Friday, March 28, 2008
For Writers
This website is pitting various writing blogs against one another in a basketball style seed. Check it out if only to find the links to some good blogs about writing and freelancing.
Swayze and my mom
My heart ached when I read the news a few weeks ago that actor Patrick Swayze of Dirty Dancing fame had pancreatic cancer.
This was not because I am an ardent fan (although I like that movie), but because pancreatic cancer is the disease that eight years ago killed my mother.
My mother loved Dirty Dancing. She loved to dance and she loved music – what better movie, eh? Once we were shopping together, and she asked me to go wait for her in a chair in the corner while she tried on clothes. “Nobody puts Baby in the corner!” I huffed, giving Swayze’s line. Mom burst out laughing, as did I.
Cancer in any form is not pretty, but pancreatic cancer is a particularly nasty bugger.
Each year about 30,000 Americans are given a pancreatic cancer diagnosis. Most of these people will be dead within the year. Pancreatic cancer is the fourth leading cause of cancer death in this country.
In Spring 1999, my mother returned from Paris. It was her first trip abroad. She was pale and wan and complaining of stomach problems. She had been in a foreign country. We thought it was the water.
When June came around, my mother attended a small party at my home. She complained of her stomach hurting still. I remember watching her standing by the table, her fist in her gut.
I asked her, of course, if she had been to the doctor. She had. Several times.
A few weeks later, Mom told me she still wasn’t feeling well. I insisted she go back to the doctor. She called me from his office and told me she was being admitted to the hospital that Friday.
She had jaundice.
The following Monday, doctors wheeled my mother off for exploratory surgery. Something was blocking her bile duct. My aunt, who is a nurse, waited with me.
Mom returned to the room, still unconscious. The doctor took us aside. “Pancreatic cancer,” he said.
That was it. No statistics, no hope, no offer of help.
My aunt knew right away that this was a death knell. She explained the diagnosis and statistics.
I was in shock.
My mother’s first words upon awakening were, “Is it cancer?” I burst into tears and fled from the room, leaving my aunt to tell her.
It was the hardest day of my life up to that time.
The choices open were radiation and chemotherapy and little hope. The most radical procedure was a surgery called a Whipple, which entailed removal of the pancreas and surrounding organs, including part of the stomach. My mother chose this operation and opted to have it performed at the University of Virginia.
The surgery prolonged her life. She actually lived just a little beyond a year of the diagnosis. But it was a difficult time, because the surgery left her weak. It also damaged her stomach and she ended up with tube feeding for the rest of her short life.
About this time of year in 2000, I slipped away from work to visit my mother, as I frequently did. Most days I walked in and the house was still as a tomb. She said television bothered her and the music she loved had become noise that she no longer cared to hear. But on this day I walked in to find the radio on. My mother was in the back part of the house. She didn’t know I was there.
“Now I’ve had the time of my life, and I’ve searched through every open door…,” she sang, her alto chiming in on this Dirty Dancing song.
I was grateful she was having a good day. And I was saddened because by this time I knew that the cancer had spread and chemo and radiation wasn’t working. She wasn’t going to be with us much longer.
She died in August at the age of 56. That was the last song I heard her sing.
Give generously when cancer foundations come calling. You just never know where – or who – this disease will strike next.
**This was originally printed on March 26, 2008, in The Fincastle Herald under my column/byline. It didn't have the links.**
This was not because I am an ardent fan (although I like that movie), but because pancreatic cancer is the disease that eight years ago killed my mother.
My mother loved Dirty Dancing. She loved to dance and she loved music – what better movie, eh? Once we were shopping together, and she asked me to go wait for her in a chair in the corner while she tried on clothes. “Nobody puts Baby in the corner!” I huffed, giving Swayze’s line. Mom burst out laughing, as did I.
Cancer in any form is not pretty, but pancreatic cancer is a particularly nasty bugger.
Each year about 30,000 Americans are given a pancreatic cancer diagnosis. Most of these people will be dead within the year. Pancreatic cancer is the fourth leading cause of cancer death in this country.
In Spring 1999, my mother returned from Paris. It was her first trip abroad. She was pale and wan and complaining of stomach problems. She had been in a foreign country. We thought it was the water.
When June came around, my mother attended a small party at my home. She complained of her stomach hurting still. I remember watching her standing by the table, her fist in her gut.
I asked her, of course, if she had been to the doctor. She had. Several times.
A few weeks later, Mom told me she still wasn’t feeling well. I insisted she go back to the doctor. She called me from his office and told me she was being admitted to the hospital that Friday.
She had jaundice.
The following Monday, doctors wheeled my mother off for exploratory surgery. Something was blocking her bile duct. My aunt, who is a nurse, waited with me.
Mom returned to the room, still unconscious. The doctor took us aside. “Pancreatic cancer,” he said.
That was it. No statistics, no hope, no offer of help.
My aunt knew right away that this was a death knell. She explained the diagnosis and statistics.
I was in shock.
My mother’s first words upon awakening were, “Is it cancer?” I burst into tears and fled from the room, leaving my aunt to tell her.
It was the hardest day of my life up to that time.
The choices open were radiation and chemotherapy and little hope. The most radical procedure was a surgery called a Whipple, which entailed removal of the pancreas and surrounding organs, including part of the stomach. My mother chose this operation and opted to have it performed at the University of Virginia.
The surgery prolonged her life. She actually lived just a little beyond a year of the diagnosis. But it was a difficult time, because the surgery left her weak. It also damaged her stomach and she ended up with tube feeding for the rest of her short life.
About this time of year in 2000, I slipped away from work to visit my mother, as I frequently did. Most days I walked in and the house was still as a tomb. She said television bothered her and the music she loved had become noise that she no longer cared to hear. But on this day I walked in to find the radio on. My mother was in the back part of the house. She didn’t know I was there.
“Now I’ve had the time of my life, and I’ve searched through every open door…,” she sang, her alto chiming in on this Dirty Dancing song.
I was grateful she was having a good day. And I was saddened because by this time I knew that the cancer had spread and chemo and radiation wasn’t working. She wasn’t going to be with us much longer.
She died in August at the age of 56. That was the last song I heard her sing.
Give generously when cancer foundations come calling. You just never know where – or who – this disease will strike next.
**This was originally printed on March 26, 2008, in The Fincastle Herald under my column/byline. It didn't have the links.**
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
Sleeping
1. Sleeping is something we take for granted if we do it and miss violently if we're not doing it.
2. I tend to start out sleeping on my back.
3. Then I turn over onto my side.
4. I prefer to sleep with a body pillow when I side-sleep. I toss a leg over the pillow.
5. Up until this week, I slept on a 7" wedge.
6. I started sleeping on this in 1998 after I experienced esophagus problems that warranted a look-see with a scope. The doctor told me to raise the head of my bed 4 inches. We did, and we both slide down and woke crumpled at the foot of the bed every morning.
7. I figure doctors never take their own advice. We lowered the bed to 2 inches and I started sleeping on a wedge.
8. I stopped sleeping on the wedge from about 2003 to 2005 because I was having back problems. Then in 2006 I developed vertigo and the only thing that helped was *not* laying down. So I went back to sleeping on the wedge.
9. About 5 months ago I hit my head on a shelf, and I developed neck problems.
10. I changed my pillows.
11. The little round pillow helped, but my neck problems continued.
12. I don't really care to visit my chiropractor again because I get mixed results from that care. The acupuncturist has helped my neck a lot, though.
13. Now I am trying to sleep without the wedge to see if (a) I stay on level ground and don't get dizzy and (b) it helps my neck and back.
**The dog is stuffed. I bought her in 2001 after my puppy of 17 years passed away because she looks like Ginger.**
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Blogger Problems - Still
Does anyone have a clue as to why I can't access my widgets in layout? It is weird. It's Blogger, not my computer, because I can't access it from my laptop either.
When I go to layout, the scroll bar won't move. So I can't scroll down to reach my widgets to change them. Which means I can't add links.
A few days ago I was looking at my blog (the page you're seeing now) and I noticed these little tool-like things on the sidebar. I clicked on them and the widgets opened up for editing. I had access! Yay. So I quickly made a couple of changes that I'd been unable to make.
But now those little tool things aren't there anymore and I don't know why they came up in the first place. And I still can't access my widgets in layout!
Blogger is strange sometimes.
When I go to layout, the scroll bar won't move. So I can't scroll down to reach my widgets to change them. Which means I can't add links.
A few days ago I was looking at my blog (the page you're seeing now) and I noticed these little tool-like things on the sidebar. I clicked on them and the widgets opened up for editing. I had access! Yay. So I quickly made a couple of changes that I'd been unable to make.
But now those little tool things aren't there anymore and I don't know why they came up in the first place. And I still can't access my widgets in layout!
Blogger is strange sometimes.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter
The roses are full of leaves! Soon they will be blooming.
The heralds of Spring! Beautiful daffodils.
Favorite forsynthia! Golden blooms.
The redbird says, wetcho!
Saturday, March 22, 2008
When the Lights Go Out
This morning around 10:15 a.m., I sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast and reading the paper.
I had already spent time on the computer, just playing. It was time to do housework and try to make up for all the time I'd been ill.
As I read, the words on the paper started disappearing. I realized I had a hole in my vision.
I have problems with flashers and floaters; I thought perhaps this was some new version of this problem.
The hole was egg-shaped and the edges of it were wavy. Things looked quite odd. I shut one eye and then the other.
The hole was there no matter what.
This was scary.
I went to the computer and typed in "hole in vision" and ... realized I couldn't see to read anything. Things started going black all around the hole.
By the time I picked up the phone and called my husband, I couldn't see the phone to dial. Most of my vision, except for the upper right corner of space, was gone.
This kind of dark is much different than nighttime. It was a darkness unlike anything I have ever experienced.
My husband contacted the doctor's office here in my county, and then he raced home and took me in.
By this time, it was 11:25 a.m., and my vision was clearing up. I could see. It was a relief, let me tell you.
The doctor told me I had an ocular migraine. I have migraines but they have diminished greatly in recent years. I haven't had a bad migraine in quite a while. I had some vision symptoms with previous migraines - spots before my eyes, light sensitivity, that kind of thing. But I'd never lost my sight.
Apparently they've morphed into this new thing, this ocular migraine. It may be tied in to this terrible chest cold I've had for two weeks, too. Perhaps my system is simply that much out of balance.
We returned home and I went to bed. A nap helped tremendously.
Going blind has always been a major fear of mine. I have a hard time imagining not being able to read or take photos or see my husband's wonderful loving face. Sight is something taken for granted.
I won't be taking it for granted for a long time, I suspect.
I had already spent time on the computer, just playing. It was time to do housework and try to make up for all the time I'd been ill.
As I read, the words on the paper started disappearing. I realized I had a hole in my vision.
I have problems with flashers and floaters; I thought perhaps this was some new version of this problem.
The hole was egg-shaped and the edges of it were wavy. Things looked quite odd. I shut one eye and then the other.
The hole was there no matter what.
This was scary.
I went to the computer and typed in "hole in vision" and ... realized I couldn't see to read anything. Things started going black all around the hole.
By the time I picked up the phone and called my husband, I couldn't see the phone to dial. Most of my vision, except for the upper right corner of space, was gone.
This kind of dark is much different than nighttime. It was a darkness unlike anything I have ever experienced.
My husband contacted the doctor's office here in my county, and then he raced home and took me in.
By this time, it was 11:25 a.m., and my vision was clearing up. I could see. It was a relief, let me tell you.
The doctor told me I had an ocular migraine. I have migraines but they have diminished greatly in recent years. I haven't had a bad migraine in quite a while. I had some vision symptoms with previous migraines - spots before my eyes, light sensitivity, that kind of thing. But I'd never lost my sight.
Apparently they've morphed into this new thing, this ocular migraine. It may be tied in to this terrible chest cold I've had for two weeks, too. Perhaps my system is simply that much out of balance.
We returned home and I went to bed. A nap helped tremendously.
Going blind has always been a major fear of mine. I have a hard time imagining not being able to read or take photos or see my husband's wonderful loving face. Sight is something taken for granted.
I won't be taking it for granted for a long time, I suspect.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Cupping
Wednesday I visited my acupuncturist in the hopes that she could speed this chest congestion on out of my system. As of tomorrow, I will have been sick for two weeks.
Not only did she use needles, she did a technique called cupping.
Here is a video of it being performed. Not on me, of course.
Apparently Gwyneth Paltrow had this done and showed off her cupping marks at some awards ceremony or something.
Cupping is, essentially, the use of glass jars or cups to draw blood to the surface. This is supposed to free up stuck chi and cure whatever is ailing you. In my case, my acupuncturist used heat within the cups to create a vacuum.
Then she applied the cups.
As a result, I have large bruises across my back at my shoulders. These are pictures of my back that I took last night.
This is a healing technique that has been around since the birth of Christ (or earlier). However, it is one of those old-fashioned things that makes people's eyebrows raise in this country, where all western medical practitioners do is hand people a little poison pill and tell them it will make them well.
We like our illnesses to be sanitized and not messy. None of that icky blood-letting or spitting or whatever for us.
Did it help? That's debatable. I am not much better two days later, although I am coughing up more stuff. I think that was part of the goal. If so, then it has helped.
One thing she did help immediately was my neck. I was suffering from a terribly stiff neck, the result, I think, of coughing so much that I threw out a vertebra. That is incredibly better.
She also sent me home with some very nasty tasting herbs which I drinking three times a day as prescribed. And she told me to rest (I'm not very good at resting.)
Yesterday I felt better than I had in days. So I didn't rest; I worked all day. First I worked on my bookkeeping and brought my personal and business books current and then I worked on articles for about five hours. It was pretty much an eight-hour day.
I don't think I will do that again today; I obviously overdid it.
Not only did she use needles, she did a technique called cupping.
Here is a video of it being performed. Not on me, of course.
Apparently Gwyneth Paltrow had this done and showed off her cupping marks at some awards ceremony or something.
Cupping is, essentially, the use of glass jars or cups to draw blood to the surface. This is supposed to free up stuck chi and cure whatever is ailing you. In my case, my acupuncturist used heat within the cups to create a vacuum.
Then she applied the cups.
As a result, I have large bruises across my back at my shoulders. These are pictures of my back that I took last night.
This is a healing technique that has been around since the birth of Christ (or earlier). However, it is one of those old-fashioned things that makes people's eyebrows raise in this country, where all western medical practitioners do is hand people a little poison pill and tell them it will make them well.
We like our illnesses to be sanitized and not messy. None of that icky blood-letting or spitting or whatever for us.
Did it help? That's debatable. I am not much better two days later, although I am coughing up more stuff. I think that was part of the goal. If so, then it has helped.
One thing she did help immediately was my neck. I was suffering from a terribly stiff neck, the result, I think, of coughing so much that I threw out a vertebra. That is incredibly better.
She also sent me home with some very nasty tasting herbs which I drinking three times a day as prescribed. And she told me to rest (I'm not very good at resting.)
Yesterday I felt better than I had in days. So I didn't rest; I worked all day. First I worked on my bookkeeping and brought my personal and business books current and then I worked on articles for about five hours. It was pretty much an eight-hour day.
I don't think I will do that again today; I obviously overdid it.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
Thirteen good things about being sick:
1. Sleeping. A lot.
2. Watching TV.
3. Laying around in PJs.
4. Never putting on shoes.
5. Sucking on lemon drops.
6. Reading.
7. Not worrying (too much) about work.
8. Losing three pounds without even trying.
9. Clean sheets and washed blankets nearly every day.
10. Get well wishes from friends.
11. Vivid dreams.
12. Thoughts of what you'll do when you feel better.
13. Actually feeling better.
1. Sleeping. A lot.
2. Watching TV.
3. Laying around in PJs.
4. Never putting on shoes.
5. Sucking on lemon drops.
6. Reading.
7. Not worrying (too much) about work.
8. Losing three pounds without even trying.
9. Clean sheets and washed blankets nearly every day.
10. Get well wishes from friends.
11. Vivid dreams.
12. Thoughts of what you'll do when you feel better.
13. Actually feeling better.
Monday, March 17, 2008
John Adams
Last night husband and I watched the first two parts of the HBO special on John Adams.
Adams was the second president of the United States and one of the first members of the Continental Congresses, which approved the Declaration of Independence and began the United States.
The show is well done and we're looking forward to watching the remaining segments. What a relief to have some decent television to watch for a change.
My husband was quite caught up in the show. During one scene early on, Adams was lecturing to a crowd in a church.
"That looks just like that church we saw in Williamsburg," husband said.
"They filmed a lot of this in Williamsburg," I replied, having read that online somewhere previously.
After that, he watched even more intently, searching for buildings and structures he remembered from our two trips to Colonial Williamsburg. He delighted in pointing out the buildings to me.
When the show ended, husband was wound up. "Look at what all they went through," he said, referring to scenes of smallpox. "Look at how little they had. We're a bunch of softies now, aren't we."
I agreed. Indeed, we are quite pampered and toil seems to be beneath us, each and every one.
"We're also getting stupider," my husband declared. He noted how learned Adams and his compatriots were. They knew lots of stuff. Philosophy and religion and the law.
"People today just know what's on at the movies," husband said. "They don't know anything real or important."
It took a long time for him to wind down and go to bed.
The series obviously did its job for him.
Adams was the second president of the United States and one of the first members of the Continental Congresses, which approved the Declaration of Independence and began the United States.
The show is well done and we're looking forward to watching the remaining segments. What a relief to have some decent television to watch for a change.
My husband was quite caught up in the show. During one scene early on, Adams was lecturing to a crowd in a church.
"That looks just like that church we saw in Williamsburg," husband said.
"They filmed a lot of this in Williamsburg," I replied, having read that online somewhere previously.
After that, he watched even more intently, searching for buildings and structures he remembered from our two trips to Colonial Williamsburg. He delighted in pointing out the buildings to me.
When the show ended, husband was wound up. "Look at what all they went through," he said, referring to scenes of smallpox. "Look at how little they had. We're a bunch of softies now, aren't we."
I agreed. Indeed, we are quite pampered and toil seems to be beneath us, each and every one.
"We're also getting stupider," my husband declared. He noted how learned Adams and his compatriots were. They knew lots of stuff. Philosophy and religion and the law.
"People today just know what's on at the movies," husband said. "They don't know anything real or important."
It took a long time for him to wind down and go to bed.
The series obviously did its job for him.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Last Week in Review
Thanks to all my readers and friends who have wished me good health during this last week as I suffered with flu or bronchitis or something.
If I had been well, last night I would have attended the Virginia Press Association Awards, where I would have received two third places for my work with the local paper. I am sorry to have missed the celebration.
I am on the mend, but today will be another quiet day of healing.
I spent most of the recent week in bed, feeling too poorly even to read, thanks to a constant fever. Mostly I watched reruns of Little House on the Prairie. And slept.
If I had been well, last night I would have attended the Virginia Press Association Awards, where I would have received two third places for my work with the local paper. I am sorry to have missed the celebration.
I am on the mend, but today will be another quiet day of healing.
I spent most of the recent week in bed, feeling too poorly even to read, thanks to a constant fever. Mostly I watched reruns of Little House on the Prairie. And slept.
Monday, March 10, 2008
The Crud
I am sorry to report that I have some kind of nasty bronchial thing and a fever.
Blogging will resume at its normal frequency when I'm better...
Blogging will resume at its normal frequency when I'm better...
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Self Improvement
The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
by Stephen R. Covey
Copyright 1989
AudioBook read by the author
Don't Sweat the Small Stuff ... and It's All Small Stuff
By Richard Carlson, Ph.d.
Copyright ???
AudioBook read by the author
Of these two books, I liked the second one the best. The first one is very business-oriented, very "get ahead" and "man the torpedoes" - or so it seems on first listen. Some of the ideas are good - create win-win situations, for instance, and listen first and talk second. It is very action oriented.
The second book, on the other hand, is more spiritual, more centered on just being instead of doing. I liked listening to it so well I wouldn't mind owning a copy to have to listen to whenever I like. It's more about lowering your stress levels, seeking spirituality, that sort of thing.
7 Habits - 3 stars
Small Stuff - 4 stars
by Stephen R. Covey
Copyright 1989
AudioBook read by the author
Don't Sweat the Small Stuff ... and It's All Small Stuff
By Richard Carlson, Ph.d.
Copyright ???
AudioBook read by the author
Of these two books, I liked the second one the best. The first one is very business-oriented, very "get ahead" and "man the torpedoes" - or so it seems on first listen. Some of the ideas are good - create win-win situations, for instance, and listen first and talk second. It is very action oriented.
The second book, on the other hand, is more spiritual, more centered on just being instead of doing. I liked listening to it so well I wouldn't mind owning a copy to have to listen to whenever I like. It's more about lowering your stress levels, seeking spirituality, that sort of thing.
7 Habits - 3 stars
Small Stuff - 4 stars
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
I have learned that the Hardwick-Day Comparative Alumnae Research Survey, conducted in October, has released important findings about women's colleges.
Most importantly, women educated at single-sex institutions report greater success and accomplishments.
The survey was composed of 2,000 alumnae (Classes of 1970-1997) of single-sex and co-ed public and private colleges and universities.
I attended a local private women's college: Hollins College, now Hollins University. I consider it the best thing I ever did for myself.
Here are 13 great things about women's universities. I took the good news straight from the Hollins website and added my own comments on some:
1. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other groups to say they benefited very much from good academic facilities and equipment. I love the campus at Hollins. It has old buildings and while they needed upgrading a bit (for ADA compliance, mostly, which I think has since happened), I found them welcoming.
2. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other alumnae to say they benefited very much from a high quality, teaching-oriented faculty. I loved my professors at Hollins. Many were published writers. All were professional and interested in their students.
3. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other alumnae to say their experience often included student presentations in class. I remember a lot of reading things aloud, class discussions, and great activity. Is that what they're talking about?
4. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other alumnae to say their experience often included classes that include the perspectives of women and minorities. Of course being in a women's college it include women's perspectives. At least I hope it did. Minorities maybe not so much. I remember a lot of white girls only in most of my classes.
5. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other graduates to say they benefited very much from an emphasis on personal values and ethics. I learned to be my own person at Hollins. I learned that I have value. It was the greatest lesson I could have learned.
6. Women’s colleges’ alumnae were more likely than all other graduates to be involved in campus publications or student government. At Hollins I wrote for the student newspaper even though I wasn't on campus much. I was a married adult student and I think the fact that someone like that was able to be involved speaks volumes.
7. Women’s colleges’ alumnae were more likely than any other group to complete a graduate degree. I have worked toward my graduate degree but haven't completed it. I do have more education than anyone in my family, though.
8. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students to develop the ability to learn new skills. Because Hollins was *such* an ego boost for me, I would have to say this is true. It gave me the courage to try art, among other things.
9. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than other liberal arts colleges and the public universities for helping students have a sense of purpose in life. I think this was true of Hollins as well. Again, it fostered such a strong sense of self for me. It made me a much better person.
10. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness than all other colleges and universities for helping students develop self-confidence and initiative. See above on all the wonderful self-esteem issues that Hollins helped me with.
11. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to write and speak effectively. Hollins most definitely helped with this.
12. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than other liberal arts colleges and the public universities for helping students develop moral principles that can guide actions. Hollins had an honor code in place long before many other places did. I thought it was a good thing.
13. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to relate to people of different backgrounds.
There is more beyond 13 -
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than other private colleges and public universities for helping students learn to think analytically.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to work as part of a team.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students to be prepared for their first job and for career change or advancement.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to be a leader and have a leadership role with their college or university.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to appreciate the fine arts.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to be politically or socially aware.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students to place problems in social and historical perspective.
Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other graduates to believe it is extremely important to have the authority to make decisions.
To view the complete survey results, visit the Women’s College Coalition website, www.womenscolleges.org.
Most importantly, women educated at single-sex institutions report greater success and accomplishments.
The survey was composed of 2,000 alumnae (Classes of 1970-1997) of single-sex and co-ed public and private colleges and universities.
I attended a local private women's college: Hollins College, now Hollins University. I consider it the best thing I ever did for myself.
Here are 13 great things about women's universities. I took the good news straight from the Hollins website and added my own comments on some:
1. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other groups to say they benefited very much from good academic facilities and equipment. I love the campus at Hollins. It has old buildings and while they needed upgrading a bit (for ADA compliance, mostly, which I think has since happened), I found them welcoming.
2. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other alumnae to say they benefited very much from a high quality, teaching-oriented faculty. I loved my professors at Hollins. Many were published writers. All were professional and interested in their students.
3. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other alumnae to say their experience often included student presentations in class. I remember a lot of reading things aloud, class discussions, and great activity. Is that what they're talking about?
4. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other alumnae to say their experience often included classes that include the perspectives of women and minorities. Of course being in a women's college it include women's perspectives. At least I hope it did. Minorities maybe not so much. I remember a lot of white girls only in most of my classes.
5. Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other graduates to say they benefited very much from an emphasis on personal values and ethics. I learned to be my own person at Hollins. I learned that I have value. It was the greatest lesson I could have learned.
6. Women’s colleges’ alumnae were more likely than all other graduates to be involved in campus publications or student government. At Hollins I wrote for the student newspaper even though I wasn't on campus much. I was a married adult student and I think the fact that someone like that was able to be involved speaks volumes.
7. Women’s colleges’ alumnae were more likely than any other group to complete a graduate degree. I have worked toward my graduate degree but haven't completed it. I do have more education than anyone in my family, though.
8. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students to develop the ability to learn new skills. Because Hollins was *such* an ego boost for me, I would have to say this is true. It gave me the courage to try art, among other things.
9. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than other liberal arts colleges and the public universities for helping students have a sense of purpose in life. I think this was true of Hollins as well. Again, it fostered such a strong sense of self for me. It made me a much better person.
10. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness than all other colleges and universities for helping students develop self-confidence and initiative. See above on all the wonderful self-esteem issues that Hollins helped me with.
11. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to write and speak effectively. Hollins most definitely helped with this.
12. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than other liberal arts colleges and the public universities for helping students develop moral principles that can guide actions. Hollins had an honor code in place long before many other places did. I thought it was a good thing.
13. Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to relate to people of different backgrounds.
There is more beyond 13 -
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than other private colleges and public universities for helping students learn to think analytically.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to work as part of a team.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students to be prepared for their first job and for career change or advancement.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to be a leader and have a leadership role with their college or university.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to appreciate the fine arts.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students learn to be politically or socially aware.
Women’s colleges receive higher effectiveness ratings than all other colleges and universities for helping students to place problems in social and historical perspective.
Women’s colleges’ alumnae are more likely than all other graduates to believe it is extremely important to have the authority to make decisions.
To view the complete survey results, visit the Women’s College Coalition website, www.womenscolleges.org.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
A Good Doctor's Office ...
apparently is hard to find.
Today I had an appointment for a follow-up and lab work. In spite of my anathema toward prescription drugs, I do presently take two medications - thyroid, prescribed for me 15 years ago and apparently something you can never stop taking (although I want to try it and see what happens) and an asthma/allergy drug.
The thyroid medicine requires annual blood work, although I have no clue why. My prescription ran out with the last refill and so I dutifully called about two weeks ago and made an appointment. This even though I really dislike going when I know it's flu season.
Today I rearranged my schedule and fasted as I was instructed to do. I don't think you must fast for the thyroid test but I have high cholesterol and the doctor likes to check that all the time. The result is I am "talked to" about (a) having high cholesterol and refusing to take some drug for it and (b) being overweight. You get used to it (the talking to, I mean).
I arrived a bit early, quite chipper (and hungry). Before I could even sign my name to the check-in sheet, a stern-looking soul asked who I was. I cheerily gave my name and date of birth and waited.
And waited.
"Am I not in the system?" I asked, feeling a bit more anxious now.
"You have no appointment today," the woman said.
"Yes I do. I made it two weeks ago."
"Your appointment is for 6/5."
I stood there a moment. June? "No, it's today, 3/5, March 5, not June. My prescriptions run out in March, not June," I replied.
"Well, it says June," she said.
I threw up my hands. I could not help but recall that only two months ago we had to cancel appointments for my husband that he never made that were somehow in their system.
The woman then ushered me around the corner, where another lady looked me up on her computer and muttered something about new software. She then went to another desk down the hall and spoke to someone I couldn't see.
I heard my name. The unseen person went off. "I can't do any more today! I have six people right now, I can't handle this any more, I just can't do this!" the woman sobbed. She really was hysterical.
I don't think it was my doctor but I can't be sure. Which is, frankly, a bit scary to consider. Whoever was having that bad a day should have been at home.
After a few moments of additional conversation I heard the words "get her lab work" and "see what prescriptions she needs."
So that is what happened. A nurse took my blood and eventually someone handed me a prescription for another month for the thyroid medication. It was signed by my doctor, who I did hear say something like "I am really frazzled," as she scribbled on the paper, because I was standing just down the hall watching.
This was only 9:20 a.m. Very early to be frazzled.
Hence, my uneasiness about the unknown person who was having histrionics behind the desk earlier.
Of course, I had planned to see the doctor to ask about that chest pain I have been having, as well as seeing how one goes about stopping medication they have been on for 15 years. That all went out the window.
I really think I would just as soon never see a doctor again. Maybe I would do just as well....
Today I had an appointment for a follow-up and lab work. In spite of my anathema toward prescription drugs, I do presently take two medications - thyroid, prescribed for me 15 years ago and apparently something you can never stop taking (although I want to try it and see what happens) and an asthma/allergy drug.
The thyroid medicine requires annual blood work, although I have no clue why. My prescription ran out with the last refill and so I dutifully called about two weeks ago and made an appointment. This even though I really dislike going when I know it's flu season.
Today I rearranged my schedule and fasted as I was instructed to do. I don't think you must fast for the thyroid test but I have high cholesterol and the doctor likes to check that all the time. The result is I am "talked to" about (a) having high cholesterol and refusing to take some drug for it and (b) being overweight. You get used to it (the talking to, I mean).
I arrived a bit early, quite chipper (and hungry). Before I could even sign my name to the check-in sheet, a stern-looking soul asked who I was. I cheerily gave my name and date of birth and waited.
And waited.
"Am I not in the system?" I asked, feeling a bit more anxious now.
"You have no appointment today," the woman said.
"Yes I do. I made it two weeks ago."
"Your appointment is for 6/5."
I stood there a moment. June? "No, it's today, 3/5, March 5, not June. My prescriptions run out in March, not June," I replied.
"Well, it says June," she said.
I threw up my hands. I could not help but recall that only two months ago we had to cancel appointments for my husband that he never made that were somehow in their system.
The woman then ushered me around the corner, where another lady looked me up on her computer and muttered something about new software. She then went to another desk down the hall and spoke to someone I couldn't see.
I heard my name. The unseen person went off. "I can't do any more today! I have six people right now, I can't handle this any more, I just can't do this!" the woman sobbed. She really was hysterical.
I don't think it was my doctor but I can't be sure. Which is, frankly, a bit scary to consider. Whoever was having that bad a day should have been at home.
After a few moments of additional conversation I heard the words "get her lab work" and "see what prescriptions she needs."
So that is what happened. A nurse took my blood and eventually someone handed me a prescription for another month for the thyroid medication. It was signed by my doctor, who I did hear say something like "I am really frazzled," as she scribbled on the paper, because I was standing just down the hall watching.
This was only 9:20 a.m. Very early to be frazzled.
Hence, my uneasiness about the unknown person who was having histrionics behind the desk earlier.
Of course, I had planned to see the doctor to ask about that chest pain I have been having, as well as seeing how one goes about stopping medication they have been on for 15 years. That all went out the window.
I really think I would just as soon never see a doctor again. Maybe I would do just as well....
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Mary Queen of Scots
Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots
by Alexandre Dumas
Copyright 1995 (?)
Read by Julie Christie
Abridged
6 hours
I have long been fascinated by Mary, Queen of Scots. Mostly this was because when I was about three years old, I allegedly told my mother that I was born in Scotland and was present at the beheading of the queen. My Baptist-raised mother feared I was reincarnated and forbade me to ever speak of it again. I haven't the slightest recall of this but my mother mentioned it to me several times when I was older. Of course she did not write anything down so I must rely only her memory, which was marred by her puzzlement as to how her baby girl could speak of such things.
In any event, the tragedy of this queen has always struck a chord. Lovely and chilling, Mary Stuart was foiled in love as well as in rule. She could not chose a husband wisely to save her life - and ultimately, it certainly did not.
As told by Dumas, Mary's biggest mistake was trusting that Elizabeth I, her cousin, would harbor her safely. Instead she imprisoned her for nearly 20 years and when she finally could she had the unfortunate woman beheaded.
If only she'd gone to France instead of England, the entire course of history might have changed.
I enjoyed listening to this. Dumas obviously took literary license in the tale, creating scenes and dialogue. It was quite entertaining and I greatly admired Mary for her demeanor as portrayed in this book. Even at the end, as she was led to the executioner, she was a stately presence. Would that we all would meet our demise with such grace.
4 stars
by Alexandre Dumas
Copyright 1995 (?)
Read by Julie Christie
Abridged
6 hours
I have long been fascinated by Mary, Queen of Scots. Mostly this was because when I was about three years old, I allegedly told my mother that I was born in Scotland and was present at the beheading of the queen. My Baptist-raised mother feared I was reincarnated and forbade me to ever speak of it again. I haven't the slightest recall of this but my mother mentioned it to me several times when I was older. Of course she did not write anything down so I must rely only her memory, which was marred by her puzzlement as to how her baby girl could speak of such things.
In any event, the tragedy of this queen has always struck a chord. Lovely and chilling, Mary Stuart was foiled in love as well as in rule. She could not chose a husband wisely to save her life - and ultimately, it certainly did not.
As told by Dumas, Mary's biggest mistake was trusting that Elizabeth I, her cousin, would harbor her safely. Instead she imprisoned her for nearly 20 years and when she finally could she had the unfortunate woman beheaded.
If only she'd gone to France instead of England, the entire course of history might have changed.
I enjoyed listening to this. Dumas obviously took literary license in the tale, creating scenes and dialogue. It was quite entertaining and I greatly admired Mary for her demeanor as portrayed in this book. Even at the end, as she was led to the executioner, she was a stately presence. Would that we all would meet our demise with such grace.
4 stars
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Eat, Pray, Love
My book club read this book for the month of February.
We all liked it.
It is the story of a woman's spiritual journey as she heals from a bad divorce and, following that, a failed love affair. She is about 30.
She follows a guru and goes to India. First she goes to Italy where she eats a lot of good food. She is nurturing her physical self. Then it's off to India where she stays in an ashram for four months, learning to meditate and reach her higher self.
Finally she goes to Bali where she falls in love with an ex-pat Brazilian.
Our book club talks generally stray far from the book, and last Tuesday night's meeting was no exception. Our conversation ranged from taking care of mother-in-laws to taking care of ourselves. it is a great book club.
One interesting concept in this book was the idea that every place and every person has a single word that belong to them. In the book, the Vatican was given a word: Power. Other places had words too: sex, money, avarice. The author took a long time finding her word, which, since I gave my book away at the end of the book club meeting I unfortunately can't recall.
I have spent some time trying to come up with my own one word and so far have failed. Several of us made an effort with our neighboring city while we talking - the two that came forth and seemed to stick were "shallow" and "stupid" - apparently we don't have much of an opinion of city leaders at the moment. We attemped our small town and came up with obstinate.
I can easily put a single word on my husband: SOLID. I think that word describes him in all his character.
I think seeking spirtual satisfaction is necessary for peace. I don't think it is done well in the U.S. - it takes time. That's time away from job, from family, from material goods, from the consumer culture. As a nation we frown own that - if you're off praying, after all, you're not contributing to the economy.
I am as guilty of this as the rest - but it is something I hope to rectify. Beginning, maybe, tonight.
Eat, Pray, Love
by Elizabeth Gilbert
about 350 pages
4.5 stars
We all liked it.
It is the story of a woman's spiritual journey as she heals from a bad divorce and, following that, a failed love affair. She is about 30.
She follows a guru and goes to India. First she goes to Italy where she eats a lot of good food. She is nurturing her physical self. Then it's off to India where she stays in an ashram for four months, learning to meditate and reach her higher self.
Finally she goes to Bali where she falls in love with an ex-pat Brazilian.
Our book club talks generally stray far from the book, and last Tuesday night's meeting was no exception. Our conversation ranged from taking care of mother-in-laws to taking care of ourselves. it is a great book club.
One interesting concept in this book was the idea that every place and every person has a single word that belong to them. In the book, the Vatican was given a word: Power. Other places had words too: sex, money, avarice. The author took a long time finding her word, which, since I gave my book away at the end of the book club meeting I unfortunately can't recall.
I have spent some time trying to come up with my own one word and so far have failed. Several of us made an effort with our neighboring city while we talking - the two that came forth and seemed to stick were "shallow" and "stupid" - apparently we don't have much of an opinion of city leaders at the moment. We attemped our small town and came up with obstinate.
I can easily put a single word on my husband: SOLID. I think that word describes him in all his character.
I think seeking spirtual satisfaction is necessary for peace. I don't think it is done well in the U.S. - it takes time. That's time away from job, from family, from material goods, from the consumer culture. As a nation we frown own that - if you're off praying, after all, you're not contributing to the economy.
I am as guilty of this as the rest - but it is something I hope to rectify. Beginning, maybe, tonight.
Eat, Pray, Love
by Elizabeth Gilbert
about 350 pages
4.5 stars
Saturday, March 01, 2008
The Roasting Pan
This morning I ventured to the store and decided chicken would be the meat of the day.
After scanning the selections carefully, I came home with an "organic" bird for which I paid a bit more for the assurance that it was sans drugs and steroids.
This afternoon I prepped the chicken for roasting. As I worked, I couldn't help but think that I was repeating the work of every generation of woman who came before me. Preparing the meat, making ready for the meal.
The differences between me and those many-great grandmothers was methodology - I was using an electric oven, and I didn't have to kill the chicken and pluck its feathers. I suspect they had a harder job.
My imagination went wild with me for a time as I envisioned my caveman grandmother, grunting and struggling to hack at the bird with a knife made from bone. I daresay she did not take the time to remove the fat, if there was indeed any fat on a bird back then. Maybe she simply wrung the bird's neck and cooked it with the head on and didn't need a knife.
The feathers would have been kept for use as something else - a pillow, a headdress, a duster, something. They would not have gone to waste, I am sure.
I created more waste simply getting the wrapping off my chicken than my caveman grandmother ever thought about, I think.
Down through the ages, from caveman to Tudor England to the New World, women have roasted chicken. I think too it was not an everyday meal. The birds would have been precious commodities, valued for laying eggs that provide food every day.
I think about when I watch Survivor on CBS and the winning team gets chickens. Invariably instead of keeping the birds around and eating the eggs every day, the chickens last about two days and are eaten. Usually the rooster goes first and then the chickens are a disappointment in the egg-laying department. Every good country girl knows chickens lay eggs better when there's a rooster around.
I think this is a great metaphor for the impatience of U.S. society. We want our chicken now, gosh darn it, and we haven't the patience to wait for the eggs! So what if we starve tomorrow, today we live like kings!
I think that is pretty much the attitude we have toward sustainability issues - use it up now and worry about tomorrow whenever it gets here. It is not very far-sighted and indeed is very short-sited. How much stronger would those survivor contestants be toward the end if they'd been eating eggs every day? I imagine they would be much better off if they had patience.
I am not sure how I went from roasting chickens to saving the planet, but there you go. Everything's connected somehow.
After scanning the selections carefully, I came home with an "organic" bird for which I paid a bit more for the assurance that it was sans drugs and steroids.
This afternoon I prepped the chicken for roasting. As I worked, I couldn't help but think that I was repeating the work of every generation of woman who came before me. Preparing the meat, making ready for the meal.
The differences between me and those many-great grandmothers was methodology - I was using an electric oven, and I didn't have to kill the chicken and pluck its feathers. I suspect they had a harder job.
My imagination went wild with me for a time as I envisioned my caveman grandmother, grunting and struggling to hack at the bird with a knife made from bone. I daresay she did not take the time to remove the fat, if there was indeed any fat on a bird back then. Maybe she simply wrung the bird's neck and cooked it with the head on and didn't need a knife.
The feathers would have been kept for use as something else - a pillow, a headdress, a duster, something. They would not have gone to waste, I am sure.
I created more waste simply getting the wrapping off my chicken than my caveman grandmother ever thought about, I think.
Down through the ages, from caveman to Tudor England to the New World, women have roasted chicken. I think too it was not an everyday meal. The birds would have been precious commodities, valued for laying eggs that provide food every day.
I think about when I watch Survivor on CBS and the winning team gets chickens. Invariably instead of keeping the birds around and eating the eggs every day, the chickens last about two days and are eaten. Usually the rooster goes first and then the chickens are a disappointment in the egg-laying department. Every good country girl knows chickens lay eggs better when there's a rooster around.
I think this is a great metaphor for the impatience of U.S. society. We want our chicken now, gosh darn it, and we haven't the patience to wait for the eggs! So what if we starve tomorrow, today we live like kings!
I think that is pretty much the attitude we have toward sustainability issues - use it up now and worry about tomorrow whenever it gets here. It is not very far-sighted and indeed is very short-sited. How much stronger would those survivor contestants be toward the end if they'd been eating eggs every day? I imagine they would be much better off if they had patience.
I am not sure how I went from roasting chickens to saving the planet, but there you go. Everything's connected somehow.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
Thirteen great things about being a woman:
1. I can bring home the bacon. And work harder to make less. About 70 cents on the dollar less, actually.
2. I can fry it up in a pan.
3. I can never ever let you forget you're a man.*
4. I can give birth to children.***
5. I can sing alto and soprano. And country and western and pop and opera... heck, I can sing pretty much anything I want to. I can even play the guitar.
6. I can cry if I want to.** And not worry too much about the consequences (unless your name is Hillary).
7. I look good in a skirt. Those kilts are so not in fashion.
8. I have that maternal instinct thing going on.
9. I am soft and don't need to apologize for it.
10. I have brains. And lots of them.
11. I look good in men's clothes. Men don't look so hot in feminine garb.
12. I can take one look at you and read you like a book just by taking in the way you dress and the way you carry yourself.
13. I live longer.
* From an Enjoli perfume commercial in the 1970s, I think.
** From a song in the 1950s or 1960s.
*** I can't personally have children, having had a hysterectomy, but this is an all-inclusive list and not just about me.
1. I can bring home the bacon. And work harder to make less. About 70 cents on the dollar less, actually.
2. I can fry it up in a pan.
3. I can never ever let you forget you're a man.*
4. I can give birth to children.***
5. I can sing alto and soprano. And country and western and pop and opera... heck, I can sing pretty much anything I want to. I can even play the guitar.
6. I can cry if I want to.** And not worry too much about the consequences (unless your name is Hillary).
7. I look good in a skirt. Those kilts are so not in fashion.
8. I have that maternal instinct thing going on.
9. I am soft and don't need to apologize for it.
10. I have brains. And lots of them.
11. I look good in men's clothes. Men don't look so hot in feminine garb.
12. I can take one look at you and read you like a book just by taking in the way you dress and the way you carry yourself.
13. I live longer.
* From an Enjoli perfume commercial in the 1970s, I think.
** From a song in the 1950s or 1960s.
*** I can't personally have children, having had a hysterectomy, but this is an all-inclusive list and not just about me.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Hypochondria
I have lately been experiencing weird sensations about the chest. I am pretty sure this is because I have pulled a chest muscle lifting weights. My acupuncturist has hypothesized that it could be, at least in part, from a problem I have had with my back for several weeks (a slipping rib or disk). A pinched nerve kind of thing, she suggested, because my arm feels a lot like I've bumped my elbow.
But because of the location of the pain, and because the commercials on TV are always advocating various illnesses in the pharmaceutical industry's efforts to sell more drugs, I immediately think I am having a heart attack when it hurts.
This makes me very nervous which makes my heart race, which makes me even more nervous.
I know I am stressed because I have been working hard. I have written 62 articles since January 1; this is the 56th day of the year. That is more than one article a day, or at least 1,000 words a day every day, including weekends.
That's difficult to sustain without some kind of burnout.
So I think I'm in a self-fulfilling prophecy sort of thing. I was exercising to relieve the stress of working too much; the boo-boo from exercising is adding to the stress.
I am 90 percent sure the pain isn't my heart; it's the other 10 percent of me that I am unable to convince.
It is no wonder many people race to the doctor when any little thing goes wrong. We are told to do this with every bottle of aspirin, with every bottle of vitamins, with every exercise video. Do nothing without your doctor's OK. As if this person with the MD is some god who can ordain how we live our life, a being who knows better than ourselves what our body can and cannot do or withstand.
My mother hauled me to the doctor for every little thing. I am not so sure she wasn't one of those mothers who create hysteria and illnesses in their children in order to see the doctor for whatever reason, because I certainly spent a lot of time in the doctor's office. I was given every new drug to come along, or so it seemed.
My body was filled with antibiotics and steroids before the age of 10. I had terrible allergies and problems with my left knee that required cortisone shots. Prednisone was the drug for my poison oak and poison ivy. Keflex was the antibiotic of choice for me for a long time; Benedryl was a constant friend.
I once made for my acupuncturist a list of drugs I could remember having taken at some point in my life. There were 44 different drugs on it. I did not take them all at once, mind you, but at some point all of these poisons (and that is what they are, I now know), were put in my system.
I continued the pattern of doctor visits well until my 30s. It took me that long to realize I was in charge of my body and my health care. I was 40 before I really took control. By that time the damage was tremendous.
Now I try desperately *not* to go to the doctor unless I really must. Doctors scare me with their pill-pushing, invasive X-rays, low-fat diets that don't take my food allergies into consideration, inconsistencies, and their inability to deal with wellness instead of illness.
My husband, who is seldom sick, does not understand my change of mind about the health care system. He blames it on my mother's death, the problems we had with her care, the fact that nothing they did saved her but instead made things worse as terminal cancer slowly ate away at her.
Perhaps that has something to do with it. But I prefer to think I am smarter, more savvy, more interested in being well than in being sick. Less sucked into the system.
I have been healthier in the last three years than at any time in my life. Is it because I see the doctor less? Eat better? Exercise? See an acupuncturist? All of the above?
When I watch TV and the ads come on for various drugs - Ask your Doctor about Liptor, Prilosec, Prevacid, the purple pill, the one for bladder control and the other for restless leg syndrome - I cringe at the list of side effects. May cause bleeding, ulcers, black tongue, dry eyes, confusion, dizziness, irritability, swelling in the hands, and death. Among other things.
And we're supposed to go ask our doctors about this?
There will come a time as I age that I will be on more drugs. I will have no choice but to enter the system again, against my will, while they prop me up with drugs for whatever is ailing me at that time. They will feed me poorly prepared processed food which will slowly kill me, along with the poisonous drugs.
All in the name of saving me, amen.
Until then, I hope I can stand firm against my own fears, against the desires of the very sick health care system that is ruining the citizens of this wonderful country, and against the concerns of my husband who wants me to see a doctor because he's worried.
It is a very hard thing to do.
But because of the location of the pain, and because the commercials on TV are always advocating various illnesses in the pharmaceutical industry's efforts to sell more drugs, I immediately think I am having a heart attack when it hurts.
This makes me very nervous which makes my heart race, which makes me even more nervous.
I know I am stressed because I have been working hard. I have written 62 articles since January 1; this is the 56th day of the year. That is more than one article a day, or at least 1,000 words a day every day, including weekends.
That's difficult to sustain without some kind of burnout.
So I think I'm in a self-fulfilling prophecy sort of thing. I was exercising to relieve the stress of working too much; the boo-boo from exercising is adding to the stress.
I am 90 percent sure the pain isn't my heart; it's the other 10 percent of me that I am unable to convince.
It is no wonder many people race to the doctor when any little thing goes wrong. We are told to do this with every bottle of aspirin, with every bottle of vitamins, with every exercise video. Do nothing without your doctor's OK. As if this person with the MD is some god who can ordain how we live our life, a being who knows better than ourselves what our body can and cannot do or withstand.
My mother hauled me to the doctor for every little thing. I am not so sure she wasn't one of those mothers who create hysteria and illnesses in their children in order to see the doctor for whatever reason, because I certainly spent a lot of time in the doctor's office. I was given every new drug to come along, or so it seemed.
My body was filled with antibiotics and steroids before the age of 10. I had terrible allergies and problems with my left knee that required cortisone shots. Prednisone was the drug for my poison oak and poison ivy. Keflex was the antibiotic of choice for me for a long time; Benedryl was a constant friend.
I once made for my acupuncturist a list of drugs I could remember having taken at some point in my life. There were 44 different drugs on it. I did not take them all at once, mind you, but at some point all of these poisons (and that is what they are, I now know), were put in my system.
I continued the pattern of doctor visits well until my 30s. It took me that long to realize I was in charge of my body and my health care. I was 40 before I really took control. By that time the damage was tremendous.
Now I try desperately *not* to go to the doctor unless I really must. Doctors scare me with their pill-pushing, invasive X-rays, low-fat diets that don't take my food allergies into consideration, inconsistencies, and their inability to deal with wellness instead of illness.
My husband, who is seldom sick, does not understand my change of mind about the health care system. He blames it on my mother's death, the problems we had with her care, the fact that nothing they did saved her but instead made things worse as terminal cancer slowly ate away at her.
Perhaps that has something to do with it. But I prefer to think I am smarter, more savvy, more interested in being well than in being sick. Less sucked into the system.
I have been healthier in the last three years than at any time in my life. Is it because I see the doctor less? Eat better? Exercise? See an acupuncturist? All of the above?
When I watch TV and the ads come on for various drugs - Ask your Doctor about Liptor, Prilosec, Prevacid, the purple pill, the one for bladder control and the other for restless leg syndrome - I cringe at the list of side effects. May cause bleeding, ulcers, black tongue, dry eyes, confusion, dizziness, irritability, swelling in the hands, and death. Among other things.
And we're supposed to go ask our doctors about this?
There will come a time as I age that I will be on more drugs. I will have no choice but to enter the system again, against my will, while they prop me up with drugs for whatever is ailing me at that time. They will feed me poorly prepared processed food which will slowly kill me, along with the poisonous drugs.
All in the name of saving me, amen.
Until then, I hope I can stand firm against my own fears, against the desires of the very sick health care system that is ruining the citizens of this wonderful country, and against the concerns of my husband who wants me to see a doctor because he's worried.
It is a very hard thing to do.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
No Smoking Restaurants
The other day my husband and I set out to have dinner. We could not come up with too many restaurants locally that are entirely smoke-free.
We ended up at K&W Cafeteria for our Valentine's celebration, because I was not in the mood to inhale second hand smoke and we couldn't think of another completely smoke free restaurant in the Hershberger area.
Many restaurants have a smoking section, but let's face it. Those don't work. The smoke wafts over and you smell like you're the one inhaling tar and nicotine regardless of how far away you sit.
I looked for a list of smoke free restaurants in the area on the Internet but could not find one.
So I am making my own list. Please contribute if you know for sure a restaurant is smoke free.
Most that I know about are close to home. I am pretty clueless about restaurants in Roanoke. I do not eat out a lot; smoking sections are the reason why.
Smoke Free
Three Little Pigs (Daleville)
Country Cookin' (Daleville)
Bellacino's (Daleville)
IHOP (Roanoke)
K&W Cafeteria (Roanoke)
Pizza Hut (Daleville)
Harbor Inn Seafood (Roanoke)*
Famous Anthony's (all locations, I think)*
Pizza Hut (Hershberger Road)*
Pete's Deli (Town Squre Blvd)*
Jersey Lilly's (Rt 460, I think is non-smoking)*
Smoking section
Cracker Barrel (Troutville)
Shoney's (Troutville)
O'Charley's (Roanoke)
Shaker's (Roanoke)
Coach & Four (Roanoke)
Shang-Hi (Salem)
Logan's @ Valley View*
Texas Steakhouse @ Valley View*
Everything else?
Others? Recommendations?
* Added after original post*
We ended up at K&W Cafeteria for our Valentine's celebration, because I was not in the mood to inhale second hand smoke and we couldn't think of another completely smoke free restaurant in the Hershberger area.
Many restaurants have a smoking section, but let's face it. Those don't work. The smoke wafts over and you smell like you're the one inhaling tar and nicotine regardless of how far away you sit.
I looked for a list of smoke free restaurants in the area on the Internet but could not find one.
So I am making my own list. Please contribute if you know for sure a restaurant is smoke free.
Most that I know about are close to home. I am pretty clueless about restaurants in Roanoke. I do not eat out a lot; smoking sections are the reason why.
Smoke Free
Three Little Pigs (Daleville)
Country Cookin' (Daleville)
Bellacino's (Daleville)
IHOP (Roanoke)
K&W Cafeteria (Roanoke)
Pizza Hut (Daleville)
Harbor Inn Seafood (Roanoke)*
Famous Anthony's (all locations, I think)*
Pizza Hut (Hershberger Road)*
Pete's Deli (Town Squre Blvd)*
Jersey Lilly's (Rt 460, I think is non-smoking)*
Smoking section
Cracker Barrel (Troutville)
Shoney's (Troutville)
O'Charley's (Roanoke)
Shaker's (Roanoke)
Coach & Four (Roanoke)
Shang-Hi (Salem)
Logan's @ Valley View*
Texas Steakhouse @ Valley View*
Everything else?
Others? Recommendations?
* Added after original post*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)