Last week, there was a period of several hours when my cat, Harry "The Highlander", acted in a manner most uncharacteristic to his normal behaviour. It passed, and I forgot about it until this past Thursday, when he stopped eating and drinking, did not want to go outside at all and rejected T-U-N-A. Chiropractic adjustments seemed to have no effect, though it had in the past. The tuna clinched it, and I took him to the vet after there was no evidence of using the litter box, after 24 hours.
Dr. Tzvi, the vet, ran a battery of tests, took blood and gave Harry an IV drip to deal with his dehydration. Every half hour or so, Dr. Tzvi would check our the lifeless lump that used to be my very active cat, look at his blood test results, shake his head and say to me, "This is not good at all," and yet refused to elaborate. When I would ask for details or try to understand the worst case scenario - having been raised in the Jewish/Polish mother model -the vet would refuse to explain until all data came in. But I was not supposed to freak out, of course.
The short version of the story: "most probably" a parasitic infection that is causing severe anemia and break-down of his red blood cells. If I had not brought him in for a check-up, he "probably" would have died over the weekend. Then he casually mentioned cancer and FIV as alternative diagnoses, if no improvement appeared within four days.
The good news: the very same day, after receiving the IV plus anti-biotics and steroids to avoid RBC break-down, Harry started to get ornery, used the litter box and tried to eat food. Today, one day later, he is more active and asking to go outside. Which he can't, until his 21 day course of anti-biotics is completed.
When I told my mother about the stress this caused, she did not hide her true feelings; there is some part of her that fears that I am falling into the Crazy Cat Lady stereotype, and that having a cat means I will die alone and single. Her immediate response to my sadness was, "Oh well, your cat is dying. Pets die you know..." Thanks for the sympathy and support, Mom; surprising all the more so because she grew up all her life with cats as pets.
The aspect of this episode that continues to bother me concerns the clinical approach (as expert and professional as I could want) towards my feelings and fears. Never mind the fact that I am the one paying the veterinarian's bill, all 600 NIS of it, but that fact that pets (as with children) reflect the environment created by their owner and in the home. Like any other doctor, he could use some improvement in his bed-side manner towards the human in this equation.
I always mock the American pet owners who take their dog or cat to an animal shrink, when their house mate misbehaves by peeing on the carpet or destroying furniture. It is ultimately therapy for the owner, as animals cannot speak English (duh) and they simply react to the atmosphere around them.
Oh, and I think that I would subscribe to a pet care HMO in Israel, if such a thing existed.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Joshua (Jesh) Leeder, Z"L
After a year of neurological symptoms, my uncle was misdiagnosed by several doctors, who told him he had a "bad case of Lyme Disease." When it was too late, they realized (what I and my father, 'mere Chiropractors,' had realized long ago) that Jesh had ALS, Lou Gehrig's Disease, a severe attack on the neurological pathways which mostly affects men in their 40's through early 60's, and has no cure.
One year ago, Jesh fell into a coma, and the doctors, ignoring his DNR request, put him on life support. Of course, upon consultation with the Rabbi, it was decided that even though my uncle had vehemently refused extreme measures, NOW that he was on life support, he could not be taken off, according to the halacha as they see it.
In denial, his wife (and their 13 children) decided that it was still a simple case of Tick Fever, and that if they took him home to be surrounded by his family and friends, he would wake up one morning as if this all never happened.
Two days ago, my uncle Jesh Leeder, died. And the Rabbis, who before were willing to ignore his pain and suffering and personal wishes, felt that now that the body was just a shell, he should be buried immediately, without even waiting for some members of the family to arrive for the funeral.
Jesh was a man who lived by his convictions, a modest, talented and spiritual man, and his loss will be felt by many.
The implications of his death scare me more, in a selfish human way. In the last year, my father has lost both his older sister (one year older) and now his older brother (older by two years). I am not ready to G-d Forbid sit shiva.
I am hoping that my father has inherited his father's genes, a man who lived a somewhat active life for 25 years after a severe stroke. My grandfather was a stubborn genius: a surgeon, a Rabbi and Scholar, a Sofer (ritual Jewish ancient Hebrew script), and a Shochet (ritual Jewish slaughter expert for Kosher meat). He saved Uncle Jesh's hand from amputation as a child, by essentially inventing micro-surgery and personally supervising the rehabilitation process. My grandfather also disciplined his children in ways that today would alarm social services and would be considered child abuse.
My grandfather died when he was ready, and not a minute sooner, at the age of 84.
I wish my father a long life of health, happiness and success, may he, as his father before him, live to see his great-grandchildren.
One year ago, Jesh fell into a coma, and the doctors, ignoring his DNR request, put him on life support. Of course, upon consultation with the Rabbi, it was decided that even though my uncle had vehemently refused extreme measures, NOW that he was on life support, he could not be taken off, according to the halacha as they see it.
In denial, his wife (and their 13 children) decided that it was still a simple case of Tick Fever, and that if they took him home to be surrounded by his family and friends, he would wake up one morning as if this all never happened.
Two days ago, my uncle Jesh Leeder, died. And the Rabbis, who before were willing to ignore his pain and suffering and personal wishes, felt that now that the body was just a shell, he should be buried immediately, without even waiting for some members of the family to arrive for the funeral.
Jesh was a man who lived by his convictions, a modest, talented and spiritual man, and his loss will be felt by many.
The implications of his death scare me more, in a selfish human way. In the last year, my father has lost both his older sister (one year older) and now his older brother (older by two years). I am not ready to G-d Forbid sit shiva.
I am hoping that my father has inherited his father's genes, a man who lived a somewhat active life for 25 years after a severe stroke. My grandfather was a stubborn genius: a surgeon, a Rabbi and Scholar, a Sofer (ritual Jewish ancient Hebrew script), and a Shochet (ritual Jewish slaughter expert for Kosher meat). He saved Uncle Jesh's hand from amputation as a child, by essentially inventing micro-surgery and personally supervising the rehabilitation process. My grandfather also disciplined his children in ways that today would alarm social services and would be considered child abuse.
My grandfather died when he was ready, and not a minute sooner, at the age of 84.
I wish my father a long life of health, happiness and success, may he, as his father before him, live to see his great-grandchildren.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Hopalong Harry
Some time when I was at Pessach seder (19/4/08), Harry managed to fracture his shoulder. The doctors cannot figure out why almost a month later, Harry is still limping around, refusing to use his right front arm/leg.
I know why. My eldest feline Harry has become what is known in medical terms as a "Malingerer", a faker vying for sympathy and attention. I have observed the following behaviours: when I am with him and clearly watching him, he gets a sad expression in his eyes and limps along, hoppity hop. When he does not know that I am watching him, he uses all four legs, and has only a mild limp, which I notice because I am a Chiropractor.
The fracture was small, and I believe that by next week I will feel confident enough to allow him to go outside again, which thankfully will relieve me of litter box duty.
My brother laughs at this story, saying that it has nothing to do with feline or human, except for the fact that Harry is a man, and knows how to work the woman in his life.
I know why. My eldest feline Harry has become what is known in medical terms as a "Malingerer", a faker vying for sympathy and attention. I have observed the following behaviours: when I am with him and clearly watching him, he gets a sad expression in his eyes and limps along, hoppity hop. When he does not know that I am watching him, he uses all four legs, and has only a mild limp, which I notice because I am a Chiropractor.
The fracture was small, and I believe that by next week I will feel confident enough to allow him to go outside again, which thankfully will relieve me of litter box duty.
My brother laughs at this story, saying that it has nothing to do with feline or human, except for the fact that Harry is a man, and knows how to work the woman in his life.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
When the Siren Went Off
This morning I woke up before my alarm clock, checked on Harry, my cat with the broken shoulder, and then checked my email. Went to the post office to pay some taxes, and then to the pool to swim.
When the two minute siren went off for Yom HaShoah, I was standing in the shower, dripping wet with shampoo still in my hair, after my swim. Two minutes is a long time, it gives you enough time to really get inside yourself and realize how lucky you are; lucky that your family did not have too many murdered relatives in World War II, lucky that there is a State of Israel, and extremely happy to be living in that State of the Jews in 2008, a country which de facto protects all Jews all over the globe.
I could barely hear the siren over the loud hum of the fan.
I remember several years ago, I was standing on line at the bank when the siren sounded. Most of us stood at solemn attention, and one woman continued to talk on her cellphone, oblivious and totally disrespectful to the time dedicated to the Jews who died in the Holocaust. At first, all of us gave her dirty looks, to no avail. Finally we all started yelling at her, "What, don't you have any respect for those who died? Can't this conversation wait two minutes?"
She took offense - though thankfully shut off her phone - and as soon as the two minutes of silence ended, she called her friend right back, and proceeded to tell her friend how rude we had been, cutting off her conversation.
Life goes on, but isn't that the point?
I spent two minutes remembering the victims of the Shoah, and then returned to the shower, and went to work. We are a normal people living in a normal State on the Planet Earth, and while we have suffered terribly throughout history, and continue to suffer under the constant threats of terrorism within our borders, we are here.
We are here to stay.
When the two minute siren went off for Yom HaShoah, I was standing in the shower, dripping wet with shampoo still in my hair, after my swim. Two minutes is a long time, it gives you enough time to really get inside yourself and realize how lucky you are; lucky that your family did not have too many murdered relatives in World War II, lucky that there is a State of Israel, and extremely happy to be living in that State of the Jews in 2008, a country which de facto protects all Jews all over the globe.
I could barely hear the siren over the loud hum of the fan.
I remember several years ago, I was standing on line at the bank when the siren sounded. Most of us stood at solemn attention, and one woman continued to talk on her cellphone, oblivious and totally disrespectful to the time dedicated to the Jews who died in the Holocaust. At first, all of us gave her dirty looks, to no avail. Finally we all started yelling at her, "What, don't you have any respect for those who died? Can't this conversation wait two minutes?"
She took offense - though thankfully shut off her phone - and as soon as the two minutes of silence ended, she called her friend right back, and proceeded to tell her friend how rude we had been, cutting off her conversation.
Life goes on, but isn't that the point?
I spent two minutes remembering the victims of the Shoah, and then returned to the shower, and went to work. We are a normal people living in a normal State on the Planet Earth, and while we have suffered terribly throughout history, and continue to suffer under the constant threats of terrorism within our borders, we are here.
We are here to stay.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Chiropractic is Not for Everyone
This morning I bumped into an old college friend, who told me that she had tried a Chiropractor in Tel Aviv, and that he had "ruined" her back and made her weak, and that the only solution has been dancing. Dance and self-care have brought her back to health, and she has nothing but contempt for my profession.
I explained to her that every Chiropractor, even those who studied in the same class and in the same school, brings their personality to the treatment and the approach to care. A particular method of a particular professional may not have worked for her, and I am sorry for her negative experience, but she cannot use this one incident to judge all of us.
Consider this:
Over 200,000 people die in hospitals each year, because of medical negligence and error.
Drug side-effects often make a condition worse, in an average of 1 in 500 cases.
Chiropractic can cause "damage" (muscle tension, pain) in 1 in 8,000,000 cases.
Those are pretty good odds, and it's all natural.
I explained to her that every Chiropractor, even those who studied in the same class and in the same school, brings their personality to the treatment and the approach to care. A particular method of a particular professional may not have worked for her, and I am sorry for her negative experience, but she cannot use this one incident to judge all of us.
Consider this:
Over 200,000 people die in hospitals each year, because of medical negligence and error.
Drug side-effects often make a condition worse, in an average of 1 in 500 cases.
Chiropractic can cause "damage" (muscle tension, pain) in 1 in 8,000,000 cases.
Those are pretty good odds, and it's all natural.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
The Spring Roll Strike
Israel's Asian restaurants refused to serve spring rolls yesterday, to protest the government's plans to sabotage the employment of foreign chefs. "Today there is no egg roll, and in two weeks there will be no sushi and noodles." Considered part of the "foreign worker" problem, Asian cooks will be purged from theme restaurants, unless of course you are willing to pay twice the average national salary to keep them on.
The Israeli argument states that non-Asians can be trained to achieve the same high quality results. This initiative comes at a time when speciality restaurants are opening fast and furious all over the country, and when the slide of the dollar allows people to splurge more often on luxuries, like a sushi dinner.
The argument falls apart when you consider the essential laziness and elitism of the modern Israel. The same time that Israelis complain about unemployment, they refuse to fill jobs such as elderly care-takers, a market dominated by men and women from the Philipines, brought over both legally and illegally. These foreign workers take better care of the Israeli aging generation, our parents and our grandparents, than any Israeli would choose to do for their own family member.
This is not the Israeli who came over to British Palestine by boat from Europe, who dug out swamps and built houses for Jews, brick by brick.
So please don't take away my expert sushi makers, and instead think about a reasonable, fair and effectively implemented policy that will benefit Israel in the long run.
The Israeli argument states that non-Asians can be trained to achieve the same high quality results. This initiative comes at a time when speciality restaurants are opening fast and furious all over the country, and when the slide of the dollar allows people to splurge more often on luxuries, like a sushi dinner.
The argument falls apart when you consider the essential laziness and elitism of the modern Israel. The same time that Israelis complain about unemployment, they refuse to fill jobs such as elderly care-takers, a market dominated by men and women from the Philipines, brought over both legally and illegally. These foreign workers take better care of the Israeli aging generation, our parents and our grandparents, than any Israeli would choose to do for their own family member.
This is not the Israeli who came over to British Palestine by boat from Europe, who dug out swamps and built houses for Jews, brick by brick.
So please don't take away my expert sushi makers, and instead think about a reasonable, fair and effectively implemented policy that will benefit Israel in the long run.
Monday, December 3, 2007
Harry "The Highlander", Chiropractic Cat
By Harry "The Highlander," with some scientific input from his Human
Although I have not officially graduated from Chiropractic school, I consider myself somewhat of an expert. I have extensively observed my Human taking care of clients. Starting when I was one month old, I would sit on the patients' hands to keep them warm, and even now, I can tell when a visitor is having a bad day and needs PT (Purr Therapy).
Like any new parent, the first time I had a cold, my mother called the veterinarian, and asked how to resolve this health issue. I was sneezing and lethargic, and my eyes were gunky and gross. Our doctor prescribes to a holistic approach to feline care, and told Mom to wait a few days, and clean out my eyes on a regular basis; he did not immediately believe that we should leap to the drug route. The prognosis was two or three days of suffering, "Even cats can get a cold," the doctor said.
Chiropractic, based upon a holistic neurological view of the body, believes that the brain and central nervous system have an innate mechanism for correction in times of physical and emotional stress. The spine (the so-called central computer chip) controls all functions of the body, with the nerves starting from the head and continuing all the way into the tail. That's why my tail reacts immediately to our mood by standing upright (happy, secure), swishing back and forth (curious or slightly insecure), or thumping loudly (extremely annoyed). If there is interference in that essential flow of information, a human or feline will get ill.
Inspired by one of her mentors, whose specialty involves re-aligning the spines of race horses, Mom thought, "If I can help humans every day with my treatment, why not try it on Harry?"
Thankfully it worked, and within a half a day, I returned to my active healthy self, forgoing drugs and the trauma of an office visit. It doesn't work every time, and Mom respects and cooperates with conventional medicine, but I prefer the holistic approach.
[The Chiropractor/Human taking dictation adds: Once a client brought his hyperactive dog to the office, and after one session the dog was so much better behaved, a different animal. I have often treated pets with Chiropractic, they respond well. Last year, when Harry sprained his hip from a mis-timed jump and had to be immobile for a week, Chiropractic treatment helped speed his recovery.]
Although I have not officially graduated from Chiropractic school, I consider myself somewhat of an expert. I have extensively observed my Human taking care of clients. Starting when I was one month old, I would sit on the patients' hands to keep them warm, and even now, I can tell when a visitor is having a bad day and needs PT (Purr Therapy).
Like any new parent, the first time I had a cold, my mother called the veterinarian, and asked how to resolve this health issue. I was sneezing and lethargic, and my eyes were gunky and gross. Our doctor prescribes to a holistic approach to feline care, and told Mom to wait a few days, and clean out my eyes on a regular basis; he did not immediately believe that we should leap to the drug route. The prognosis was two or three days of suffering, "Even cats can get a cold," the doctor said.
Chiropractic, based upon a holistic neurological view of the body, believes that the brain and central nervous system have an innate mechanism for correction in times of physical and emotional stress. The spine (the so-called central computer chip) controls all functions of the body, with the nerves starting from the head and continuing all the way into the tail. That's why my tail reacts immediately to our mood by standing upright (happy, secure), swishing back and forth (curious or slightly insecure), or thumping loudly (extremely annoyed). If there is interference in that essential flow of information, a human or feline will get ill.
Inspired by one of her mentors, whose specialty involves re-aligning the spines of race horses, Mom thought, "If I can help humans every day with my treatment, why not try it on Harry?"
Thankfully it worked, and within a half a day, I returned to my active healthy self, forgoing drugs and the trauma of an office visit. It doesn't work every time, and Mom respects and cooperates with conventional medicine, but I prefer the holistic approach.
[The Chiropractor/Human taking dictation adds: Once a client brought his hyperactive dog to the office, and after one session the dog was so much better behaved, a different animal. I have often treated pets with Chiropractic, they respond well. Last year, when Harry sprained his hip from a mis-timed jump and had to be immobile for a week, Chiropractic treatment helped speed his recovery.]
Thursday, November 22, 2007
The Truest Lesson of Thanksgiving
With the Annapolis Conference four days away, Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert unveiled his timid and uninspired strategy: Israel must change, because "keeping the Status Quo endangers Israel."
Wrong, so wrong. It is the mindset of "reasonable Western thought" that endangers not only Israel in its struggle for existence with the Palestinians, but any country on the planet which faces the threat of Muslim terrorism. The Arabs do not respect kindness or negotiation or unilateral withdrawal, they take advantage of it. As soon as an enemy - political or physical - exposes a weakness, they will jump in and attack without hesitation. The Arabs in the region, and the Palestinians in specific, must be dealt with swiftly and offensively, otherwise Israel in fact does not stand a chance of celebrating its 70th birthday.
Ask the Native American dwellers how they felt, as the Pilgrim's nautical SUV pulled up to Plymouth Rock, and were extended the hand of peace and assistance. The celebration of Thanksgiving commemorates the medical, cultural and territorial devastation of a community and a people, the original tenants of the Americas. Those who survived were either sold into slavery, put on show or left to die a lonely and painful death, bearing witness to the disappearance of their ancient life. At least Pocahontas got a Disney movie out of the deal.
During my Chiropractic internship, I had the privilege of working with the First Nation/ Ojibwe community, and learned first hand about their unemployment and their addictions, and their Elder's vain attempts to maintain some of the ceremony and legacy of their ancestors.
As a Jew and as an Israeli, I don't want to be next in line because of our weak-minded leadership. One Holocaust was enough, thank you.
Wrong, so wrong. It is the mindset of "reasonable Western thought" that endangers not only Israel in its struggle for existence with the Palestinians, but any country on the planet which faces the threat of Muslim terrorism. The Arabs do not respect kindness or negotiation or unilateral withdrawal, they take advantage of it. As soon as an enemy - political or physical - exposes a weakness, they will jump in and attack without hesitation. The Arabs in the region, and the Palestinians in specific, must be dealt with swiftly and offensively, otherwise Israel in fact does not stand a chance of celebrating its 70th birthday.
Ask the Native American dwellers how they felt, as the Pilgrim's nautical SUV pulled up to Plymouth Rock, and were extended the hand of peace and assistance. The celebration of Thanksgiving commemorates the medical, cultural and territorial devastation of a community and a people, the original tenants of the Americas. Those who survived were either sold into slavery, put on show or left to die a lonely and painful death, bearing witness to the disappearance of their ancient life. At least Pocahontas got a Disney movie out of the deal.
During my Chiropractic internship, I had the privilege of working with the First Nation/ Ojibwe community, and learned first hand about their unemployment and their addictions, and their Elder's vain attempts to maintain some of the ceremony and legacy of their ancestors.
As a Jew and as an Israeli, I don't want to be next in line because of our weak-minded leadership. One Holocaust was enough, thank you.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
SAA (Survivor Addicts Anonymous)
I am an addict. I admit it.
When I lived in the United States I watched Survivor religiously, and now that I live in Israel, my friend Mimi sends me tapes of the most updated seasons, which I watch religiously. When I receive the tape, I don't answer phones, I don't eat, I will pull an all-nighter if I have to, just to finish the latest installments. Then I log onto the CBS Survivor site and read the blog and the behind-the-scenes details. Over all the other reality type shows, Survivor seems to tap into the basic play of human nature, a real-life Lord of the Flies experience, where the best of the worst will emerge, and where the person with integrity will not always win the million dollars. (Worthy Winners: Tina, Ethan, Yul, Earl)
I sometimes play out of the fantasy of participating as a contestant on Survivor, after all, I know all the trivia and have various strategies and outcomes all played out, based upon previous seasons. Then I realize that strong women only get so far in the game, once you have proved your worth and the tribes merge, you are quickly ousted before the end of the game, to keep you away from the million dollars. (Wonder Women: Stephanie, Alicia, Ami) Unless you have large boobs which you flash often and play stupid so you can fly under the radar until miraculously, you are in the final three. (Boob Winners: Jenna, Amber) Then I also realize that my childhood camping days have long passed, and that as a civilized grown-up, I could not spend 40 days without a proper shower, a good night's sleep, and the promise of at least one healthy meal each day.
In addition to being addicted, I am also spoiled.
Right now I would simply love to attend one of the Finale shows, instead of eating bugs in the wilderness.
My friend Mimi is in fact one of the true real-life Survivors, she has recently recovered from Breast Cancer. After her most recent surgery, she came to Israel for two weeks, to assist her elderly mother move apartment . Mimi continues to be strong and optimistic, and will not allow the threat of a relapse stop her from living her life.
I hope and pray that the Mimi Show lasts long after the CBS show Survivor is forgotten.
When I lived in the United States I watched Survivor religiously, and now that I live in Israel, my friend Mimi sends me tapes of the most updated seasons, which I watch religiously. When I receive the tape, I don't answer phones, I don't eat, I will pull an all-nighter if I have to, just to finish the latest installments. Then I log onto the CBS Survivor site and read the blog and the behind-the-scenes details. Over all the other reality type shows, Survivor seems to tap into the basic play of human nature, a real-life Lord of the Flies experience, where the best of the worst will emerge, and where the person with integrity will not always win the million dollars. (Worthy Winners: Tina, Ethan, Yul, Earl)
I sometimes play out of the fantasy of participating as a contestant on Survivor, after all, I know all the trivia and have various strategies and outcomes all played out, based upon previous seasons. Then I realize that strong women only get so far in the game, once you have proved your worth and the tribes merge, you are quickly ousted before the end of the game, to keep you away from the million dollars. (Wonder Women: Stephanie, Alicia, Ami) Unless you have large boobs which you flash often and play stupid so you can fly under the radar until miraculously, you are in the final three. (Boob Winners: Jenna, Amber) Then I also realize that my childhood camping days have long passed, and that as a civilized grown-up, I could not spend 40 days without a proper shower, a good night's sleep, and the promise of at least one healthy meal each day.
In addition to being addicted, I am also spoiled.
Right now I would simply love to attend one of the Finale shows, instead of eating bugs in the wilderness.
My friend Mimi is in fact one of the true real-life Survivors, she has recently recovered from Breast Cancer. After her most recent surgery, she came to Israel for two weeks, to assist her elderly mother move apartment . Mimi continues to be strong and optimistic, and will not allow the threat of a relapse stop her from living her life.
I hope and pray that the Mimi Show lasts long after the CBS show Survivor is forgotten.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
I Didn't Know that Cats are Gay
Sarel needed to go to the vet yesterday, for his annual check up and vaccinations.* The day did not begin well, with heavy grey rain clouds threatening from the early morning; I could only imagine myself walking through the streets of Jerusalem with a cat cage and a six and a half kilo cat, both of us soaking wet. I was also nervous because they had recently built a new road near the veterinary office, and I was unsure if there would be parking or direct access.
I had left the carrying-cage out in the salon for an entire day, so it would sit in the house and he could explore it, and ultimately find its presence non-threatening. My plan only partially worked, a five minute battle ensued to get Sarel into the cage when the time came to leave the house. On the way to the doctor's visit, he complained loudly, but in a pacifist Gandhi-like manner.
When we arrived, the vet and his assistants gave me a wary smile. Turns out they had thought that Harry (Sarel's extremely difficult and scary older brother) was meant to have his appointment today, and according to Dr. Tzvi, they spent several hours preparing themselves for the trauma. When I heard this confession, I could only laugh, and then tried to defend Harry, saying that at home he is gentle and affectionate; he has been brought up with love since he was a kitten, and has never lived on the street. Apparently some cats are "quite simply, little bastards." (Dr. Tzvi's words, not mine.)
Sarel sat quietly cowering and in contrast to his brother, allowed the vet to perform all the tests, including picking him up high in the air, checking his rather large vampire teeth, and giving him the vaccine. You could feel the tension easing all over the office, there would be no antiseptic or stitches for humans today.
I told Dr. Tzvi and his assistant an amazing story that attests to the kindness of heart of Sarel, and in my opinion, the ability of all creatures to overcome their basic programming. I explained that Sarel himself had been a rescue cat, and had lived on the street for close to a year before I found him (run over by a car) and adopted him. In the last year, Sarel adopted a beautiful cream colored kitten, Gingi, who is now a fully grown, healthy street cat, part of our extended family. Gingi allows me to pet him, and likes to spend some quality time with me before he eats the food I have brought him.
Sarel (male cat, neutered) adopted Gingi (male cat, large assets). Gingi has recently adopted a long hair gray and white kitten whom I have called Rocky, because his/her nose looks like it was in one too many brawls. Gingi has given Rocky a home with him, and every morning makes sure that everyone is fed together. The obvious nurturing comes from an unknown place in the male feline psyche, I cannot imagine a territorial animal who thrives on survival instincts displaying this kind of generosity, and yet, it happens every day before my eyes.
My theory supposes that character traits can be learned, and that a cycle of giving and generosity will be passed on through the next generations of street cats in my area. Their behaviour is an inspiration to me, it means that humans can undo negative patterns and learn new tricks. The assistant exclaimed, "Wow, a phenomenon of gay cats!" (Idiot!) Dr. Tzvi appreciated the uniqueness of the situation, and suggested that I had taught them the act of charity.
As a bonus, Sarel got a new bright red collar, he will be the envy on all his friends.
In the drive home, my back hurting from carrying a cat and his cage up the hills of Jerusalem to my parking space, I tried to console Sarel, who was still shaking with fear. I sang to him, I recited the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, most of which I know by heart: " O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy." In fact I noticed that Sarel was not chorteling, but rather whimpering and retreating.
No one likes going to the doctor. So I gave him a large tablespoon of tuna when we got home. And I took a nice shot of single malt whiskey.
*Note: While I object to many of the vaccines and shots given to humans, my stand changes vis a vis felines. They play outside in Lord knows what, they get into fights over territory, and in that case, better safe than sorry.
I had left the carrying-cage out in the salon for an entire day, so it would sit in the house and he could explore it, and ultimately find its presence non-threatening. My plan only partially worked, a five minute battle ensued to get Sarel into the cage when the time came to leave the house. On the way to the doctor's visit, he complained loudly, but in a pacifist Gandhi-like manner.
When we arrived, the vet and his assistants gave me a wary smile. Turns out they had thought that Harry (Sarel's extremely difficult and scary older brother) was meant to have his appointment today, and according to Dr. Tzvi, they spent several hours preparing themselves for the trauma. When I heard this confession, I could only laugh, and then tried to defend Harry, saying that at home he is gentle and affectionate; he has been brought up with love since he was a kitten, and has never lived on the street. Apparently some cats are "quite simply, little bastards." (Dr. Tzvi's words, not mine.)
Sarel sat quietly cowering and in contrast to his brother, allowed the vet to perform all the tests, including picking him up high in the air, checking his rather large vampire teeth, and giving him the vaccine. You could feel the tension easing all over the office, there would be no antiseptic or stitches for humans today.
I told Dr. Tzvi and his assistant an amazing story that attests to the kindness of heart of Sarel, and in my opinion, the ability of all creatures to overcome their basic programming. I explained that Sarel himself had been a rescue cat, and had lived on the street for close to a year before I found him (run over by a car) and adopted him. In the last year, Sarel adopted a beautiful cream colored kitten, Gingi, who is now a fully grown, healthy street cat, part of our extended family. Gingi allows me to pet him, and likes to spend some quality time with me before he eats the food I have brought him.
Sarel (male cat, neutered) adopted Gingi (male cat, large assets). Gingi has recently adopted a long hair gray and white kitten whom I have called Rocky, because his/her nose looks like it was in one too many brawls. Gingi has given Rocky a home with him, and every morning makes sure that everyone is fed together. The obvious nurturing comes from an unknown place in the male feline psyche, I cannot imagine a territorial animal who thrives on survival instincts displaying this kind of generosity, and yet, it happens every day before my eyes.
My theory supposes that character traits can be learned, and that a cycle of giving and generosity will be passed on through the next generations of street cats in my area. Their behaviour is an inspiration to me, it means that humans can undo negative patterns and learn new tricks. The assistant exclaimed, "Wow, a phenomenon of gay cats!" (Idiot!) Dr. Tzvi appreciated the uniqueness of the situation, and suggested that I had taught them the act of charity.
As a bonus, Sarel got a new bright red collar, he will be the envy on all his friends.
In the drive home, my back hurting from carrying a cat and his cage up the hills of Jerusalem to my parking space, I tried to console Sarel, who was still shaking with fear. I sang to him, I recited the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, most of which I know by heart: " O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortled in his joy." In fact I noticed that Sarel was not chorteling, but rather whimpering and retreating.
No one likes going to the doctor. So I gave him a large tablespoon of tuna when we got home. And I took a nice shot of single malt whiskey.
*Note: While I object to many of the vaccines and shots given to humans, my stand changes vis a vis felines. They play outside in Lord knows what, they get into fights over territory, and in that case, better safe than sorry.
Friday, November 2, 2007
Friday News Feed
Life Imitates Art
This past season on the Israeli tele-novella, The Champion, they featured a fictional (cigar-chomping) Prime Minister who had been diagnosed with cancer. This PM then decided that if he is indeed going to die in the next year, he wants to facilitate a true peace in the Middle East as his legacy. The final episode of this season involved an assassination attempt by one of his closest advisers, who was also coincidentally, an arms dealer.
And now we hear that PM Ehud Olmert (a real-life cigar chomping Prime Minister) has been diagnosed with Prostate cancer. A corrupt man whose approval ratings were technically in the minus is now "popular," and he is riding this wave by pushing through major land grabs for the Arabs, until there is nothing Jewish left of the capitol and the country.
I say, as a purely objective medical professional, that he should take some time off, resign his position and tend to his body, while someone else fixes the damage he has done thus far to the country.
Global Warming, Israel Style
Traditionally, the rainy season in Israel begins at the conclusion of the Jewish holiday of Succot, a holiday which has long passed. Instead of the much needed rain, Israel is experiencing not only sunny and pleasant weather, but a dusty heat wave. Those of us who suffer from allergies during the transitional season appreciate this phenomenon less, not to mention how the drought will affect the crops and the water supply.
Could be Al Gore's pet project, global warming, though the religious and superstitious sort attribute 'Biblical' causes, ie that G-d is showing his displeasure with the current state of the government by denying us water. The Torah does indeed state that if we Israelites do not deserve to live in the Holy Land, the land will literally "chuck us out."
I am not yet packing my suitcase, but find that performing the ancient Native American rain dance on my porch makes me feel better.
Facebook Etiquette
Facebook made the news this week, along with its 25 year old founder, and I say good for him, let him have some spending money in his pocket. The expansion of social networking on the web has introduced certain sticky situations, for which there is no official protocol.
This past week I "broke up" with some friends, and contemplated for several days whether it was appropriate or kind to remove them from my Facebook network, even though they had hurt me very badly and didn't think about my feelings. I decided that I could accept the fact that we were no longer a part of each other's lives, and that access to my profile would provide no real damage.
This morning, I checked Facebook, and lo and behold, the wife of this couple had unceremoniously dropped me from her Friends list. Notably, her husband had not. I felt that it was not appropriate to have any contact with the husband, given both their actions in the past two weeks; and that as long as the wife had struck the first blow, so to speak, I could remove the husband with a clear conscience.
I have heard stories that people have made themselves available to date on Facebook, before they even broke up face-to-face with their partners.
What would Miss Manners say?
Dollar Continues to Fall
The shequel-dollar exchange rate for today is 3.964.
Financial analysts are recommending that you keep your money under your mattress until George Bush gets out of the White House.
This past season on the Israeli tele-novella, The Champion, they featured a fictional (cigar-chomping) Prime Minister who had been diagnosed with cancer. This PM then decided that if he is indeed going to die in the next year, he wants to facilitate a true peace in the Middle East as his legacy. The final episode of this season involved an assassination attempt by one of his closest advisers, who was also coincidentally, an arms dealer.
And now we hear that PM Ehud Olmert (a real-life cigar chomping Prime Minister) has been diagnosed with Prostate cancer. A corrupt man whose approval ratings were technically in the minus is now "popular," and he is riding this wave by pushing through major land grabs for the Arabs, until there is nothing Jewish left of the capitol and the country.
I say, as a purely objective medical professional, that he should take some time off, resign his position and tend to his body, while someone else fixes the damage he has done thus far to the country.
Global Warming, Israel Style
Traditionally, the rainy season in Israel begins at the conclusion of the Jewish holiday of Succot, a holiday which has long passed. Instead of the much needed rain, Israel is experiencing not only sunny and pleasant weather, but a dusty heat wave. Those of us who suffer from allergies during the transitional season appreciate this phenomenon less, not to mention how the drought will affect the crops and the water supply.
Could be Al Gore's pet project, global warming, though the religious and superstitious sort attribute 'Biblical' causes, ie that G-d is showing his displeasure with the current state of the government by denying us water. The Torah does indeed state that if we Israelites do not deserve to live in the Holy Land, the land will literally "chuck us out."
I am not yet packing my suitcase, but find that performing the ancient Native American rain dance on my porch makes me feel better.
Facebook Etiquette
Facebook made the news this week, along with its 25 year old founder, and I say good for him, let him have some spending money in his pocket. The expansion of social networking on the web has introduced certain sticky situations, for which there is no official protocol.
This past week I "broke up" with some friends, and contemplated for several days whether it was appropriate or kind to remove them from my Facebook network, even though they had hurt me very badly and didn't think about my feelings. I decided that I could accept the fact that we were no longer a part of each other's lives, and that access to my profile would provide no real damage.
This morning, I checked Facebook, and lo and behold, the wife of this couple had unceremoniously dropped me from her Friends list. Notably, her husband had not. I felt that it was not appropriate to have any contact with the husband, given both their actions in the past two weeks; and that as long as the wife had struck the first blow, so to speak, I could remove the husband with a clear conscience.
I have heard stories that people have made themselves available to date on Facebook, before they even broke up face-to-face with their partners.
What would Miss Manners say?
Dollar Continues to Fall
The shequel-dollar exchange rate for today is 3.964.
Financial analysts are recommending that you keep your money under your mattress until George Bush gets out of the White House.
Monday, October 29, 2007
DNR, Unless it Benefits the Party
The topic of DNR requests ("Do not resuscitate") and Living Wills became the topic of a heated discussion today, in the Women's locker room at the pool. Many Israelis do not even have a will which would protect their family, as was unfortunately the case with the 11-year old boy who lost his entire family in a car accident last month. Many women in the locker room today did not know with whom to consult regarding a will or the specific issue of the DNR, but most agreed that they would like to control their health care, and their death, as much as is possible.
Ariel Sharon, the former Prime Minister and current vegetable, has been kept in stasis for approximately the last two years, since he had his second more deadly stroke around the time of the elections. Initially, he was kept alive to give voters the impression that the party he founded, Kadima, would eventually return as their leader and as the political leader of the Israeli people. It made it easier to vote for Kadima, knowing that Ehud Olmert would be a temporary caretaker for the Lion of Judah.
Sharon then needed to be kept alive for the first 100-days, after the elections, so Olmert could technically solidify his power and create alliances, according to the Kadima charter. Now and again, the Sharon family leaks the condition of the former PM to the press, to keep the hope alive. Apparently, Sharon enjoys being sat in front of the television, along with all the medical gear keeping him alive, and particularly enjoys programs on National Geographic. He is, in Orwellian speak, "stable."
Those who may have disagreed with Ariel Sharon's politics would still applaud him for the energy and dedication that he exhibited for Israel in all his years of involvement in the army and then in party politics. He was a vital, stubborn man. By keeping him alive, it shows a total lack of respect for the legacy of his life, and the dignity of the human body.
Dignity of course can be variously defined by medical doctors, family members, Rabbinic authorities and philosophers. A cannibal might define respect of the human form by saving the brains for last; I wouldn't know, I have not been invited to their parties. Walt Disney felt it was totally dignified to sever his head from his body and put the housing for his brain in cryo-stasis, so that someday his consciousness and collective memories may be transplanted into a new vessel. The actor who played Mr. Scott (the engineer of Star Trek fame) had his remains launched into space.
I say that a person most definitely should make his/her wishes regarding their death - in both natural and unexpected cases - clear to their family. Each person deserves the right to say when they have had a proper (albeit relative) quality of life. If you do not want to be hooked up to machines that breathe, eat and go to the bathroom for you, let your loved ones know.
I have a will, not because I am actively planning my death, and not because I must provide for guardianship of children. I have a will, which includes a DNR, because I have already been shot at once and almost died, and I live in a country where deaths from terrorism and war are overshadowed by deaths from traffic accidents.
I may not have much to say, but I believe that it is important to make my wishes known. I need to make sure that my patients, and my cats, get place with caring people.
Ariel Sharon, the former Prime Minister and current vegetable, has been kept in stasis for approximately the last two years, since he had his second more deadly stroke around the time of the elections. Initially, he was kept alive to give voters the impression that the party he founded, Kadima, would eventually return as their leader and as the political leader of the Israeli people. It made it easier to vote for Kadima, knowing that Ehud Olmert would be a temporary caretaker for the Lion of Judah.
Sharon then needed to be kept alive for the first 100-days, after the elections, so Olmert could technically solidify his power and create alliances, according to the Kadima charter. Now and again, the Sharon family leaks the condition of the former PM to the press, to keep the hope alive. Apparently, Sharon enjoys being sat in front of the television, along with all the medical gear keeping him alive, and particularly enjoys programs on National Geographic. He is, in Orwellian speak, "stable."
Those who may have disagreed with Ariel Sharon's politics would still applaud him for the energy and dedication that he exhibited for Israel in all his years of involvement in the army and then in party politics. He was a vital, stubborn man. By keeping him alive, it shows a total lack of respect for the legacy of his life, and the dignity of the human body.
Dignity of course can be variously defined by medical doctors, family members, Rabbinic authorities and philosophers. A cannibal might define respect of the human form by saving the brains for last; I wouldn't know, I have not been invited to their parties. Walt Disney felt it was totally dignified to sever his head from his body and put the housing for his brain in cryo-stasis, so that someday his consciousness and collective memories may be transplanted into a new vessel. The actor who played Mr. Scott (the engineer of Star Trek fame) had his remains launched into space.
I say that a person most definitely should make his/her wishes regarding their death - in both natural and unexpected cases - clear to their family. Each person deserves the right to say when they have had a proper (albeit relative) quality of life. If you do not want to be hooked up to machines that breathe, eat and go to the bathroom for you, let your loved ones know.
I have a will, not because I am actively planning my death, and not because I must provide for guardianship of children. I have a will, which includes a DNR, because I have already been shot at once and almost died, and I live in a country where deaths from terrorism and war are overshadowed by deaths from traffic accidents.
I may not have much to say, but I believe that it is important to make my wishes known. I need to make sure that my patients, and my cats, get place with caring people.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Tall People
A song called "Short People" came onto the radio this morning, and I paid attention to the words, and the chorus in particular disturbed me: "Short people got no reason to live." I don't think a folk song should be advocating suicide, just because someone is height challenged.
I also challenge the world to consider the detriment of being tall. Only a tall woman can relate to the following painful memories of childhood:
1. Wanting to shop at the same stores where all the other girls buy their clothing.
2. Wanting to buy your first pair of high heels, and realizing that none of the cool stores carry a size 11 or 12 women's, and having to go to the Ugly Shoe Store for Old Ladies to buy some hideous Orthopaedic pair of "comfortable shoes."
3. Never being "cute."
4. Going to a bowling birthday party and being told in front of all your friends that they don't have your size in a women's shoe, you will have to wear one of the men's bowling shoes. (Like you don't feel awful enough already in a bowling shoe...)
5. Maintaining poor posture and slouching to the height of the group, so that you can feel like you are at eye-level.
5. Having limited dating options, or actually dating someone who is at least a head shorter than you, and seeing your reflection as a couple in the mirror for the first time, and feeling like you are Shrek and he is Princess Fiona, when she is not an ogre.
One of my grandmothers had a size 12 shoe, quite rare for a woman of that generation, and unlike today, there were zero options to walk into a normal store and buy normal fashionable foot ware. My other grandmother bought me a book called The Tallest Girl in the Class, a story about this girl in the fourth grade felt like an outsider and a freak, until she was picked to play the Christmas tree in the pageant, because she was the tallest person in the class. The children's book does not specify if she needed therapy later in life.
In elementary school, because I towered over both the girls and the boys, I was chosen to play Mordechai in the Purim musical, which we performed in front of the whole school. In retrospect, I would like to question the intelligence and sensitivity of putting a shy tall girl in a beard. My best friend at the time, Karen Zomick, got to play Queen Esther, because she was petite and "cute."
Today as an adult, I appreciate the many ways in which I am outside the box, my height being only one factor through which I stand out in the crowd. Tall people have stature and authority; my three brothers each stand over six feet. If I were thin enough, I could be a super-model. Quite content with my body and my build, I have no desire to lose a few inches, I will lose an inch and a half from my spinal discs as I get older anyway (as all humans do over time).
Maybe I ought to sue my elementary school for my not being married, because they caused gender confusion and set back my self-confidence. Anyone want to take on the case?
I also challenge the world to consider the detriment of being tall. Only a tall woman can relate to the following painful memories of childhood:
1. Wanting to shop at the same stores where all the other girls buy their clothing.
2. Wanting to buy your first pair of high heels, and realizing that none of the cool stores carry a size 11 or 12 women's, and having to go to the Ugly Shoe Store for Old Ladies to buy some hideous Orthopaedic pair of "comfortable shoes."
3. Never being "cute."
4. Going to a bowling birthday party and being told in front of all your friends that they don't have your size in a women's shoe, you will have to wear one of the men's bowling shoes. (Like you don't feel awful enough already in a bowling shoe...)
5. Maintaining poor posture and slouching to the height of the group, so that you can feel like you are at eye-level.
5. Having limited dating options, or actually dating someone who is at least a head shorter than you, and seeing your reflection as a couple in the mirror for the first time, and feeling like you are Shrek and he is Princess Fiona, when she is not an ogre.
One of my grandmothers had a size 12 shoe, quite rare for a woman of that generation, and unlike today, there were zero options to walk into a normal store and buy normal fashionable foot ware. My other grandmother bought me a book called The Tallest Girl in the Class, a story about this girl in the fourth grade felt like an outsider and a freak, until she was picked to play the Christmas tree in the pageant, because she was the tallest person in the class. The children's book does not specify if she needed therapy later in life.
In elementary school, because I towered over both the girls and the boys, I was chosen to play Mordechai in the Purim musical, which we performed in front of the whole school. In retrospect, I would like to question the intelligence and sensitivity of putting a shy tall girl in a beard. My best friend at the time, Karen Zomick, got to play Queen Esther, because she was petite and "cute."
Today as an adult, I appreciate the many ways in which I am outside the box, my height being only one factor through which I stand out in the crowd. Tall people have stature and authority; my three brothers each stand over six feet. If I were thin enough, I could be a super-model. Quite content with my body and my build, I have no desire to lose a few inches, I will lose an inch and a half from my spinal discs as I get older anyway (as all humans do over time).
Maybe I ought to sue my elementary school for my not being married, because they caused gender confusion and set back my self-confidence. Anyone want to take on the case?
Friday, October 19, 2007
The Art of Apology
Regardless of race, religion and country, I believe that humans can be divided into two basic groups: those who know how to say "I'm sorry," and those for whom ego or mild psychosis prevents them from ever admitting they are wrong.
I grew up in a house where I observed both extremes of that behaviour, and I try to emulate my father's example of generally taking responsibility and apologizing in a timely manner, ie. not three days later when the argument has festered into a septic sensitive sore. This week was a test of that commitment.
Earlier in the week, I was standing in the copy shop preparing some documents for work. An elderly woman came up to me and asked "Are you done yet," when I clearly was not. Most days I would either ignore the silly question, or respond firmly and yet kindly. That day, I turned around, sneered at her, and said, "Does it look like I am done?" (I plead insomnia, I had slept less than three hours the night before.) She was both offended and intimidated, and it was only after I left the store that I felt badly about my exaggerated and belligerent behaviour. I considered going back and apologizing to this woman, but did not, and instead let myself feel guilty about it for several hours.
Sometimes you need to know when to swallow ego and the need to be right. Two days ago, a patient - obviously in pain - called to see if she could schedule an emergency appointment. I was unable to create an opening, and suggested that she see someone else while I placed her name on a Waiting List, or try palliative measures for two days and receive treatment today (Friday). We tentatively scheduled, and I assured her that as soon as there was a cancellation, I would contact her.
Yesterday, she called to remind me that she was in pain, that she would like to get an appointment as soon as possible, and to make sure that I remembered her state of suffering.
I apologized for her perception that I had been anything but accommodating and understanding, but that I truly would have seen her sooner if I could have. She hung up sounding sad and angry.
For several hours afterwards - while cooking, while swimming, while running errands - I obsessed, not about potentially losing a patient, but knowing that I had in fact done everything within the natural limit, and knowing that she was sitting at home moping about this. My perceptive house cleaner pointed out that if I was mulling over the relatively minor event to this extent, surely she was suffering as well, and I ought to call her to clear the air.
Which I did; I called her and in as kind a tone as I could muster, explained that I truly tried to see her when she had initially called, but that there are only so many hours in the day. I proceeded by emphasizing that my actions were not to be taken personally in any way, that I wish to continue to help her in the future, and I don't want "bad feelings" driving a wedge between us.
She thanked me for calling back, and I thanked her for listening. After hanging up the phone, while there was still a part of me that felt that I was compromising myself for the Greater Peace, I felt like I had faced and dealt with the consequences of the words that came out of my mouth.
And now that I have spilled all this out to you, dear reader, the obsessing ends.
I grew up in a house where I observed both extremes of that behaviour, and I try to emulate my father's example of generally taking responsibility and apologizing in a timely manner, ie. not three days later when the argument has festered into a septic sensitive sore. This week was a test of that commitment.
Earlier in the week, I was standing in the copy shop preparing some documents for work. An elderly woman came up to me and asked "Are you done yet," when I clearly was not. Most days I would either ignore the silly question, or respond firmly and yet kindly. That day, I turned around, sneered at her, and said, "Does it look like I am done?" (I plead insomnia, I had slept less than three hours the night before.) She was both offended and intimidated, and it was only after I left the store that I felt badly about my exaggerated and belligerent behaviour. I considered going back and apologizing to this woman, but did not, and instead let myself feel guilty about it for several hours.
Sometimes you need to know when to swallow ego and the need to be right. Two days ago, a patient - obviously in pain - called to see if she could schedule an emergency appointment. I was unable to create an opening, and suggested that she see someone else while I placed her name on a Waiting List, or try palliative measures for two days and receive treatment today (Friday). We tentatively scheduled, and I assured her that as soon as there was a cancellation, I would contact her.
Yesterday, she called to remind me that she was in pain, that she would like to get an appointment as soon as possible, and to make sure that I remembered her state of suffering.
I apologized for her perception that I had been anything but accommodating and understanding, but that I truly would have seen her sooner if I could have. She hung up sounding sad and angry.
For several hours afterwards - while cooking, while swimming, while running errands - I obsessed, not about potentially losing a patient, but knowing that I had in fact done everything within the natural limit, and knowing that she was sitting at home moping about this. My perceptive house cleaner pointed out that if I was mulling over the relatively minor event to this extent, surely she was suffering as well, and I ought to call her to clear the air.
Which I did; I called her and in as kind a tone as I could muster, explained that I truly tried to see her when she had initially called, but that there are only so many hours in the day. I proceeded by emphasizing that my actions were not to be taken personally in any way, that I wish to continue to help her in the future, and I don't want "bad feelings" driving a wedge between us.
She thanked me for calling back, and I thanked her for listening. After hanging up the phone, while there was still a part of me that felt that I was compromising myself for the Greater Peace, I felt like I had faced and dealt with the consequences of the words that came out of my mouth.
And now that I have spilled all this out to you, dear reader, the obsessing ends.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Get the Nobel Prize, Save the World
First of all, kudos to former Vice President Al Gore, for being the first VP in history to not only win the Nobel Prize, but also an Oscar. Like other politicians before him, he has been able to turn his position and access into an asset, for the planet and its citizens; I personally hope he does not run for President in 2008, so that he may devote his time to the cause of the Gaea and her ecology. One recent report stated that after the year 2050, Planet Earth will not be habitable for humans, leaving only the roaches with their Devil Dogs as sustenance. At that point, I will G-d Willing be in my 80's and will have lived a full life, though I find it difficult to stomach that my children and grand-children will not be able to breathe the air or drink the water.
Another politician, former President Jimmy Carter is a far better ex-President, his project Habitat for Humanity has aided so many lower-middle class Americans. I do wish, however, that Carter would keep his nose out of Middle East negotiations, he already screwed Israel over once and we don't need any more "help" from the outside.
Recently, the television program "Commander in Chief" started airing in India and the Middle East, and I found their take on the possibility of a history-making female President intriguing. Clearly, Geena Davis - the star and Executive Producer -has no problem with a female in charge, as long as it is not Hilary Clinton. Bill Clinton as First Lady? Hardly. Donald Sutherland's portrayal of the gaunt, white haired, evil Republican Speaker of the House left me feeling terrified and impressed, and more determined than ever to reconsider all our choices for the next American President.
How much should shows like "Commander in Chief" or "The West Wing" influence the average American voter and the upcoming Presidential primaries? And can we really control the overwhelming and dangerous effect of the media and entertainment industry on every other aspect of society? That compartment of Pandora's Box will never be closed again, nor will the demons of politics be tamed, we can only hope that our leaders, locally and internationally, will internalize Al Gore's message, the imperative to save the planet, and therefore save humanity.
Another politician, former President Jimmy Carter is a far better ex-President, his project Habitat for Humanity has aided so many lower-middle class Americans. I do wish, however, that Carter would keep his nose out of Middle East negotiations, he already screwed Israel over once and we don't need any more "help" from the outside.
Recently, the television program "Commander in Chief" started airing in India and the Middle East, and I found their take on the possibility of a history-making female President intriguing. Clearly, Geena Davis - the star and Executive Producer -has no problem with a female in charge, as long as it is not Hilary Clinton. Bill Clinton as First Lady? Hardly. Donald Sutherland's portrayal of the gaunt, white haired, evil Republican Speaker of the House left me feeling terrified and impressed, and more determined than ever to reconsider all our choices for the next American President.
How much should shows like "Commander in Chief" or "The West Wing" influence the average American voter and the upcoming Presidential primaries? And can we really control the overwhelming and dangerous effect of the media and entertainment industry on every other aspect of society? That compartment of Pandora's Box will never be closed again, nor will the demons of politics be tamed, we can only hope that our leaders, locally and internationally, will internalize Al Gore's message, the imperative to save the planet, and therefore save humanity.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
And the Award for...
the World's Worst Patient is: Me! (I'd like to thank my immune system for breaking down...)
Last Thursday I felt a small irritation in my throat, and assumed it was allergies, as the transition season has arrived and I expect to suffer a little. The next day I woke up and I was congested and could not breath, and every time I blew my nose my sinuses made this bizarre creaking sound. I also became unusually clumsy, dropping things, and cutting my finger when I was cooking, and so decided that i might even be ill, above and beyond the dust in the air and the pollen count.
With the combination of good genes and Chiropractic care, I get ill very infrequently, and it can take several days before I listen to my body and rest. Always grateful when people offer to assist, I cannot help but wonder why, since I spend the entire time groaning and making my caretaker's life miserable. (I suppose it is a good thing that I am single and alone, I generally end up complaining to myself.)
I start with homeopathic remedies, and when that does not control the symptoms, I switch to the conventional fare of syrups and medicines. I have officially announced and acknowledged that I am ill when I agree to drink tea. An arm must be falling off for me to arrange a visit to the GP.
A doctor is not supposed to be ill, and sometimes my clients will seen surprised if I sneeze or blow my nose; it makes me human just like them, and it shatters the illusion that those of us in the profession of servicing human beings somehow live above the rules of nature. I see this realization as a positive step toward resetting the professional and personal boundaries in the office.
My eldest cat, Harry, has a similar love/hate relationship with his veterinarian. He will allow himself to be placed in the carrier cage, and does not complain in the car on the way to the vet's office. At the initial stages of the treatment, he submits his body to examination. But when he randomly decides that he has sufficiently amused us humans with his obedience, the doctor or his assistant may very well lose a finger or two. I am convinced that Harry is "red flagged" in their computer as a small dangerous tiger, and that they would love to automatically drug him at the beginning of the visit, if only to preserve their limbs. When we leave the office, Harry wears a Cheshire Cat grin on his face, knowing he has taken control of the situation, and that we got kicked out as quickly as possible.
Like feline, like owner.
I canceled my Pilates class today at the last minute because I remembered from my medical training (aha!) that when a person ill, the body needs to rest, and not use up its resources with rigorous exercise. I will take a shower instead, change out of the pajamas I have been living in for the last 48 hours, and prepare myself for treating patients later today, because unfortunately, my little head cold cannot get in the way of my work.
I will try not to sneeze on anyone.
Last Thursday I felt a small irritation in my throat, and assumed it was allergies, as the transition season has arrived and I expect to suffer a little. The next day I woke up and I was congested and could not breath, and every time I blew my nose my sinuses made this bizarre creaking sound. I also became unusually clumsy, dropping things, and cutting my finger when I was cooking, and so decided that i might even be ill, above and beyond the dust in the air and the pollen count.
With the combination of good genes and Chiropractic care, I get ill very infrequently, and it can take several days before I listen to my body and rest. Always grateful when people offer to assist, I cannot help but wonder why, since I spend the entire time groaning and making my caretaker's life miserable. (I suppose it is a good thing that I am single and alone, I generally end up complaining to myself.)
I start with homeopathic remedies, and when that does not control the symptoms, I switch to the conventional fare of syrups and medicines. I have officially announced and acknowledged that I am ill when I agree to drink tea. An arm must be falling off for me to arrange a visit to the GP.
A doctor is not supposed to be ill, and sometimes my clients will seen surprised if I sneeze or blow my nose; it makes me human just like them, and it shatters the illusion that those of us in the profession of servicing human beings somehow live above the rules of nature. I see this realization as a positive step toward resetting the professional and personal boundaries in the office.
My eldest cat, Harry, has a similar love/hate relationship with his veterinarian. He will allow himself to be placed in the carrier cage, and does not complain in the car on the way to the vet's office. At the initial stages of the treatment, he submits his body to examination. But when he randomly decides that he has sufficiently amused us humans with his obedience, the doctor or his assistant may very well lose a finger or two. I am convinced that Harry is "red flagged" in their computer as a small dangerous tiger, and that they would love to automatically drug him at the beginning of the visit, if only to preserve their limbs. When we leave the office, Harry wears a Cheshire Cat grin on his face, knowing he has taken control of the situation, and that we got kicked out as quickly as possible.
Like feline, like owner.
I canceled my Pilates class today at the last minute because I remembered from my medical training (aha!) that when a person ill, the body needs to rest, and not use up its resources with rigorous exercise. I will take a shower instead, change out of the pajamas I have been living in for the last 48 hours, and prepare myself for treating patients later today, because unfortunately, my little head cold cannot get in the way of my work.
I will try not to sneeze on anyone.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
After the Holidays
In Israel, from approximately the week before Rosh Hashana through the week in which the Jewish holiday of Succot ends, you hear the phrase, "After the holidays..." As in "After the holidays, I will:
- Start my diet
- Call my literary agent
- Deal with my taxes
- Apply for jobs
- Clean out my closets
- Take the car to the garage to fix that dent
- Sit all morning in the random government office and take care of those parking tickets
- Schedule my annual medical exam
Because all citizens know that there is no point in trying to achieve closure on any procedure that demands government bureaucracy and cooperation, or any body issue that demands not eating continuously for three days in celebration of the various events at the beginning of the Jewish calendar.
This week provided a considerable challenge, that of waking up in the morning and knowing that there would be no two-day work weeks, that life resumes its "normal" pace and that the only vacation is one which you schedule yourself, one that is not mandated by religion. And yet, in the United States, consumerism rose to the challenge, by beginning its pre-Holiday (Halloween? Thanksgiving? Christmas?) sales. Wal Mart, Toys R Us and LL Bean stand out in the crowd; Toys R Us, particularly hit by the defective Chinese toy recall, stated that "Everyone can use a little Christmas right now."
Good for them, taking advantage of an economy collapsing because of George Bush's inept policies and once again I find myself saddened that the spirit of the holiday season has been lost for another year. I myself am a huge fan of Christmas carols, and challenge everyone in the holiday marketing business to listen carefully to the words of "The Little Drummer Boy," a song which encapsulates for me the true meaning of giving and receiving: it tells a story of child - the demographic targeted by the hype of the sales - who cannot afford to bring an expensive gift, and instead plays his drums, giving straight from the heart. In other words, it's not about how many presents sit under the tree, little baby Jesus isn't tallying the amount each person spent on his gift, he values love and intention.
The Jewish holiday of Chanukah, which in principle should stress the defense of core values and the receiving of miracles, has adopted the American Western value of the more presents the better, and whoever dies with the most stuff wins. Instead of one giant bonanza under the tree, we spread the spending over eight days. In my house, my parents tried to teach the importance of family and intention over commercial gain; most nights they presented us with an individual small gift, one which they thought about and tailored for each of us children. One night out of the eight, the family as a whole shared one giant expensive addition to the household, I can most vividly recall the Atari game player; who doesn't like Pong?! And for one of the nights our whole extended family got together for a party at my aunt and uncle's house in Westchester, where my grandmother talked about her childhood without family and how much we should cherish the time we spend together.
So get out those credit cards and start applying for your payment plan now, with only 75 shopping days until Christmas, items are going fast!
- Start my diet
- Call my literary agent
- Deal with my taxes
- Apply for jobs
- Clean out my closets
- Take the car to the garage to fix that dent
- Sit all morning in the random government office and take care of those parking tickets
- Schedule my annual medical exam
Because all citizens know that there is no point in trying to achieve closure on any procedure that demands government bureaucracy and cooperation, or any body issue that demands not eating continuously for three days in celebration of the various events at the beginning of the Jewish calendar.
This week provided a considerable challenge, that of waking up in the morning and knowing that there would be no two-day work weeks, that life resumes its "normal" pace and that the only vacation is one which you schedule yourself, one that is not mandated by religion. And yet, in the United States, consumerism rose to the challenge, by beginning its pre-Holiday (Halloween? Thanksgiving? Christmas?) sales. Wal Mart, Toys R Us and LL Bean stand out in the crowd; Toys R Us, particularly hit by the defective Chinese toy recall, stated that "Everyone can use a little Christmas right now."
Good for them, taking advantage of an economy collapsing because of George Bush's inept policies and once again I find myself saddened that the spirit of the holiday season has been lost for another year. I myself am a huge fan of Christmas carols, and challenge everyone in the holiday marketing business to listen carefully to the words of "The Little Drummer Boy," a song which encapsulates for me the true meaning of giving and receiving: it tells a story of child - the demographic targeted by the hype of the sales - who cannot afford to bring an expensive gift, and instead plays his drums, giving straight from the heart. In other words, it's not about how many presents sit under the tree, little baby Jesus isn't tallying the amount each person spent on his gift, he values love and intention.
The Jewish holiday of Chanukah, which in principle should stress the defense of core values and the receiving of miracles, has adopted the American Western value of the more presents the better, and whoever dies with the most stuff wins. Instead of one giant bonanza under the tree, we spread the spending over eight days. In my house, my parents tried to teach the importance of family and intention over commercial gain; most nights they presented us with an individual small gift, one which they thought about and tailored for each of us children. One night out of the eight, the family as a whole shared one giant expensive addition to the household, I can most vividly recall the Atari game player; who doesn't like Pong?! And for one of the nights our whole extended family got together for a party at my aunt and uncle's house in Westchester, where my grandmother talked about her childhood without family and how much we should cherish the time we spend together.
So get out those credit cards and start applying for your payment plan now, with only 75 shopping days until Christmas, items are going fast!
Cable Crash
Yesterday, for several hours, my cable service crashed. For several hours I had no television, nor did I have an Internet connection. No email, no web surfing or downloading, no mind-numbing TV programs.
What is a technology addicted 21rst Century human to do?
This human sat on her porch and ate dinner while the stars came out. And then she read a good book with a purring feline on her lap.
Could be worse, and it wouldn't be such a bad thing if it happened every once in a while.
What is a technology addicted 21rst Century human to do?
This human sat on her porch and ate dinner while the stars came out. And then she read a good book with a purring feline on her lap.
Could be worse, and it wouldn't be such a bad thing if it happened every once in a while.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Checking In on the Old Country
Money is the hot topic in the paper today, the slide of the dollar, how it affects the European Union, how it affects the billionaires on the 2007 Forbes List.
According to the International Herald Tribune, the euro traded above $1.40 for the first time, and the Canadian dollar climbed back to parity with the US dollar for the first time in 30 years. The dollar is worth less than ever before in this age of flexible exchange rates, and it has declined faster under George W. than under any president since the end of the gold standard in 1971.
And show some sympathy for the 82 US billionaires, who did not make the cut on the Forbes roundup of the 400 richest Americans: the price for inclusion (because of the weakening of the dollar) rose from One billion to $1.3 billion dollars, and most of the newbies on the list made their fortunes from the Internet, or Wall Street.
My parents, like many other Americans, started living the inflated lifestyle - along with its many expenses - in the 1980's, during the Reagan boom. Lots of PI (personal injury) cases, and lots of generous insurance policies that paid for Chiropractic patients to come as often as they wanted. Today, my parents work three times as hard as they used to, have to fill out three times as many forms as they used to, and get paid a third of what they used to receive. Yet the accumulated debt and commitments remain, like the repairs and expansion done to the kitchen in the last year, like the expansion of one of their Chiropractic offices, and like my youngest brother's private college tuition.
Speaking of college, Columbia University (my Alma mater, class of 1991) has resisted pressure to cancel a speaking engagement on campus by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, a surprising move given CU President Lee Bollinger's recent initiative to confront the British boycott of Israeli academic institutions and its esteemed professors. In my time at Columbia, there were certainly several controversial visitors - most notably Louis Farrakhan - but a basic respect of all communities (Jewish, black, Islamic, etc) within the community existed. A Holocaust denier (Ahmadinejad) who has publicly and internationally declared open war upon the Zionist entity and Jews everywhere, a President who boasts of the development of a nuclear program and his intentions to use it, a Muslim who plans on visiting Ground Zero for the purpose of rejoicing in the death of the ugly Americans and spitting on the graves of those who died; he should not be allowed on the campus, never mind into the country.
The last time I visited the US, I felt a certain cloud of paranoia and fatigue; people working too hard and earning less, not spending enough time with their families and without the assurance of safety and dominance that the Americans once enjoyed. Since the start of George Bush's presidency, the United States has lost its respect and footing not only within its borders but with its former international allies. No one wants to align themselves with a currency that pulls the rest of the markets down into a spiral, or with an administration that sends soldiers to die in not one but two losing arenas (Afghanistan and Iraq). Just because we believe Democracy is a model worth adapting and striving toward, does not mean that the template works in the Middle East. I don't recall the Iraqi people applying to become one of the "enlightened."
All that remains is rich fodder that Bush continually provides for the late night talk show hosts, and for the Democrats to whomp anyone the Republicans put up for candidacy in the next American Presidential election.
Yes, in some ways Israel behaves like a Third World Country, Lord knows I would like to be paying less taxes and I would like to see some direct representation and accountability of the Prime Minister and the members of the Knesset toward its citizens. But I enjoy a good quality of life, I am able to see my patients without the bureaucracy of insurance filing and I set my own hours.
I have automatic health coverage, and some day when I have children, their education will be heavily subsidized from nursery through university. As for the long lists of shopping I used to do in the States, most of what I need I can find here in Israel, and for about the same price as I would pay if I had gone to CVS. Finally, there is a sense here of one extended family that I have not felt anywhere else in the world.
For now, America may be a nice place to visit, but I would not want to live there.
According to the International Herald Tribune, the euro traded above $1.40 for the first time, and the Canadian dollar climbed back to parity with the US dollar for the first time in 30 years. The dollar is worth less than ever before in this age of flexible exchange rates, and it has declined faster under George W. than under any president since the end of the gold standard in 1971.
And show some sympathy for the 82 US billionaires, who did not make the cut on the Forbes roundup of the 400 richest Americans: the price for inclusion (because of the weakening of the dollar) rose from One billion to $1.3 billion dollars, and most of the newbies on the list made their fortunes from the Internet, or Wall Street.
My parents, like many other Americans, started living the inflated lifestyle - along with its many expenses - in the 1980's, during the Reagan boom. Lots of PI (personal injury) cases, and lots of generous insurance policies that paid for Chiropractic patients to come as often as they wanted. Today, my parents work three times as hard as they used to, have to fill out three times as many forms as they used to, and get paid a third of what they used to receive. Yet the accumulated debt and commitments remain, like the repairs and expansion done to the kitchen in the last year, like the expansion of one of their Chiropractic offices, and like my youngest brother's private college tuition.
Speaking of college, Columbia University (my Alma mater, class of 1991) has resisted pressure to cancel a speaking engagement on campus by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, a surprising move given CU President Lee Bollinger's recent initiative to confront the British boycott of Israeli academic institutions and its esteemed professors. In my time at Columbia, there were certainly several controversial visitors - most notably Louis Farrakhan - but a basic respect of all communities (Jewish, black, Islamic, etc) within the community existed. A Holocaust denier (Ahmadinejad) who has publicly and internationally declared open war upon the Zionist entity and Jews everywhere, a President who boasts of the development of a nuclear program and his intentions to use it, a Muslim who plans on visiting Ground Zero for the purpose of rejoicing in the death of the ugly Americans and spitting on the graves of those who died; he should not be allowed on the campus, never mind into the country.
The last time I visited the US, I felt a certain cloud of paranoia and fatigue; people working too hard and earning less, not spending enough time with their families and without the assurance of safety and dominance that the Americans once enjoyed. Since the start of George Bush's presidency, the United States has lost its respect and footing not only within its borders but with its former international allies. No one wants to align themselves with a currency that pulls the rest of the markets down into a spiral, or with an administration that sends soldiers to die in not one but two losing arenas (Afghanistan and Iraq). Just because we believe Democracy is a model worth adapting and striving toward, does not mean that the template works in the Middle East. I don't recall the Iraqi people applying to become one of the "enlightened."
All that remains is rich fodder that Bush continually provides for the late night talk show hosts, and for the Democrats to whomp anyone the Republicans put up for candidacy in the next American Presidential election.
Yes, in some ways Israel behaves like a Third World Country, Lord knows I would like to be paying less taxes and I would like to see some direct representation and accountability of the Prime Minister and the members of the Knesset toward its citizens. But I enjoy a good quality of life, I am able to see my patients without the bureaucracy of insurance filing and I set my own hours.
I have automatic health coverage, and some day when I have children, their education will be heavily subsidized from nursery through university. As for the long lists of shopping I used to do in the States, most of what I need I can find here in Israel, and for about the same price as I would pay if I had gone to CVS. Finally, there is a sense here of one extended family that I have not felt anywhere else in the world.
For now, America may be a nice place to visit, but I would not want to live there.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Daily Routines
When I run out of new books to read, which happens frequently in my house, I return to several favorites, and have recently re-read The Little Prince by Antione De Saint-Expupery (known as Saint - Ex to his friends). Every time I read this book, I notice another line, another description that speaks to me in a way that I had not noticed the last 100 times I read the book. This particular version of the book is special to me as well, it was once part of my grandmother's library and she had marked off various passages that spoke to her; when I read this and come across her notation, I feel that she is with me in the room.
Around page 39, Saint-Ex describes the Little Prince's daily routine on his small planet:
"He carefully swept his active volcanoes. He possessed two active volcanoes and they were very convenient for heating his breakfast in the morning. He also had a volcano which was extinct. But as he pointed out: 'You never know!' So he also cleaned out the extinct volcano...The little prince tore up...the last little baobab shoots...and watered the flower, and then prepared to place her under her glass dome."
The book itself presents a parable of love and attachments, and the importance of appreciating what and who you have in your life. If I were to document my standard morning, it would go something like this:
"She woke up before her alarm, because there was a 14 pound cat sitting and purring on her chest. All attempts to read the morning paper were in vain. She gave her cats T-U-N-A and then fed the street cats outside, who waited not so patiently for their breakfast. Then the water in the bowls needed to be changed, and the excess water was given to the little plant on the porch. The computer, turned on, was checked for email and spam, and then she set up the files for her office that day, before taking a superficial shower. The more substantial shower was to be taken after the one kilometer swim."
We humans revel in our routine, the safety of knowing that certain things must be done, that certain actions recur consistently day after day. I experience a certain peace in waking up in my own bed and running through my morning without thought; and yet, there should be days where responsibility can be chucked out the window, where the world does not collapse into chaos if you switch things around a little, ignore a few items on the list.
It seems I must acquire that skill set, although at the end of The Little Prince, he abandons his quest in the desert and returns to his flower, to his planet and to his beloved chores.
Perhaps he took his cue from TS Eliot, who wrote:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started,
And know the place for the first time.
Around page 39, Saint-Ex describes the Little Prince's daily routine on his small planet:
"He carefully swept his active volcanoes. He possessed two active volcanoes and they were very convenient for heating his breakfast in the morning. He also had a volcano which was extinct. But as he pointed out: 'You never know!' So he also cleaned out the extinct volcano...The little prince tore up...the last little baobab shoots...and watered the flower, and then prepared to place her under her glass dome."
The book itself presents a parable of love and attachments, and the importance of appreciating what and who you have in your life. If I were to document my standard morning, it would go something like this:
"She woke up before her alarm, because there was a 14 pound cat sitting and purring on her chest. All attempts to read the morning paper were in vain. She gave her cats T-U-N-A and then fed the street cats outside, who waited not so patiently for their breakfast. Then the water in the bowls needed to be changed, and the excess water was given to the little plant on the porch. The computer, turned on, was checked for email and spam, and then she set up the files for her office that day, before taking a superficial shower. The more substantial shower was to be taken after the one kilometer swim."
We humans revel in our routine, the safety of knowing that certain things must be done, that certain actions recur consistently day after day. I experience a certain peace in waking up in my own bed and running through my morning without thought; and yet, there should be days where responsibility can be chucked out the window, where the world does not collapse into chaos if you switch things around a little, ignore a few items on the list.
It seems I must acquire that skill set, although at the end of The Little Prince, he abandons his quest in the desert and returns to his flower, to his planet and to his beloved chores.
Perhaps he took his cue from TS Eliot, who wrote:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started,
And know the place for the first time.
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