Some time back, I wrote about some pain I was having in my back. My primary doctor sent me for an MRI, which I was unable to complete, and wanted me to see a back specialist.
Instead, I went to the chiropractor that my wife and her mother see. I had my 4th session with him yesterday. There won't be 5th. It's not needed. I haven't felt the pain in more than a week. I've been doing the stretches he advised me to do. I'm going to make a weekly appointment to see the massage therapist who comes to the fitness center at work once a week. There was some tightness in my neck and back that went along with the alignment issue - Dr. K said you'll pretty much never see the spine out of alignment without the surrounding muscles being affected, and so in his opinion it doesn't make much sense to only treat one.
It's amazing what can happen when you and your medical provider address the problem, and not the symptoms, eh?
Short and sweet post tonight. There really isn't much else to say about it. I went to the right person, and what we did has worked.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
I pledge allegience
The "promotion ceremony" this year for departing 5th graders at Capitol Hill Elementary School in Portland, Oregon did not include the Pledge of Allegiance, as the ceremony has in previous years. Instead, the students sang the Preamble to the Constitution.
Naturally, some people were upset. I heard some discussion about this issue on a radio talk show last week. And of course, this discussion led into a rehash of the case Michael Newdow brought to a court in California, claiming that recitation of the Pledge in public schools, including the phrase "under God," in an un-Constitutional endorsement of religion. People get very touchy about the Pledge. About the flag. There are a lot of people who will state, who wholeheartedly believe, that anyone who does not honor and pledge allegiance to the flag is un-American, anti-American, and any other (negative)-American you can come up with.
Here's the thing. And here's why I like what the school in Portland did. I have no allegiance to the flag. None. Not to the flag. I know all the arguments. It's a symbol of what this country stands for...our brave young men and women have died defending the flag...et cetera, et cetera. I disagree that our troops have died defending the flag. Because, as was stated, it's a SYMBOL. To quote the late, great George Carlin, "I leave symbols to the symbol-minded." What our troops have defended, and what I do offer my allegiance to, are the principles that we as a nation and a people stand for, that we strive for. That is why I think the Preamble is a good, if not perfect, replacement for the Pledge. I think it says a lot more about who we are than pledging allegiance to a piece of cloth. I mean, if our flag was changed tomorrow, if it was decided that instead of stars and stripes, our flag would be fifty rainbows inside a circle in the lower right corner, of a solid yellow rectangle, or an iceberg carved into Mt. Rushmore with 2 bespectacled hippopotami dancing the Jitterbug atop Teddy Roosevelt's head, it would not change my feelings about my country, or my life in any way. Because my allegiance is not to the flag! The flag only matters because the flag means USA. If we decide that something else means USA, that other something will matter, but again only to that extent. It's like when a sports team changes their logo. The fans don't stop rooting. Conversely, if we decided tomorrow that the principles we stand for are suddenly different --- say, for example, that the far-out wing nuts on fringe of the Christian Right were able to succeed in officially and completely making us a Bible-based theocracy, I would have to reconsider my allegiance. (And my address. But that is another story.)
There was no such thing as this pledge of allegiance to our flag until 1892. Before then, we were able to break our ties from Britain, defeat them in a war and establish this nation; we survived a 2nd war with Britain and our own Civil War, where roughly half of the nation seceded and were repatriated; we had at least one Presidential election that was not decided by the Electoral College and had to go to the House of Representatives, and one where the winner of the electoral vote, and the Presidency, did not win the popular vote; we survived the first death of a President, and the first assassination of a President; we welcomed 31 new states into the nation. All of this was done without anyone pledging allegiance to the flag. It was done by holding fast and true to the Constitution (more or less, in some of the above examples), and to the principles upon which we were founded - or at least the ones under which we operate, which I admit sometimes differ from the former.
I think what gets me most is that, in a way, the recitation of the Pledge is what seems to me to be somewhat un-American. At least it's un-what-"American"-should-be. It's very much what the current crop of right-wing, mostly Christian, Republicans publicly consider to be "American." It just seems a little bit off to me. Through 12th grade, I, along with my schoolmates, recited the Pledge at the start of every school day. I never really thought about it. It was just something that we did. I looked up at the flag, put my hand over my... well, most people will say they're putting their hand over their heart, but more often than not it's put roughly over the aorta... and recited the words, roughly in unison with the others in my homeroom. Now that I think about it, in adulthood, such a rote, daily recitation of a pledge of allegiance to a nation's flag seems to me to be the kind of thing that we would chide our enemies for making their nations' school children do. Think about it. If we didn't have daily Pledge recitation in our schools, don't you think that's the kind of thing we'd claim was done (true or not) in Nazi Germany, in Cold War Era Soviet Union, in modern Islamic nations maybe, as a way of brainwashing, indoctrinating, maybe even programming their young? Can't you picture the grainy, black-and-white film footage of German kids, about 8 or 9 years old, standing rigid in their rows next to their desks, right arms thrust outward pointing slightly upward, eyes fixed on the swastika at the center of the flag in the front of their class, under the approving yet sternly watchful gaze of the schoolmaster... and, from the portrait just to the right of the flag, der Führer.
Is that the way things are supposed to work in this country?
Naturally, some people were upset. I heard some discussion about this issue on a radio talk show last week. And of course, this discussion led into a rehash of the case Michael Newdow brought to a court in California, claiming that recitation of the Pledge in public schools, including the phrase "under God," in an un-Constitutional endorsement of religion. People get very touchy about the Pledge. About the flag. There are a lot of people who will state, who wholeheartedly believe, that anyone who does not honor and pledge allegiance to the flag is un-American, anti-American, and any other (negative)-American you can come up with.
Here's the thing. And here's why I like what the school in Portland did. I have no allegiance to the flag. None. Not to the flag. I know all the arguments. It's a symbol of what this country stands for...our brave young men and women have died defending the flag...et cetera, et cetera. I disagree that our troops have died defending the flag. Because, as was stated, it's a SYMBOL. To quote the late, great George Carlin, "I leave symbols to the symbol-minded." What our troops have defended, and what I do offer my allegiance to, are the principles that we as a nation and a people stand for, that we strive for. That is why I think the Preamble is a good, if not perfect, replacement for the Pledge. I think it says a lot more about who we are than pledging allegiance to a piece of cloth. I mean, if our flag was changed tomorrow, if it was decided that instead of stars and stripes, our flag would be fifty rainbows inside a circle in the lower right corner, of a solid yellow rectangle, or an iceberg carved into Mt. Rushmore with 2 bespectacled hippopotami dancing the Jitterbug atop Teddy Roosevelt's head, it would not change my feelings about my country, or my life in any way. Because my allegiance is not to the flag! The flag only matters because the flag means USA. If we decide that something else means USA, that other something will matter, but again only to that extent. It's like when a sports team changes their logo. The fans don't stop rooting. Conversely, if we decided tomorrow that the principles we stand for are suddenly different --- say, for example, that the far-out wing nuts on fringe of the Christian Right were able to succeed in officially and completely making us a Bible-based theocracy, I would have to reconsider my allegiance. (And my address. But that is another story.)
There was no such thing as this pledge of allegiance to our flag until 1892. Before then, we were able to break our ties from Britain, defeat them in a war and establish this nation; we survived a 2nd war with Britain and our own Civil War, where roughly half of the nation seceded and were repatriated; we had at least one Presidential election that was not decided by the Electoral College and had to go to the House of Representatives, and one where the winner of the electoral vote, and the Presidency, did not win the popular vote; we survived the first death of a President, and the first assassination of a President; we welcomed 31 new states into the nation. All of this was done without anyone pledging allegiance to the flag. It was done by holding fast and true to the Constitution (more or less, in some of the above examples), and to the principles upon which we were founded - or at least the ones under which we operate, which I admit sometimes differ from the former.
I think what gets me most is that, in a way, the recitation of the Pledge is what seems to me to be somewhat un-American. At least it's un-what-"American"-should-be. It's very much what the current crop of right-wing, mostly Christian, Republicans publicly consider to be "American." It just seems a little bit off to me. Through 12th grade, I, along with my schoolmates, recited the Pledge at the start of every school day. I never really thought about it. It was just something that we did. I looked up at the flag, put my hand over my... well, most people will say they're putting their hand over their heart, but more often than not it's put roughly over the aorta... and recited the words, roughly in unison with the others in my homeroom. Now that I think about it, in adulthood, such a rote, daily recitation of a pledge of allegiance to a nation's flag seems to me to be the kind of thing that we would chide our enemies for making their nations' school children do. Think about it. If we didn't have daily Pledge recitation in our schools, don't you think that's the kind of thing we'd claim was done (true or not) in Nazi Germany, in Cold War Era Soviet Union, in modern Islamic nations maybe, as a way of brainwashing, indoctrinating, maybe even programming their young? Can't you picture the grainy, black-and-white film footage of German kids, about 8 or 9 years old, standing rigid in their rows next to their desks, right arms thrust outward pointing slightly upward, eyes fixed on the swastika at the center of the flag in the front of their class, under the approving yet sternly watchful gaze of the schoolmaster... and, from the portrait just to the right of the flag, der Führer.
Is that the way things are supposed to work in this country?
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Side effects may include...
One of the ways in which my wife and I amuse ourselves is, in various ways, finding the "real" message in TV commercials - be it the fine print, reading between the lines, or paying attention to the "our lawyers make us say this" parts.
One that caught my attention and made me laugh to myself is in the commercials for Cialis. First of all, is anyone else completely unsurprised that a number of real, debilitating medical conditions go unresolved, but pretty much as soon as the Baby Boom generation (by far the most self-absorbed, self-indulgent, self-important, self-deluded and flat-out selfish group of people this planet has seen) started looking middle age squarely in the face, we started seeing hard-on pills flooding the market? But, I digress. In listing the potential side effects of Cialis, the commercial mentions "delayed back pain."
Maybe it's just me, but here's the train of thought I come up with. An old, decrepit man takes Cialis. Now, I realize that not only old men take Cialis, but then, not everyone gets every side effect. So, old man pops (grandpops?) his pill, has sex - which obviously his body is trying to tell him he can't handle any more, then, some time later, decides his back hurts. Maybe it ain't the pill that's doing that. Maybe, just maybe, Old Man McGill just got a more strenuous workout in his lower back than he's had in some time, eh?
I amuse myself with the idea that this "delayed back pain" is not an actual symptom of the pill, but of the intended effect of the pill. (That's not really the case, of course. Other varieties of muscle ache and pain are possible side effects of tadalafil, the active ingredient in Cialis. But I think my version's better than their stupid commercial.) I think it's the "delayed." Is that delay just enough time for you to get all pumped up, as it were, on your pill and go out there and hurt yourself?
Then again, there's always the chance that the back pain comes from sitting for hours in a porcelain bathtub outside somewhere, which they always seem to be doing for reasons I've never understood. "Hey, this pill will allow us to have sex! Time to get into separate, side-by-side bathtubs!!!" I really don't get that. See, I told you my version is better than their stupid commercial.
One that caught my attention and made me laugh to myself is in the commercials for Cialis. First of all, is anyone else completely unsurprised that a number of real, debilitating medical conditions go unresolved, but pretty much as soon as the Baby Boom generation (by far the most self-absorbed, self-indulgent, self-important, self-deluded and flat-out selfish group of people this planet has seen) started looking middle age squarely in the face, we started seeing hard-on pills flooding the market? But, I digress. In listing the potential side effects of Cialis, the commercial mentions "delayed back pain."
Maybe it's just me, but here's the train of thought I come up with. An old, decrepit man takes Cialis. Now, I realize that not only old men take Cialis, but then, not everyone gets every side effect. So, old man pops (grandpops?) his pill, has sex - which obviously his body is trying to tell him he can't handle any more, then, some time later, decides his back hurts. Maybe it ain't the pill that's doing that. Maybe, just maybe, Old Man McGill just got a more strenuous workout in his lower back than he's had in some time, eh?
I amuse myself with the idea that this "delayed back pain" is not an actual symptom of the pill, but of the intended effect of the pill. (That's not really the case, of course. Other varieties of muscle ache and pain are possible side effects of tadalafil, the active ingredient in Cialis. But I think my version's better than their stupid commercial.) I think it's the "delayed." Is that delay just enough time for you to get all pumped up, as it were, on your pill and go out there and hurt yourself?
Then again, there's always the chance that the back pain comes from sitting for hours in a porcelain bathtub outside somewhere, which they always seem to be doing for reasons I've never understood. "Hey, this pill will allow us to have sex! Time to get into separate, side-by-side bathtubs!!!" I really don't get that. See, I told you my version is better than their stupid commercial.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Tonight we're gonna party
On November 6, 1982, I turned 10 years old. Less than 2 weeks prior to that, Prince released his fifth album, titled 1999. This was, of course, the album that featured the song of the same name. So there I was, 10 years old and regularly hearing a song that referenced the year 1999. Back then, it seemed sooooooooooooooooooo far away. Sixteen years (more or less) seemed like forever. It was my whole life over again, plus another half... plus a little bit more, even.
Today, we have not only traversed that sixteen-year span that got us to 1999, but we've also done another half... plus a little bit more, even. (Put another way, we're more than halfway to being longer since 1999 than it was from the song to 1999.) And now, at 35, a 16-year span does not seem quite so long as it did in '82. I tell stories from 16 years ago like they happened yesterday. There's been no change (that I'm aware of) in how long 16 years last. What has changed, obviously, is my experience. When I first heard the song, I hadn't quite done two-thirds of 16 years. Now, I've done 16 years, and 16 years over again, and I'm a bit into the 3rd 16.
There's nothing real profound here - just an observation about how one's perception of a piece of time is affected by how that length of time relates to one's sum total of experience.
When I was in 3rd grade, 8 years old, some of the kids in my class decided, for whatever reason, that they wanted to know how old our teacher was. They asked and asked, and she finally decided that she would tell us on the last day of school. She did, and I can remember our collective "Oooooooooooooo!" at her revelation. She was OLD!!! She was TWENTY-FOUR!!! Today, I have a co-worker who's roughly that age (a couple years older), and sometimes that's just head-shakingly young. Anything that happened, or was on TV, or a new movie or song, when I was in high school --- she was like 6! What the hell happened to 24?!? When did it go from old to young? Must've been while 1999 was going from never-gonna-get-here to oh-yeah-we-used-to-think-that-was-a-long-way-away.
Today, we have not only traversed that sixteen-year span that got us to 1999, but we've also done another half... plus a little bit more, even. (Put another way, we're more than halfway to being longer since 1999 than it was from the song to 1999.) And now, at 35, a 16-year span does not seem quite so long as it did in '82. I tell stories from 16 years ago like they happened yesterday. There's been no change (that I'm aware of) in how long 16 years last. What has changed, obviously, is my experience. When I first heard the song, I hadn't quite done two-thirds of 16 years. Now, I've done 16 years, and 16 years over again, and I'm a bit into the 3rd 16.
There's nothing real profound here - just an observation about how one's perception of a piece of time is affected by how that length of time relates to one's sum total of experience.
When I was in 3rd grade, 8 years old, some of the kids in my class decided, for whatever reason, that they wanted to know how old our teacher was. They asked and asked, and she finally decided that she would tell us on the last day of school. She did, and I can remember our collective "Oooooooooooooo!" at her revelation. She was OLD!!! She was TWENTY-FOUR!!! Today, I have a co-worker who's roughly that age (a couple years older), and sometimes that's just head-shakingly young. Anything that happened, or was on TV, or a new movie or song, when I was in high school --- she was like 6! What the hell happened to 24?!? When did it go from old to young? Must've been while 1999 was going from never-gonna-get-here to oh-yeah-we-used-to-think-that-was-a-long-way-away.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
I've been everywhere, man
I started writing a post last night that would be only tangentially related to this post. I started making about about the number of experiences I've had over the past 16 years. (Why 16? You'll see when I get around to completing that post.) I got so far afield, and took so long doing so - it got to be 11:30 PM, and I get up at 6 -- that I had to give up and go to bed. I got to thinking today that the experience group should stand on its own. If you'd asked me last week, without my thinking about it, I probably would have said I haven't done all that much during my life. Well, you tell me...
I've earned a bachelor's degree, the first and so far only person in my family to do so. I've worked for 14 different employers, not to mention movement from position to position within some of those companies. I've seen 36 states and 2 provinces of Canada.
I've shaken hands with the then-Governor of Delaware, and a candidate for President; I've also served 2 Filet-o-Fish sandwiches to the then-mayor of Wilmington, DE.
I've been held on streetcorner by the Secret Service (a whole group of us were), and questioned by a cop on horseback (that was just 2 of us).
I've been licensed to operate a radio station by the FCC, to sell insurance and financial products by the State of Minnesota, and to serve liquor by the State of Delaware. For one semester, I wrote a weekly column in my college newspaper . I was on the broadcast team for 2 seasons of Susquehanna University football games, and 5 Elkton (MD) High School baseball games (I got $25/game, and so technically fulfilled my childhood ambition of being a professional sportscaster). I've covered presidential, gubernatorial and mayoral campaign events, and served as a media witness to an execution.
Among major and minor league hockey, football and baseball, I've been to games in Philadelphia, Wilmington (at a stadium named for the late mayor who I served the fish sandwiches to), Baltimore, Boston, Ottawa, Washington DC, Greensboro (NC), Tampa, Ft. Lauderdale (more or less), San Jose, Albany, Glens Falls (NY), New Haven (CT), Milwaukee, Auburn Hills (MI), Minneapolis and St. Paul. The game in Auburn Hills was of the International Hockey League, which no longer exists. I was in attendance when the Philadelphia Phantoms won the American Hockey League's 1998 Calder Cup championship, and later that summer got my picture taken hold the Cup aloft. At the same time, I met and got a picture with team captain John Stevens, who is now the coach of the National Hockey League's Philadelphia Flyers.
I've watched the sun rise over the Atlantic and set over the Pacific (not on the same day). I've seen dolphins and pelicans off the coast Delaware (and Maryland and Virginia), seals sunning themselves on rocks in San Francisco Bay, alligators in Florida, and Sharks in San Jose. I've taken pictures from the top of the Washington Monument, the 86th-floor observation deck at the Empire State Building and the Golden Gate Bridge.
When I was about a year and a half old, I yelled at a nurse for mispronouncing my name (according to my mother). Right around my fourth birthday, I broke my leg when I fell out of our (moving) family car.
I've my picture taken on the ski jump medal stand from the Olympic site in Lake Placid, with the Stanley Cup (twice - once in Toronto and once in Tampa), on the front steps of Elvis Presley's house, and in a cell at Alcatraz. I've seen Niagara Falls, New Orleans' French Quarter, and what was then the tallest free-standing structure in the world (CN Tower in Toronto).
I've won intramural floor hockey championships in 4th and 5th grades; scored from second on an infield hit in the bottom of the last inning to win a Little League game; and have bowled a 229 game. I've held an actual Olympic gold medal.
I once wandered lost in a corn field, with a deflated raft around my shirtless shoulders as a guard (an ineffective one, at that) against the sun.
I've spent nearly 24 hours in a car driving straight through from Wilmington, DE to Houston, TX; about 12 straight hours at what is now called the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia watching 2 live hockey games which sandwiched watching a playoff football game on the TV screens on the concourse (the Philly teams won all 3 games, I might add); and damn near 200 consecutive seconds in an MRI tube.
I've volunteered at the Special Olympics, and helped build a house for Habitat for Humanity.
Among the bands I've seen in concert (since I'm sure I'm missing some): Iron Maiden, Frehley's Comet, Skid Row, Cheap Trick, Spin Doctors, Soul Asylum, Matchbox 20, Train, Five For Fighting, Kiss (in full makeup), Lenny Kravitz, The Black Crows, Oasis, Journey, Foreigner, Rush, The Steve Miller Band, John Mellencamp, The Jeff Healey Band, Bon Jovi, Eric Clapton, America, Three Dog Night, Billy Joel, Elton John, The Cure, The Badlees, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and The Glenn Miller Orchestra. I've also seen live performances by George Carlin, Kevin Nealon, Kevin Meaney and Louie Anderson.
I've moved 4 times, including out-of-state twice; have quit smoking 3 times; have bought 8 cars and a house.
I have 3 degrees of separation (which means that you have 4) with Yuri Gagarin, the first person in space.
I got married by a guy wearing a referee jersey.
That's what I came up with off the top of my head, and notes I scrawled on one Post-It note at work today. I guess I haven't done all that much, huh?
I've earned a bachelor's degree, the first and so far only person in my family to do so. I've worked for 14 different employers, not to mention movement from position to position within some of those companies. I've seen 36 states and 2 provinces of Canada.
I've shaken hands with the then-Governor of Delaware, and a candidate for President; I've also served 2 Filet-o-Fish sandwiches to the then-mayor of Wilmington, DE.
I've been held on streetcorner by the Secret Service (a whole group of us were), and questioned by a cop on horseback (that was just 2 of us).
I've been licensed to operate a radio station by the FCC, to sell insurance and financial products by the State of Minnesota, and to serve liquor by the State of Delaware. For one semester, I wrote a weekly column in my college newspaper . I was on the broadcast team for 2 seasons of Susquehanna University football games, and 5 Elkton (MD) High School baseball games (I got $25/game, and so technically fulfilled my childhood ambition of being a professional sportscaster). I've covered presidential, gubernatorial and mayoral campaign events, and served as a media witness to an execution.
Among major and minor league hockey, football and baseball, I've been to games in Philadelphia, Wilmington (at a stadium named for the late mayor who I served the fish sandwiches to), Baltimore, Boston, Ottawa, Washington DC, Greensboro (NC), Tampa, Ft. Lauderdale (more or less), San Jose, Albany, Glens Falls (NY), New Haven (CT), Milwaukee, Auburn Hills (MI), Minneapolis and St. Paul. The game in Auburn Hills was of the International Hockey League, which no longer exists. I was in attendance when the Philadelphia Phantoms won the American Hockey League's 1998 Calder Cup championship, and later that summer got my picture taken hold the Cup aloft. At the same time, I met and got a picture with team captain John Stevens, who is now the coach of the National Hockey League's Philadelphia Flyers.
I've watched the sun rise over the Atlantic and set over the Pacific (not on the same day). I've seen dolphins and pelicans off the coast Delaware (and Maryland and Virginia), seals sunning themselves on rocks in San Francisco Bay, alligators in Florida, and Sharks in San Jose. I've taken pictures from the top of the Washington Monument, the 86th-floor observation deck at the Empire State Building and the Golden Gate Bridge.
When I was about a year and a half old, I yelled at a nurse for mispronouncing my name (according to my mother). Right around my fourth birthday, I broke my leg when I fell out of our (moving) family car.
I've my picture taken on the ski jump medal stand from the Olympic site in Lake Placid, with the Stanley Cup (twice - once in Toronto and once in Tampa), on the front steps of Elvis Presley's house, and in a cell at Alcatraz. I've seen Niagara Falls, New Orleans' French Quarter, and what was then the tallest free-standing structure in the world (CN Tower in Toronto).
I've won intramural floor hockey championships in 4th and 5th grades; scored from second on an infield hit in the bottom of the last inning to win a Little League game; and have bowled a 229 game. I've held an actual Olympic gold medal.
I once wandered lost in a corn field, with a deflated raft around my shirtless shoulders as a guard (an ineffective one, at that) against the sun.
I've spent nearly 24 hours in a car driving straight through from Wilmington, DE to Houston, TX; about 12 straight hours at what is now called the Wachovia Center in Philadelphia watching 2 live hockey games which sandwiched watching a playoff football game on the TV screens on the concourse (the Philly teams won all 3 games, I might add); and damn near 200 consecutive seconds in an MRI tube.
I've volunteered at the Special Olympics, and helped build a house for Habitat for Humanity.
Among the bands I've seen in concert (since I'm sure I'm missing some): Iron Maiden, Frehley's Comet, Skid Row, Cheap Trick, Spin Doctors, Soul Asylum, Matchbox 20, Train, Five For Fighting, Kiss (in full makeup), Lenny Kravitz, The Black Crows, Oasis, Journey, Foreigner, Rush, The Steve Miller Band, John Mellencamp, The Jeff Healey Band, Bon Jovi, Eric Clapton, America, Three Dog Night, Billy Joel, Elton John, The Cure, The Badlees, Trans-Siberian Orchestra, and The Glenn Miller Orchestra. I've also seen live performances by George Carlin, Kevin Nealon, Kevin Meaney and Louie Anderson.
I've moved 4 times, including out-of-state twice; have quit smoking 3 times; have bought 8 cars and a house.
I have 3 degrees of separation (which means that you have 4) with Yuri Gagarin, the first person in space.
I got married by a guy wearing a referee jersey.
That's what I came up with off the top of my head, and notes I scrawled on one Post-It note at work today. I guess I haven't done all that much, huh?
Sunday, June 8, 2008
M R I
While you might think that is a redneck rendition of the "I am he, as you are he, as you are me..." lyrics from The Beatles' "I Am the Walrus," I am actually referring to magnetic resonance imaging.
I've been having pain in my back for a little more than 2 weeks now. It's not like any that I've ever experienced before. First of all, any pain I've had before has lasted for like 2 days, tops. Rest, heat or ice, take it easy for a bit and I was fine again. Not this. Secondly, any time I've had back pain before, it's been something in a muscle. This felt like it was right in my spine, 'round about the 5th thoracic vertebra.
When it didn't go away after a couple of days of rest and trying not to aggravate it, I made an appointment to see my doctor. I'm really not all that fond of the medical system that we have. I think they're often too quick to fill us up with chemicals, and that they more often treat the symptoms rather than the problem. But, our doctors can be good at dealing with some of the problems we encounter, and they've got some good diagnostic tools. And to get anything done through the system, you have to dance the dance, you know?
So I went to see my doctor. He saw me for what probably approached 5 minutes (about a third of the time that I sat waiting for him in the exam room), felt one spot on my back, and sent me off for some x-rays. The x-rays didn't show anything. We had talked about sending me to see a back specialist in that case, but since the specialist would most likely want to see an MRI first, we set an appointment for me to get that done.
The MRI was scheduled for last Wednesday afternoon. When I got there, the technician told me it should take about 20 minutes. They put me on the table and loaded me into the tube. I'm guessing about 3 minutes went by before I instructed the staff that they could remove me from the tube at that time. I'd never experienced claustrophobia before, but I'd also never been that enclosed before.
So, first thing Thursday morning I call my doctor's office and leave a message advising that we did not complete the MRI and I'd need to talk to the doctor about what the next steps might be. I didn't hear back from the doctor's office all day Thursday, or through Friday morning. I called again, didn't get through to a person again, and left a message again, advising that we did not complete the MRI and I'd need to talk to the doctor about what the next steps might be again. I finally got a call back Friday afternoon, a couple of hours after my 2nd message, and spoke with a nurse. She informed me that they couldn't tell me anything yet, because they hadn't gotten the results from the MRI.
Wow.
So, after some explanation, we hung up, she talked to the doctor and called me back. They want me to see the back specialist to see if (s)he can figure anything out without the MRI. But the nurse left open the possibility that the specialist might want me to get that done after all, in which case, she said, the specialist might be able to prescribe me "some Valium or something" to calm me down. I didn't bother discussing it with her, as she wouldn't be involved with such a conversation, but there's no way in hell that I'm ever getting back in that tube awake. To tell you the truth, I don't think I like the idea of getting in there while sedated.
I don't think it'll be an issue, tho. At least, I hope not. I went to see a chiropractor on Saturday. I had that on the list, but I was planning to see the back specialist first. I wasn't sure what a chiropractor could do if we didn't have any idea what the problem was. But the pain was getting worse, and I was losing the little confidence I'd previously had in my medical doctor, so I went to see him first. I figured if there was any chance that he could help, I might as well go see him without waiting any longer. He thinks it's due to misalignment in my neck vertebrae, which is irritating a nerve and transferring pain to where I'm feeling it lower than my neck. (Incidentally, this is exactly what my wife Jill postulated several days before we saw the chiro.) We did one treatment on Saturday, and I have 2 more scheduled for this week. He doesn't think it'll take many more treatments after that (assuming his diagnosis is correct). So far, I can report that the pain has changed, which seems to be in line with his prediction. He'd said that my body will basically try to get back to the misaligned position it's been in and is used to, which for the time being can result in more irritation of the nerve.
That's what I know so far. I'll post more when I know more.
I've been having pain in my back for a little more than 2 weeks now. It's not like any that I've ever experienced before. First of all, any pain I've had before has lasted for like 2 days, tops. Rest, heat or ice, take it easy for a bit and I was fine again. Not this. Secondly, any time I've had back pain before, it's been something in a muscle. This felt like it was right in my spine, 'round about the 5th thoracic vertebra.
When it didn't go away after a couple of days of rest and trying not to aggravate it, I made an appointment to see my doctor. I'm really not all that fond of the medical system that we have. I think they're often too quick to fill us up with chemicals, and that they more often treat the symptoms rather than the problem. But, our doctors can be good at dealing with some of the problems we encounter, and they've got some good diagnostic tools. And to get anything done through the system, you have to dance the dance, you know?
So I went to see my doctor. He saw me for what probably approached 5 minutes (about a third of the time that I sat waiting for him in the exam room), felt one spot on my back, and sent me off for some x-rays. The x-rays didn't show anything. We had talked about sending me to see a back specialist in that case, but since the specialist would most likely want to see an MRI first, we set an appointment for me to get that done.
The MRI was scheduled for last Wednesday afternoon. When I got there, the technician told me it should take about 20 minutes. They put me on the table and loaded me into the tube. I'm guessing about 3 minutes went by before I instructed the staff that they could remove me from the tube at that time. I'd never experienced claustrophobia before, but I'd also never been that enclosed before.
So, first thing Thursday morning I call my doctor's office and leave a message advising that we did not complete the MRI and I'd need to talk to the doctor about what the next steps might be. I didn't hear back from the doctor's office all day Thursday, or through Friday morning. I called again, didn't get through to a person again, and left a message again, advising that we did not complete the MRI and I'd need to talk to the doctor about what the next steps might be again. I finally got a call back Friday afternoon, a couple of hours after my 2nd message, and spoke with a nurse. She informed me that they couldn't tell me anything yet, because they hadn't gotten the results from the MRI.
Wow.
So, after some explanation, we hung up, she talked to the doctor and called me back. They want me to see the back specialist to see if (s)he can figure anything out without the MRI. But the nurse left open the possibility that the specialist might want me to get that done after all, in which case, she said, the specialist might be able to prescribe me "some Valium or something" to calm me down. I didn't bother discussing it with her, as she wouldn't be involved with such a conversation, but there's no way in hell that I'm ever getting back in that tube awake. To tell you the truth, I don't think I like the idea of getting in there while sedated.
I don't think it'll be an issue, tho. At least, I hope not. I went to see a chiropractor on Saturday. I had that on the list, but I was planning to see the back specialist first. I wasn't sure what a chiropractor could do if we didn't have any idea what the problem was. But the pain was getting worse, and I was losing the little confidence I'd previously had in my medical doctor, so I went to see him first. I figured if there was any chance that he could help, I might as well go see him without waiting any longer. He thinks it's due to misalignment in my neck vertebrae, which is irritating a nerve and transferring pain to where I'm feeling it lower than my neck. (Incidentally, this is exactly what my wife Jill postulated several days before we saw the chiro.) We did one treatment on Saturday, and I have 2 more scheduled for this week. He doesn't think it'll take many more treatments after that (assuming his diagnosis is correct). So far, I can report that the pain has changed, which seems to be in line with his prediction. He'd said that my body will basically try to get back to the misaligned position it's been in and is used to, which for the time being can result in more irritation of the nerve.
That's what I know so far. I'll post more when I know more.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
What would you rather do, or go fishing?
I've been thinking about my maternal grandfather quite a bit the last couple of days.
Alexander Francis Luberecki was born in Shamokin, Pennsylvania in 1913. At 15, to get away from an abusive father, he took the birth certificate of a brother who had been stillborn 3 years before him and joined the US Army, at which time he became officially known as Frank Jacob Luberecki. (I remember visiting some of his family in Shamokin when I was about 5 or 6 year old. I knew his name as Frank Luberecki, I guess from mail that he'd get or whatever. And I knew that my grandmother and my father called him "Lu," short for Luberecki. So I was confused when his siblings would talk to "Al." I remember asking my mother who Al was. I doubt I sounded quite as exasperated as Jimmy Dugan [Tom Hanks] in "A League of Their Own" when he shouted, "WHO'S LOU?!?" But I think I felt that way.) After the Army, he married Rose Panarese. They had 3 children, the youngest of whom is my mother. He died in 1987, when I was 14, the first grandparent I lost.
Luberecki, as you may have noticed, is a Polish name. I believe my grandfather's generation was the first of his family to be born in the US. I read, always including (often only) the Letters to the Editor from several newspapers from the places I have lived. Yesterday, there was a letter to the Wilmington, DE News Journal decrying a recent editorial cartoon that the writer saw as degrading and demeaning to Polish people. The News Journal's website allows comments about the letters to be posted, which I sometimes do. Most of the replies to this letter were of the "lighten up" variety. One poster indicated that (s)he had not met a Polish person who did not love a good Polish joke. This is what caused me to think of my grandfather, and to reply to that post telling how I'm sure I heard more "Polock" jokes from him than from all other sources combined. To this day, any time I have occasion to use a flashlight, I think of it as the solar-powered one of Polish invention, and smile at a memory of my grandfather. He loved all kinds of jokes. The title of this post was one of his favorites.
Here's the thing, tho. Other than the short bio, and the jokes, I don't have a lot of knowledge or memory of my grandfather. I know from their stories that my siblings all do, pretty much commensurate with how much older than me they are. When I was born, my family lived next door to my grandparents. We moved to Delaware - about 50 miles away without a straight shot of Interstate highway until several years later - when I was about 3-1/2. We visited, they visited, but not all that often. And I don't know how it is in your family, but when I was a kid of single-digit age, you didn't get that much time with the adults during a family visit. About 4 years after we moved, they moved to Florida. We visited twice, they visited quite a few times, but of course it's not the same as being a young kid and having great and loving grandparents (which they were) right next door.
One thing that was a consistent theme in my upbringing is that, tho I am not separated in age from my siblings by a great deal (they are 2, 3 and 5 years older than me), time after time after time it seemed that all 3 of them had a very similar experience, which I did not share. Growing up, their circles of neighborhood friends seemed to overlap and intertwine quite a bit (till each of them got a good piece into the teen years - I personally don't think that fact and the increased mobility that comes with that age are coincidental), while mine was separate. Movies, music, TV shows - there are countless examples of ones that 2 or all 3 of them would consider "theirs," that I was either not much enthralled with, or not even familiar with.
Those are just a few examples. I don't know that I could ever fully explain the experience, or the feeling. I don't believe that it's anything that anyone intentionally did, but in some very fundamental ways, I've long felt that the life I lived growing up was separated from the others in my family. I can't help but wonder if the fact that I was so young when we moved away didn't play a part. When we were in Pennsylvania, not only did we live right next door to my grandparents, but my mother's sister - and 2 cousins - lived in the same neighborhood, and my mother's brother - and 2 more cousins, including the only one who was very close in age to me - were just a few minutes away. When we lived there, the families did things together. Often. But given my age compared with theirs, I was either not yet born or not involved (I can't tell you how many pictures my mother has with my siblings out and about - doing, seeing, having fun - things I never did and places I never was), or I there but so young that I have no memory. After we moved, other than visiting extended family, there was very little my family did as a family. I've often wondered what it would have been like if my family hadn't moved. Obviously I'll never know, but I suspect that I would have felt more included, would have been more included, as I would have been involved in more things that were done as a family - the big group.
Including, as I've been reminded recently, having more time with, and better memory of, our grandparents.
Nobody's fault. Not fair or unfair. Just life.
Alexander Francis Luberecki was born in Shamokin, Pennsylvania in 1913. At 15, to get away from an abusive father, he took the birth certificate of a brother who had been stillborn 3 years before him and joined the US Army, at which time he became officially known as Frank Jacob Luberecki. (I remember visiting some of his family in Shamokin when I was about 5 or 6 year old. I knew his name as Frank Luberecki, I guess from mail that he'd get or whatever. And I knew that my grandmother and my father called him "Lu," short for Luberecki. So I was confused when his siblings would talk to "Al." I remember asking my mother who Al was. I doubt I sounded quite as exasperated as Jimmy Dugan [Tom Hanks] in "A League of Their Own" when he shouted, "WHO'S LOU?!?" But I think I felt that way.) After the Army, he married Rose Panarese. They had 3 children, the youngest of whom is my mother. He died in 1987, when I was 14, the first grandparent I lost.
Luberecki, as you may have noticed, is a Polish name. I believe my grandfather's generation was the first of his family to be born in the US. I read, always including (often only) the Letters to the Editor from several newspapers from the places I have lived. Yesterday, there was a letter to the Wilmington, DE News Journal decrying a recent editorial cartoon that the writer saw as degrading and demeaning to Polish people. The News Journal's website allows comments about the letters to be posted, which I sometimes do. Most of the replies to this letter were of the "lighten up" variety. One poster indicated that (s)he had not met a Polish person who did not love a good Polish joke. This is what caused me to think of my grandfather, and to reply to that post telling how I'm sure I heard more "Polock" jokes from him than from all other sources combined. To this day, any time I have occasion to use a flashlight, I think of it as the solar-powered one of Polish invention, and smile at a memory of my grandfather. He loved all kinds of jokes. The title of this post was one of his favorites.
Here's the thing, tho. Other than the short bio, and the jokes, I don't have a lot of knowledge or memory of my grandfather. I know from their stories that my siblings all do, pretty much commensurate with how much older than me they are. When I was born, my family lived next door to my grandparents. We moved to Delaware - about 50 miles away without a straight shot of Interstate highway until several years later - when I was about 3-1/2. We visited, they visited, but not all that often. And I don't know how it is in your family, but when I was a kid of single-digit age, you didn't get that much time with the adults during a family visit. About 4 years after we moved, they moved to Florida. We visited twice, they visited quite a few times, but of course it's not the same as being a young kid and having great and loving grandparents (which they were) right next door.
One thing that was a consistent theme in my upbringing is that, tho I am not separated in age from my siblings by a great deal (they are 2, 3 and 5 years older than me), time after time after time it seemed that all 3 of them had a very similar experience, which I did not share. Growing up, their circles of neighborhood friends seemed to overlap and intertwine quite a bit (till each of them got a good piece into the teen years - I personally don't think that fact and the increased mobility that comes with that age are coincidental), while mine was separate. Movies, music, TV shows - there are countless examples of ones that 2 or all 3 of them would consider "theirs," that I was either not much enthralled with, or not even familiar with.
Those are just a few examples. I don't know that I could ever fully explain the experience, or the feeling. I don't believe that it's anything that anyone intentionally did, but in some very fundamental ways, I've long felt that the life I lived growing up was separated from the others in my family. I can't help but wonder if the fact that I was so young when we moved away didn't play a part. When we were in Pennsylvania, not only did we live right next door to my grandparents, but my mother's sister - and 2 cousins - lived in the same neighborhood, and my mother's brother - and 2 more cousins, including the only one who was very close in age to me - were just a few minutes away. When we lived there, the families did things together. Often. But given my age compared with theirs, I was either not yet born or not involved (I can't tell you how many pictures my mother has with my siblings out and about - doing, seeing, having fun - things I never did and places I never was), or I there but so young that I have no memory. After we moved, other than visiting extended family, there was very little my family did as a family. I've often wondered what it would have been like if my family hadn't moved. Obviously I'll never know, but I suspect that I would have felt more included, would have been more included, as I would have been involved in more things that were done as a family - the big group.
Including, as I've been reminded recently, having more time with, and better memory of, our grandparents.
Nobody's fault. Not fair or unfair. Just life.
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