Caught in a Medical Web

Two weeks ago, I was struck. Not only did I have my first heart attack; to the best of my knowledge, I had the first one in my immediate family. Thinking it was another acid reflux attack, I drove myself to the hospital, where they told me. “Sir, you’re having a massive heart attack.” Well. That might explain why the pain I was feeling was the worst I had ever felt.

They have no cardiac care in Culpeper, so they stuck me in an ambulance, rushing me to the UVA hospital in Charlottesville, where I went directly into the operating room, without checking in, for a quick exam and stent insertion — very freaky. But once they cleared the blockage, and emplaced the stent, I no longer felt any pain.

When the dust had settled, having passed through intensive care, and been studied, poked, and prodded, they discharged me with a handful of new prescription medicines, one of which promptly turned my back blue, and set me to itching over my entire upper body. That brought me right back to the emergency room. One of the drugs they’d sent me home with, the Plavix blood thinner, was apparently notorious for this. They changed it out for a different thinner, and sent me home again.

Ten days later they added another drug, and the itching began again. The next morning, I couldn’t breathe. Fortunately, on a whim, I’d bought a small oxygen cannister at Lowes (about the size of a bug spray bottle). Two puffs and I was fine, but it was off to the hospital again.

This time they couldn’t decide whether the drug was so important that they should try to find a way to medicate me so that I could ride out the side effects, or have me go off the drug. They opted for going off the drug (my choice, too). It’s been quite a recovery period.

At this point, all I want is to be free of the medical profession for a while. They are fine people, and perhaps they’ve saved my life, but we need to stop meeting for a while. I have a life.

Born in China, Die in Syria — And the Hell with You

I bought the Western Digital My Book external hard drive about ten months ago, to make automatic backups on my Mac. I just wanted the little blighter to sit there, and record backups every four hours or so. That’s not a tour de force in today’s computer world. Earlier this week it gave up the ghost. The disk is still spinning, but it’s no longer talking to the computer. I tried everything an owner could do, but no luck. Fortunately, my Amazon sales document said it was under warranty, so I navigated the Western Digital website from hell, establishing an account, finding out that I already had an account, going back and retrieving my long lost password, learning the model number by applying a magnifying glass to the microprinted codes on the product cabinet, and eventually coming to a mutual agreement with the manufacturer as to the date of manufacture, and the fact that the drive was in fact still under warranty.

I had already established all this on my own on the website, but now it was official. I was entitled to get a replacement — but not so fast. I was now in communication with a real human, Richard. Before proceeding further, I was to attempt a few self-care items. Try using Apple Disk First Aid (tough to do if you can’t mount the disk). Now download the special Western Digital troubleshooting software to attempt repair. Also, replace the power supply and USB cord with a high quality, factory USB cord.

That hissing sound Rose heard from the other room was me, lifting safeties.

I stopped to consider for about ten seconds; I unplugged and re-plugged the power cord. I could hear the thing still spinning, but nothing more. I walked into the other room and found another, identical USB cord. Plugging it in, I detected no difference. My safeties stopped lifting as the steam pressure in my head went down.

I sat down at my computer and answered the email to Richard: “Let me get this straight,” I wrote, “before replacing the unit under warranty, you want me to purchase from you a new power supply, and a new USB cable, all at your premium price, just to test, in order to see if the drive, which is obviously spinning, might have a power problem. Is that correct?”

Before I spent my own money acting like a trained monkey for those guys, I’d simply take this disk drive to the dump, and buy a different brand. Buying a new power supply and cable would get me into them for almost a third the cost of a new drive. It's a bit like building a new car from the parts department — not recommended.

I need not have worried. I was busy all the next day, but by the time I got around to reading my email in the evening, Richard had answered. He wanted my address and phone number so he could replace my sick drive with a new one. One small victory for common sense.

BUILDING MEN OF CHARACTER

The following is a column by my wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, in this week's Culpeper Star-Exponent:

It takes love and courage to build a boy into a man. It takes a lot of perseverance, guidance and mutual respect to build that boy into a man of character. I’ve been dwelling on this since listening to an interview with author Anna Malaika Tubbs on her new book, “The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X and James Baldwin Shaped a Nation.”

The book acknowledges that, while we know a great deal about these three men and their legacies, we know almost nothing about their mothers; it is as if these women who were, in each case, an integral part of shaping her son’s life; Alberta Williams King, Berdis Baldwin and Louise Little, were erased from history. Her description of Alberta Williams King is that of a college-educated woman with a teaching certificate, who lead the choir, played the church organ and served as a proud member of the NAACP. She was an outstanding role model; active in several organizations that focused on social justice and passed on a commitment to social justice to Martin as part of her Christian faith.

She was extremely close to Martin, and he was known to say that he had “the best mother in the world.” She took her passion and talent, and translated those into her mothering, which Martin shared with the world. Although few today know it, Alberta was also assassinated, shot in the head at age 69, while playing the organ at Ebenezer Baptist Church, six years after MLK, only yards away from the graveyard where her son was buried.

It is 2023, and we have grown wearily accustomed to reports of viscous and unrestrained acts of war, terror and bloodshed. Yet we are struck repeatedly by acts of crime and savagery perpetuated by young men, regardless of color or ethnicity, or nationality. We ask, “How is it possible for young men to take lives so recklessly, brutally and callously?” We also wonder how they can walk into a subway, or a classroom, or a Walmart and just open fire?

We’ve grown immune to unethical behavior, lying, or cheating in business and politics perpetrated by young men who have no compunction about embezzling, cheating, or misappropriating funds of those who can least afford the losses, and defrauding the elderly who have no time or means to recoup their life savings. Our magazines and social media are rife with stories of poor behavior, often by men of privilege, or fame, who behave badly, but with no remorse.

This is America. So how can we, going forward, bolster for this and future generations of young men the idea of a free society of justice and compassion that respects the sanctity of life and the dignity of the human individual? Once upon a time, these values were conveyed in Sunday school lessons, or, if you were fortunate by role models in your life. These methods are rarer and rarer, and bad behavior is flaunted in the multiverse. As parents, grandparents or special people in their lives, we only have a few years to lay the foundations of good character in our sons. Some of these values and behaviors can be taught and reinforced starting at about age three, others by age five, and they all can pretty much get it down pat by age seven, with constant reminders and boosters for the next ten to fifteen years. No list of virtues can ever replace good role modeling. “Do as I say, not as I do” has never been a good strategy for building and toughening up moral behavior! Take a look at some of these ideas, and imagine when and how they might bolster your son’s self-worth, and confidence, and put him on a sure footing when life throws a curve ball his way, and send him in the right direction once he fledges from the nest.

Always give a firm hand shake and look ‘em in the eye.

When it comes to women of any age, CHIVALRY IS NOT DEAD! Treat all women with respect and courtesy. Hold the door open even if it isn’t necessarily the fashion.

Work hard. Give it your best, whether working for yourself or someone else! Whether it is academics or sports or working as a barista at Starbucks. The discipline and value of what you learn will last a lifetime. It’s called “hard work” because it is HARD!

According to Mahatma Gandhi, “The simplest acts of kindness are far more powerful than a thousand heads bowing in prayer.” Combat the tendency toward selfishness by modeling generosity. Teach him that helping and giving can make him feel good!

Starting in the sandbox, teach him how to play fair, be humble when winning and graceful in defeat, and never use performance enhancing drugs.

Try to think of the consequences of your actions before you end up in the hospital or jail. Only act after careful consideration, and if things go wrong, accept responsibility and try to set things right. And please, don’t blame others for your mistakes!

Consequences can be much worse than you might imagine. Especially if what you do is amazingly stupid.

Parents, please only occasionally use this phrase ,“What Were You Thinking?” You will only get a blank stare from which you can imply that he wasn’t. The male brain doesn’t mature until the mid 20’s, which means there will be too many opportunities to question their thought process.

Remember to hug and kiss when he is little. Say “good job, good job” when he deserves it. Don’t give praise for just showing up!!!!!

Wishing you all a good week. Be careful at your Super Bowl party and remember not to be caught double-dipping into the seven-layer dip! It will set a bad example for your son!

Let’s Start the Year with a Smile!

The following is a column by my wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, in this week's Culpeper Star-Exponent:

Happy 2023! Let’s all start off the year with a smile! ‘A smile can brighten the darkest day,’ the old saying goes, and we certainly have had some dark days this past year.

I haven’t taken smiling for granted since I developed Bell’s Palsy,’ a facial nerve paralysis that caused the right side of my face to droop, most notably my eye and right side of my mouth. The paralysis lasted for months, during which time it was impossible for me to smile. My seven-year-old found the condition so alarming that he implored me not to laugh, as this distorted my face even more. “Mommy, don’t laugh!” he entreated me, “You look like the Phantom of the Opera!” For someone known for her upbeat personality and smiling countenance, this was a game changer. Eventually, it passed. When I look in the mirror each morning, I am reminded what a gift the ability to smile is, especially when our mouths are hidden behind N95 masks!

Judaism has something to say about EVERYTHING, so why not SMILING? Smiling can be a natural instinct or a response to circumstances. So, what kind of important wisdom could the rabbis impart on the subject?

In a verse from the text Ethics of the Fathers we are advised to “Receive everyone with a cheerful face!” Elsewhere we are coaxed to, “Always be the first one to greet every person.” Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakai, a great rabbi and sage who led by example, taught “Never did I meet anyone in the street who greeted me before I greeted them.” And one of my favorite rabbinical takes on smiling relates to the expression “Why the long face?” comes from philosopher Rav Eliyahu Dessler “You are like a thief! You are depriving your fellow human beings of the pleasantness of a cheerful face!”

To smile is innately human. There is evidence that babies smile in the womb and infants respond to smiles by four months of age. Once they get the idea of cause and effect, an infant almost always reacts to a smile with a smile. I instinctively smile at every baby I see, especially in restaurants. Those smiles usually lead to a short session of Peek-a-Boo which both the infant and I find rewarding.

So, what’s in a smile that makes us feel so good? Biologically, we know that smiling is good for us. Smiling releases neuropeptides, tiny molecules that allow neurons to communicate. They facilitate sending messages to the whole body when we are happy, sad, angry, depressed, or excited. The “feel good” neurotransmitters dopamine, endorphins and serotonin are all released when a smile flashes across your face. A study published in the journal Neuropsychologia reported that seeing an attractive smiling face activates our orbitofrontal cortex, the region in our brain that process sensory rewards. When we encounter a smiling person, we actually feel the satisfaction of being rewarded. There are other things that release “feel good” neurotransmitters, like exercise, and I recently read a study that suggested a smile is as neurologically rewarding as 2,000 chocolate bars. I’ve begun my own research to verify this, and only have another 1,998 Hershey Bars to go.

A smile can communicate a diverse range of feelings. It can raise a glum mood or signal that an apology is accepted. A smile can be flirtatious, silently approving, it can boost self-confidence and light up a face. But what happens when we turn that smile upside down?

Have you ever wondered about UNSMILING people? In an interview in WIRED.com, Marianne La France, an experimental psychologist at Yale who has written a book on the subject of smiling, called Lip Service: Smiles in Life, Death, Trust, Lies, Work, Memory, Sex and Politics, was asked: “What is it about unsmiling people that is unnerving?” Her response? “People convey by their faces that they acknowledge us, that we’re alive, that we matter, that we are not just objects to be dispensed with.” After three years of masking, of walking around without receiving smiles of acknowledgement, of being like ships that pass in the night, reading Dr. LaFrance’s response gave me a better understanding of why masking is such a bummer.

And that, I believe, is what the rabbis were trying to get at. Smiling is not only a reward, but a gift, a God given gift and gifts are meant to be given away, not hoarded. Their sage rabbinical advice to future generations would be to take every opportunity for face-to-face interaction, in order to retain our humanity and not just use “emoticons” to express emotion, or avatars, in lieu of our real-life faces. They would caution us that while our world may be rich in communication devices, we are miserly when it comes to the gift of face-to-face communication.

We can do our bit to heal the psyche of our country by trying to smile with sincerity. Smile at your children, your spouse, your co-workers, your dog. In 2023, don’t let your smile be hijacked by pundits and politicians. I find it unnerving to be partway through a congenial conversation, only to see the smiles disappear as hostility seeps in.

Here’s wishing you and yours a happy, healthy, prosperous and safe 2023. Be kind to others, be gentle with yourself, share the gift you were given and smile, smile, smile.

An End of Year Thought

I know it's not the end of the year yet, but it seems as if it should be. Too much has been stuffed into the year, too little of it good. If the world isn't on Twitter, it's at least looking at Twitter. Nobody paid attention to Jack Dorsey; everyone seems to be paying attention to Elon Musk.

Twitter has been at the center of a storm that won't quit. It began when Donald Trump decided to run for president, and has continued to this day, as Elon Musk, its new owner, tries to decide whether to play with it, destroy it, or let it run. The whole soap opera seems to confirm my conviction that anything that becomes popular enough becomes a parody of itself. Whether twitter lives or dies is irrelevant. Within an hour of its death, it will be as if it had never existed. Fiscal considerations aside, perhaps Elon should just turn out the lights now, giving successor media a running start on the dreaded 2024 political season

IF YOU CAN’T SAY SOMETHING NICE, SAY IT ON THE INTERNET!

The following is the latest column by my wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, in the Culpeper Star-Exponent

Humor me as I take a moment to share a story. It is a very old story, and, as with most Jewish stories, it teaches a lesson This is the tale of a boy whose slanderous gossip had the potential to cause havoc as it spread through the town. Realizing too late the potential harm that would be done by spreading misinformation as one villager told the next, and at a loss as how to rectify the deed, he ran to the wise rabbi for advice. Note that in Jewish stories, the rabbi is always wise. “Go quickly to your house,” said the rabbi “find a feather pillow and a kitchen knife. Slash the pillow’s case, then run back here as fast as you can!” Obeying the wise rabbi’s order, the boy retrieved the pillow, slashed it with a knife and ran back breathlessly, spewing a cloud of white goose feathers as he ran. Handing the pillow over to the rabbi the boy said, “Here, rabbi, I’ve done exactly what you asked of me. Here is the pillow!” “Very good,” said the rabbi. “What shall I do next, rabbi?” “Next I want you to take your pillowcase and put all the feathers back in. Search through the village until you’ve collected every feather!” “But Rabbi!” the boy cried with a look of incredulity, “there is no way to retrieve them all!”

The lesson was not lost on the boy, and hopefully not lost on us either. It is about guarding your tongue. Slanderous words, once spoken are like those feathers: irretrievable. You can try to walk them back, do a little public relations dance, apologize without saying you’re sorry, explain that YOU mis-spoke, or WE mis-heard, all to no avail. Lying, misrepresenting and twisting the truth, defaming character and making libelous accusations have real consequences.

Two verses from the Book of Psalms (120:3-4) ask the question: “What can you profit, what can you gain O deceitful tongue? A warrior’s sharp arrows…” Why an arrow and not a sword? Because if a person draws a sword to kill his fellow man, the intended victim can beg mercy and the attacker can change his mind and return the sword to its sheath. But an arrow, once it has been shot, even if the shooter wants to stop it, he can’t.

Our tongues are like arrows – once we have shot off our mouths, our words proceed to destroy and there is nothing we can do to stop them. Once uttered, words take on a life of their own, spreading, echoing, distorting at a pace humanity has never witnessed before. In the age of ubiquitous Internet use, anyone in any place in the world can share their message, without filtering or mincing words. Their words, their messages are not just heard, but amplified. From the cruel, vindictive words of teenagers to the malicious language of hatred targeted at “the other,” the vocabulary of bigotry, chauvinism, injustice, and intolerance that are disseminated and distorted by the Internet, weaponizes or warps almost every discussion of race, gender, religion, ethnicity and color. Postings by conspiracy theorists of every ilk play into the hands of the psychotic and/or politically motivated, and, as we’ve seen since the start of Russia’s war on Ukraine, Russian propaganda has worked overtime to shape their message for the Internet by creating a narrative of faux reality.

You can hop on the Internet merry-go-round at any point for a spin of malice, threats, scams and incitement to anarchy while Internet providers wring their hands and hash out HOW they will handle malicious messaging disguised as news or truth and information while simultaneously guaranteeing protection of our First Amendment Rights. Case in point. This past year the Internet has upped the ante as a conduit for anti-Semites who openly spout anti-Semitic tropes, resulting in acts of violence, desecration, terrorism, murder and character assassination, targeting Jewish institutions, places of worship, businesses, politicians and financial and industry leaders. The hatred and misinformation are no longer whispered, but unapologetically shouted out. Jews have historically been the test case for “how much the traffic will allow,” and have, historically, been dubbed, “The Canary in the Coal Mine,” that unfortunate caged bird with tiny lungs who succumbs to the first traces of carbon monoxide down in the mine, and whose sacrifice sounds the alarm for others. This fowl idiom has come to mean a ‘warning of coming danger’. Whether a Jewish canary, a Black canary, an Asian, Hispanic, Immigrant or LBGTQ ++ canary, a threat to one is a potential threat to each and every flock.

I’ll leave you with a quote from The French writer, philosopher, poet, dramatist, and historian, Voltaire, to ponder as we enter this season of Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men. A keen observer of human behavior, I think he nailed it, way back in the 1700’s, when he stated: “Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.”

Here is wishing you a blessed holiday season and good health. Protect yourself, your family, and friends by getting your flu shot, and those friendly epidemiologists at The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention encourage everyone, believers and non-believers, to wear good quality masks to reduce the spread of Covid, flu and RSV as we gather together to celebrate the New Year.

A Most Difficult Year

MAD Cats, our low/no cost spay and neuter and kitten rescue group has had a tough year, with too many kitten deaths. The majority of the hardship has fallen on our Kitten Mom, Laurie. We hope the worst of it is over. Last night my wife Rose wrote this for Laurie:

A Poem of Kitten Love for Laurie

FRAGILE LIVES

As I held you close and tried my best

I knew your time had come to rest

I guess I knew things weren’t all right

Still I tried and tried with all my might

There were things I simply could not control

And the stress of living finally took its toll

But know that I loved you each step of the way

Through long nights together, and each hour of the day

Was it where you were born or the time of the year?

Were you just not formed right, was there no mother near?

Were you destined by genes or destined by fate?

Or did you simply arrive in a fragile state?

Hundreds of kittens have passed through my care

And losing one kitten is still very rare

Although most of my kittens will have a long life

The loss of just one cuts my heart like a knife.

God give me the strength when my spirit is low

To love these fur babies and accept as they grow

That I cannot save all but can love every one

And with three litters a year --the work’s never quite done!

With Love and Great Respect for All You Accomplish – Rose Jacob