February 2013 Archives

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“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.”  “It is sweet and right to die for your country.”  The line, in Latin, is from Horace’s Odes, 3.2.13.  It is a memory from Miss Lovering’s 8th grade Latin class at the Beaver Country Day School.  Everyone said Miss Lovering was a truly great Latin teacher, mostly because she was old enough that she was surely there in Rome when it happened.  She was one of the older living Radcliffe College alumnae and had, it was said, found marriage a pale alternative to the glories that were Rome.  I remember the above quote as the moment I started thinking Romans were simply not very nice guys. The “lie,” apparently often quoted to soldiers at the beginning of World War I — ostensibly to give them courage — was nicely incorporated into a poem by Wilfred Owen that expresses what yucky stuff war really is.  People die of a lot of horrible things, and anyone who has seen combat veterans or lost family has probably figured out that death is just as ugly, if not more so, when it is for your country.

In the poem, he cites, “vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues.”  Our friends at the Center for Disease Control show — avoid this page if you are faint of heart — a syphilis sore on a tongue, which is what this sounds like.  An attempt to get sexy prior to combat is my guess.  Soldiers have tried to use the “I could be in combat and die tomorrow” line on me; it never worked, obviously.  Opening combat to women might be good in some ways.  Good for military rank climbing or professional climbing.  If a woman feels compelled to do this, I guess she should be allowed to. Read more on Women in Combat…

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Warning:  Daily use of aspirin can lead to side effects which may include total loss of impulse control, man boobs, toe hair, and third nipples.  Please consult your doctor before taking this and other over the counter medicine.

Well, not really. But your really should know the risks and benefits of anything you take, even if it’s over the counter, even if it’s aspirin. I have an early memory, and I cannot have been beyond high school or early college, for I was still going to Friday night services with my Parents-of-Blessed-Memory.  My father would not let me in the choir with the other retired senior types with weak voices; but, it seemed to amuse him to no end when I out sang them and the cantor from the congregation.  The cantor had some kind of a congenital dislocation of the hip and some kind of back pain and I don’t know what else.  My parents had discouraged my still premature medical curiosity and told me not to ask him. Read more on To Aspirin or Not To Aspirin; That Is the Question…

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When a marijuana patient visits me for permission to use that drug, I have to ask them, gently, how long they have used it.  Most, if they are old enough, do not give me an answer that I can quantify.  Instead, they start with something like, “It seems like yesterday I used it for fun.  Now, I need it just to (fill in the blank).” Survive, live, walk, or keep from throwing up.  They wonder about how and when it changed from a form of recreation to a form of drug treatment.

They never seem to believe it has already been a drug, for thousands of years, in other cultures.  If I give them enough time, they count their own age and their own problems by how they use it.  With a few thousand papers published every year, mostly in other countries, it would be crazy at this point to try to believe it wasn’t a drug.  For an amazing number of folks, it seems to be the way they reckon the passage of their lives. Read more on The Passage of Time…

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Back in France, when I wished there were more hours in the day to study, two female Mormon missionaries showed up at my door.  They tried to get inside, wanting to assimilate me to that religion.  I had not yet developed the method of chasing Mormon missionaries that I used years later, when we lived in Palm Springs.  I took the bus and the Mormon missionaries would nail me at the bus stop.  I did not want to run away and miss the bus, so I yelled “Devil get thee behind me” in English and numerous Psalms in Hebrew.  This method worked quickly and efficiently for getting rid of many southern California Mormon missionaries.  This method has been replicated by me in numerous situations.

Back in France, I was less experienced.  I hit them with Genesis Chapter 3 verse 16; in French “Tu enfanteras avec douleur.”  I suppose I could have used the English standard version.  I basically convinced them not only that I knew my Old Testament pretty well, but that I had enough problems being female and a French medical student without being a Mormon.  The older of the two women, a preceptor guiding a young student, said the equivalent of “she knows Scripture; we better leave her alone,” and I hid my joy. Read more on Women’s Pains…

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TRADITION! It’s the Fiddler on the Roof song. TRADITION! It’s my grandfather showing up at 6AM on Sunday morning to explain to me that a really smart girl would be working on finding a man who was rich enough to keep her at home so she would not need to work at all. TRADITION! It’s my parents telling me that if medical school did not work out I could come back home to suburban Boston and quietly become a French teacher. I don’t much care for tradition, mainly because I perceive it as the opposite of change.  I am in favor of empowering individuals, opening up the fan of possibilities, removing things that make people feel poorly. I guess the father and daughter dance is a great American tradition.  Me, I tried to dance with my father once at a Bar Mitzvah reception when I was young.  He was quite inept, spun me around in a circle and actually stepped on my little foot.  I can only wonder if that hasn’t anything to do with why my feet are problematic.  It matters little; I would never have sued dear old dad.  Great American tradition?  I think not. Read more on Tradition!…

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The first time I heard of the fruit mangosteen, I thought it was just a Jewish mango. Turns out it’s Southeast Asian and in no way Jewish.  Makes sense; I mean, how do you circumcise a fruit?  Let alone teach it to read the holy books.

The second time I heard of it, I was trying to help a manic-depressive who went manic on it.  A degree professional had suddenly thrown angry tantrums, put his hand and other weapons through nearby walls, and tried to burn down the apartment building where his woman-friend lived.  He succeeded in burning down part of it. It all happened within a few hours of him ingesting mangosteen.  I told him to stop the damned mangosteen.  I remember seeing him through bars, and I doubted he could get any mangosteen in there, anyway.  But he would not hear ill of his dear mangosteen.  It was a multi-level-marketing product and he seemed to believe in it for that reason, despite some factors I was trying to introduce.  Things like biochemical truth, behavioral pharmacology, and my decades of medical practice experience — as opposed to his multi-level marketing experience.  His family stopped paying me as an expert.  I think they all sold mangosteen. Read more on Utah, Mangosteen, and Bad Stuff…

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I think the major risk is Guillain-Barre.  I can find no research to tell me that if you had Guillain-Barre before you are at risk of getting it again, with this vaccination.  But that is what it said on the only printed informed consent instrument I could find.

I have a peripheral neuropathy.  About 20 million folks do in these United States.  Eight million stems from diabetes and the rest from other metabolic stuff.  Sometimes it’s from medications — like chemotherapy –and that is plenty enough nerve damage for me to deal with in life. Read more on No Flu Shot for Me This Year I did not get my flu shot this year. Collective gasp!…

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It’s called freedom of religion, folks.  That means you have the right to worship as you please, even if you’re in prison, even if you’re Muslim, and even if you’re Taliban.

Prison is horrible.  More horrible than anyone who has never been in or near one can imagine.  I know.  I worked inside prisons, back when someone might have had at least a little respect for credentials like mine.  This was before they started over-disciplining doctors and forcing their asses out of those august institutions in favor of cheaper folks, like nurse practitioners. Read more on Freedom of Religion in Prison…

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No, I’m not being paranoid.  Jumbo squid are showing up in record numbers off the southern California coast.  And these suckers can get mighty big. 

Me, I love squid. To eat, that is.  My husband fixes me some that are not over four inches long — really cute little guys with tentacles. They secrete this inky stuff that makes a sweet and gentle taste for pasta. This is the time of year when folks come to San Diego and take cruises to watch whales.  They go down to Mexico to have their little whale babies because the water is a bit warmer.  I have done one of these cruises myself, and I saw some of the fountains coming out of blowholes and it was pretty awesome.  Me, I always look for the science.  But never did I see a squid – let alone hundreds of even thousands of them – and never did I get face washed by their ink.  The facts — well, we are talking up to six feet long and one hundred pounds.  I used to have at least a dozen little bitty ones with my plate of pasta.  I don’t think these would fit on my plate. Is it only me, generally fearless, or is this starting to sound a little scary?  Hmm, I’d say so.  Increased acidity of the ocean, gigantic squid coming up from the deep, and who knows what else. I am looking very hard for positives.  If people have more squid than they can eat, maybe we can feed the hungry.  Are they like zucchini?  I mean, does their meat get tougher the bigger they get? Read more on California Attacked by Giant Squid!…

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You know those old traveling medicine shows from the 1800s?  Royal Jelly is kind of like that.

Usually this stuff finds me when I’m minding my own business and surfing the net or scanning a book.  This time, I was in front of a TV camera with an interviewer and I had already told him in private conversation, not once but twice, I was no believer in Royal Jelly. I suggested that this was not a direction to pursue with me.  He did. Read more on Royal Jelly Ain’t That Cool…

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