The medical treadmill

That's what we call it around here. Go in with a simple complaint, or make an offhand comment during a routine exam, and the next thing you know you're a thousand or two or three in debt. That's not counting lost time from work, physical discomfort, and worry. And it's hard to get off the damned thing, because nobody wants to talk about when it's time to stop.

This is a phenomenon that Tara Parker Pope takes on here. Overtesting and overtreating is a huge problem, and it's one that's finally getting some attention. Granted, some of it is negative attention from the oh-my-god-death-panels crowd, but it's a serious question. Multiple screening tests have fallen under fire for the possibility that they cause more harm than good; intervals have been lengthened, the ages at which screening begins have gone up, or the test is no longer recommended as a routine screening. These recommendations are politically contentious, to say the least. 

I've had a couple of run-ins with overtesting in the last few years that have left me a skeptic. I found myself guilted into a mammogram at the age of 35 because my mother had breast cancer. After menopause. This means that there is no statistical increase in my risk, according to the doctor I saw. He wrote for it, though, and told me that it was the safest way to go. The nurse was horrified that I wasn't going to schedule it. So I went against my gut and did it anyway, because I can be a wimp like that. My insurance, of course, did not cover it and they shouldn't have. Completely unnecessary. 

I'm a lot less wimpy about that sort of thing now.

I've had two clear episodes of a neurological problem that looks an awful lot like MS. The thing is, there is no evidence of MS on MRI, or at least there wasn't the last time I had one, which was about a year ago. Efforts to diagnose the problem involved 3 specialists, 7 MRIs, and countless panic attacks. SEVEN MRIs, in less than 3 years.Multiple rounds of bloodwork, too, some of which again the insurance rightly refused to pay for, given that they were duplicates of labs that would not have changed I went along with this because I trusted my neurologist. But when I went up to see a neurologist at Tufts, he asked me why all of this had been done. And I didn't have a good answer for him. He gave me permission to stop seeing doctors, and apart from the 6 month follow-ups with my regular neurologist, I have. And at the last check? I turned down yet another MRI, since my symptoms haven't changed significantly since the last one.

The question of where to stop is a thorny one, but very, very important, and I'm glad that we're starting to look at it. The skepticism is overdue.

Family Fun

Somebody is going to have to explain to my mother-in-law that she can't start showing up at my house several times a week just because she moved into the same zip code.

I really don't want that person to be me.

Things I've run across this week that I haven't had time to post about:

--Taxmageddon: I'm getting pretty tired of watching my paycheck shrink, but I am increasingly of the mind that we may as well let this happen and get it over with. I really don't see at this point any hope that it won't eventually destroy what it's going to destroy, so why not let it fuck things up now rather than later?

--Speaking of disaster scenarios, I heart this: Everybody Jump. I predict that casualties may be even higher due to the notorious awfulness of Rhode Island drivers. How bad are they? We Massholes get scared when we see a RI plate.

--Unnecessary Testing: This is a question that is also debated all over the mommy boards and blogs in respect to the necessity of C-Sections. I'm not going to tackle the complexities involved right now, but there is clearly a point at which it's time to say enough, and I've been in a situation where testing was clearly pursued far beyond the point of reason. Interesting question, though, and one that needs to be considered closely in the current environment.

--I don't even know where to start with the Mass healthcare bullshit. Deval Patrick no doubt has made things worse than they could have been through poor implementation, but Romney was instrumental in setting up the framework for him to screw it up in. This is most of the reason why I declared at the time that I would never, never vote for Romney in a Presidential race. Amazingly enough, we wound up with a race against an administration so vile that I'll have to swallow my objections and vote for the son of a bitch.

--If T-Mobile keeps their new unlimited data plan, I may finally switch from Verizon. I'm accustomed to not having to keep track of these things now, and I have no desire to roll that back, even though I don't use enough data for it to be a problem. I think it's a good business move for them after Verizon eliminated their unlimited plan.

San Francisco

Scott McKenzie has died.

I've always had a bit of a love affair with San Francisco the song, though I didn't really get a chance to fall in love with San Francisco the city. This is entirely due to my father, who liked to tell a story about how he annoyed the hell out of folks when he was Germany. His stint there in the Army was almost up, and he'd play that song on the jukebox every night he could, just to be an asshole.

I suspect that he really was wishing for home, though, and home at that time was indeed San Francisco. Every now and again the subject comes up, and he tells me again that believe it or not, there really was a time when somebody would actually *want* to go to San Francisco. I've decided to take that on faith. And every so often, I put on the song and smile.

So tomorrow's my son's birthday.

He is my youngest child, and he's going to be five.

For some reason this feels like an even bigger milestone for me than that he'll start kindergarten just after Labor Day. Part of it is that five years old is Five. Years. Old. It's also been a very tumultuous five years, and things are settling down. So maybe it has as much to do with me as it does with him.

In any case, we're having cake today and presents tomorrow and he's a very happy and excited boy. This is a neat age, when they're so big and still little at the same time, learning to read and write and take responsibility for themselves and yet experience pure joy at the small rituals in life.

I'm really proud of him. He's smart and he's funny and he's stubborn. He's one of the most charming little boys I've ever met. He's a morning person, and if he didn't look like me I'd wonder if they switched babies on me because I *so* am not one. He's still little enough that he loves to cuddle, but when he has a bad dream he wants to be tucked back into his own bed. He hates wearing socks. He was reading price tags to me in the store a couple of days ago and telling me what he thought was too expensive. He invited all of his friends to come eat cake with him today. He even called a friend of mine he's especially fond of and asked him to come, too. He knows how to use my phone because he's obsessed with Angry Birds and decided to explore it one day. He wanted a bike for his birthday, and he's getting one, and he's going to be so thrilled. I can't wait to see his face when he sees it.

He's my son, and I love him beyond words.

Happy Birthday, kiddo.

I'm not an alcoholic.

I have other challenges in my life, though, that made this article resonate with me:
Let me do sobriety my way

Because, at the end of the day, yes, I’m an alcoholic, but I’m also a bass player, a gear nerd, a writer, an ultrarunner, a guitar wrangler, a songwriter, a mediocre kickboxer, a solid friend, an uncle, a brother, a step-brother, a foster brother, a son and a flawed, imperfect but mostly happy human being.

Hell, it might resonate some with nearly everyone. But in any case, I'd recommend reading the whole thing.

Gump

I think everybody who knows me knows I hate the hell out of Forrest Gump. I don't figure we need to do any more idolizing of stupidity than we already do in this country. Yeah, yeah, heartwarming, whatever. I've got no patience for it.

Which is why I got such a sinking feeling in my gut all over again at the realization that Bill Quick is right. Gump would certainly win. Which isn't nearly as discouraging as thinking about the percentage of folks who think life ought to look like the movies. I estimate that number at nearly half the population (too lazy to look at the polls, but I'm certain you can figure out which 40-odd percent I'm talking about).

Irony

Student Debtors Might Not Get Mortgages

When I was in college, we were told that student loan debt would *help* us get mortgages, because we'd make so much extra money with a degree, leading not only to the ability to actually, you know, afford a house, but to make regular payments on the loans and establish a credit record. Bonus points for those who buy their books with a credit card and pay it regularly (though I seem to remember that you weren't actually supposed to pay it off, if you wanted maximum credit-building).

That didn't really work out for me, but I'm sure it at least made some sort of sense at the time.

I really hope they're not telling the kids that sort of thing anymore, because we've obviously reached the point where it makes no sense at all. It's incredible that we've reached the point where paying for college can keep you from buying a house. The world really has turned upside down, hasn't it?

(Via Instapundit)

Infuriating!

I knew that the ethanol mandate was a problem, but really? 40% of the US corn crop goes to fuel? 40%?

Son of a bitch.

Also this:

PS-  It's kind of amazing the supposed worst drought ever has dropped corn yields by just 13%.

Too bad terrible policy is transforming that from a modern-day miracle into a tragedy.

In Maine

More later.

This would explain a lot, chemotherapy edition.

I don't understand the science behind it in any depth, but it strikes me as entirely plausible that chemotherapy could actually contribute to tumor cell growth in some cases. Something about unintended consequences. It'll be interesting to see if something useful comes out of it in the end.

Summer blues, #1

11 pm. 77 degrees Fahrenheit. Dew point:74.

I'd like a little more air in my water vapor, please.

Sometimes, your parents really *are* wrong.

We give younger people a lot of crap for not believing a thing that their elders say, but as the world changes they are more and more correct in ignoring us. Here is a perfect example: a parent fussing because her adult (college educated) child took a job that she feels is insufficiently fancy.

Um, yeah.

The days where a college degree almost automatically leads to a "good" job are OVER. They've been over for a while. The old ways and the myths seem to have a life of their own, though (was there ever an era when a job was yours until retirement, with excellent benefits and a big fat pension?), and the folks who throw you on the college track sure as hell aren't going to tell you this even if they realize it.

Most parents want what's best for their kids, but they're judging that best by conditions that haven't existed in so long that to these kids it sounds like an urban legend. 

The other thing that bugs me about this is that "good" and "well-paying" are not synonymous. It's a rather obvious point but still worth considering.

In any case, kids? Ignore us old farts when it comes to higher ed. Your world is frighteningly different from ours, and we know even less about how to navigate it than you do. Innovate, live, and be happy...and don't do it carrying the myths that we would foist upon you.

Modern technology, William.

Speaking of love affairs, I'm posting this from my Droid X. Things have changed a lot since the last time I had a blog here. Well, except for the things that have stayed the same, you know?  

I started my first blog 9 and a half years ago. I had an address at blogspot and a dialup connection and it changed my life in more ways than I possibly could have imagined. Makes me wonder what might happen now that I have an equivalent computer and a better connection right here in my hand.

Crazy world.

Love affair

Tips like these.

Also, I get to feel smart when I realize I already follow them for the most part, or have made conscious decisions not to.