Live and Let Di

The Sound of Silence

To my darling children when you read this...no, this is not an example of me being "irritable" (the current buzzword around my house...not matter how NOT IRRITABLE I am for days and days, the one hint of irritability gets the response of, "See, you ARE always irritable!")

I do not understand the need for non-stop background noise.

I do not have the TV on unless I am watching something.

I just unsubscribed from a blog I enjoyed because every time I clicked on it, a song started playing...I think blog-reading is a quiet pursuit and volume should only come into play if you click on something to watch or listen to.

I am a frequent visitor of the outpatient surgery area of the hospital. Why do they have to have three TV's in the waiting area? Are we incapable of passing the time without being inundated by the noise of television?

It annoys me that at airports, waiting rooms, etc. I am forced to block out the noise rather than opt in to hear the noise.

I always carry a book or puzzle or something with me so that I can entertain myself while waiting. Have to take a child to the game 30 minutes before it starts? Reading in the car is delicious! Doing a puzzle while sitting in your folding chair (trust me, this is essential if your child is going to be playing sports...you do not want your butt on bleachers for the next ten years!) before the game starts is mind-clearing.

By the way, I would happily pay a small fee to have a nice quiet place to sit while I wait for the doctor, dentist, ER, etc.

So, to all designers of waiting rooms, business people, hospital administrators, etc. Take a lesson from the airlines...give people headphones so that they can opt in to watch the TV or listen to music. Let the rest of us enjoy the sounds of silence!!!

Di

Di Does Art

While at the hospital, my favorite thing to do was Occupational Therapy which was usually some kind of artwork. I found out that when forced, I could do artwork I would never try at home. Here are some of my pieces:

A tile mosaic I made for my daughter. I did a tile backsplash once in my kitchen. Now I think I will want to do a tile backsplash and make my own tiles.

Leather stamped keychain I made for my son.

A watercolor that my sister says she would like to have for her house!!! My first piece sold.

So next time you are presented with an art project, don't automatically assume you can't do it. You might just be able to do it...and it might just do you some good!

Di

Four Trials

Four Trials by John Edwards

After I met John Edwards' wife Elizabeth at a book signing at Quail Ridge Books for her book Saving Graces a few months ago, Michelle (aesthetician extraordinaire) told me that a friend of hers recommended this book.

I have admired John Edwards over the last several years. As he rose to national prominence as John Kerry's running mate in 2004, there were many naysayers who called him an "ambulance chaser" because his work as an attorney involved personal injury lawsuits.

I am as horrified as the next person about the litigiousness of our country. I think it's appalling that so many people's immediate response to any injury, regardless of its cause is, "Who can I sue?" I flipped over my Toyota Tercel in 1984 after owning it only 18 days. Did I sue Toyota? Did I sue the state whose roads I was driving on? No...it was a combination of bad weather, unfamiliarity with the car and bad luck.

I'm sure that personal injury attorneys have to take their share of frivolous lawsuits, but the four trials John Edwards describes in his book could make one's career...and offset however many questionable lawsuits are out there. The victims in the four trials are unquestionably victims of recklessness or negligence on the part of corporations involved with their misfortunes.

Reading of the young girl who was eviscerated by a pool drain, the cover of which was not properly affixed will make you angry. Reading about a gentleman incapacitated due to a hospital's series of errors and cover-ups will make you sad. The baby born with permanent brain damage due to the obstetrician who ignored the signs that a C-section was warranted will fill you with outrage. The violent, sudden death of a young couple due to an overtired truck driver compelled to drive to exhaustion by the trucking industry will make you believe...believe in the importance of litigation, believe in the jury system, believe in the need for personal injury attorneys and believe that an individuals can have justice and can help the rest of the world to avoid their heartbreak and pain by holding corporations and individuals accountable.

I did not read this book as a "self-serving" political book...as it does not touch on his politics. It provides a foundation for his public-spirited, humanistic approach to our nation and its citizens, regardless of economic or social stature. He shares his wife Elizabeth's disbelief in his son Wade's death. He writes candidly of how difficult this time was for him and how Wade's life is still the impetus for his unyielding sense of justice and determination to accomplish what he has set forth to accomplish.

Don't feel that reading this book is indicative of your political leanings. Read it because it will reassure you that our justice system CAN work.

Di

Shocking news flash!

Here is an article from last Sunday's paper about UNC and ECT. ECT is the treatment that has most effectively handled my clinical depression. Depression is as debilitating as many other illnesses. Amazingly, depression still carries a stigma that is nothing compared to the stigma of this treatment.

For me, ECT has been a life raft when I was sure it could get no worse. The first series I got was in Florida in 2006 after a period of almost 6 months of a "medically recalcitrant major depressive episode". For 6 months I was not myself. I was simply going through the motions of life. My eyes were vacant. I got no joy out of my usual interests...volunteering at school, doing stuff with my children, reading (OMG...can you imagine?), doing the Sunday Times crossword, etc.

The first 3 or 4 treatments were done bilaterally which means the electrical stimulus was applied to the right and left temple. I experienced tremendous short term memory loss and confusion. Following each treatment, I experienced crushing headaches and muscle aches. After the treatment, I couldn't remember the clothes I was wearing, the woman who had been taking care of me for the last month or where my children were (we had sent them to stay with friends in NC). As questions arose in my mind, I felt panicky that I couldn't remember things. After the first treatment, my sister suggested that I write a letter to myself to be read after the treatment which helped to stimulate those memories and reassure me that everything was OK.

There was discussion at that point of doing maintenance ECT, but after the initial series of 6 treatments, I was stabilized on medication, so the maintenance was forgotten.

Several months ago, I began to slip into the abyss again. I don't know what triggered it. I was shaken by my aunt's sudden death, realizing that I had never lost anyone suddenly in my adult life. We had moved AGAIN (for the 4th time in 3 years)...and although this was a welcome move BACK to where we wanted to be, moving is still incredibly stressful. And yes, I was overdoing, as is my habit.

For me, the onset of a depressive episode begins with fatigue. For a while I try to rationalize it...oh, maybe my iron is low, I should have my thyroid checked, I'm doing too much. But eventually the fatigue becomes so burdensome that I wake in the morning and my first thought is, "When can I take a nap?" As days pass and I am in bed most of the time, the depression spawns episodes of guilt and relentless crying as I ponder the horror of my abandonment of my family while I lay abed. On December 20, the situation became particulary dire.

My friends Sharis, Karen and Kim formed an ad hoc team to get me help. Kim ensured that my children were taken care of. Sharis and Karen drove me to UNC. They called my husband and told him where we were headed. He was in Florida and was immediately headed toward the airport to be back by my side. Karen and Sharis stayed with me from 6 p.m. until almost 1 a.m. when I was finally admitted to the hospital and my husband had arrived.

While in the hospital, I had no responsibilities, no decisions to make and nothing to think about except helping myself, availing myself of the programs the hospital offered and being honest about the state I was in. Amongst the "inmates", as my 12 year old son described us, everyone was open and forthright about why they were there...which gave rise to my realization that "We are all different; We are all the same." I began my ECT as an in-patient, having my first two treatments while I was hospitalized.

At UNC, they seem to be much more up-to-date with their methods. They used "modified bilateral" placement...one stimulus on the temple and one on the forehead. They said this placement resulted in much less memory loss and confusion. I came out of the first treatment remembering the other patients on the floor, the nurses, etc. I had a headache and muscle aches. But each time I go back, they ask me about the aftermath of the previous treatment and make adjustments to the meds they administer in the IV.

I feel well cared for. I know my doctors and nurses...and all are wonderful (hello, Mary Jane and Ginny if you are reading this!). I feel like I have input into and control over my treatments because they listen to me. And then there are the small, special touches...like Laura, one of the nurses in the procedure room, who touched my foot as I was about to go under anesthesia and said, "We'll take good care of you."

So, why do I go on and on about this? Well, for one thing, when I am NOT in a depressive episode, I am the poster child for the high-energy, effervescent, outgoing and I-can-do-anything woman. When I tell people that I have Depression, they are shocked because I seem like the antithesis of depression. I know that there are many, many people who experience depression and aren't diagnosed because they are ashamed of their behavior, they wallow in the guilt and believe their own negative thoughts and they don't "believe in" mental illness and don't understand that it can be a physiological state genetically encoded in their brain. So if that's you, or someone you know, I want to encourage you to get help. Go to your regular doctor first and rule out the iron and thyroid issues. And proceed from there.

Do not feel guilty or weak about taking anti-depressants. Depression is not a character flaw!!! It is not something that you can resolve by pulling yourself up by your bootstraps, by muscling through it or by prayer. You need a professional diagnosis, a treatment plan and probably therapy to help you build the skills and coping mechanisms that can help you deal with depression. If you were a diabetic, would you feel that needing insulin was a character flaw? Would dialysis for a kidney problem be a sign of weakness? Would you eschew chemotherapy and try to tough it out if you had cancer?

OK, I'm getting down off my high horse now. If you would like to read other accounts of my experiences with depression and books that I recommend, please go to:

Book review of The Ghost in the House by Tracy Thompson (her blog is Maternally Challenged)

 Book review of Shock by Kitty Dukakis

Kitty e-mails Di!

Meeting Kitty

You can comment or e-mail me privately if you want. Also, if you are interested in ordering any of the books referred to above, please click on my BookSense icon and support your local independent bookstore!

Di

Never judge a book by its...

...cover? ...first line? Well, this one had me at "hello"...chomping at the bit to read it!

Although the title, Mermaids in the Basement, makes me a little skeptical given my lack of appreciation for magical realism, the first line sure grabs me!

Di

Thursday Thirteen (Vol. 64)

Thirteen Childhood Memories Shared by Me and My Sister

No...these pictures do NOT represent me and my sister growing up. Like all siblings, we needled each other and  drove each other crazy. Despite our childhood differences, we are best friends as adults, the only one to whom the other can turn to and say, "Do you remember...?" and she inevitably does!

  1. Dad’s Culinary Delights: There are some things we have never heard of, except from my Dad. Pickle loaf (is that one word? always sounded like pickloaf) sandwich (or “sangwich”); bologna, mayo, peanut butter and jelly sangwich (yes, all of those ingredients in one sangwich); “cakeinmilk” – cake in a bowl of milk; “chocolatechipcookiesinmilk” – cookies broken up in a glass; sandwich spread sangwich; dad-only Hostess cupcakes or Ho-Hos; boring vanilla ice cream no matter how many flavors are offered; BV and ginger—contrary to popular belief, Black Velvet is not a common liquor in most bars

2. The Asparagus Incident: Mom decided to expand her canned vegetables repertoire and served us asparagus. It was canned and soggy and smelled GROSS (and we didn't even know then about its after-effects!). And it just sat on our plates. I think we pushed it around a bit. Maybe hid it under some mashed potatoes. For some reason, Mom & Dad left the dinner table and we put the asparagus in the garbage can and thought we covered it up really well. Mom found it and wasn’t happy. Turns out canned asparagus was a delicacy and very expensive. We just didn’t appreciate it.

3. Playing in the "back fields." Behind all the houses across the street were acres and acres of fields. No one really claimed to own them, but their existence provided the baseball, kickball and "keep away" venues we needed when every kid in the neighborhood was off for the summer. No one went to summer camp or had organized day camps or sports clinics to go to. We had the sun, the fields and about 14 hours a day of daylight. The horde of kids only dispersed at mealtimes and at dark (which was around 9:00).

4. George’s—on the way to school, on the way to religion classes (we were actually released from public school an hour early during elementary school to go to the church for religion classes), during school lunch, we stopped there with a quarter and walked out with enough candy to rot our teeth.

Our favorite purchases – candy cigarettes, pixie sticks and bubble gum cigars (ah, those were the days of politically incorrect candy).

5. Speaking of pixies . . . . we had the haircuts. Somehow, it never looked on us like it did on Twiggy.

6. Mom's phone gossip fests all night on Tuesdays when Dad was at bowling. We would be as quiet as possible and often bedtime would come and go and she wouldn't remember to tell us to go to bed.

7. Sleepovers at Gramma & Grampas - M & M's and Coke, the Carol Burnett Show, rooting for the Mets and playing with the dress-up clothes in "the kids' closet". Our bedtime comedy routine . . . “Say Good night, Dick.” “Good night, Dick.”

8. Friday night TV line up: Brady Bunch, Partridge Family, Room 222, The Odd Couple and Love American Style (very risqué for those days).

9. “Wait till I get the lights set up,” said Mom every Christmas morning for years. It was 6 a.m. and we felt we had clearly already waited long enough and had no patience for the delay while Mom set the living room up for her movie-making. We covered our faces to block out the blinding movie camera lights as we entered the living room to the bounty Santa had left the night before.

10. Being directionally challenged. Neither of us ever knew where North, South, East or West were, but we knew Dad went hunting “up North” or “down South.” We later resolved this deficiency when we moved to Florida where we always had the ocean and the grid street layout to orient everything to the east (the ocean).

11. Shopping - Ormonds, Lerner’s, Mungers, Grant’s, Fay’s Drugs, Chicago Market, Warehouse Market, Nichols, Robert Hall, Harris Brothers. There were no malls until we were in high school. And Sears was for the rich kids!

12. Gramma ordered liver and onions every time she ate out.

13. Never, ever refer to any adult by anything other than Mr. or Mrs. whatever. We still remember how cool I thought Mrs. Kidder was when she said, "Call me Alix. When you say Mrs. Kidder, I always look around for Butch's Mom."

Di & Lin

Ironically appearing here as adults in our pixie cut haircuts (yes, the same ones we abhorred as children) with our Mom...also in pixie cut...a show of solidarity!

Beware - Conjunction Junction!

What happened to "that"? Not that thing..."that"...the conjunction introducing a subordinate clause expressing a statement or hypothesis (such as: She said that she was satisfied)? expressing a reason or cause (such as: He seemed pleased that I wanted to continue)? expressing a purpose, hope or intention (such as: We pray that the coming year will be peaceful)?

Right now "that" is dangling like a participle and getting ready to drop out of our lexicon and into its final resting place along with other words currently consigned to oblivion like "hark" and "thou". It will never lose its pronounial usage as in "I need that", the phrase our children have latched onto like they latched onto their beloved pacifiers. "Want" and "need" have ceased to have any distinction from one another...but I digress.

Here are some sentences from the first TWO pages of the News & Observer, the Raleigh newspaper:

Nicholson...wasn't surprised school officials waited until the night before...to give parents this dial-up notice.

Paul Burrell said there was no truth to rumors she planned to marry Fayed...

Mohammed al-Fayed has alleged the couple were killed...

Am I alone here? Or does anyone else feel that the lack of "that" makes these sentences just sound wrong?

If it's OK to drop "that" as a conjunction, how far away is the day that school essays will be acceptable with sentences like:

LOL...I luv u. C U after school.

B4 school we went 2 Wal-Mart.

I'm trying to maintain a modicum of verbal and written decorum. I consistently respond to children in my care whose sentences begin with "Rory and me..." with, "Who?" and repeat it constantly until the speaker relents and says, "Rory and I..." Despite approximately 7 years in NC, I still cringe when someone says, "I might could do that..." In my position as a straight laced grammar girl who still wants to prove that there was SOME value to her 4 year degree in English, you either "might" or you "could"..."might could" is a charming, yet abominable, misconstruction. All of that being said, I simply cannot stand by in silence as the usage of conjunctive "that" becomes a construction that labels me as the anachronistic grammarphile that I am.

Please join me in this cause...use "that" as a conjunction wherever possible. Do not be swayed by modern usage as a justification for poor grammar. Do your part so we don't end up reading, (gasp!) writing and accepting the IM vernacular as correct usage!!!

Di

What would you do?

Here's a f'rinstance for you. Let's say that you have a chronic disease. The disease has periodic remissions during which you feel pretty normal. But when not in remission, the disease keeps you in bed every day and causes you great pain. The doctor gives you two options:

1. Try a variety of medications that have been effective with other patients. You will try each medication until you find the one that works. It will take about two weeks on a particular medication to know if it is working. There is no guarantee that you will stay in remission, but chances are good that you will have a longer periods of remission than without medication. There are numerous side effects associated with each medication. Each medication you has been effective in about 50% of the cases.

2. Have a series of non-invasive treatments done under anesthesia. Effectiveness will be apparent within about two weeks. The treatment has been in use for over 60 years and no long terms side effects have been associated with it. Short-term side effects are uncomfortable, but not debilitating and vary according to the way the treatments are conducted. You may continue to have treatments in order to stay in remission indefinitely. Doctors don't know how it works, but it works in approximately 80% of the cases.

Which option would you choose? Why?

Di

Ode to Ali

My Haley (not to be confused with Haley-O) noticed this when we went to paint pottery last week:

So...apparently there is SOMETHING ELSE that is Cheaper than Therapy...but not as cheap (I mean this in the nicest way) as Ali:

Di

How could I forget???

How could I have forgotten cute, perky, bubbly, naive Karen Valentine, Miss Johnson of Room 222 fame? I did this whole Thursday Thirteen about Famous People I Have Seen/Met Up Close and I forgot to mention the ultimate celebrity encounter. Imagine the elevator door opening and seeing one of the cast of EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT OF YOUR ADOLESCENCE (Brady Bunch, Partridge Family, Room 222, Odd Couple, Love American Style...a classic line up that will never be equaled) walk on. No, it's not "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia" or even David Cassidy...it's Karen Valentine.

The setting, the St. Regis Hotel in Detroit. In addition to being the hotel of choice for actors performing at the adjacent Fisher Theater, is the home of my ALL-TIME FAVORITE TYPO!!! Yes, I am innately incapable of reading ANYTHING without editing. As I snuggled up in my jammies and contemplated the delights of room service breakfast the following morning, I couldn't help but notice this offering:

Fruit Composte

This burned on my brain the now inextricably intertwined images of this delightful fruit treat:

and this disgusting (but great for the environment) technique of recycling food and making mulch or fertilizer:                                                

But I digress. Yes, there I was in the elevator going to my room at the St. Regis on one of my rare business trips. I was toting a piece of luggage that was WAY too expensive for the minimal business travel I did...so I think I justified it by getting it for my road warrier husband. It looked kind of like this one:

So, onto the elevator steps the Karen Valentine. On Room 222, we all thought Liz (Denise Nicholas) was so cool with her unflappable style and subtle sexual chemistry with Mr. Dixon (Lloyd Haynes) but we all wanted to BE Alice Johnson (Karen Valentine) with her wide-eyed naivete and her tendency to be kind of goofy.

I digress AGAIN!!! OK, so she looks at me, looks at my bag and says, "Wow. I love your luggage."  Yeah...that was it. My exciting celebrity encounter. For one brief moment in time, a TV star (OK, former TV star) was admiring ME (or me by extension...my luggage).

Di