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Pathé News

My mother was the one who educated me about the Pathé News service.  Back in her day, news came from the radio or newspapers.  There was no “film at 11″.  You didn’t get streaming video of, well, anything.  The Pathé News service, however, provided newsreels to movie houses each week.  Instead of previews, movie goers had video of a week’s news in review.

Such a part of life in the 1940’s, “Pathé” became part of the vernacular.  The main course for Saturday evening meals in my mother’s college dorm was referred to as “Pathé Soup”.  It was the week’s vegetables in review…

Since I seem to be struggling once again for a blog topic, this is a Pathé blog – the week’s random thoughts in review.

  • For someone who doesn’t have a real job, I seem to be struggling through Mondays more than seems defensible.  How can that possibly be, I wonder.
  • Writers are extraordinarily generous.  Since blogging about writer’s block I have had encouragement from several new commenters…all of them fellow bloggers.  I am extraordinarily grateful. 
  • Obedience class is much more fun when you have decided that “most improved” is an entirely acceptable goal.
  • Occasionally, the game is better than the Super Bowl commercials.
  • Next weekend will bring both the opening ceremonies of the 2010 Winter Olympics and Valentine’s Day – two events in which I am unlikely to ever actually participate – one of which I am actually looking forward to.
  • Hawks are easier to catch than Boxers.

Super Bowls Past

Years ago I was stationed halfway around the world on a small island in the middle of the Indian Ocean.  Phone lines were limited.  Mail took weeks.  Television was provided through the base; programming through Armed Forces Radio and Television System (AFRTS – pronounced, predictably, ey-farts). 

We didn’t get news broadcasts, or at least we didn’t get them while they were news.  The island received taped shows by weekly airlift, some of which were news-like, like the Today Show, but the news itself came via teletype or message traffic.  We got sports scores the same way.  Not much was live or real-time, and what we did get was subject to unscheduled preëmption, as satellite coverage in that part of the world was sketchy, at best.

… and there was to the time difference…  11 hours ahead of the East Coast…

… so live broadcasts were not the norm.  Exceptions were made, of course, and the Super Bowl was one of them.  Once a year the island residents adjusted their work-week schedules, so that we could get up, or stay up, to watch a game that would start at 4 a.m. on a Monday morning.  By lunchtime, we were expected back in our offices – although I am not sure that we were expected to to be terribly effective that day.  Super Bowl Monday was a bit of a holiday in our island nation…

… and it still came through AFRTS….which was fine I suppose, except for this one thing.  In order to get programming to run in normally allotted time it still needed to have commercials.  Being broadcast by the government meant that they weren’t about to pass on the endorsement of private companies.  We got pseudo-commercials, instead.

AFRTS commercials reminded us to brush and floss daily, educated us on the dangers of trench foot and, state-by-state, refreshed our fifth grade civics education with state capitals, state flowers, crops, climate, national parks and the year each state was admitted into the union.  You haven’t lived till you have watched Cheers reruns brought to you courtesy of the great state of Iowa.

I transferred from this remote outpost in late January.  A friend I left behind to finish his tour begged me to record the Super Bowl and send it to him…in case the satellite feed got cut during the game.  Not entirely sure how long a VHS tape would record, or how long a football game really was, I said I would do my best to get it all.

He told me that if the game was running long, to stop recording the game and be sure to get the commercials…

It’s funny what you miss when you are away from home.

Never Stand in a Bight

“Never stand in a bight” is old sailor’s wisdom.  It was drilled into me in my early days at the Naval Academy – never, ever, get your feet tangled into a loop of line on the deck.  You never know when a line might get pulled tight, and being strung by your ankle from the mast is dangerous; what’s worse, it looks bad. 

Really bad.

It’s easy when you are new to sailing to become boresighted on some task, or distracted by some new sight.  One of my fellow plebes had to be reminded of the corollary to the “no standing” rule.  He was so focused on trying to be useful that he was paying little attention to his surroundings.  “Hey - don’t put your head in a bight either” he had to be reminded.

Landlubbers typically pay little attention to a coil of rope lying about on the garage floor or tucked in the corner of the basement.  These are inanimate objects, but ropes on a ship are live snakes, lying in wait to bite the unsuspecting.  I know this.  I am particularly mindful of this when I am sailing.  I watch my feet and continually coil up loose lines and tuck them out-of-the-way whenever possible.

Like those landlubbers, though, I am not as attentive when I am safely ashore… which is why my neighbor found me yesterday lying flat on my back in the driveway; the wind completely knocked out of me.

It was my decision to unhook the 50 foot leash from the post on my deck to give the beast more room to run; still on a leash, but not quite tethered to my yard.

It was my decision to play a little catch, letting her race through my backyard and my neighbor’s driveway.

It was I who launched the tennis ball to the far corner.

And it was I who stepped into a coil in the 50 foot leash, and whose last conscious thought before hitting the pavement was “oops”

So… naturally… I am blaming the beast… She was, after all, found standing over the body…slobbering.

Catch and Release

I did something entirely new today.  I joined a colleague from school, a licensed bird bander, out catching hawks.

Yup.  Hawks.

We spent the morning trolling the countryside on the outskirts of my hometown looking for birds.  When we caught one, my colleague weighed the bird, measured its wing chord (the distance from the last wing joint to the wing tip), banded the bird and set it free…after a couple glamour shots for the sake of posterity…

Redtail Hawk

 

The trap we used was a cage containing a live mouse, fitted with loops of fishing line on the top in which the hawk’s feet become entangled.  At the end of the day, we caught and banded one redtail and one cooper hawk, and caught a previously banded redtail.  All of which was accomplished without injury and without any visible trauma to either the hawks, the hawkers or the mouse… 

A pretty good day.

You can read a little more about the raptor research project here.

Untethered

The beast was well on her way to being dubbed a wonder-dog the other day – or at least on her way to earning extra treats for her considerably improved behavior.  I was over at my brother’s house, hanging out with my favorite eight year-old, for the evening and had to give her credit. 

I normally don’t bring the beast with me because she can be quite a handful, but this was only a short stay, so I let her tag along.  She did, in fact, burst through the back door, anxious to see who else there was to play with.  After sailing across the hardwood floor and kicking up the throw rugs in her wake before leaping onto my brother’s chocolate lab, it only took three laps through family room, living room, front hall, dining room and kitchen, before they settled back into their usual routine of wrestling in place.

This may not seem like improved behavior to some, but I’d ask you to just consider this; wrestling on the family room floor is a low velocity event.  The probability of me getting to the juice glass balanced on the coffee table before the two dogs crash into it is infinitely higher if they are rolling on the ground than when they are racing headlong through the house.

As further evidence of the beast’s waxing maturity; when my brother’s dog retreated to her bed for a rest between rounds, the beast let her be. 

Mostly.

OK, so I had dragged her away and was sitting on her, but she did let me drag her away.

When my brother got home, the beast was even up for a little showing off.  He told her to sit.  She did.  He told her to stay.  She did. 

As we were leaving, I asked her to heel.  She did… 

               …without a leash…

                                         …until I opened the back door…

For forty minutes she raced in loops through my brother and his neighbors’ backyards; coming within feet of me on each loop, but always racing away.  I tried calling her, coaxing her, tackling her.  I tried sitting down and having her come to me.  I tried getting in the car and driving down the driveway.  Nothing worked, until my brother walked out the back door.

Not even bothering to taunt me on her next loop, she raced to the top of the driveway.

My brother said “Sit”.

She did.

Traitorous bitch.

Holding On

I have often told the story of being blown down on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. 

One instant my feet were firmly on the deck.  The next instant the deck was over my head; or, rather, I was landing on my head shortly before tumbling further down the landing area.  It was three seconds out of the years I spent aboard the flat tops; hardly representative,  but it was an adrenaline filled three seconds, and it makes for a good story.

Anyway… all I wanted to do at the time was to find something to hold onto.

There are times in most of our lives when that is what we all want to do, I suspect, especially when times are uncertain…

                                          … like when you are losing your mind.

For me, I found a padeye to hold onto, while the aircraft, whose exhaust had blown me off my feet, turned away from me to wreak havoc on someone else.

For my mother, it was notes.

I would find them all over the house when I moved home.  So many notes…something to tether her to where and when she was.  “Today is Tuesday”, they would say, or the date on the newspaper would be circled… and held like a lifeline.

I wish desparately that there was a way to get the force that has knocked my mother off her feet to turn away, too.  Instead she has simply let go; no longer able to keep herself tethered to here and now.  No longer able even to write herself a note.

Writer’s Block

It happens when you get in your own way.

I am suffering from writer’s block, lately.  You might have thought that, since I posted nothing yesterday, that I took a day off from writing.  Not true!!  I spent hours at my computer yesterday; writing…or trying to.

It’s not because I am suddenly bereft of topics.  It is because I chose to change voices lately.  I chose to write about process, rather than simply narrate my own experience.  I was writing about the process of diagnosing Alzheimer’s.  I think it is a topic that has value.  I know I am not the leading expert, having only been through it once, but I still thought it was worth writing.

Ack!!!

I won’t make that mistake again…

I was nervous the first time I went with my mother to the memory disorder clinic…  I guess it comes with the territory, but I thought it might be useful to outline some of the process.

Before you go you should ask to have any relevent lab and  test results forwarded to the doctor who will be doing your loved one’s cognitive assessment.  They will probably require additional tests, but they can at least look at what has been done so far.

On the day of the appointment, showing up, of course is the most important thing, but there are a few things you might want to think about before you go.  You should bring a list of all the medications your loved one is currently taking, as well as their complete medical history.  Since I was living with my mom, the med list was pretty easy, but the medical history was a bit harder.  Enlist your loved one’s physician, your siblings, etc.  

Get to the appointment early.  Not only does it give you time to fill in paperwork, it also gives the patient a moment or two to adjust to someplace new.

The bulk of time during the doctor’s, outside of waiting around and filling in paperwork, will be taken up with a cognitive assessment.  Don’t worry it’s painless… or at least physically painless.  It consists of a series of questions or tasks. 

The hardest part of the exam is sitting on your own hands and biting your own tongue.  Many Alzheimer’s sufferers develop their own coping mechanisms to compensate for their diminished capacity.  It’s equally true that caregivers also develop compensating skills.  We finished sentences, take over tasks and provide hints.  Keep in mind, the examiner is not interested in whether you know what season it is or whether you can read and follow simple instructions or copy geometric figures. 

As I got more used to going to these evaluations, I made a practice of asking the doctor to tell me specifically when he wanted me to answer something, even outside of the actual cognitive assessment portion of the visit.  It took a few visits, but I finally realized that he needs to see the whole picture of what my mother can and cannot do…even if it slows down the visit.  So while you are there, sit down and shut up.  So what if it takes forever.  That is what you are there for.

The cognitive assessment only determines cognitive skill levels; it’s an indicator of whether your loved one is suffering from some sort of diminished capacity.  It cannot establish the cause of that diminishment.  Unfortunately, there is no test yet that definitively determines whether the cause is Alzheimer’s.  What’s left, then, is to determine that it isn’t anything else. 

In addition to the cognitive assessment, the doctor should do a couple additional tests to conclude a patient is suffering from Alzheimer’s.  A physical exams should be done as a matter of routine, looking at blood pressure, temperature, vision, pulse, etc.  A neuro exam, often combined with the cognitive assessment, should look at coordination, reflexes, balance, and gait.

The doctor should rule out drug interaction or drug allergies, hence the need for a complete medication list.  He should review medical history for other injuries, like a head injury, for example; or for conditions like heart disease that may affect blood flow to the brain.

Blood work needs to be done to rule out a number of other possible sources of memory loss, like hypothyroidism, diabetes, or infection. 

The most debated test, I think, is imagery.  It may not be the standard of care if there are no other symptoms that indicate stroke, hydrocephalus, or tumors.  If you have any doubts, though, I would insist on having an MRI, CT or PET scan.

Because blood work will probably still be pending, you won’t leave the doctor’s office with a firm diagnosis. 

Because of the nature of the disease, you won’t ever have a firm diagnosis, but there are treatments that have been shown to be moderately effective in lessening some of the symptoms.

So go.

My lawyer, if I were to refer this blog post to him, would say I need to be clear here that I have no medical background, but I am going to plow on anyway…

I had a long talk the other day about diagnosing Alzheimer’s.  “How do you get the process started?” a friend asked.  I didn’t have a foolproof, universally effective method for her.  I don’t have that for you either, but I can tell you what I know, and the most important thing to remember is that you are not alone.

Your community has places where you can go; Alzheimer’s support groups, the library, the church, social services, a nursing home.  You know someone who has going through the same process that is facing you.  More than 5 million Americans suffer from Alzheimer’s; roughly one in 60.  Having these questions and worries isn’t new.  It’s only new to you – at least that’s what it felt like to me.

A couple resources you may be interested in:

  • The Alzheimer’s Association website provides a wealth of information, including useful information for caregivers, as well as links to local resources and a 24-hour information line.
  • The Mayo Clinic website has some of the best medical information, written in plain English, and a blog that has a number of useful topics.
  • Surprisingly, About.com  also has a pretty good segment on Alzheimer’s as well.

Each of those websites will give you the basics of what the disease is and is not; what to look for.   It is harder though to take the next step; doing something about it.  Having a conversation about dementia with someone you suspect has Alzheimer’s is not easy.  I put that conversation off…I called my mother’s doctor instead. 

Because of doctor-patient confidentiality, you won’t get a lot of answers about previous diagnoses, but you can get answers for what should come next.  Keep in mind that there is no such legal requirement for family-patient confidentiality.  Keep in mind also that the doc doesn’t see some of what you are seeing, and it’s unlikely that your loved one told the doc about it while they were there.  Regardless of what the doc can and can’t tell you, you can tell him what you are seeing and find out what the next step should be diagnostically.  Many physicians are busy, but they have a vested interest in ensuring a proper diagnosis for all of their patients.

We are blessed in my hometown with a memory disorder clinic, dedicated to the treatment of Alzheimer’s and other memory disorders.  While a number of other cities have specialized clinics, that’s not what is important.  You will need to see a neurologist or a geriatric psychiatrist. 

If you really want to know…

I promised to bring the beast with me to mom’s today.  One of the women who works on my mom’s floor absolutely adores the beast, so I try to bring the beast on days when she is working.  I couldn’t quite swing it today, though.  I have one rule with respect to bringing the beast to see mom.  She has to be tired.

It was 4 degrees when I got up this morning.  By noon it had reached a balmy 7; still too cold for a decent walk; too cold even for a little catch in the backyard.  If I could have thrown the frisbee from inside, I would have, but the beast had no desire to be out any longer than necessary, so instead we tried a little indoor catch.  It just isn’t the same, though, so we were stuck.

No exercise…no field trip to the nursing home…

I did manage to delay the decision not to take her with me until after lunch.  After yesterday’s adventures, I was pretty happy to miss mealtime.  Instead, I wandered in mid-afternoon, just in time to catch the tail end of the afternoon’s entertainment; a performance by a group of youngsters from an Irish dance studio. 

I should tell you that this is a considerable improvement over getting spit on and watching people puke…  in case you were any doubt.

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