long-time sleep. There are no “slings and arrows” flying across our bedrooms*** but there is a lot of cerebral activity. So much activity the poor brain stands as if in the doorway of the bedroom, ready to flick the light switch off but…can’t..do…it.

A thought racing across our brain cells IS sometimes the knowledge we can put ourselves “to sleep perchance to dream” in a very real and permanent way but we’re just not ready yet, so…

Instead we ponder the Cognitive Impairment conundrum: how it creeps up on us and when we have it, we won’t know, even as we wonder who put our car keys in the produce drawer of the refrigerator.

Or we wonder why we feel so good but still can’t generate enough interest in a late dinner at our favorite restaurant to get us out of our favorite chair.

And is there anyone who will listen to us and invent easy-on, easy-off socks?

Even worse: is there anyone who will listen to us at all?

The night then becomes a debate between…what was I talking about?

Oh, yes, how hard it is to sleep the good sleep, anymore. Most nights start well, even when the Yankees lose. But after the first few hours of sleep, when the first bathroom “break” wakes us with an unnecessary urgency, and shortly after we check the refrigerator for the perfect, healthy snack that won’t harm our brushed teeth or sensitive digestion system, it is the re-falling back asleep that fails, utterly****.

After the many nights this happens it is clearly no longer about slings and arrows or The End, but a thought all its own that consumes one: will I ever get back to sleep? The question is accompanied by the close observation and analysis of anything that comes to mind from the macro, like our current high inflation, to the micro: will I be warm enough without socks?

Running out pf space, as usual, but when your own brain becomes your own sleep disrupter…well, I never remember that happening as a young man.

Hmm. Is that because of a bad memory, it never happened, or Cognitive Decline?

Let me sleep on it.

*Probably. Or he may not have. Or someone else did. A guy named Bacon. Or an alien.

**Most Americans probably can recite this speech by simply muttering every short, trite saying they’ve heard about Shakespeare. To be or not to be. Whether tis nobler.  To sleep, etc…oh, and “the tyranny of life”.

***Or any of the other areas we may try to get (eye) closure.

****Wonderfully guttural word. And, yes, that is how I found my keys.

*****In upstate NY the temperatures change fast. A semi-nude, 80 degree outside sleep session can be sadly ended when the toes warn your body the early-morning outside temperature has dropped to 60. Socks, again?

Accentuating The Positive

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A friend recently congratulated me for getting back to “normal”, and “improving” after the years with The Calamities. The quoted words angered me. Though it wasn’t her fault, I launched into a text rant so interesting, honest, and cruel it scared me. She was only trying to be positive but…

The words are the problem. The message, not the messenger, so I apologized and hoped The Rant did not affect her own senior mental state. For me, it was cathartic to finally be able to verbalize one of the many cloudy issues plaguing Old Age: we age physically faster than we age mentally, at least most of us do. There are anecdotes of early onset cognitive impairment, but for most of us getting old is a lot like long, birth labor or “failure to progress”. A part of our existence, the mind, is not at the stage of life the body is, so…

Many of us are still the quarterback of our high school football team well into midlife. Or for a female symbol: Carrie Bradshaw.* My personal manly physical prowess was consistently overestimated** well into my 50s. Minor honest efforts were made to retain that prowess, but age adds a sliding, disconnect between what we do and what we think we have done and the gap separating the two gets larger each season.

Suddenly, and for a reason we tell ourselves we don’t understand, we look in a mirror one day and see the body of someone else.

It is shocking, but our minds still allow for some wiggle room: even when we buy all new pants, we still think we’ve got “It”, and will lose the weight.

Back to The Rant and my friend. Her words incited The Brain to find a way to explain the real “progress” aging means to the rest of my body including both Inner and Outer Voices: once we pass a certain age, we NEVER “improve” and the “normal” changes daily, and not in a good way. Every element of my existence is thankful for the instruction.

We can still have moments of physical, mental, and spiritual clarity leading to contentment and possible satisfaction with life, but we will never be what we were, ever again. It is what it is and we are what we are at each and every age. And the age we accept that realization is different for each of us, with some never accepting it at all.

When we are young, each mile of the race is faster, even as we go up the hill, then we hit the top and start down that long, knee-pounding decline to the last mile, and finally, The End. “Improving”? “Normal”?

We can work with normal. In fact, it has a measurable component in sports. If you run those miles*** you know how long it takes from the first step to the last. If you’ve kept a record, you could use Ai to plot a graph or chart. It’s amazing how clear life is when you see your run times charted and that physical hill appears on the graph. Up, up up, then down, down, down. Life.

So where is the positive? First, at least you were able to do things, great things, normal things, and things you loved. Never forget that bit. Second, the disconnect between what we feel we are and what we really are is finally understood late in life, especially by those who pay attention. The Wisdom we used to hear about when we were young. And even as you run your race slower and steadier, there may be times you can let loose, and get close to your best time for at least a few yards…

But improvement and normal have to be flexible and on your own terms. Carpe linguam and change the narrative.

*Younger women and men will need to Ai the name. Or not care to know.

**Not a good word for it since there was no conscious thought of my “estimation”: I simply knew I was still in great physical shape, inconvenient truths be damned. Ora at least ignored.

***Or swim those laps. Or bike those roads. Or complete those marathons…et.al…

Ruminations…Again

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If God is so smart and loves us so much, why did He make it so easy to gain weight and so hard to lose it? I’ve personally studied this phenomenon for years and sense an earthly conspiracy that may have corrupted God’s initial plans. All will be revealed, soon.

And we won’t mention teeth, but wasn’t titanium around when He designed the mouth?

The Republican Party should now be required to calculate and reveal how much the now 10-year search for voter fraud has cost American Taxpayers. Recent news reports say Trump and others have “hired” and then “fired” several private companies to review elections in several states, counties, and municipalities and expose fraud. Several Federal Agencies have been involved, too. Anyone seen any Fox News Reports?

Maybe Trump paid for the investigations, himself? If you are a donor to Republican Party PACS, you might want to see how your donations are being used given the results.

A lesson in hope was delivered to me, this week, and it was accepted. My car’s “Check Engine” light came on and the thought of a $1500 repair bill immediately joined it. But the nice people at my local auto parts store suggested it might not be an entire catalytic converter and offered  a bottled compound cleaner that may work well enough to clean the converter and get a few more months–possibly year–of “Check Engine” light relief. Even if it’s a scam, hoping for a $16 bottle cure is worth the risk. Sleep will be easy for the next few days as the cleaner runs it course. Either it works or more sleep will be lost later, stay tuned. BTW: Conspiracy? Extended warranty companies will NOT cover converter repair or replacement. Hm.

Give blood. It is one of easiest and most rewarding things you can do. Full disclosure, I am a volunteer Red Cross Blood Donation Ambassador and have a vested interest in your donation: saving lives. If you are medically able to donate, you can use an app that tracks your donation from collection to medical use. There’s nothing better than the last stage of your “Blood Journey” where the app not only shows where your blood went, but also this; “You’ve helped save more than one life.”

As a survivor and continuing student of The Calamities of 2023*, and now a regular blood donor, I am an expert on the drawing of blood. It may hurt my plea from the preceding paragraph, but can any big-brained, or mechanically-inclined brain, find an easier way to get the blood out of the body and into the tubes/bags or bottles? My exposed arms suggest multiple, suspicious injections to someone unaware** of the blood collection mechanics. Maybe we need a rating system for phlebotomists? Or some kind of shut-off valve.

I live in an area we can call Trump Country. At a recent public event there were lots of comments begging for a response. No, I did not to all, but to some, in case you’re curious. “I hated Joe Biden” was a frequent comment. I ask the speaker if they’d ever met Biden, but the point was lost when they answered in the negative and looked at me like I’d asked a stupid question.

“It sucks to live in California.” Me: “Have you ever lived there?” Trump supporter: “No.”

And for balance, one supporter said, “Trump is an asshole.” The supporter didn’t elaborate and I did not ask him/her/they the “Biden question”. What would be the point?

The real point is stop believing what you hear without learning more.

And hate never does anyone any good.

*As time passes, it’s become important to note the inception.

**Thankfully, most people are aware but still feel compelled to ask, “Did it hurt?” No, it didn’t, but the questioning is annoying.

Things Not Understood Volume 107

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If only life granted us unlimited, natural intelligence, or at least the chance to upgrade our aging internal CPUs. So much happens so fast, and we hear about it so fast, understanding anything is next to impossible. Lest you think otherwise, it’s not just politics, though that was an arena historically predictable. Liberals debated Conservatives, and both felt the world was ending when they lost an election. Sometimes they married each other. That still happens, but now candidates lie to get elected, never follow up on campaign promises, and get reelected next election, anyway. All bad things in a marriage, too. And no, it’s not just Trump. What in God’s name can disqualify a candidate in voters’ eyes, anymore?

Not all unable-to-be-understood things are bad for us. Whole milk is back as a school lunch item and beef is so good for us, it’s on top of the Food Pyramid. Suck on that, vegetarians.

Our national health department notes an epidemic in Africa and jumps at the chance to study it. How? By purposefully NOT giving a control group proven, life-saving vaccinations to see how they compare to the group that gets the vaccinations. Isn’t that just wrong? Or better yet, un-understandable?

Ai has the power to do what, again? Everything? Yup. It could write this post for me. Maybe it did. How would you know? It’s gotten so confusing there is a video on-line of researchers “abusing” Ai robots to see what happens. The robots learn to fight back and go all Scarface on the researchers. What’s not to understand? Why we abuse anything, why bullying a machine counts as abuse, how robots learned the martial arts moves it used, and did anyone get paid for this? Or get grant/taxpayer money? This story has a second depth of un-understanding (UU): It’s an Ai generated fake video. Why, again?

Quantum Mechanics (QM) and Quantum Entanglement (QE). The UU nature of these things is how fast we learn about them but how slow we use what we learn*. Like the Hydrogen engine. Or Cold Fusion. UU, all of them. In an age when a viral video circles the world in less than the time it takes to sneeze, why are not using clean burning Hydrogen Engines in our cars? Why has Cold Fusion not lowered Electric and heating bills?  Why did the Bills fire their coach and promote their General Manger? (Digression. Sorry.) QE has the power to revolutionize not only communications, but maybe the transport of materials, too. Think Star Trek transporter beams. And while we are at it, how can we send people into space and yet not have “space”, (homes), for people on earth? UU? Yes, yes. Maybe we’re going to space to find a place to send all the homeless?

Ah, who gives a crap, anyway. Not literally, of course because everyone craps. That’s easy to understand. But we appear to be—in this day and age—hurtling toward major changes while most of rest in our recliners. Oblivious.

A better word from self-proclaimed genius criminal mastermind, Vizzini**: “Inconceivable”.

More to the point, the response from the heroic Inigo Montoya: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”

Amen.

*Assuming there are no secret, government funded projects going on for defense purposes…which there probably are…

**Don’t make me name the movie. If you haven’t seen it, yet, why not? Inconceivable.

The End of Civilization…Maybe? A Minor Rant

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It’s hard to know who to blame, but modern Western Civilization is coming to an end. If there are textbooks in the future, the demise of Democracy and the 21st century world will be written by whoever survives. Historical museums and archives of apolitical thought will all have gone the way of the Edsal, and history will be whatever the New Order says it is. Research will result in facts dominated by the Group-thought of the Cults who survive and pour out of their bunkers after the mild-mannered Armageddon.

A paragraph like the one above usually starts a science fiction novel which begins with a sudden, apocalyptic fireball, world-wide pandemic, or alien invasion. But our current president and his minions are reshaping American Life without germs, radiation, or pointy-headed anal probers. And some of America supports them.

The dismantling of a federal Government that has historically held people together, kept them safe from external forces, won world-wide wars, and met nature’s tests, means…nothing. Nothing will be left for workplace safety, protection from predatory billionaires, bird flu, brain-eating amoebas, and the rest of the small things trying to kill us. Pollution will become the dominant problem before climate change, and both will conflate to end mankind. The Trump Administration will crow to the rooftops about how great they made America right to the bitter end.

Eh. Maybe not. This might be what you would call Trump Derangement Syndrome so it’s best to avoid any Trumpian news stories, but The Kennedy Center For the Performing Arts issue is astounding, prescient, and indicative of The New Trump World mentality. Trump made his usual off the cuff rants about The Kennedy Center not being Trumpian and then fired all 17 members of the Board of Directors and made himself temporary chairman. He then made the Kennedy Center into what he wants it to be.  You can read detailed reports of how it all happened for at least a little while longer since Trump monitors have not been able to erase all bad news, yet. But the funny-not-funny part is Trump put a butt-kissing crony in charge. The new MAGA governing body now has control of The Kennedy Center and will make it “great” again, “for everyone”…in their own, political image.

Oddly, some people disagree with the New Director and the New Board, and plan protests.

Ha. Funny, right? Wait, you haven’t heard the funny part, yet. The new, very sensitive and self-aware director of the center had this to say: “Any performer who isn’t professional enough to perform for patrons of all backgrounds, regardless of political affiliations, won’t be welcomed. In fact, we think it would be important to “out” those vapid and intolerant artists to ensure producers know who they hire—and that the public knows which shows have political litmus tests to sit in the audience.” Is that irony or hypocrisy?

The Kenedy Center was named after John F Kennedy, a war hero, and former Democratic President. It was established in 1971 and “serves as a living memorial to John F. Kennedy, and hosts world-class performances, offers extensive educational opportunities, and is a unique public/private partnership.” -wikipedia.* And it has been for over 50 years without complaint or adverse action or lawsuit, or—screw it. It doesn’t matter. It catered to a world-class audience and Trump felt excluded. Something had to be done.

The astounding tone-deaf-ness of the new director’s statements is the problem, read it again. No one is right, correct, and morally sound but him. Now, with the old 17-member board and old director, and old programming gone, the New Board will get it Right. Literally.

For more, fun, Trump is even after Wikipedia and wants to put that impartial, publicly edited and monitored information source away.

We’ll have Trumpedia and The Trump Performance Center in our future.

Who’s vapid and intolerant?

And what a start for that End of World novella…

*The wiki entry has been edited since the date of this post.

It’s A Wonderful Modern, Thoughtful Life

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Life. Take a pause and just think about Life. Birth, followed by death, disease, accidents, catastrophes, pandemics, and finally possible cognitive decline which renders it all irrelevant, unremarkable, and easily forgotten by your survivors.

Take a little longer pause. It doesn’t get any better, does it. In the quick moment you answer, you want to argue, you’ll say it does but when you pause and think…

This is not an argument for suicide. Or depression. Or giving up. It’s an argument for knowing.

One of the sharpest “pangs” of senior resentment is the “undebatable knowing” things could have been different, could have been better. I could have been a doctor, for example, and saved lives. If you take another pause and think about how much better your own life could have been well…don’t do it. Funny, how even if you’re told not to do it, you’ll do it anyway. Thinking our lives would have been better if they had been different appears to be a mandated process baked into our genes. Wonder if Mother Teresa ever felt this regret. Einstein. FDR. Bob Dylan. Clark Kent.

Two interesting stories in the news this past week might help us understand…something Two different people clinically “died” and then came back to life: Patient 1 after 6 minutes and Patient 2 after 21 minutes. They both had stories to tell. Patient 1 felt peace, light, and colorful beauty, including the “white light” most resuscitated patients report. But Patient 2 reported being approached by beings who “shackled” him and restrained him, resulting in them “harvesting” his soul as part of a “soul farming operation”.

Another story in the news articulated the centuries-old debate about the origins of life. When read in chronological order you can see human intelligence struggling to define the “how” of life while struggling with the why, what, when, and where surrounding the start of it all, as well.

Ai says “a prominent estimate from the Population Reference Bureau (is) 108 billion people have ever been born.” Subtract the “estimated” 8 billion people currently alive and you learn an “estimated” 100 billion people have lived and then died on this earth. How many do you remember?

So? This post has gone off the rails and needs to be euthanized as its point has slipped away. Like most of our “lives”, it began well but got sidetracked by “life”. Maybe that’s the point? Would be interesting to read comments from anyone who can make sense of this page. I personally, feel lost, but okay, as if it were meant to end this way. The post is what it is and I can deal with it. (Hint?)

As my favorite Doctor Steven Wright says: “I intend to live forever. So far, so good.”

But…nothing ever makes it easier, permanently, does it. Words of wisdom and thoughtful machinations* help, but only momentarily, like falling head over heels, today, for a lover you can’t stand 6 weeks later. (See Seinfeld: The Low Talker”.)

And the questions return.

Guess I’d better conclude with another pertinent Wrightism and see how long it lasts: “A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.”

Amen?

*google the definition for full effect. It reveals intent.

Three Sentences…Again

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A  new, worst traffic enemy plagued me three times this past week. It is the car (removing all personality from this complaint) whose brake lights come on before the turn signal. New curse words were invented each time.

Streaming services have lost their collective minds as each time I look for a better one, their advertisements tout their “over 100 channel” line up. If someone watches two channels at a time (one for each eye), for one hour at a time, for 10 hours a day, in five days they will have viewed all the channels for which they paid over $100. If either of those two sentences make any sense to you…

My Late-life discovery of ear buds and “you tube” music videos continues to amaze. Every day in July I listened to parts of the April 2025 Madison Square Garden concert of The Brothers, an Allman Brothers legacy spinoff which includes two original members from 1975. Google “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed”, insert buds, recline, and enjoy.

My recent—and last—hip replacement surgery went as planned thanks to the brilliant Dr. Wickline and the exceptionally enjoyable Apex Surgery Center in Westmoreland, NY. The June 18 surgery was more than enjoyable, and almost fun. Makes me wonder what joint to replace in the future.

Local Trump supporters are getting a little antsy. Their “letters to the editor” have increased in volume but not in fact or relevance, and they are using the Trump trick of throwing stuff out to see what sticks. The saddest part of our entire political scene is neither party can see that with the current polarity, strict party affiliation means EVERYTHING “the other party” does is bad, even if it isn’t.

Trump recently posted angry words about a Gayle King. I’ve no idea who she is but I can’t help but wonder why he bashed her. One of the questions I ask Trump supporters is “Would you like Donald Trump to be a member of your own family?

Turning Stone Resort is a 24-hour casino/resort so last Sunday–after my 6 am fitness group–I went to the 24-hour restaurant for a hearty, healthy breakfast. Not much else was open and there were very few people (one of the reasons for going early) until I passed the Smoke Shop. Over 20 people were waiting in line for tobacco products.

The New York Yankees suck. The Yankees suck. The Yankees suck…this year.

It’s hard to know what to eat, these days. As I recover from cancer treatments the best way to build back one part of the body causes havoc with another part. How vitamins, minerals, proteins, iron, water, cherry juice, potassium, and pizza all work together is very confusing.

I purchased glasses on line for a lot less money than my local eye center wanted and the on-line company promised 24-hour customer service. When my order got lost by USPS, however, I was dropped into automated hell dealing with bots and phone trees leading to bots. The Ai future is here.

When will it all end?

What? Football season is here? Thank, God.

Older Life Tips. Not OLD, Older…

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Life doesn’t get easier with age. Here are some thoughts.

My eyesight is great, even with Age-Related Macular Degeneration (AMD). AMD slowly robs your central vision…if left untreated. Get an “Ainsler Grid”, or simple sheet of lined graph paper, and tape either one to your refrigerator door. Look at it often, one eye at a time, and if any of the lines get wavy, get to an Ophthalmologist as soon as possible. An optometrist might be able to diagnose your AMD but he/she couldn’t treat it, so get to an OPHTHALMOLOGIST. If the word is too long, google “Retina Specialists” in your area. Of note, learn the difference in eye medical professionals.

Vision is great but not young. I suffer from the standard old age loss of “elasticity” in over 70-year-old eyeballs and need help with fine print. Like the smaller and smaller instructions on Tyson chicken about how to cook it. Or how to take prescriptions. You can buy “reader” glasses almost anywhere or pay your optometrist (sic, learn) for a fancy pair but if you’re like the rest of us who use them only for reading, you’ll need several pair (I have 10) spread around the house and car. They get lost, often, as if they have legs. Most often they’re lost on our heads. Since you need so many pairs, you don’t want to pay a high price for them. Dollar Stores have “trees” and trees of $1 readers in any magnification you need. They are just small magnifying glasses. The dollar store models really should not be called glasses because they are made of plastic. They work perfectly if you don’t scratch them, and if you do, buy another bunch. Like 10? My eyes were getting a little fuzzy, one time, and it made me wonder if my eyes were getting worse. Maybe a higher magnification? Thankfully, I was smart enough to see it was the plastic lenses getting “foggy”, not my eyes. A moist wipe didn’t clear them up, so I planned a dollar store trip to get cleaner, new ones. Google it! Yes, I did and after dropping all my foggy plastic glasses into warm water with a little dish soap, wiping with a paper towel, and letting them dry,—voila!–my eyesight returned to normal. Sadly, I was both pleased with myself, but angry it took ten years, and google, to learn how to clean “plastics”. Hope this one helps someone.

Try to remember the world is getting less and less interested in you and what you have to say. It shouldn’t need to be mentioned, here, but…life has passed us by. Get over it. If you pay too much attention to car and beer commercials, you’ll get depressed. For comfort, enjoy the prescription drug commercials: they are meant for us and young people with problems. But do not think the drug companies care about you, they want money. And, yes, young people do have problems but don’t “help” them by pointing it out…unless they ask and even then, be careful

Recent conversations with younger and older people have reminded me of how complex, diverse, exciting, and possibly fulfilling our old lives have been . If you feel bad about being passed by and rejected by modern society, close the blinds, turn off all electronic devices, and revisit your past. If we can remember our pasts, every one of us achieved something, saved something, earned something, did something, or otherwise enjoyed the heck out of our lives in those long-ago years. Celebrate it all. Blow your horn. But to yourself. Write it down, Record it with video or voice. Besides the self-therapy aspect of letting it out, imagine how much everyone else will miss you when they read about your life and what you’ve done, what you’ve accomplished, what you have survived.

And that’s a good place to end: The End. If you reached a certain age, especially if you’ve made it longer than the average life expectancy or lived longer than your parents: Woo Hoo! Champagne for all.

But let the kids pay for it. And don’t drink too much.

Is The Doctor In?

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It’s been a wonderful 2 and half years of medical frivolity. Starting in March of 2023, The Calamities have been a wild ride through the Modern American Medical Establishment (MAME), and its partner, the Modern American Insurance Establishment (MAIE). MAME and MAIE were new to me in 2023 since I’d only visited their ancient ancestors in the past for the occasional broken bone, (ahem) UTI, or abscessed tooth when ERs were the only things open 24 hours.

In 2023 I was fortunate to live in an area with 4 major health systems supported by local universities. For those of you who know the meaning of “The Wrong Color Blue**”, I’d selected the University of North Caolina at Chapel Hill (UNCCH) as my medical playground, instead of Duke University (DU), after arriving in NC in 2007. It was not a value choice but a convenience choice. UNCCH had an office close by and driving one mile to UNCCH seemed like a better idea than 6 miles to a DU office. Ah, the mistakes of the young…

When The Calamites hit, the entire UNCCH system came into play and its hospital was ten miles away. (25 miles during rush hour, timewise.) Later research revealed DU is a higher rated system. UNCCH is very good, but DU is better. A small distinction carrying enormous import in medical care.

As I took up residence in the UNCCH system, the internet became the most valuable tool at hand. The internet is a wonderful place for a writer and sportsman, with the entire “Brain” of humanity there for the picking. It soon became a patient’s best friend and “shadow” doctor. There wasn’t a medical adjective, adverb, noun or conjugation (in English or Latin) in my medical reports I did not look up on The Internet. As an added feature, the IT department at UNCCH “dropped” or “posted” test results to my “portal***) account as soon as the test was completed. This allowed me and my internet friend to learn, analyze, and critique test results before a doctor had a chance to explain them. My head usually exploded from the raw data. Then notes were taken, questions formulated, the internet was queried, and answers found…wait…was what my friend, The Internet telling me right? For the record, at least half of it wasn’t. There were many times something on The Internet was not even close to what it should be or was way off the mark of the research question.

In the early days the doctors humored me, but it became obvious when they were frustrated by not just questions, but stupid questions. My goodness, had I become a pain the ass? A know-it-all? Me? How did it happen?

Medical people have a nickname for this patient: Doctor Google. You’d think with the hundreds of dollars they get paid for talking, the real doctors shouldn’t mind. They get paid for listening, too, don’t they?

It took months to realize I was not just wasting my time, but the doc’s too. And, logically, other patients’ time. (Ever have a doc appointment be on time?) That huge internet “Brain” was half full of crap and I did not have enough medical school training (In fact, none) to know the difference.

A valuable option then presented itself: google only respected sites from respected hospital systems and organization. Most of them appeared in the search results, but not always at the top of the list. I looked up government organizations, too, like the NIH, CDC, USDA, and others. My medical questions, now, do not go out to the entire big brain, but to Harvard Medical School, The Mayo Clinic, and MD Anderson, et. al. These sites are filled with peer-reviewed facts, plus curated blogs written by other people like me or you looking not just for answers, but correct answers that fit our own, unique circumstances.

Being a Doctor Google is not a bad thing if you remember you are NOT a doctor.

And if you do careful research from respected, trusted sites, you will someday ask your doctor—or any medical professional—a question they will appreciate. Your care and maybe even someone else’s care will be all the better.

This advice is not just for medical care, but all news and information gathering. Use your Critical Thinking skills to be careful, be diligent, and not be a fool.

** If you want to meet new people, visit the Durham-Chapel Hill area and proclaim yourself a fan of either the dark blue Duke or robins-egg-blue UNC. Someone close by will hate you immediately and let you know why.

*** Computer terms everyone should know and use…but don’t. Ask your healthcare provider.

Funny and True Stories from Daily Life

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I was sitting at my favorite money-taking slot machine on the gambling floor of the local casino when this conversation between two nearby strangers happened.

Him: “You come here often?” (Said hopefully, but also shyly.) Her: “Yes. I like these machines.” (Said without hesitation.) Him: “Ever go to Vernon Downs?” (A different gambling place about 5 miles away.) Her: “No.” Him: “Oh. The machines pay better.” Her: “I know! I won a $100 there last week.”

My local Mcdonald’s drive thru voice instructed me to “please pull up to the second pick up window” after placing my order. When I turned the corner there was one unmarked window, one window marked “Pick-up 1”, and the window I went to, marked “Pick-up 2”. I waited until there was an arm waving in my rear view mirror calling me back to “Pick-up 1”. I reversed back to “Pick-up 1” and was told “people go to the other window (Pick-up 2) all the time.” The speaker looked about 13 years old. Me: “Why don’t you instruct customers to go to Pick-up 1?” 13 year old: “That’s a great idea.”

A week later I was back for the really good 2 for 1 breakfast sandwich deal and was told by a familiar voice to “Please pull around to the second pick-up window.”

This next one isn’t funny, it falls under the “Just My Luck” heading. Complicated story, so hang in there. On April 1st my Primary Care Physician (PCP) discussed a colonoscopy. My last butt invasion was in 2021, four years ago and the result was great with a recommendation to have another anus probe “in seven years.” (A great timeline for an over 70 male.) But radiation treatments and chemo in 2023 wreaked havoc on my digestion so as a compromise PCP and I settled on a ColoGuard test…just to see if anything was going wrong, cheaply and easily. On April 14th ( In case you missed it thirteen days later!} someone from the PCP’s office called to schedule a “colonoscopy.” I referred them to PCP’s notes about the Cologuard. On April 15th the Cologuard test kit arrived, but I waited until Monday, April 21 to do the stinky deed** and send it back. On April 22, I found a research study from the University of California at San Francisco claiming “CAT scans and other radiation in the area of the pelvis” might be causing new and different cancers in current cancer patients already being treated for cancers in the “pelvic region.” (Whew.) As a Prostate Cancer patient in 2023, radiation was used in diagnosing and treating cancer in the prostate area which is adjacent to the pelvic area. Very adjacent.

If you’re still with me, here is the ending: On Friday night, April 25 the “Positive” (sounds good, right?) Cologuard test results were emailed to me and said this: “you have a higher than average chance of having advanced precancerous polyps or colon cancer.” Easy to understand, yes? But then, this: “It is not the same as a cancer diagnoses.” Oy.

A safety sign in the pool at the fitness center is loaded with “Pleases”. For example, “If someone is drowning, please call 911.” And if someone is in distress, please call 800-xxx-xxxx.” The last admonition is the best: “DO NOT SWIM ALONE”. (It may take a second to get this one. Please don’t worry, that’s normal.)

There’s more, but it’s nap time. At least I didn’t mention Tr—

** Cologuard sends you a nice set of plastic utensils so you can accurately poop directly into a small popcorn container, add some magic juice, seal it up “tight”, and ship it overnight to their lab. I sent them an email asking how I did, shipping-wise, but no response. Maybe it leaked all over and the “positive” result is their way of getting even…hopefully….Maybe?