Of Medicine and Nonagenarians...

Today I saw two of my nonagenarians. I love when they come to see me. You want to know why? It's because I have discovered a very intriguing lesson with these jewels of humanity. The more I do to them (ie treat them), the worse they become. That's right. I try to do as much nothing with these patients as I can. I figure that they have reached this far without me, who am I to step in and ruin their day? Case and point: Mr. L came today and complained of being tired. His wife says that he spends "20 out of 24 hours of the day in bed. I think he is depressed..." No. He is just 92 years old. I decide I will placate his wife by saying that I will try to adjust a few of his medicines to give him some more "oomph". After 10 minutes of screaming at him (he is hard of hearing of course), trying desperately to explain to him that no, the 20 mg pill will no longer be used but instead 2 and a half 10 mg pills will be substituted, I give up. I say, "Mr. L, there is more of a chance of you hurting yourself by taking the wrong dosages thereby obviating the benefit I was trying to provide. Stick with the red pill in the morning and the green pill at night." He was perfectly happy with this. You see, he didn't want me to change anything...he LIKED it just the way it was, even though his wife didn't. Some physicians would say that this isn't the way to practice medicine, but I beg to differ. After age 90, folks are on borrowed time so it all becomes more social during our quarterly visits. "Oh, what a beautiful walker you have, Mrs. J and might I add that your great grandchildren sure are getting big...." It is this artful dance we do, enjoying the conversation, knowing that as long as we don't stray too far from the current treatment plan, they may just make it another year closer to being featured on the 100 year old birthday Person of the Week by Willard Scott (if he hasn't already died himself). This way of slowly rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic is what I call the Art of Medicine. Knowing what to do is elementary, it can be learned from any medical school. But knowing what NOT to do, now that is something all together different. That my friends, is truly the Holy Grail of medical knowledge...

I learn something from Coach tonight as well...

Tonight was Jack's 4th baseball game in 4 nights, and all of them have started after 7 pm. Never mind that I personally find this reprehensible, we pulled on our Red Sox and dutifully took the field. Jack has been having problems with his fielding. The game just hasn't clicked for him yet. The ball is hit, he watches the play and forgets at times that he is actually IN the game and the game speeds by him. It has been getting frustrating for me to watch this as I want my son to succeed at whatever he chooses to do-up until baseball it has come naturally to him, no real learning curve needed. Watching these past 4 games, I have come to the realization that he just doesn't get it. He plays in the outfield and he doesn't know where the ball goes once he has it. He plays second base and he doesn't move to the bag to cover it (despite my continued shouts and urging for him to do so). It has been getting so I spend more time telling him where to go rather than following the flow of the game, enjoying the beauty of a boy's game with friends. That is, until tonight...

Jack continues to struggle, and I continue to slowly turn into THAT Dad, you know the one, constantly correcting his son from the sideline. Jack was up to bat, gets on base but because of a miscommunication with his coach gets caught in a double play. I do my usual "Good job, Jack" as he runs without looking at me into the dugout. During the next inning as Jack is in the outfield, the coach comes to me and says "Bring Jack over when he comes in. Give him some encouragement. He sat and cried in the dugout after the mistake with the base running. I told him it was okay and that he was doing a great job, but it may be better coming from you." UGH. My heart broke at that very moment. My son had been listening to everything I had been screaming to him and he just felt bad that he didn't do the "right" thing. My inadvertent attempts to make him into the player I never could be caused him to think that I was somehow disappointed in how he was playing, somehow a failure. I felt and actually still feel like a heel-a piece of absolute feces for causing my son to feel this way. And it wasn't just tonight. I vaguely remember seeing streaks of dirt in tear tracks on his face last night as well. When the game was over, I took him aside and gave him a huge hug, told him how proud I was of him and that I love to watch him play. Gone are the bleacher coach remarks, the yells to cover the base, the screams to get his elbow up in the batting box. All gone-all to be replaced by only positive remarks, no criticism, constructive or otherwise, will be uttered again. I realized tonight that my comments toward my son, while well intentioned, fell onto already struggling, self deprecating 8 year old ears. I was the failure tonight, and I hope in time my boy forgives me.

I would like to thank his coach, for being so caring to my son, supporting his efforts and his emotions. I would also like to thank him for dressing down his father without saying a single negative thing to him... His comment made me feel 6 inches tall and I deserved every bit of it. I am relieved to have a saint for Jack's coach...Lord knows, we need someone to guide us through the Hell of Little League baseball....

Mother's Day and Power Tools

Ah, Mother's Day...A day devoted solely to the fertile females of the species, the women in our lives that have cared for, are caring for or soon will care for us or our children. Our Mother's Day began with the kids desperately trying to gather the proper accoutrements to serve their Mommy breakfast in bed. This was so darn cute but pathetic at the same time. It consisted of 3 cookie sheets each with a croissant, homemade picture frame and a card, respectively.
My wife did the noble thing and ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the makeshift breakfast and kisses and hugs were had all around. When her children asked what she wanted to do for Mother's Day, she said "spend the day with you!" then she turned to me and said "and work in the yard. Do you think you could get the weed eater to work? I also want to go to Home Depot and price the composite decking so I can redo the deck in a few weeks...and if the weed eater doesn't work, maybe I can just get a new one. Yes, that is what I want for Mother's Day. A weed wacker...I just LOVE powertools!" Yep folks. That is my day ahead. Watching the kids while my wife indulges herself in the thing she loves most-handy man/landscaping activities! Hope everyones' Mother's Day is as productive as my wife's...and if not, sucks for you....

Saturday Morning Musings

So it is Saturday morning and I am inhaling black coffee like it is my last meal. Nothing I love more than relaxing on a weekend and slowly feeling my body start to vibrate. It truly is a joyful experience...

The girls are upstairs, playing with their Barbie dolls and giving them a bath. This is their new thing-not sure I understand it but whatever. I do have a problem with their Ken dolls dressed in drag....


It is a beautiful day here in the Derby City. A bit chilly but who cares. My pooch is consistently on the wrong side of the door. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. She is driving me up the wall. She is too damn big for a doggy door nor would I trust that my youngest daughter wouldn't use it as well to enter/exit the house...She was all up in my mug this morning, desperately trying to get me out of bed. She will try anything. And I mean anything...


Well, have a good day. Just a short entry as my fingers are shaking. Must mean I need more coffee...