5/20/05
Scowler stricken! Hospitalized! Who's responsible? Putin? Cheney?
The old Scowler was trembling like a willow in a windstorm one recent evening, pale and gaunt and Mrs. Scowler was urging him to go to the Emergency Room for treatment. She confided later that she was worried that he might just expire on the living room rug and she had always been fond of that rug. The chills continued unabated and I eventually agreed to be driven to the E.R. for treatment.
Heart attack? No. Stroke? No. It turned out to be a particularly virulent form of pneumonia. When I entered the E.R., shivering like an aspen on the shores of Lake Michigan, it was my first time in a hospital for many years. I was amazed at all the neat electronic gear they use now. Except for the good old reliable sphygmomanometer, everything else was beeping and flashing just like in the movies.
I have had a lifetime of such healthful habits that I am rarely ill. I have had a firm belief in prudence in all things physical. In my school days I avoided contact sports. As a youth, I was sensible in the extreme. I avoided dangerous cars and fast women (or was it dangerous women and fast cars?). But enough of my good habits. Was it possible that one of the people with whom I have been verbally jousting recently was responsible for my illness?
I confess I rather hoped I could raise a prima facie case for some sort of plot against the Scowler because of his penchant for speaking the truth and only the truth about international political matters.
You will recall the case of the new Ukrainian leader, Victor Yushenko. His face was badly disfigured and he barely survived a meal laced with dioxin during his heated election re-run. There were some who detected the hand of the Russian President, Vladamir Putin, a former KGB operative and a staunch supporter of Yushenko's opponent. When we raised this possibility with Putin he threatened to imprison the Scowler or worse.
As far as Cheney is concerned. He has not been pleased that we have referred to him occasionally - only in jest, mind you - as Darth Vader. We have even suggested that Cheney and his cabal of evil cohorts such as; Donald Rumsfeld, Paul Wolfowitz, Douglas Feith, Richard Perle, Karl Rove, to say nothing of Cheney's own Chief of Staff, Lewis "Scooter" Libby and other right wing ideologues were responsible for leading George W. Bush around by the nose and causing fissures within the electorate of this country of disastrous proportions. Well, you know the story.
My internist, C.D. Arpeggio, and I tried to secure DNA samples from Mr. Putin and Mr. Cheney but to no avail. As I began to recover, Dr. Arpeggio and I had some interesting conversations. I asked him about Julio and Rasheed, the two Bronx entrepreneurs he had referred me to for flu vaccine last Fall but he didn't want to talk about them. "They're both in jail. The NYPD and the FBI had about a dozen charges and the boys pled guilty to all of them."
One positive note; it's obvious that Dr. Arpeggio likes me much better when I'm really sick. His abrupt manner has softened. He dispenses his medical advice in a somewhat more thoughtful and caring way. This bodes well for our future relationship as we wend our medical way down the stream of life toward that irresistible whirlpool leading to the inevitable and ultimate abyss.
5/1/05
Now that even baseball is testing for steroids, that subject is a dead issue, right?
DHEA, the only legal steroid, is apparently doing a booming business in the nation's health food stores so we called Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah when we learned that he was responsible for keeping this substance as a legal food supplement. Orrin Hatch, as you may know is one of the most senior Republicans in the U.S. Senate.
Scowler: "Good morning, Senator Hatch."
Hatch: "What the hell do you want, Scowler?"
Scowler: "Just a moment of your time to talk a little about DHEA."
Hatch: "DHEA is an excellent product that has been proven safe as an anti-aging food supplement."
Scowler: "I understand that DHEA is being widely used by teenagers and others now that other steroids have been banned. The kids in our town are saying that DHEA stands for 'Designated Hitters Energy Additive' It's compounded in Utah, right?"
Hatch: "I'm not sure where it's manufactured, somewhere in the western states, I believe."
Scowler: "I'm pretty sure that it comes from your state of Utah and that's why Congress decided not to ban it. You convinced your colleagues that it was O.K."
Hatch: "Well you can think anything you like. As I said before it's a proven anti-aging supplement. If we find that it becomes an abuse problem, you can be assured that we'll take action. As it is now, DHEA is a product that has been providing health and vigor to millions of Americans."
Scowler: "I'm certainly reassured that the Congress will take action if it finds that DHEA becomes an abuse problem. I wonder, however, whether it will take hundreds or even thousands of documented serious health problems before the Congress acts."
Hatch: "Something like that, I suppose."
Scowler: "It will probably take some years to assemble that kind of data. Then it will certainly take the Congress a few years to hold all of the hearings and more time to get the matter on the congressional agenda and get the House and Senate to agree on the language of a bill. In the meantime thousands upon thousands of high school and semi-pro athletes and other run-of-the-mill would-be muscle men would have been using DHEA, some with dire results."
Scowler: "Senator Hatch? Senator Hatch?"
The telephone line had gone dead. Maybe Sen. Hatch had a luncheon engagement with a lobbyist.
4/8/05
In Placide, the pendulum swings back
In our little suburban community, sports and youth organizations have always been very important. In recent years, it has been the girls' sports teams that have been the source of community pride.
The soccer teams have booted their way into County prominence, the field hockey teams have slashed their way to state championships, the softball teams have battered opposing pitchers and shut out their hitters. Only in volleyball have our girls come up short.
"Steroids" opined one of the town's senior citizens one evening at O'Malley's Tavern. "Steroids?" "Absolutely. In Volleyball you need to be able to leap, to dive on your belly to dig the ball up to your spikers. Our kids are way too muscular for that game. In soccer you can intimidate the hell out of your opponents if you're big and fast and relentless. The same goes for field hockey, only there you've got mallets to whack the hell out of the other team. In softball, it's just like Giambi or Bonds. You hit the hell out the ball and pretty soon those chicks on the other side get tired of chasing your line drives and start crying to their coaches."
The speaker was Monk Muldoon who had daughters of virtually every age and apparently knew whereof he spoke. No one took issue with him. "I needed scholarships if I was going to send those girls to college. I heard about steroid use in professional sports years ago, long before you started reading about it in the papers and long before any of the professional sports started doing anything about it. I found a reliable source and started the girls on the pills. No injections, you understand."
"I know your girls have gone to some of the big state universities but weren't you concerned about the effects of the steroids on their health?" "Hell, no! First off, I didn't know squat about the health effects and I didn't suppose they would take that stuff forever. Just long enough to get through college. Then they could concentrate on losing some weight and finding a Catholic husband. So far, it's worked like a dream, except for my youngest. She's a goddamn vegetarian and wants to major in drama and dance at SUNY Purchase. You notice that our teams have sunk to their normal levels in the past two years. The school began testing for steroids and other stuff and not only are the girls smaller, they don't have the aggressiveness the used to."
I was thinking about all that Muldoon had said when the Girl Scouts came to my door to sell their lousy cookies this year. I have always helped them out by buying a few boxes and then foisting them off on someone else. But this year, no cookies!
Apparently, the fuss in the high school about steroids has given rise to a movement for healthy eating in town. Since our own kids have long gone, Mrs. Scowler and I have not kept up with trends in the local schools. In fact, if I didn't go to O'Malley's once in a while, I wouldn't have known that a brand new high school building had been dedicated, or that our Village Hall had been relocated, or that the waiting room at the railroad station was now heated, or that a new restaurant had opened and closed on Main Street - all in the last few months.
This year the Girl Scouts asked if I'd like to buy some fresh, organically grown, vegetables from them. I signed up for 6 pounds of broccoli, 5 pounds of carrots and a head of cauliflower ( I really don't like cauliflower but the Missus will eat it). The veggies haven't been delivered yet but I'm not counting the days.
2/1/05
Mid-winter malaise, again, dammit
Once more, I found it necessary to visit my crackerjack internist, C.D. Arpeggio, M.D. Before stopping by his office, I had a chest X-ray at his suggestion. The technicians had to do it over 3 times before they got it right. Before the last try, the nurse said they had to put discs over my nipples to make sure they were not seeing a shadow on my lungs.
"Pasties on the nipples. You're making me feel like an exotic dancer." Nursie was not amused. Finally, they were satisfied enough with their work to permit me to take a sealed envelope to Arpeggio's office.
"I think I've got the flu, Doc. What did those guys of yours in the Bronx sell me, pretending it was flu vaccine?"
"You don't have the flu, Scowler. Those boys in the Bronx would not sell you anything bogus. Your X-ray is O.K. I think you've got a little bronchitis."
"A little? I have been hacking up a storm all week. My throat is sore as hell and I'm beginning to feel feverish."
"That's probably your over active imagination. You know how you tend to panic when you're not feeling well."
"You're sure that vaccine was O.K.?"
"I tested it myself."
"Are you sure you're checked out on that test?"
"Of course, that vaccine came direct from Rasheed and Julio's warehouse."
"They've got a warehouse?"
"Certainly, these guys are pros. This is nor some fly-by-night outfit. Just this week, they began providing Vioxx to some of my patients who swear by the stuff. As soon as Merck announced they were taking Vioxx off the market, my boys swung into action and have cornered the market here in the Northeast. My patients are ecstatic."
"Where did they get the Vioxx?"
"I make it my business not to ask any awkward questions. They hold down their costs by operating on the street and accepting cash only. They told me recently that they are demanding that their Asian clients pay not in dollars but in Chinese Yuan. They have noticed that China's growth rate in Gross Domestic Product for the past 2 years was well over 9% per year and they feel the yuan is under valued. They are advising the hookers on their corner and, more importantly, the hookers managers, to put their money in yuan and to invest in Chinese companies that are listed on the NYSE or through ADRs"
"ADRs?"
"American Depository Receipts, of course."
"These managers of the hookers you speak of are their pimps, right?"
"Scowler, please we do not like to use such a crude term. In any event, the boys are branching out. You may want to subscribe to their investment newsletter which will be published weekly. They have designed a logo and a smart new name for this part of their activities. It is 'HIE which stands for 'Hood Investment Enterprises. It blends something of the character of the inner city 'hood with the word hie which as a crossword buff you know means to hurry off which is what everyone on their corner finds it necessary to do upon occasion."
"Doc, you sound really proud of these boys with their energy and drive."
"I am, Scowler. It makes you proud to be an American, Now take these antibiotics and you'll feel fine in no time."
10/9/04
The flu vaccine: Isn't it ironic that most of it is coming from France?
By some miracle, I was able to get through to my favorite internist, C. D. Arpeggio to discuss what to do about the critical shortage of the flu vaccine. The Scowler has always been very susceptible to fevers and such, as Arpeggio well knows. "Nothing I can do for you this time Scowl. I guess we'll just have to take our chances this year." "You're not taking any chances, Doc. It's me with my history of pulmonary malfunctions. What am I gonna do?" "I can't help you. I've gotta go now. Call me after five on my private line. HMO-SICK."
When I called after five, he said, "I couldn't talk before. I think that line's bugged. Here's what you do. Go down to the Bronx. On the corner of 233rd and Parkchester - you'll have no trouble finding the intersection, it's a very busy one - you ask for Julio and if he's in Rykers Island or something, ask for Rasheed. They've got supplies of the flu vaccine. I'm sure you can work out something with them that's not too expensive."
"Doc, I'm not so sure I'm comfortable letting those guys inject me." "For God's sake don't let them inject you. Just buy the vaccine and bring it to me here." "What if they're both in jail?" "That's unlikely but if they are, go back in a couple of days. They always get sprung pretty fast." "O.K., but by the way I have recorded this conversation." "YOU WHAT?" "Just kidding, Doc. I'll see you when I get back from the Bronx, providing, of course, that I do get back."
I drove to the Bronx at dusk. I did not want it to be completely dark. After shaking my head no to a couple ladies of the evening, I sidled up to a Julio looking guy and asked if he was, in fact, Julio. "Which Julio you want? We got five or six around here." "The one that usually works with Rasheed." "Oh, that Julio. He's in the bodega across the street." "Well, is Rasheed here?" "'Depending on who you are and what you're here for, I could be Rasheed."
I pulled my trench coat collar up around my ears and tugged my wool cap lower on my my sweating brow and said sotto voce, "I'm here for flu vaccine, Rasheed. Do you have any?" "Oh, man I got lots of that shit. How much you need. You gonna resell it upstate?" That hadn't actually occurred to me but it's not a bad idea. "Well, no", I whispered, "I just need some for me and my wife." "Here, I'll give you 50cc, cost you a C note." Doc Arpeggio hadn't said anything about how much it would cost. But what the hell, I had the cash in my trench coat pocket. I didn't want to produce my wallet and begin fishing for bills in this neighborhood. I had been to an ATM so, of course, I paid him the hundred with 5 twenties. He produced a small package wrapped in brown paper. "Here you go, Ace." I thought about asking him how I knew this was really the right stuff but then thought better of it. I paid him and looked to see if my car was still where I had parked it.
"Nice doing business with you, Rasheed." "Cool. You wanna check out some of the ladies while you're here?" "Not tonight. See ya."
As prearranged, the following evening I took the vaccine to Doc Arpeggio. "I'll have our lab check this out to make sure it's O.K. How much did you have to pay for it." "30 bucks", I lied. "That's not bad. I sent another patient down there and he had to pay 50." "That must have included one of the hookers", I laughed. "Perhaps, perhaps", said Arpeggio.
I told Mrs. Scowler that Rasheed wanted $100 but that I bargained him down to $30. "My hero", she said. She can sometimes be a rather sarcastic woman.
5/7/04
Business as usual at Bush's government agencies
Do you remember reading about a small, private company that announced that it would test all of the cattle for mad cow disease so that the Japanese market would reopen to its beef? Well the U.S. Department of Agriculture stopped them in their tracks and would not permit them to go forward with these tests.
Why? Good question. Apparently the reasoning at the USDA is that all the other U.S. producers would be forced to begin testing and it would be revealed that the problem of mad cow disease is much more extensive than just that one cow in Washington State.
Now, in Texas recently, a cow collapsed at a slaughterhouse - very unusual occurrence, I'm told - and USDA inspectors on the scene wanted to take a sample of the animal's brain for testing but were overruled by their superiors.
The Scowler is naive enough to have believed that the USDA was responsible for protecting us, not the major companies that are involved in the business of raising and slaughtering 85 million heads of cattle each year.
If they don't have sex, why in the world would they need a morning-after pill?
It seemed pretty straight forward, Barr Pharmaceuticals, the U.S. licensee for the morning-after birth control pill, wanted to increase the sales of their product. That's the American way, right? They applied to the Food and Drug Administration for approval to sell the pill over-the-counter. A federal advisory panel voted in December 23 to 4 to approve Barr's application. The staff of the acting director of the FDA also recommended approval but Dr. Steven Galson, the acting director, said no way.
What were his reasons for this extremely unusual, perhaps unprecedented, act? He says he feared that young teenaged girls would be unable to follow the directions and need a physician to counsel them. Everyone knows that teenagers are incapable of reading directions, much less following them. How about adult women? Can they read and follow directions? I don't think I'd better comment on that.
Does Dr. Galson really have the best interests of young girls at heart or is this another example of the faith based administration at work? When the #1 honcho of the administration believes he was chosen by the Almighty to lead this nation, you have to look no further. Barr better get busy contributing to the GOP.
2/29/04
Oh, the misery of it all
This week I was able to convince the appointments tsarina at our local medical group to "squeeze me in" for an appointment with my long time internist, C. D. Arpeggio, M.D.
I don't consult physicians lightly but Mrs. Scowler was off sunning herself and I had developed a fever, sore throat, wracking cough and last night at midnight I had scoured the house for some medicinal help but to no avail. Not even one damn aspirin!
Arpeggio was in high good spirits when I was ushered into one of his examining rooms. "Scowler, what brings you here?" "I feel terrible, Doc. I've got a fever, a sore throat, an awful cough. It feels like the flu." "It probably is the flu." "But I had a flu shot in November." "Doesn't make any difference. You can still get the flu." "Then why the hell do I come up here to get the flu shot?" "Because the medical profession recommends it. You improve your odds but like everything else in life, it's not 100%."
He began tapping on my forehead and upper cheeks (of my face). "Let me know if you feel any pain." When he had finished I asked, "Were you checking my sinuses?" He said that he was. I told him the the one before the last had hurt which seemed to excite him. "Why didn't you tell me? Which one was it?" "I was afraid you would keep tapping[pping there. I know how sadistic you can be." He started the tapping all over again. I finally told him I was kidding. Nothing had hurt.
'Doc, the worst of it is the cough. I start coughing and can't stop. I think it exacerbates my bad throat." He had me open my mouth and say, "Ahh". "Your throat is red as hell. It must be very sore." "That's what I've been telling you." "Well, you were right for once. Your problem is the smoking. I've warned you for years to quit smoking or at least to cut down." "I don't smoke. I have never smoked. I know your memory is not so hot but it must be there in my chart." "Oh yes, there it is. Perhaps you do not relax enough. A smoke now and again might be just the thing, a good cigar, a fine brier..." "Now your telling me I should smoke? You must be going on vacation. You're always distracted when you go on vacation and you take a helluva lot of vacations."
I'm going to prescribe a new antibiotic. It will take a few days to work but you've got nothing else to do. I am assuming this is a bacterial infection. Of course if it its viral, the antibiotic won't work." "How about my damned cough?" "Coughs are tricky. Sometimes they go on and on." "Can't you prescribe something? I was talking to my neighbor, Mr. Smithers, and he said that last fall he had a devil of a cough and his physician prescribed something that sounded like 'Triphenacine'. He didn't remember how to spell it but he said it had codeine and cleared up his cough right away. I thought maybe he could let me have some but he said he had finished the last of it the night before last." "From last fall? He was taking it all that time?" "Yeah, he said he developed quite a taste for it, took it right before he went to bed and slept like a baby."
Arpeggio shook his head in a disapproving manner and again said that coughs were tricky but that he would not prescribe anything with codeine. "Why? All this coughing is driving me nuts." "You, of all people, should not be exposed to codeine." Then he wrote a prescription for some stuff to help my cough - which didn't work worth a damn, by the way - and said that he planned to be away for ten days or so and if I had any problems I should contact Dr. Jameel Okolapombo. "He's new. Very tall, you'll like him."
"Going out to Colorado for the skiing, Doc?" "No, not this year. We're going to the Caribbean (which he pronounced Ca-RIBB-ean, of course). Take care of that cough." "You know, it just occurred to me that the Giants just hired a guy named Coughlin as their new coach. You think he'll be gone before this damn cough of mine?"
"Now that's one of your problems, Scowler, thinking negatively. When I was a young man in college, we had standards. We were optimistic about life. We never criticized our professors. We never criticized our president regardless of party. I'll bet you could never claim that." "When have you ever heard me utter a criticism of our president?"
1/31/04
At least it's a way to have a more stimulating conversation
I don't believe I ever told you about talking out loud to my Irish Setter in public venues. I was not talking to him audibly on purpose, you understand, it was just something that began happening with greater frequency some years ago.
This was an amiable, well behaved (for an Irish Setter) canine. Oh sure, he was completely unreliable when it came to food. Being a tall beast he could not only smell a chop or a steak, he was able to see it just by resting his chin on the kitchen counter and he was very quick in making off and thoroughly consuming the stolen comestibles. When this happened I would berate him but I swear he simply seemed to lie there and smile at me. He knew I wasn't serious.
The first time I realized I was talking aloud to him, we were passing our local supermarket. "For your birthday, I think I'll buy you 5 minutes in the meat department," I said. As soon as I had said it I looked around to see if anyone would have heard me and immediately saw two old dowager types just behind us, sadly shaking their heads and probably muttering something about another old coot having lost lost his marbles.
The next time was months later. We had been walking in a small park in town where my companion had an unbroken record of successful bowel movements for years. Every time he seemed a bit constipated, we headed for the park and viola! He performed as expected.
As I say, this had been going on for a couple of years when one day we walked back and forth through the park retracing our steps for what seemed hours but obviously was not when I finally gave up and headed for home. As we emerged from the park, I looked down at him and said, "You're no Cal Ripken." Again, too late, I looked to see if any one had heard me. Three or four young boys on skate boards were laughing uproariously waiting for a stop light to change. Then they went whizzing merrily on their way as I heard one call to the others, "...wacky old fart."
Well, it's been several years since the demise of my old canine pal but I have been unable to break the habit of talking out loud, not to him anymore, thank God, but to myself. This has caused me some mental anguish but certainly not enough to seek counseling. I felt the solution to this embarrassment could be found within myself.
Either I would somehow discipline myself to break this odious habit or I would have to compensate in some fashion. I am really lousy at breaking bad habits, so I compensated. It was the cell phone craze that provided my solution. I purchased - no, not one of those damnable cell phones - a compact, travel-sized, battery operated, electric shaver. Now, I hold the device to my ear while walking and gab away into it or, rather, at it. I talk and sing to it too while driving and even though it's against the law in our state to talk on a cell phone (unless it's hands-free), I drive along with one hand on the wheel and talk and warble as much as I please.
I have been hoping against hope that a police car will pull me over some day to issue me a ticket and I'll look the copper square in the eye and say that I do not own a cell phone. There's no law on the books in our state, at the moment, prohibiting talking on or to an electric shaver.
12/22/03
Why are podiatrists frequently women? Is there some arcane sexual foot fetish that I don't know about?
The old Scowler had been limping around for weeks before finally visiting a local podiatrist. First I had to contact our health insurance provider to find one in our neighborhood who was on the insurance company approved list. They gave me two names and I opted for the one nearest to the Scowler residence.
After filling out the usual forms and signing but not attempting to read about my rights of privacy, I went in to see Dr. Hilda Hoofmeister.
"Good morning, Mr. Scowler, I'm Doctor Hoofmeister. First, tell me if you are allergic to any medicines.
"Yes, I'm allergic to penicil..."
"Oh, I am also allergic to penicillin. Isn't that something? Well, I guess it's not so strange because I understand that lots of people are allergic to penicillin. Even my husband, Clifford, - I call him Clifford my big red dog although he doesn't really have red hair, if fact his hair is getting pretty thin on top, but he is very good humored about it - so I suppose it's not so unusual for people to be allergic to penicillin. Now, take off your shoe and sock on the affected foot and tell me what's troubling you."
Scowler, removing sock (I had remembered to wear loafers that could be slipped on and off with ease). "It's here on my right foot. I thought it might be a plantars wart. I've had them in the ..."
"I see. This is the affected area, am I right?" she said, pinching the area with thumb and index finger.
"Ow, yeah that's ..."
"It's a corn and it's hidden but I'll just scrape it away. Have you lived long in this area, Mr. Scowler?"
"Well we moved here in..."
"I never thought I could ever leave the city but now we've been here almost 10 years and I've become accustomed to the suburbs.My husband is a lawyer and he commutes into the city every day. He says he doesn't mind. He always has things to read on the train."
"I suppose he takes his briefs with..."
Of course he takes his briefs. What kind of a man do you think I'm married to? Oh, you must mean he takes his legal briefs to review on the train. I thought you meant, well never mind. He always has a thick briefcase that he hauls around with him and it is full of those files that open and close like an accordion. I've never understood why lawyers all carry those big folders with them. I've never seen other businessmen with folders like that and certainly no doctors."
"It may have to do with the contracts that are too long for..."
"It's funny, isn't it, how you get accustomed to different places? When I lived in the city, I used to take the subway to the podiatrist school and it took me less than 15 minutes door to door. Our school was very near the 125th Street station and even though it was in Harlem we never had any problems with anyone."
"I never regarded Harlem as one of the most dangerous areas..."
"I suppose you're right. We never had a problem but then we were students and didn't have anything worth stealing anyway."
"Is that the School of Podiatry you can see from the ..."
Exactly. You can see it from the train. It's right there at 124th Street and as I say none of us were ever attacked in any way in the years I went there."
"You probably could have talked your way out of it if you were..."
"Well, I 'm not so sure about that. I read about a young woman in Brooklyn, a school teacher who was killed on her way home last year and then there was the Central Park jogger a few years ago who wasn't actually killed but was seriously injured. One of my friends said that she has recovered and even appeared on television recently but I didn't see it. The truth of the matter is that when I get home and pick up the kids from school, I just have too many things to do to watch television. I have to take McKenzie, she's my oldest, to ballet class three times a week and Maille, she's a year younger than McKenzie, to figure skating class way over in New Jersey. That's where that Hughes girl who won at the Olympics trains or at least she used to train over there every day before she went to Yale. She is the dearest girl, by the way not stuck up or anything. I'll need to see you again in two weeks to make sure everything is hunky dory. Sometimes these corns can grow back. I'm not saying that will happen this time but we can't be too sure."
"O.K, I'll see you in two..."
"You can take off that bandage in a day or two. Get Mildred at the front desk to give you a new appointment two weeks from now. I'm only here Monday, Wednesdays and Thursdays but I'm sure we can work you in."
It's been a pleasure listening to you Dr. Hoof..."
"Hoofmeister. That's O.K., don't feel bad everybody gets it wrong. It's my husband's name of course. I thought about using my maiden name professionally and maybe I should have but I just didn't do it and now it's too late. I've been practicing for..."
"Ciao. See you next time."
11/29/03
He didn't even own a couch
About a year and 1/2 or so ago, some of you may remember I sat next to a tall, urbane fellow on the commuter train to New York City. I was amazed to learn that my seat mate was no other than Osama bin Laden himself, all shaved and as clean-cut looking as every other business type on the train.
When we arrived at Grand Central, I immediately reported to a policeman that I had not only seen the terrible terrorist but that I could point him out as he exited the station. Instead of acting on this information, the police officer conferred with his sergeant and had me incarcerated in the psychiatric ward at Bellevue Hospital.
It was not a pleasant experience. I was released one week later when I agreed to admit that I had had a delusion brought on by too much worry about international terrorism. To obtain my release, I also agreed to periodic visits to psychiatrists appointed by the city health department.
This past week was to be my third such visit and third such psychiatrist. I assumed it was like committing a capital crime and having a court appointed attorney. These shrinks got a very low fee and made no preparation for my sessions with them. They merely glanced at my file for the first few minutes of my appointments.
This time it was Sigmund Fraud, M.D., Ph.D. who was to be my examiner. On my two previous appointments I played along and said I realized I had been delusory. I wanted no more of the psycho ward at Bellevue. It was not a good crowd there, lots of patients shrieking through the night and wandering aimlessly up and down the linoleum floors of the ward in their stocking feet muttering obscenities. I did not attempt to be my normal outgoing self there, I made no fuss but it was not at all relaxing or therapeutic experience.
Dr. Fraud had a nicely appointed office and an efficient looking nurse/receptionist. She ushered me into his office and since he was not there it gave me time to look around. I thought that I might be being videotaped so I confined myself to looking at his several diplomas. There was no couch, just two arm chairs but the carpet had a thick expensive feel to it and Dr. Fraud's cherrywood desk was completely uncluttered. Actually it had the look of an office a west coast businessman might lease when he was in the city for a week or two.
Suddenly he was standing behind me. I wheeled around, "Dr. Fraud. I didn't hear you come in." "An old psychiatrist trick I'm afraid. I never wear shoes in the office and by the way my name is pronounced Frode, it rhymes with road." "Sorry." "Well, Mr. Scowler we have no time for chit chat. I see by your file that you have had some serious delusions. Are you still having them?" "No. no illusions or delusions, I've been steady as the proverbial rock." "Really? Let's have a look at your eye grounds."
With the dexterity of a slick fielding second baseman, he whipped out his little flashlight and in one motion opened my eye lids. He then flicked back and forth changing hands as he changed eyes. "I must say I admire your hand-to-my-eye coordination. I've had this exam a number of times but I never saw anyone do it quite so swiftly and gracefully. Did you ever play second base?"
"I NEVER,EVER PLAYED SECOND ANYTHING, ALWAYS FRIST, I MEAN FIRST. FIRST IN UNDERGRAD SCHOOL. FIRST IN MED SCHOOL. FIRST IN PSYCH RESIDENCY." "And in the hearts of your countrymen?" (he didn't hear me) "ALWAYS FIRST. WHO HAVE YOU BEEN TALKING TO? SCHLUMMER? HE'S A GODDAM PLUMBER."
"No, no I assure you I have not been talking to anyone. Actually, I'm something of a recluse. I haven't had a conversation with anyone else for weeks, months even." "No wonder you think you saw Osama. You should get out more, make some friends."
He tapped my knee with a small mallet he had in his pocket, had me remove my shoes and socks, then ran his finger nail on the bottoms of my feet. "That tickles." "You oaf, it's supposed to tickle." Then he asked me to try to remember the names of three cities he selected at random; Nuremberg, Berlin and Frankfurt. Then he immediately left the room.
Again, I supposed I might be videotaped, so I sat virtually motionless for 5 minutes or so memorizing those German cities. Suddenly, he was behind me again and I nearly leapt from the chair. "So, you startle easily Mr. Scowler. What were the names of those cities I gave you." I had no trouble remembering them and he said, "Excellent, but as I said before you should get out more, make new acquaintances, learn to relax. As it happens, I have a small financial interest in an excellent escort service. Here is their card. I think you will find Oedipus Escorts to be just the ticket to broaden your life and make it more fulfilling."
You won't have to have any more imaginary conversations with terrorists living in Scarsdale. Hah, I live in Scarsdale myself. Give Oedipus Escorts a call. They are very friendly and very uh, conscientious. Do you a world of good."
"O.K., Dr. Fraud, I mean toad, I mean road-Frode that is. Thanks for the advice."
6/21/03 (First day of Summer)
The Scowler visits his friendly neighborhood radiologist
A recent examination by his long time internist, C.D. Arpeggio, M.D., resulted in a trip to Radiologies R Us - X-Rays, Cat Scans, MRIs, Mammograms, Ultrasounds, you name it, WE GOT IT! - in a strip mall in a slightly run down area near the Scowler homestead. This establishment is owned and operated by a delightful chap of our acquaintance, Konrad Wilhelm, M.D.
Arpeggio said, " You've got a suspicious looking lump in the small of your back, Scowler, you should probably have an MRI. It just might be a tumor which could be fatal, if not attended to." "Why is it I always leave your office feeling so much worse than when I come in here?" "Just a healthy dose of realism which you badly need."
I had had MRIs performed several times times by the technicians at RRU and they had never found anything wrong with the old Scowler physique, I should say physical condition. There is plenty wrong with the old physique.
After I made the appointment, I must say that there was no sense of foreboding. Mrs. Scowler and I must have been to RRU a dozen times between us and the news was always reassuring. I arrived right on time last Tuesday afternoon and settled down in the spare, severe waiting room that must have been furnished during the formica craze of the 1950s. Waiting allowed me to peruse two rather dated copies of Sports Illustrated, a January 2001 issue of People (I hadn't realized that Jennifer Anniston married Brad Pitt) and a few pages of Radiology Today. Eventually I was summoned into the bowels of the place where all the roentgens run amok.
RRU has in place the more humane, open-ended MRI machines designed to calm the fears of the claustrophobic. I have never understood however, why they ask you what kind of music you would like to listen to while having your MRI. Once they get that thing cranked up, you can't hear a thing except what sounds like the Tampa Bay defensive line banging away on both sides of the machine with sledge hammers.
As a favor to my wife and me, Dr. Wilhelm has always agreed to interpret the MRI or whatever the procedure is right away. He pored over my imaging scan for a few minutes and said I had nothing to worry about. "A little arthritis but nothing else."
Since it was nearing 6 P.M. and Wilhelm was ready to leave, I suggested that I'd like to buy him a drink. "You must have been reading my mind, Scowler." We walked down a few storefronts and entered O'Reilly's Oasis. A discreet sign near the door informed, "It may be against the law but you can still smoke in here." The air was blue with smoke, mostly cigar smoke. It was like turning back the clock 50 years or so.
I was introduced to the proprietor, Seamus O'Reilly, a big man with a red face and a full head of white hair. O'Reilly had meaty, calloused paws that had surely come in handy (no pun intended) in ushering unruly patrons to the door and beyond.
"What's your pleasure, Dr. Wilhelm?" "Please call me Konnie. I'll have a double Old Bushmills." "Make that two, Seamus." Wilhelm offered me a cigar but I declined for reasons of health and, as we talked about this and that, we were interrupted frequently by cronies of Konnie's.
"May I ask you a professional question, Konnie?" "Of course, Scowler. Fire away." "Well, in the years my wife and I have been coming to your shop, you have never had anything but good news for us. Are we unusually fortunate in that regard?" Konnie pulled slowly on his cigar, held it for a moment, then exhaled a plume of smoke that seemed to just keep on coming. "Actually, Scowler, we give everyone good news. I look at it as a public service. No one hears from us about any dreadful diseases. Life is too short for that shit. I have trouble enough trying to interpret those tests myself. The other day one of my techs nudged me while a patient was in my office and whispered that I had his scan upside down. Might have been embarrassing but we finessed it."
"How is that possible? You never find any growths or malignancies?" "Never." "You did tell me I had some arthritis in my lower back." "I always say that. At your age it would be a miracle if you didn't have some arthritis. Besides it makes the whole examination seem more plausible."
"Don't some of the patients ever die of cancers?" "Oh yes. All the time. They just don't get the bad news from me. Usually their internists get the tests repeated elsewhere." "Don't the survivors raise hell when their loved ones expire? Don't they ever threaten to sue?" "All the time but I calmly point out to them that we prevent them from having months and even years of terrible anxiety, that they and their loved ones have enjoyed a better quality of life than would have been possible otherwise. I'm very good at assuaging their feelings and helping them adjust to their new situations. Frequently there is an inheritance and I get them to thinking about all the possibilities of a new life, travel, new companions, a warmer climate. They usually leave my office with a spring in their step. Between you and me, Scowler, I haven't tried to keep up with the technology, There's just so much to keep learning."
"You've never had law suits?" "Oh, a few. But people in this area can't afford to hire a lawyer and they don't like the idea of paying one of those contingency guys up to 40% of the judgment." "Amazing. How long have you been in this business?" "40 years."
"Another Bushmills, Konnie?" "Absolutely."
12/7/02 (Pearl Harbor: 61 years ago today)
The mouse that roared
In this week's issue of Nature (and you thought all the Scowler read was the sports pages) it was reported that the mouse genome and the human genome are remarkably similar, suggesting that the mouse and us folks are descended from the same roots!
This analysis, by an international consortium and carried out simultaneously in Cambridge, England, Cambridge, Mass. and St. Louis, MO., suggests that humans and mice have common ancestors but that over 75 million years of evolution, the mouse has developed a much more acute sense of smell. Somehow, I feel I am just as happy that my detection of odors is no more sensitive than it is. There are enough foul, putrid, acrid smells to deal with already.
This research also explains many things that have troubled me over the years. The expression, "Are you a man or a mouse?" would seem to be passe or, at the very least, would indicate an utter lack of scientific information on the part of an insensitive inquirer. This might explain why I have never been one of those nervy people who will try anything no matter the risk. When I was in the Army (U.S.), I never volunteered for anything. And since then It never occurred to me to go sky diving or bungy jumping or to volunteer for any of those awful reality shows on TV or to try any of the stunts Evel Knievel used to do. Just the other day I passed "Iron Mike" Tyson on the street. I thought I might elbow him out of the way but then I thought better of it. Discretion being the better part of valor sort of thing. It would seem that people who take these sorts of risks are not courageous, they're just stupid, just as I have believed all along.
I was listening to a radio call-in show this week when the host got a call from a Mr. George W. in our nation's capital. George W. said he had "been briefed about the mouse/human genome similarity by my staff, I mean, by a friend and what I can't understand is if them varmints have 2.5 billion units of DNA and we have only 2.9 billion, why are they so much smaller than us, we, whatever. We've had some mouses down at the ranch, I mean house, and they're just itty bitty thangs and even a shrimp like Tom Cruise is much bigger than them. How come?" The announcer replied that he did not have the time to go into an explanation of DNA strands but suggested the caller ask his high school biology teacher for an explanation.
11/22/02
Dr. Arpeggio says it may be all in my mind
I recently made one of my rare visits to my internist, C.D. Arpeggio, M.D.
Arpeggio: Here for your annual checkup are you Scowler?
Scowler: I don't believe in annual checkups as you well know Doc. I come to see you when something is bothering me.
Arpeggio: (Sighing) That's right. I forgot. Well, what is it this time?
Scowler: Ringing in my ears, especially at night. It's interfering with my insomnia.
Arpeggio: How often do you have insomnia?
Scowler: I have insomnia every night. Not all night , you understand, just 4 or 5 hours.
Arpeggio: If it's breaking up your sleeplessness, you should be grateful.
Scowler: You don't understand. I'm a creature of habit and I prefer it to be dark and quiet when I can't sleep.
Arpeggio: What does this ringing, as you call it, sound like?
Scowler: Like thousands of crickets or swarms of locusts and don't start telling me that those insects do valuable work in our environment.
Arpeggio: I've always felt that the 17 year locust was an amazing phenomenon. But you're probably not interested. Let's have a look at your ears. Aside from a little wax build up, your ears look O.K. Have you had any hearing problems?
Scowler: None.
Arpeggio: You probably have tinnitus or hyperacussis.
Scowler: God bless you.
Arpeggio: No, no I didn't sneeze. Oh, I get it, you probably knew that and were making one of your silly jokes. I can recommend a very good ENT man although he's not part of our group practice here. His name is Matson, or Madison or Manson something like that. I'll have my nurse take your blood pressure while I try to find his number.
Nurse Verna something or other flounced in with her stethoscope and the bluest eyes this side of the Swiss Alps, told me to roll up my sleeve (she could have asked much much more of me) and took my blood pressure. As she unwrapped the cuff on my arm she looked at me with that smug look pretty girls have of letting you know that they know just what you're thinking. Then she turned and walked quickly from the examining room.
Arpeggio: Scowler, you have an elevated blood pressure. That's something new. I'll take it again in a few minutes.
Scowler: I think sometimes the BP fluctuates depending on circumstances. Do you have the number for the ENT guy you mentioned and his real name?
Arpeggio: His name is Mangan. Or, rather his name was Mangan. It seems he died a couple of years ago. I'll have to ask around and get you the name of another.
Scowler: I would prefer, if it's O.K. with you, that you give me the name of someone who's still up and kicking.
Arpeggio: Of course. Now let me take your blood pressure. Hmmm. Perfectly normal. You were right. It does seem to fluctuate. But remember what I've told you many times. You should eat a healthier diet.
Scowler: I don't smoke.
Arpeggio: I know but you should eat lots of fruits and vegetables and cut down on salt and sweets.
Scowler: I don't smoke.
Arpeggio: And the drinking. Are you still drinking in the same amounts? (I nodded) Well, cut back some. A good idea would be to measure what you drink in a normal day and cut back to half that amount.
Scowler: I still don't smoke. You remember my theory about cholesterol. The only reason mine is still pretty good, considering my unhealthful diet, is the drinking. I'd hate like hell to stop drinking and have my cholesterol go to 300.
Arpeggio: Moderation in all things should be your guide.
Scowler: Sounds boring. Maybe I should take up smoking.
8/24/02
14/40 - it just makes good environmental sense
I wasn't sure which category to put this in but finally selected Health for reasons that will become apparent.
14/40 refers to a proposal - like all Scowler proposals, a very unpopular one - made to a number of municipalities throughout the U.S. of A. Very simply it is this: no male over the age of fourteen and no female over the age of forty shall appear in public in shorts of any kind. No Bermudas, no short shorts, no cut-off jeans, in short, no shorts. If an individual does not leave his/her own premises it is O.K. to wear whatever one desires or to not wear anything at all for that matter. It is possible to appeal this rule and commissions have been set up to rule on exemptions in exceptional cases but few are deemed worthy after the appellant has appeared before this board.
As with most sensible proposals, acceptance by cities council, boards of alderpeople and village trustees have been exceedingly slow to put this measure into law. But I am pleased to report that we are now finally making some progress.
In our little village of Placide the ordinance was passed unanimously when Paul "Packy" Boyle, a local attorney was seen about to enter church for the 12 noon mass one Sunday garbed in a Cayman Islands T shirt (which proclaimed "pre-tax is after-tax down here"), a Yankee baseball cap and a pair of magenta colored shorts.That was too much for even the libertarians of our small community. That started the 14/40 ball rolling.
Charges were made that the Scowler was in the thrall of the cotton and wool lobbyists, that we were heavily into denim futures, etc. but we stuck to our guns and have finally prevailed. Incidentally, if you're wondering whether the old Scowler has appealed for an exemption, the answer is yes and it has been granted but I choose not to take advantage of my exemption even on the steamiest of days. I am nothing if not a man of principle.
5/24/02
The Scowler returns to his internist for advice
Around the 10th of May, I called for an appointment with my physician, C.D. Arpeggio, M.D. I was told that if this was for a physical exam, he would be able to see me in late November. "Noo, I lied, this is for a painful condition that the Doc has treated successfully before. I need to see him right away." "Oh, then he can see you next week."
After exchanging pleasantries with Arpeggio, I asked him how much attention I should pay to all these articles I read about water intake and diet and exercise for that matter.
"Well, diet and exercise are quite important. You need at least 8 servings of vegetables and 8 servings of fruits each day and you should be sure to drink 8, 8 ounce glasses of water per day."
"That is one helluva lotta 8s, Doc."
'I know but it is quite important as I believe I have mentioned before. We in the health professions call it 'the rule of 8s'."
"Doc, if I drank all that water, I would have to put my bed in the john. I'd be up all night."
"Do it anyway."
"And all those fruits and veggies. What about some beef? I'm partial to beef and lamb and ham and sausage and..."
"Stop it. I can't stand to hear any more. Your diet has always been terrible. You should follow my instructions to the letter."
"How about getting some of my liquid in the form of booze? I could put in a drop or two of water with it."
"No." he shrieked. "I've told you before you should stop drinking."
"Except for all the water, I suppose."
"Exactly."
"Doc, I read the other day that no one knows where that recommendation about water came from, apparently no studies were ever done on this subject."
"Heh, heh, that's actually factual. We can't seem to uncover any studies that were ever done about water intake. But I'm sure it's an excellent practice."
"O.K., I'll take it under advisement (that means I'll think about doing it on the way home and then forget it)."
"Now, what about the pain you are suffering that my nurse told me about?"
"Pain? I don't have any pain. She must have confused me with someone else. I came here to ask you about the water thing (not that I have any intention of contaminating my system with all that stuff). And, oh, I almost forgot. I need a blood test for my chloresterol and a PSA test."
"Your chloresterol has always been good and you just had a colonoscopy not too long ago. You know, Scowler, these tests cost a lot of money and the damn insurance companies don't compensate us the way they used to."
"It's the anxiety, Doc, you know with the world situation so unsettled and all. And my lousy dietary habits."
Well O.K., I'll order the tests but try to be more disciplined about your diet."
"Sure thing, Doc, more disciplined, that's going to be the new me."