I've had weekend-long sessions at my healing school (which I still would like to blog about some time...) in Meadville (which is in the upper-left-hand corner of Pennsylvania, as opposed to the lower-right corner where Deb and I live) for the last four years. Roughly six or eight sessions a year.
I graduated from that school last weekend. It was a marvelous experience that touched all participants quite deeply. And I want to blog about that as well. (I will be attending the school for at least one more year as a graduate. It's all rather complicated...) But that's not what I want to write about this morning. Not exactly, anyway.
When I go to the school, I make it a habit to take a backpack/satchel gizmo with me. I picked it up at an annual convention of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology. Nice logo on the pack, and wonderfully useful. I keep several notebooks in it, along with papers relevant to the school, plus pens, a book of Sudoku puzzles, my checkbook and my datebook/calendar.
And when I get to the school, I empty my pockets into the pack: my wallet, my cell phone, my car keys, and whatever coins I've brought with me. When the school session starts, it's important to me (for reasons I don't fully understand) to have empty pockets.
When I get ready to leave the school, I retrieve my wallet, phone, and car keys -- but I never retrieve the coins. Probably because I'd have to pull everything else out of the pack to get to them, since they're all lying at the bottom.
Anyway, yesterday, I decided to do just that: pull all the paper out of the pack and retrieve the quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies that have accumulated there. I'm sure there was $20 worth down there, and it might well have been $30. It didn't seem to be necessary to count it...
I spent a moment looking down at the money before I started hauling it out, thinking about how much weight the coins had added to the pack through the years. And the phrase came to mind: "Four years' worth of change."
And then I thought about how deeply and in how many ways the school has helped me open and redirect my life over that time. And I thought about last year's illness and its attendant treatments. And how much that experience has changed me. And how my marriage has become a stronger and deeper experience. And how my golf game has improved. And how much learning and playing my electronic keyboard has meant to me. And on and on...
And then I thought: "Yup, four years' worth of change. That's about right."
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Saturday, June 19, 2010
What (I Think) You Should Know about Blood Clots
I guess it's not surprising that so many people know so little about blood clots. I certainly didn't until my body started producing them. Those two deep-vein-thrombosis (DVT) clots and the recent death of my nephew Jon prompt me to suggest a few things I think you should know about blood clots you may develop. (Folks have asked me about this...)
First of all, please understand that almost anyone, it seems, can develop a blood clot. Your age doesn't seem to matter (Jon was 24 and I'm 63). Your physical size and your physical condition don't seem to matter. And your gender doesn't seem to matter either. There may be a genetic predisposition to clotting, but that won't guarantee that you will or won't develop clots somewhere in your lifetime.
So, there are many causes of blood clots, as described in this article: http://www.insideheart.com/causes-of-blood-clots.html (with thanks to Pooja for posting this link back in late April!) But in addition, I'd like to address the issues of "How do you know if you've got one?" and "What do you do if you think you do have one?"
"How do you know?"
I've been thinking about the experiences that Jon and I shared, based on what I've learned from Jon's dad. I will grant you that a patient sample size of two is quite small and unscientific, but it's the best I can do. If you've got a clearer idea, please feel free to post that information!!
Jon and I both experienced pain -- me in my calf and Jon in his chest. The pain lasted for several days, getting somewhat stronger or weaker from time to time. The thing we both had in common here was we couldn't think of any reason for the pain. I hadn't been playing Rugby, doing wind sprints, or doing anything other unusual strenuous activity. The pain felt very much like a muscle pull, and Jon's dad seemed to be saying that was what Jon felt as well. In addition, the normal stretching or other palliative activities that might have alleviated the pain weren't working.
(Swelling in the affected area is noted in the literature as a symptom, but I didn't experience much of that...)
So Jon and I each had several days' notice that there was a problem. Fortunately for me, the staff at my radiation-therapy doctor's office picked up immediately on the symptom (which they noticed since I came to their office on crutches) and directed me to the hospital -- stat. As I understand it from Jon's dad, his doctors were still working through other possible causes for his pain. And they didn't come up with the right answer in time.
"What do you do?"
Get it checked out. Do not wait for it to get better all by itself!!
The level of pain Jon and I felt was considerable, and (as mentioned) we couldn't think of any activity which might have caused it. That's your symptom. It ain't much, I grant you, but it helps explain to me why (according to one website I saw) 200,000 people a year die of this. It's just so subtle.
Now, this is strictly me speaking: If you start feeling a pain you can't explain and your medical practitioner starts looking for other causes, that's fine. But you have the right to ask him/her: "Could this be a blood clot? Should I get an ultrasound? A sonogram?"
And listen carefully to the answer. And if you're not comfortable with it, maybe you should ask someone else.
First of all, please understand that almost anyone, it seems, can develop a blood clot. Your age doesn't seem to matter (Jon was 24 and I'm 63). Your physical size and your physical condition don't seem to matter. And your gender doesn't seem to matter either. There may be a genetic predisposition to clotting, but that won't guarantee that you will or won't develop clots somewhere in your lifetime.
So, there are many causes of blood clots, as described in this article: http://www.insideheart.com/causes-of-blood-clots.html (with thanks to Pooja for posting this link back in late April!) But in addition, I'd like to address the issues of "How do you know if you've got one?" and "What do you do if you think you do have one?"
"How do you know?"
I've been thinking about the experiences that Jon and I shared, based on what I've learned from Jon's dad. I will grant you that a patient sample size of two is quite small and unscientific, but it's the best I can do. If you've got a clearer idea, please feel free to post that information!!
Jon and I both experienced pain -- me in my calf and Jon in his chest. The pain lasted for several days, getting somewhat stronger or weaker from time to time. The thing we both had in common here was we couldn't think of any reason for the pain. I hadn't been playing Rugby, doing wind sprints, or doing anything other unusual strenuous activity. The pain felt very much like a muscle pull, and Jon's dad seemed to be saying that was what Jon felt as well. In addition, the normal stretching or other palliative activities that might have alleviated the pain weren't working.
(Swelling in the affected area is noted in the literature as a symptom, but I didn't experience much of that...)
So Jon and I each had several days' notice that there was a problem. Fortunately for me, the staff at my radiation-therapy doctor's office picked up immediately on the symptom (which they noticed since I came to their office on crutches) and directed me to the hospital -- stat. As I understand it from Jon's dad, his doctors were still working through other possible causes for his pain. And they didn't come up with the right answer in time.
"What do you do?"
Get it checked out. Do not wait for it to get better all by itself!!
The level of pain Jon and I felt was considerable, and (as mentioned) we couldn't think of any activity which might have caused it. That's your symptom. It ain't much, I grant you, but it helps explain to me why (according to one website I saw) 200,000 people a year die of this. It's just so subtle.
Now, this is strictly me speaking: If you start feeling a pain you can't explain and your medical practitioner starts looking for other causes, that's fine. But you have the right to ask him/her: "Could this be a blood clot? Should I get an ultrasound? A sonogram?"
And listen carefully to the answer. And if you're not comfortable with it, maybe you should ask someone else.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Jon -- the Aftermath
My brother -- Jon's dad -- sent an e-mail with some details of the coroner's report. And, as we thought, Jon died of a pulmonary embolism: a blood clot that went to Jon's lungs.
I understand that there are more details available on Jon's Facebook page -- information that Jon himself wrote shortly before he died plus postings from friends and family afterwards. But I can't bring myself to go looking for this.
I'm told, however, that Jon complained of chest pains shortly before he died and that his doctor described this condition as "bronchitis." (I can't confirm the leg pains that I mentioned in a previous posting. In retrospect, I see that my description of that was actually me projecting my own symptoms onto Jon...) And since Jon was young and otherwise healthy, it's understandable (I suppose) that the doctors didn't schedule a scan of his chest to find the root cause of his discomfort.
This last weekend, my sister and I worked on our Dad's house -- trying to get it ready to put on the market, since he's currently living in an Assisted Living facility. On Sunday afternoon, we drove over to see him and tell him about Jon. Dad's memory is spotty enough now that we had to explain several times who Jon was. Dad understood clearly that a young member of our family had passed away, but he struggled hard to place Jon's name and his position in the family. We tried five or six times, but we could almost watch the information quickly slide away from him.
On Dad's bedstand were three photos that were taken the previous weekend. We think they were taken at Jon's engagement party in New Jersey. The photos showed Jon's dad (our brother) and mom, his sister and her husband... and Jon. I hadn't seen Jon or a picture of him in almost a year, and it was striking to see what I felt was a new maturity and sense of purpose in Jon's face.
Perhaps it's for the best that Dad can't remember the details of who Jon was. He already lost his eldest son (my older brother) several years ago, and now he's lost a grandson. And it is crystal clear to all of us that the most important treasure in Dad's life is the family he's created. Dad neither needs nor deserves the heartache that the rest of us are feeling.
I e-mailed Jon's dad explaining that my doctors feel that I shouldn't be in a car for more than two or three hours a day because of my own blood clot situation. And, for that reason, I wouldn't be able to get to western Virginia in time for Jon's viewing or memorial service. And he wrote back that he was sure that Jon wouldn't want anyone to put themselves at risk so that they could attend his services. The response was beautifully worded and felt so much like Jon and his Dad writing to me simultaneously.
I don't believe I ever understood that beauty and pain could express themselves together like this...
I understand that there are more details available on Jon's Facebook page -- information that Jon himself wrote shortly before he died plus postings from friends and family afterwards. But I can't bring myself to go looking for this.
I'm told, however, that Jon complained of chest pains shortly before he died and that his doctor described this condition as "bronchitis." (I can't confirm the leg pains that I mentioned in a previous posting. In retrospect, I see that my description of that was actually me projecting my own symptoms onto Jon...) And since Jon was young and otherwise healthy, it's understandable (I suppose) that the doctors didn't schedule a scan of his chest to find the root cause of his discomfort.
This last weekend, my sister and I worked on our Dad's house -- trying to get it ready to put on the market, since he's currently living in an Assisted Living facility. On Sunday afternoon, we drove over to see him and tell him about Jon. Dad's memory is spotty enough now that we had to explain several times who Jon was. Dad understood clearly that a young member of our family had passed away, but he struggled hard to place Jon's name and his position in the family. We tried five or six times, but we could almost watch the information quickly slide away from him.
On Dad's bedstand were three photos that were taken the previous weekend. We think they were taken at Jon's engagement party in New Jersey. The photos showed Jon's dad (our brother) and mom, his sister and her husband... and Jon. I hadn't seen Jon or a picture of him in almost a year, and it was striking to see what I felt was a new maturity and sense of purpose in Jon's face.
Perhaps it's for the best that Dad can't remember the details of who Jon was. He already lost his eldest son (my older brother) several years ago, and now he's lost a grandson. And it is crystal clear to all of us that the most important treasure in Dad's life is the family he's created. Dad neither needs nor deserves the heartache that the rest of us are feeling.
I e-mailed Jon's dad explaining that my doctors feel that I shouldn't be in a car for more than two or three hours a day because of my own blood clot situation. And, for that reason, I wouldn't be able to get to western Virginia in time for Jon's viewing or memorial service. And he wrote back that he was sure that Jon wouldn't want anyone to put themselves at risk so that they could attend his services. The response was beautifully worded and felt so much like Jon and his Dad writing to me simultaneously.
I don't believe I ever understood that beauty and pain could express themselves together like this...
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