Doc's Place: Health and wellness

Talking about It's Time - I Need ALL of You to Help!!!

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 15:40:03 GMT

Nae, a very good Spaces friend, is donating her magnificent hair to be used making wigs for cancer sufferers who have lost theirs during treatment. There are now only four days left to contribute money to St. Baldrick's, the organization she describes below. I have donated hair to Locks of Love twice, but never found the additional benefit of raising money for a most worthy charity by doing so. Nae has. Please consider giving whatever you can to help her raise funds for this most worthy cause.

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It's Time - I Need ALL of You to Help!!!
I did it! I have to admit I was really afraid to do it -- 'cause I like my hair. But I thought long and hard about giving my word to the guys at the Firehall last year, and God convicted me -- so I signed up!
Now -- I need your help to raise $5,000 for children's cancer research. St. Baldrick's Foundation is a great organization. Most of their foundation is "manned" by volunteers, so only about 2% is used for administrative purposes -- the rest goes to the fellowships, research, etc. This group is seriously committed to ending children's cancer.
SO -- on March 14th -- I will be buzzed (not quite bald -- I'll have some slight stubble) in the name of giving to others. My long, brown locks will be donated to Locks of Love after the event (it is considered a DOUBLE donation) -- and I hope that they will be happy with the healthy 15" I have managed to grow for some person who needs my hair more than I do.
You can help me raise money by going to www.stbaldricks.org,
clicking on "Participants,"
then choosing 2008 participants,
entering my name: Renae Mathson (yeah, the REAL me),
and "Shavee."
When you see my picture (with LOADS of hair), look down below for the link, ""Donate Now" Sitka, Alaska (i"Donate Now" under my picture.
If that doesn't work, try this link: http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/shavee_info.html?ParticipantKey=2008|30691
And, if all else fails, you can call 1.888.899.BALD
That's it -- choose whatever you believe you can afford -- and help me help children who suffer so much more than having a chilly head!!!!
And -- if you can -- please link this site -- or email it to friends -- or help me (somehow, someway) to get the word out so I can find more people to help make a donation. After all, if we all do a little something, then we can change the world!!!
Thanks everyone!!!!
God bless you and keep you, Nae

You may follow her story and those of cancer victims by visiting her Spaces site and reading her posts from the date of the quoted post forward. Much is there to be pondered.

Peace, Doc

“We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love.” - Mother Teresa

When Dentures Turn Mean

Fri, 03 Nov 2006 08:42:12 GMT

I thought that after one whole day of wearing brand new dentures and having the oral surgeon tell me that everything looked fine, that everything was fine. I blame this feeling of well-being on the painkiller. Silly old man. The damned uppers tried to kill me Thursday.

I didn't realize what was happening at first because I already had a mouthful of strangeness. I've never had dentures or a partial before, so I had nothing with which to compare the experience. At first, I simply choked a couple of times when taking meds or a drink of juice. As the day progressed, this feeling worsened to the point that I nearly vomited when I tried to swallow. When I concentrated on my mouth, the dentures seemed to be about three times as large as they were the day before. I thought that feeling was probably caused by a reduction of the swelling combined with the slight irritating pains I was beginning to feel as I slowed down on the pain meds. But why would that make me feel nauseous? There was no psychological or pharmacological reason I could think of. I couldn't even think of an automotive analogy.

Then the answer came to me in a flash of insight and nausea. I was a victim of denture creep ! The temporary pliable surfacing of the dentures had partially worn or been washed away and they were moving slooowly toward the back of the roof of my mouth. They had moved just far enough to be touching my uvula (that little dangly thing at the top of your throat.) Yes, the same body part that that one pokes at when one tries to make oneself vomit. It was being encroached upon by a piece of pink plastic.

I found I could move the plate forward again and then felt fine. Eureka! Of course I had to push the envelope and wonder if I could take the thing out without bleeding profusely. I tried it and am now sitting here glaring at something resembling the top half of a set of wind-up clicking toy teeth. They look significantly more expensive and malevolent, however. I am none the worse for wear and I have another dental appointment in about eight hours. I think I'll mention this to Steve.

Peace, Doc

Fall Without Grace

Wed, 12 Oct 2005 12:31:43 GMT

Now that many comments have completely confused me by asking for all the post suggestions and adding some, I will simply write about something else. This time because it is freshly in mind, and knee, and hands, but I did not bonk my head too badly. I did, however become intimately familiar with the looks of the paving materials in the doctor’s parking lot. I have had orthostatic hypotension, big words for “sort-of-fainting,” since I was 16. It happens only when I stand up abruptly after sitting or lying down for about an hour and then, maybe one minute later, I do not have nearly enough blood flowing to my brain and interesting things begin to happen. Three weeks ago, I had a lightheaded feeling in the same parking lot near the same parking space when walking out of the same doctor’s office. I only wobbled like a Weeble at that time and nobody saw me. Whew. When these events occur I do not lose consciousness, have a stroke, a seizure, or anything exciting.

Yesterday I finished with my appointment, left the building as before, and had another “event.” Having little choice in the matter, I fell to my knees, then onto the heels of my hands and scraped by nose on the pavement. These experiences are just plain weird because I am fully conscious of what is happening but unable to control it. As I knelt there with my butt sticking up and my head on the asphalt I thought things like, “Gee, I really should get up before someone sees me.” “This paving is sealed better than my driveway.” And, “I wonder how long it will take this time for my muscles to re-connect to signals from my brain so I can get up?” At least the position was right, with my head lower than my heart and after about 3 hours (or maybe only 30 seconds,) I got up, made certain I had not broken my glasses and headed for the car. I only thought I had gotten away unobserved, however.

I reached the car and had the key in the door lock when a man with a stethoscope around his neck came walking quickly toward me while at least two women watched from the entrance of the office complex. He asked if I was hurt and if everything was all right. I thought “Hell no, everything’s not all right. I’m embarrassed and humiliated!” What I said, however, was a reassuring and coherent response that I was fine then but had not been when he apparently saw me. I assured him that nothing was seriously wounded except my dignity and that I had just seen my doctor. I used enough “doc type” words to convince him that it really was just a passing event, that I was coherent and aware of my surroundings, and that I was OK to drive. I thanked him then got into the car, lamented the loss of a pair of slacks due to tar stains, and drove away. The fact that I saw an ambulance, siren shrieking, and lights flashing going in the opposite direction didn’t even register with me at the time. Of course, my doctor called to find out what had happened and I accepted my scolding and his suggestions willingly. It was then that he told me how I had missed by seconds the response to the 911 call that a secretary had made. If I have to be thankful for something today, it is that I left before they arrived. You cannot “un-call” 911.

You think that was all? I should be so lucky. I had a burrito and a Pepsi, got online, and found a friend to chat with. She was sympathetic and wanted to know all the symptoms but made me promise to get specific tests done. She also gave me more possibilities of what it might have been than I ever wanted to hear. I had never heard of a bruit, let alone thought I might have had such a condition for 44 years without knowing about it. I really appreciate your concern and information, Eliza, but for God’s sake please pass your exam and quit scaring the shit out of me!

Peace, Doc

Click-A-Donation

Fri, 09 Sep 2005 12:24:43 GMT

This was borrowed directly from Shelly's (amcangirl) site. If you click on the address below, it will take you to a site where, by simply clicking a pink button, you make a small donation to the breast cancer site. It costs you nothing as it is paid for by by the advertisers on the site. While you are there, you can also click to contribute to hunger relief, literacy, rainforest preservation, literacy and child health.

http://www.thebreastcancersite.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/CTDSites/

Peace, Doc

Poverty and AIDS

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 00:16:02 GMT

Hello All,

Redvelvet1 sent me the following post and it appears to me that it is something over which we have some control. I'm not certain about the 25 cent pill. I thought it was a three medication cocktail which had to be taken at precise intervals but I'm a PhD, not a MD:

I feel this is important & want to help spread the word... Did you know that EVERY SINGLE DAY 36,000 children die, NEEDLESSLY, of extreme poverty? And in Africa alone, 6,300 people die EVERY DAY from AIDS... AIDS is now a preventable treatable disease... all they need is a 25 cent pill that can keep them alive!!! I want to invite everyone to please take a minute & visit http://www.ONE.org & do your part by signing the petition that can make poverty history!!! You can sign the letter to President Bush by going to http://www.ONE.org or You can also find out more about LIVE8 & sign a petition at http://www.live8live.com/ Please feel free to drop by Redvelvet's Underground & read more about this important issue... Thanks

"Impossible" Injury Occurs!

Thu, 30 Jun 2005 20:48:30 GMT

Health and Injury Warning!

I have had several minor health problems or injuries since my teenage years. Fibrocystic bone disease resulted in three broken arms and corrective surgery in a 13 month period. I was dumb enough to be riding on a friend's father's tractor with my butt on the rear wheel cover and my leg hooked around the axle when he hit a groundhog hole, the tractor stopped abruptly, and most of me except for my left knee and lower leg tried to fall off - result, few/no ligaments remain attached to hold the knee joint in position. Again, no terrible consequences, though I continue to provide a great source of amusement to those watching me try to get up from sitting on the floor. I've ended up hanging upside down like a bat from the seatbelt twice in friends' cars. I've had an Xacto knife roll off my workbench and stick in my foot while refusing to let go of a glue joint on a sailplane wing to remove it (but yelling for my daughter to come pull it out.) I blew my first lumbo-sacral disc (and several others since then) by reaching for a box of laundry detergent. I almost welded a screwdriver across the mains in my previous house's electric service while I was rewiring an octopus of a wiring setup done by the previous owner. (Doc knows what he's doing - right?) I'm thankful that my daughter (only about six or seven, then) was watching me because, amid the humongous sparkler that outlined me I heard, from two stories up, "What the f*** are you doing down there!?" As has been the case numerous times, my firstborn was there for me. "Its allright, Mom. He's still alive!."

Given the above, I have a new potential for injury to report that I had never thought about, much less considered the possibility that it could happen to me. While kneeling to get Pepsi out of the pantry to put in the refrigerator my knee let go, I sat down on the floor involuntarily with my right foot ending up between my legs. Although I doubt that this is likely to become a pandemic, I feel the need to warn my male readers that it is, indeed, possible to kick oneself in the b***s. Even the cats looked at me disbelievingly. Annie, you are supposed to be taking care of me!

Hoping That You are Less of an Idiot than I Appear to Be, Doc