Germs

I'm not really a germaphobe - but I do try to avoid them. So I was excited to read an article in yesterday's paper called GROSS.  It listed 12 of the grossest things we touch every day.

 We think it's the toilet.  Not so.  Also, do you make a big deal out of using a paper towel to open the public bathroom door as you're leaving?  This article says that door handle is practically germ free due to most everybody having washed their hands just prior to opening it.  Guess I'll have to find something else to obsess over.

Here are 12 of the germiest things, in descending order, that we commonly come in contact with.  The list will surprise you.

12.  (The least germy)  Toilet Seat.  But flushing releases bacteria-laden aerosols so keep your toothbrush and lipstick somewhere else.

11.  Kitchen Counter Top

10.  Self-Checkout Touch Screen  -  Didn't think of this one, huh?  But it's touched by thousands of germy hands.

9.   Doorknob.

8.   Cellphone.

7.  Remote Controls.

6.  Cutting Board - OK, this one's serious.  Don't cut up your raw chicken and your broccoli on the same board - especially if it's wood.

5.  Bathroom Faucet Handle - But, get this, bathrooms have less bacteria than kitchens.

4.   Keyboard/Mouse

3.  Shopping Cart - Dave and I always wipe down the shopping cart push bar.

2.  Kitchen Faucet Handle - There's more fecal bacteria in the kitchen sink than in the toilet after we flush.  So, not only should we keep the handle clean, but never, ever retrieve food that you've dropped in the sink and it's fallen half way down the disposal.  (Yes, I've done this.)

1.  Da, Da, Duh!  The # 1 dirtiest, most repulsive thing in your house is your DISH SPONGE.  As an example, the bacteria count on the toilet seat is 1,20l.  The bacteria count on that sponge you've been using for a couple of months in the kitchen is 775,460,560.  So, throw it away.  Right now!

After reading this article yesterday, I immediately threw away the sponge and used Lysol wipes on everything in the house we touch.

It's amazing Dave and I aren't dead - but, surprisingly, we rarely even have colds.  So we must be doing some things right.


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Lightening Up as I Get Older

You've already heard me extol the wonders of getting older.  Lots of good stuff happens if we just lighten up and enjoy the ride.

But you also know that, at times, I've gone kicking and screaming into the future.

A few years ago, when I was flying somewhere,  it became apparent that it was no longer safe for me to hoist my suitcase into the overhead.  I was humiliated.  I bought a smaller overnight bag but it's still not certain that I won't conk somebody in the head with it.

My friend, Art, and I shared our (exaggerated) sense of loss over this problem.  His due more to an injury than age.

The New Yorker's poetry has the reputation of being so obscure that we mere ordinary folks can't make heads or tails of it.  But, occasionally, it hits me between the eyes.  Art alerted me to the one below.  It's as if the writer is speaking for me. And for Art. And, possibly, for you.

LIGHTNESS IN AGE

It means not having to muscle your bag
Onto the baggage rack for the flight to Dublin.
A girl your daughter's age will do that for you.
It means the boy distributes the groceries justly
In your carry-alls so you'll make the car without spillage.
Those lightnesses are not to be taken lightly,
But more than those it's the many-faceted lightness
Of the goldfinch feathering down at morning,
The chickadee's darting blur for the one seed
He sprints away and devours discreetly,
And it's the tenderness of a long-known kiss
Touching your mouth or eyelid or anywhere
With this new lightness, its flickering back-lit by the glow
Of that consuming first one fifty years ago. 
                         - Gibbons Ruark

Thank you, Gibbons.  And thank you, Art.


***

PSA

PSA is short for Prostate Specific Antigen.  Not to be confused with the PGA, the Professional Golf Association, or the PSATs that you take in  high school in hopes of getting into a good collage.  Or any college.

The PSA is a test to see if you have prostate cancer.  I know a lot about prostates - so if you see me at a party and want to discuss prostates, feel free.  Not yours, especially, but in general.

And, in general, I don't believe in getting screening PSAs.  They're wildly controversial and wildly unpredictable.  They were originally used only for men who already had prostate cancer to check its progress.  Then they became wildly popular as a diagnostic tool for detecting prostate cancer.

But they tend to cause more harm than good.  They lead to unnecessary biopsies and so on.  Here are some reasons I don't like PSAs.

• A high PSA doesn't necessarily mean you have cancer. 
• A low PSA doesn't necessarily mean you don't have cancer.  
• Most men over 80 have prostate cancer.
• When you're old, having prostate cancer doesn't mean you're going to die or even that you're going to have any symptoms.   
• Many times, the treatment for prostate cancer is worse than the cancer.
• A good PSA score is 4 or less.  
• A PSA score of 10 may mean something or it may mean nothing. 

For the past several months Dave has had a climbing PSA score.  Then, this time, when we went for the results, it had dropped back down.  

So he's not going to do anything crazy.  Well, today we did book a two week cruise and a mystery hotel in Montreal!

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Justine Timberlake's Hair

I like Justine Timberlake.  I tried to look up info on his new album "20/20 Experience" this morning but it's all just too much for me.  I did look at a video for one of his songs, "Mirrors."  Very moving.  I could relate in a strong way.

Some of you might think that Timbelake will be a star forever.  Not certain.  Not even likely.  Stars come and go.  But he knows how to grow and expand.  I love him on "Saturday Night Live" and I love him in movies like "Social Network" and "Trouble With the Curve."  All very different performances.

 Of all the things he's done, and the guy is prolific, the one that sticks out for me is - changing his hair.

He's become a real "suit and tie" guy.  His new hair says sophistication,

The first photo is Old Look.  The second photo is New Look.  What do you think?

 

Sleep Like a Baby

You know the old joke that goes something like "I sleep like a baby - I wake up every 4 hours and cry."? As I've mentioned many times, I have life long insomnia.  But in the last 6 or 7 years I've gotten a handle on it.  I know how to get a good night's sleep - but it takes work.

Last night I did my 3 or so hours of winding down.  Dave gave me a back rub.  I was in twinkle town by 10:30 PM.  But then, about midnight, the phone rang.  Late night phone calls are like a four-alarm fire in my head.  It turned out to be nothing - but it took a couple of hours to get back to sleep.

I'm not alone in the sleep deprivation department.  Many, if not most, Americans over the age of 50 have sleep problems.  Lots of folks like to brag about it, like it's a badge of honor.  It's like a they are morally superior to those of us who want 8 hours of shut-eye.

Elizabeth Kolbert in a recent New Yorker article title "Up All Night," has some interesting things to say about sleep.

• Of the many ways that things can go wrong in bed, sleep troubles are probably the most prevalent.

She goes on to say that we're  better off doing it (sleeping, that is) alone.  I know that most of the people my age, men and women, get a better night's sleep when they do it solo.

She discusses how sleep problems began developing about 150 years ago.

• The electric light bulb has made darkness optional, eliminating the enforced idleness that used to begin at sunset.  Modern mattresses and bedclothes trap the heat that the body gives off as its core temperature drops each night.

I sleep in a dark, cool room.  Conversely, I do not sleep in a lighted, warm room.  Ever. 

Several of my friends are now sleeping with those face devices that allow you to breathe normally.  This is after being tested and finding out they wake up about 100 times a night.  My friend told me her grandson refers to it as her "elephant."  (Most of them have some funny looking nose gear.)

Here's what I think, whatever you have to do to get a consistent, good night's sleep - do it.  Your quality of life and, indeed, your life itself, depend on it.  

Good night.  Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bits. 

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I Hope My Wishes Are Honored

Recently a California retirement home nurse received some significantly negative press when she refused the request of a 911 operator to give an 87 year old woman CPR.  It's unclear if this was the 87 year old woman's wish as well as the policy of the retirement home.

The 911 operator pleaded with the nurse and even begged her to find somebody else, like a gardener, to administer the CPR until the paramedics arrived.  But she refused and the woman died.

It seems cruel on the surface.  I'm grateful that the 911 operator did her job.  But I have extremely mixed feelings about this incident.  In my living will, I've made my end of life wishes very clear.  When my quality of life ceases I want to be allowed to go.

This is why I love hospice where the emphasis is on quality of life and relatively pain free, palliative care for those who have life ending illnesses.  But even in hospice, invasive measures persist.  A recent article by Melissa Healy says that ...for a growing number of dying (hospice) patients,(death) is preceded by a tumultuous month in which they endure procedures that are often as invasive and painful as they are futile...

And may I add, expensive.

She goes on to say...thousands endured multiple hospitalizations and treatments before getting care aimed solely at making their last days comfortable.

In multiple surveys, almost nine in ten Americans say that when the end is near - and inevitable - they would prefer to die at home with with a minimum amount of pain.  But family members and medical professionals many times won't adhere to these wishes.

Dave and I were up close and personal for several years watching our spouses slowly disappear.  It's not pretty.  We both know what we want when it comes to our end of life issues.

If I ever get a tattoo, it will probably be when I'm 87 and it will probably be the one above.

I hope my wishes are honored.


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Cecil Wilson - A Man Without Flair or Medical Rock Star? You Decide.

Last Tuesday night Dave and I attended an Emory University event here in Orlando.  Emory School of Medicine has produced some of our finest physicians, world wide.  One of them is Cecil Wilson.  Dr. Wilson and Emory president, James Wagner, shared a dialogue at the event.

Dr. Wilson, said, in passing that he was "a man without flair."  He could have been talking about being a soft spoken southern gentleman but my guess is that he was referring to being an internist rather than one of those glamour surgeons.

For instance, remember Alec Baldwin playing the surgeon in the movie Malice when he said..."You ask me if I have a God complex.  Let me tell you something, I am God." 

I can't imagine any circumstances under which Dr. Wilson would make this statement.

But he is, besides being a member of my church, president of the World Medical Association. So when he and Dr. Wagner dialogued about the importance of a liberal arts education combined with science, he knew what he was talking about.  Not to mention the parts of the conversation about compromise, creativity and (the step sister of creativity) risk.

Dr. Wilson is all about medical ethics, world wide.  He told us about a foreign medical school where the students were required to maintain a relationship with a family for several months.  Not necessarily in a medical way, but get to know them as human beings.

When Cecil Wilson was sworn into to this new position last year at the General Assembly in Bangkok (after serving as the president of the American Medical Association,)  he emphasized the major world wide threat of non-communicable deceases like diabetes, cancer and chronic lung disease, which can be largely controlled by lifestyle changes.

But Dr. Wilson is also concerned about climate control.  Check out the YouTube video at "Climate Week NYC."

He said Tuesday night... I'm around people every day all over the world who are acting on their principles.

I would not contradict Dr. Wilson in any way - except that part about being a man without flair.


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Leaning In Since 1961

I've not yet read Facebook tycoon, Sheryl Sandberg's new book "Lean In."  But I will eventually.  She's everywhere these days doing interviews and touting the book.  She's had a little push back because she's up there in the stratosphere with Oprah and a few other lady moguls so regular woman can't imagine that she's speaking to them.

But I'm sure there's something in her book for all of us - even me.

I love this "Sally Forth" cartoon by insightful Greg Howard.  I had it blown up and used it when I spoke to women in the workplace. This one is from 1986 - but Sally's been "leaning in" since 1982.

***

Emory University

I love this school.  One of the great universities in the southeast - and the entire world.  Last night Dave and I attended an alumni gathering here in Orlando.  Are we alums?  No.  I'm still grandfathered in because my husband Ken, was a graduate of the theology school, Candler, and because my friends make sure Dave and I continue on the invite list.

But I did take a couple of classes while we were there in the late 60s.  For a year we lived on campus and I worked in the development office.  And I had my first poem published in the Emory Magazine.

I love this school.

As you may know, the president of Emory, James Wagner, has been in some hot water due to writing an article in the Emory Magazine in which he used a really bad example of compromise in our country's history.  We would have to chalk it up to another one of those "what was he thinking?" decisions.  We've all been there.  I've been there several times.

So, last night, the last thing Dr. Wagner would want to talk about would be compromise.  Right?  Wrong.  The topic for his dialogue with Dr. Cecil Wilson was the need for a liberal arts education and compromise in our society.

It was a thrilling conversation.

Liberal arts has to do with the concept of critical thinking.  That is to say, learning how to think.  A great example he gave was - instead of joining a group and adopting that group's thinking - expand your mind through education and bring your own thoughts to a group.  What a concept!

I have no doubt that Dr. Wagner will weather the storm of his "misspeak."  Last night he was candid, smart and totally charming.

After about 150 years, Emory University continues to grow in every way.   And continues to be one of the finest universities on the planet.  Emory graduates continue to change the world for the better.  I'm proud to say I know and hang out with several of them.

I love this school.


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Dennis Rodman Is Not Dennis Leary

One of these guys is Dennis Rodman.  The other is Dennis Leary.  With Dennis Rodman getting lots of news coverage the last couple of weeks due to his famous trip to see his buddy in North Korean, I was reminded of a funny conversation I had at Christmas time.

I was in Chicago with Dave visiting his children.  At dinner I got to sit next to Dave's son who is a film editor in Los Angeles.  Somehow we got to talking about Dennis.

He clearly said Rodman but in my head I heard Leary.  So bits of conversation went like this.

Him:  He (Rodman) is a wild man.

Me:  Yes, but he's (Leary) really smart. 

Him:  You know he's had a serious drinking issue.  (Everybody who's seen "Celebrity Apprentice" knows Rodman has/had a drinking issue.)

Me:  No, I didn't know that.  But did you know that he (Leary) wrote a Christmas book and donated the proceeds to the firefighters?

It went on and on and I never caught on that we were discussing separate Dennises.  The next day when I was on a plane to Atlanta it hit me.  Dave's son must think I'm a crazy woman.  

Here's my news alert for you.  Dennis Rodman and Dennis Leary are not the same person.  To my knowledge Rodman has never written a book and given the proceeds to firefighters.  And Leary has never played basketball with Kim Jong Uu.


***

No More Secrets

This morning in Forum we continued our discussion of Alzheimer's disease.  The book, Still Alice, about a 50 year old professor at Harvard who develops Early Onset Alzheimer's, is causing most folks in the class to think deep.  And discuss deep.

Although I'm happy with my care taking of my husband, Ken, the book and discussion are causing me to re visit how I could have made some better decisions - sooner.

Ken had dementia long, long before anybody else was aware.  I did a good job of hiding it.  Even from him. I was raised in a family that kept secrets.  So was Ken.  Image was everything.  In my family, illnesses like cancer and tuberculosis were never discussed.  Even when my aunts, uncles and mother were dropping like flies from these two diseases.

Toward the end, before I discussed Ken's mental state with friends and family, I'm sure many of my friends were very aware.  What a help it would have been to deal with it openly.  

I'm not so sure about family.  A few years before Ken died my son put together a book for his dad.  Ken loved political celebrities.  He loved hanging around with decision makers.  He was one.  The book contained photos from congress persons, senators and other leaders from around the country.  Some Ken knew well.  Others not at all.  But all personally autographed to Ken.

Ken thanked our son.  But he was totally unable to comprehend what he'd been given.  It was too late for any real appreciation of this tremendous effort to do something that would have thrilled him ten years earlier.

I have friends who've truly honored me and others by sharing a personal dark journey with the rest of us.  It's what I want to do from now on.  We're all in this together.

So, I've reformed.  I'm a new woman.  For the last several years I've been openly sharing my life.  But then those of you who read this blog regularly already know this.  


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Brightwood

The Polis Center is a research unit of the Indiana University and Purdue University (IUPUI.)   One of the things they've done is to create an encyclopedia of Indianapolis and thereby help communities create meaningful change.

One of the ways they do this is by creating a narrative history of an area.  A few months ago my brother sent me a narrative history that Polis has done of our old neighborhood, Brightwood.

We lived on an outer edge of  Brightwood.  This part of Indianapolis began around 1872 with a growing population of working class, foreign born European Americans.  Skilled and unskilled workers.

During the late 1940s, when I was a child, Station Street was the business hub of the neighborhood.  We lived about two miles from Station Street in a lower class section of homes and factories.  Our house was about 50 feet from the railroad tracks.

We lived there with our dad.  He was almost totally clueless as to what to do with us so, from about the ages of 5 and 7, every weekend, my little brother and I walked to Station Street to the movie theater.  We were each given a quarter.  That was fifteen cents to get into the movies, plus a nickel for a bag of popcorn.  One for each feature.  The theater was called "The Dream."  The photo above, that came from Polis, looks exactly like I remember it.

When we were a little older our dad (when the dry cleaning truck was available) drove us to the theater at night.  And some of those times he would forget to pick us up so we two little kids would stand on Station Street until the wee hours of the morning waiting for our ride.

All this to say we spent a lot of time on Station Street when we were growing up.  I liked the street and we loved our second home, The Dream.

Polis confirms what we already knew.  Brightwood, which was a blue collar community to begin with, continued downhill.  Many of the areas, including ours, were infiltrated by gangs and drugs and became very scary, unsafe places.  Then the interstate came through in the 60s and 70s and obliterated much of Brightwood.

Things have gotten better over the years, however Brightwood is still a neighborhood in transition.  This second photo, taken in the same place as the first, is of Station Street today.  No more retail but it has morphed back into a productive area. About a block south of Station Street is Martin University, a private, nonprofit college, created to serve low-income, minority and older students.

As I said in a magazine article a few years ago, the place where our house was has improved too.  The last time I  was there the house was gone and a junk yard was there in its place.  It was an improvement.


***

Two Wildly Divergent Views

To be a poor man in a land of dollars is the very bottom of hardships.  - W.E.B. Du Bois

This week Dave and I had the opportunity to vacation for a few days at the Miccosukee Resort located in the Everglades but close to Miami.  We had a fine time and are grateful to our trip planners and those who took such excellent care of us.

The Miccosukees originated from the Creek Nation.  The Creek Nation was here prior to Columbus.  We all know this country was theirs first.  So we owe them.

In 1988 Congress formally recognized the right of Native Americans to conduct gaming operations.  It's been a major catalyst for community growth and economic development.

Dave and I and the other folks in our group enjoyed four days and three nights of great food and drinks, lovely accommodations and various gaming opportunities (although, other than our free 25 dollar vouchers I don't know of anybody in our group who partook of the gaming.)  All this came at an amazingly low price.

Of course, they offer this to seniors, and other groups, to get some of us into the casinos.  We understand that.

So it's all good.  Right?  Right?

Well, here's the other side:  Less than one percent of the country (2 million people)  are Native Americans.  They've always been the poorest of the poor in our country.  Even though we all know they were here first and we white folks have never done well by them.

The impact of gambling has been monumental in terms of wealth building, but, as a group, Native Americans are still poor.  And alcoholism is still pervasive.  Fully 11 percent of deaths are alcohol related.

When we wondered around this massive casino, covering what seemed like acres of gaming, the vast majority of those doing the gambling did not look like folks who could afford to lose much.

Some folks call gambling the poor man's retirement plan. 

 Of course, everything in the casino is designed to keep people gambling.  You can smoke, drink, eat and use an ATM without leaving your seat.  And, no matter where you are, there's a restroom close by.

Years ago, I worked hard to keep casino gambling and the lottery out of Florida.  We did this for one reason.  It oppresses the poor.  2.6 million people in this country are addicted to gambling.  Most of them have lost everything, and then some.


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Frasier and Mystery

Dave and I made a big (gulp) decision and jumped from basic cable to a box and Netflix.  Haven't watched much yet but last night we found the very first episode of Frasier.  It appeared in 1993.


Fussy Frasier Crane moved from Boston where he spent a lot of time in a bar called "Cheers" to Seattle where he went from being just a psychiatrist to being a talk show psychiatrist.  We were introduced to his job, his brother, Niles, his producer, Roz, his dad, Martin, Martin's caregiver, Daphne and Martin's dog, Eddie.

Also his grand piano and his Eames Chair.  Because Frasier had a perfect apartment in which he planned to live alone and have a perfect new life.

But, as we know after we watched eleven seasons from 1993 to 2004, it didn't work out that way.  Messiness ensued.

I've just finished leading a 6 week class on a book called "The Gift of Years."  I loved it.  The book was excellent and the discussion was even better.

Much of the book dealt with being comfortable with change and mystery.  I thought about the book and the class the entire time I was watching the pilot episode of Frasier.  Here are a couple of quotes from the book:

So mystery, the notion that something wonderful can happen at any time if we will only allow space for it, takes us into a whole new awareness of the immanence of God in time.  

Why not walk into the mystery of life until we are comfortable enough with mystery to trust it even at the end?

I'm not sure that, in the eleven years we lived with Frasier, he ever really embraced the mysteries of life but this pilot episode reminded me, once again, that I can't escape them.


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