Oooops! There's that word.

There it is one of the more questionable benefits of advancing age, c o l o n o s c o p y. Of all the unattractive prospects, this is on the A list. Or, maybe, your medical provider, recognizing you are not going to do the colonoscopy, or are not a candidate, offers a miniature camera for you to swallow. All good, but somebody's going to go fishing for the camera you just expelled. In the alternative, maybe your medical provider, or immense insurer, sends along a DIY fecal test sampling kit, to send to a lab. (My insurer sent me a letter saying they sent the kit, but never received it back. They wanted it. The answer was obvious. I sent them a letter stating, "If you people don't send me your shit, I cannot send you mine." That's just me.

  Another thing that is just me is the purchase and consumption of bottles upon bottles of laxatives, and the trial by gut pain, which lasts until, at least, the morning after. Fear and loathing of hospitals runs this a close second for me. Anything short of death by MRSA or any gram negative infection is an uglier spectre than trial by gut-emptying torture for a night. Listen some things are at least as bad as death-by-nausea; these are two. Fear and Loathing in Conventional Medicine aside, there is plenty to consider, in terms of risks and benefits of colonoscopy. The miniature camera approach, obviously, does not permit the surgical elimination of polyps, if they are discovered in the colon. The fecal test is none too reliable; there is a chance of a false positive, a scary prospect. I can't quite imagine waiting to learn whether I have colon cancer, while going about my daily life.

   So colonoscopy is still the "gold standard," one that comes with risk. Here is an article by Dr. Mercola regarding the risk of infection. It is clear, when instruments are neither discarded, following each single use, nor effectively disinfected (effectively being the keyword,) infection can and will occur. Of course this is separate from the risk of just being in the hospital setting. Please know and understand I am not, nor would I ever discourage people from getting tests their physicians recommend. However it is up to each of us, as a patient, to be savvy and informed. Here is a link to Dr. Mercola's article: 

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2015/12/06/endoscope-sterilization.aspx

     If you don't pick up on the "fear" of hospitals part, maybe that is good, or, just maybe you will become a clean freak during your hospital stay, and ask every person who enters your hospital room (or the room of a loved one) to wash his/her hands. However, if your doctor has ordered a colonoscopy, be prepared to ask what solution is used to clean the sigmoidoscope or colonoscope (not disposable devices.) Peracetic acid is the key; the solution used in 80% of cases is Cidex (glutaraldehyde;) it does not properly sterilize the instruments, allowing for the transfer of infectious microbes. Yep. You read me correctly ... all but 20% of providers/institutions use Cidex, THE SOLUTION WHICH IS LESS DESIRABLE. 

    Okay, then, and I trust you will not agonize over whether or not you returned the fecal sample to your provider's lab. Maybe you spared yourself some needless angst. Geez I wish this stuff, together with a battery of ineffective or likely false-positive tests, would get better. -Too much to ask?

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Coffe, Tea or ... Oh, no!

Are you a coffee drinker? Is it a guilty pleasure for you? It needn't be, although elders and friends of my acquaintance, who abstain from all caffeinated beverages seem just as lively as the rest of us. Then there are tea devotees, who enjoy the benefits of tea in glorious variety. Personally I've traveled most of my life, and I am fond of coffees and teas from all over the globe. Of all the truly restorative routines I know, the Japanese tea ceremony tops the charts; it isn't entirely the tea, itself, although the tea is delicious and invigorating. 

      Though I don't hook up a coffee i.v. in the morning to keep the flow of inspiration pumping, the morning mug brightens me no end. I expect, someday, to have my ashes scattered over a coffee or cacao plantation (organic, of course!) Why, you ask, am I on about coffee? Simply there is new research on a number of fronts. I'll concede there are layers of nutritional research, so new is a relative term. (This week's new is next week's new, new, and so forth.) 

    I was cheered to read a "New York Times" article by Aaron E. Carroll, published in May 2015. The article provides an analysis of a number of research studies regarding the risks and benefits of coffee consumption. The article is comprehensive regarding cardiovascular health risks, and goes on to reveal the results of large-scale cancer studies (involving various cancers.) Carroll concludes the news is better than "mixed;" the benefits outweigh the risks, many of which are either mythical or wildly inaccurate.

    As with everything moderation, particularly in case of one's daily caffeine "load," seems to me to be an excellent idea. Caffeine is tricky; some people become a bit brighter, maybe a bit more ambitious, after a caffeinated pick-me-up. It can certainly be abused, and can lead to anything from a mild case of the jitters to addiction. I know myself ... know I cannot consume coffee or tea, followed by other caffeinated beverages; it is once a day or not at all. Coffee and tea up my desire for "a little something" sweet, a tendency I keep at bay.    A double shot of espresso, a rare treat, will take me from loquacious fun to total brain dump. (My head always fills with ideas and words much more rapidly and in much greater quantity than I can express in conversation. Not so, if I have sufficiently strong coffee, in which case, stand back!)
   Here's a segway to a difficult subject. Like the rush toward alternative spirituality of the late Twentieth Century, the rush toward alternative cures swept the hip culture (and, eventually, the mainstream) of the U.S. I guess it was the mid- to late 1970s, when many of my friends were touting the benefits of coffee enemas. The idea began taking hold in the 1930s, in the treatment of cancer by a Dr. Max Gersten. In any event I drew the line; the idea struck me as potentially dangerous, particularly in the hands of the growing multitude of quack healers. Sure enough studies have proven again and again that, yes, coffee contains beneficial substances; however drinking a cup of coffee is much more efficacious for absorption than colonic irrigation. The real issue is the danger of septicemia, a bad word, a potentially deadly outcome (Margolin KA, Green MR. Polymicrobial enteric septicemia from coffee enemas. West J Med 1984; 140: 460.)  In short, if there were the remotest possibility of dying from septicemia, why on earth risk it? Which brings me to another subject.
   In the process of thinking about this post and researching it, I have run across new (new, new?) information concerning colon cancer and colonoscopy. I'll tackle this equally squeamy subject in my next post. Meanwhile, enjoy that hot, steaming mug of coffee ... by mouth. It has proven nutritional benefits, won't cause you cardiovascular disease or cancer. Best of all it won't stunt your growth, cher, I guarantea! 

Whole and Present

     Maybe, like my family, yours needs healing for the holidays, more than anything else. We can bring about change, as difficult or painful as it seems. Family time need not be just a time to "deal" with relatives. My family is contentious, like so many. It seems, we so often reflect how we deal with the world in how we manage our family relations. With family, however, bad behavior may be heightened by bad manners. Hurts tend to be deeper and the anger we suppress in the interests of "getting along," festers. So it came to pass this year, some family members were "avoiding" each other, unwilling to attend our annual Thanksgiving celebration. Without judgment, here is my plea.

     "Of all of us, I'm the least likely to stay silent on any topic. I hope you will indulge me this time, as I feel I must speak my peace. May it be authentic and from my heart. Here are a few things I find remarkable. Seated around our holiday tables of the past, present and, future are unique reservoirs of education and intelligence, not to mention qualities such as civility. As a group we possess an astonishingly large reservoir of creative talent, as well. Why, then, would we settle for divisiveness and dysfunction?

     My plea is for everyone to come to the Thanksgiving table in gratitude for life, love, sustenance, beauty and the freedom to enjoy them. For a moment I lost track of my great friend, Adil, in the bloody chaos of the terrorist attacks of Paris. After a terrible night I did find him. He had gone to bed early, after a long day. He has a booth in Montmartre. From it he sells his paintings of Paris and Heidelberg to passersby and tourists. He shares his space and swaps stories with other artisans and merchants there. Drifting off to sleep, Adil was awakened by the sound of an explosion, followed by others. Adil knows (knew) some of the cartoonists at Charlie Hebdo. He was very much affected by the attacks on Charlie Hebdo and the killings in the Jewish hypermarket January 7, 2015. Now he struggles through the aftermath of a fresh nightmare. We cannot know what tomorrow will bring. Let us live in the moment, whole and present.

     Gene and Rosann have made us all welcome to their lovely home and table.  Maybe we could each choose to make the McCullough home and table a safe place for each and every person who comes to Thanksgiving. In the interests of convocation we can choose not to say one word of past hurts, bitterness or anger to anyone. We can choose to love unconditionally for a few hours. To do so, I believe, is the essence of gratitude. It can also be a starting point for a spirit of true reconciliation to take hold. Reconciliation is not forgiveness, nor does it forget. Rather, It is an exercise in relinquishment. It does not deny wrongs on either side. Rather it takes no side. It calls a halt to animosity, to begin. Then it calls us to seek healing and reconstruction, not restitution.

     I'll gladly start. I relinquish hurts of the past absolutely. I am grateful to have met and known Gene. I am grateful to have been his wife and the mother of his children. I am grateful to Rosann for loving Merritt, Margaret, Colin, Ryan, Cole and Aidan as more than a stepmother, as a mother. My gratitude for my children and grandchildren is boundless. You are all remarkably intelligent, talented and generous. To my grandsons, I find you to be, each in his own right, handsome, bright and wholehearted. More important each person around our Thanksgiving table is the owner of a lion's heart. Contentious we may be, but the world finds us independently courageous and generous to a fault. Be this to each other.

“Kintsugi is a pottery technique. When something breaks, like a vase, they glue it back together with melted gold. Instead of making the cracks invisible, they make them beautiful. To celebrate the history of the object. What it's been through. And I was just... Thinking of us like that. My heart full of gold veins, instead of cracks.” ― Leah Rader, Cam Girl

     
     This year, alone, some family members have striven to return to school and work. People have moved, built and rebuilt homes. Some have chosen to make enormous changes and strides in careers. Others have overcome terrible injury and illness. We have managed our pain, collectively and individually. We have done so with courage and integrity. At the end of 2015 and into next year, let's heal hearts. None of us can judge the others. None of us is better than any other. None of us struggles harder. We are a company of excellent people, each of whom has come a long way. Respect everyone, criticize no-one. Mohandas Gandhi said, “Hatred is not the enemy; the enemy is fear.”
     I hope everyone will come to family Thanksgiving in the spirit, as well as in the flesh. If not I have no expectation. Rather I will count you there in my dreams. Meanwhile this is no time for shame and blame. We have a common goal, but everything has its time, and each of us holds the key to the clock. It would do my heart good to see us together again. The family bread baker, I am casting my bread upon the waters."

A Year, Lost and Found

A friend, writing about the highlights of 2015, inspired me to write a post. I have felt the year slipping by me, almost since it began. I felt it was a wash. Writing always brings me back to a more mindful state. This morning is no exception. I follow the Chinese lunar calendar, so today, November 18, is an auspicious day to move forward. On that note here are my highlights for 2015.

-The early months of this year were unproductive in terms of professional writing. I did not manage to monetize my blog. The legal document processing business also suffered.
-January and February were physically draining. Arthritis and cold, dreary, weather do not mix well. I was, frankly, racked with pain, and living as a virtual recluse.
-Spring never came to Denver. It rained, man, it rained.
-One daughter is making a splash in her career. She has exceeded sales benchmarks, to be awarded as a Pacesetter and Silver Pacesetter by her employer. She is destined for management.
-Another daughter is changing her life and career, devoting herself to painting, rather than design, a tough transition.
-My son made enormous strides in his life. He is working on a degree, maintaining a 4.0 average in college. He has an apartment and his own truck. He makes time for me, shares his stories and his strength.
- Received an invitation to enter a prototype for a new publication in The Knight Foundation's innovative journalism category. My prototype, one of 800 entries, did not win, but generated a second invitation.
-Summer came and went in a flash. I took on two pro bono legal document challenges, a blizzard of paperwork. Both people both got off the hook for serious financial penalties. One dodged an impossible deadline.
-One takeaway for the year is to choose the mountain! Death on some mountains is, not merely painful; it is a waste.
-My year has also been marked by family divisiveness. We seem destined to remain a rigid, contentious and unforgiving bunch! My daughter complimented me for having the ability to write people "carte blanche." No, it is simply that I have learned the hard way all it takes to truly reconcile.
-Still striving for better answers to chronic inflammatory disease, to share with blog readers. In the process I've discovered a world of information and some very compassionate people.
-November's national and international news has been particularly grim. The dreadful, events in Paris, were personal. I lost track of a close friend. The day after the terrorist attacks, I was relieved and grateful to find him, safe and sound.

Prayer, desperate prayer, seems so simple, but it’s a step rarely taken by those in family conflict. ~Erwin W. Lutzer, When You've Been Wronged: Moving From Bitterness to Forgiveness

Finally I am so grateful to my family and close friends for their love and generosity, for shining a light in dark times. Our lives seem to be forever marked by violence. Terror has cast a long shadow everywhere in the world. Cruelty and brutality are the order of the day. It is that time when we need the voices of sanity and compassion.

Oprah Power

Where is your gratitude?

Despite the humor intended in the title of this post, I am truly disgusted. Of course Oprah Winfrey is a proponent of gratitude! The primary issue I address here is my gratitude and that of my neighbors, although Oprah inspired me to write it. You see, my original intention and hope for this blog was to inform seniors, their families and caregivers. It was also to empower people; only a tiny percentage of the world's people, even of the world's wealthy, have Oprah Power.

Most readers who follow my blog will be familiar with some of the issues facing tenants of public housing. I happen to live in a comparatively nice-looking LIHTC, a highrise near downtown Denver. To my astonishment (not to mention the amazement of some of my neighbors) the building and landlord were featured on Denver's Channel 9 News recently. I say we were astonished, because, although this is reasonably attractive housing, it was touted as a progressive solution to public housing woes. I wrote two newspeople at Channel 9, two women, Adele Arikawa and Kyle Dyer, to express my surprise at the coverage, and to voice my concerns. Their reply? The single tenant of this housing with whom they spoke expressed her profound gratitude for her apartment. With regard to the issue of segregating the tenants of the tax credit set-aside portion of the property from the tenants and all of the amenities of the adjoining portion of the development, the tenant said she was aware of the situation, but has no objection on the grounds she is grateful for her home!

I have heard this standard applied previously; indeed, by this landlord's site manager on another publicly subsidized property, a senior multifamily Section VIII.  Gratitude was Manager Ginny's trump card, and she played it continuously, with impunity! The housing had originally been developed under the auspices of the Archdiocese of Denver and/or Catholic Charities and Community Service of Denver. When the complex opened its doors, as Higgins Plaza, it was managed by vowed Catholic nuns. As such gratitude for this shelter is virtually compulsory. (-Have an issue with bullying by your neighbors or the management team?  Are maintenance and repairs are mediocre at best? Have you long suspected the Manager of stealing the property of elderly tenants, transferring to long-term care, deceased or dying?) Where is your GRATITUDE? My own son-in-law, while I was protesting my unhappiness in living at Higgins Plaza, alluded to life under one of the City's bridges as my unacceptable and only alternative!

By the measure of gratitude I submit to you I am a generally grateful individual, hence the name of this blog. By the measure of gratitude for "the little things," Oprah is remiss, to reduce this to the ridiculous. If memory serves, the unredoubtable Ms. Winfrey protested the treatment she received as a member of the public entering Hermes. Apparently Hermes felt she was mistaken to enter the store. A clerk advised Oprah she could not afford to purchase so much as a handbag in the store, so the story goes. In any case Oprah did not care for the presumption behind the statement, nor its racist overtone. Hermes, on the other hand, appeared to feel she should have been grateful not to have been immediately barred from its store.  See: http://www.nbcnews.com/id/8338268/#.VkI0V66rRQY

You know the rest of Oprah's rather public issue with Hermes. No, Oprah was not sufficiently grateful to step foot in Hermes. Her gratitude for haute couture proved insufficient to overcome her expectation not to be followed, questioned and insulted, by high fashion's presumptuous bigots. Unlike the rest of us, Oprah had the luxury of publicly proclaiming her objection. Although we are told, as residents of public housing, the landlord cannot retaliate against us for voicing our concerns, legitimate or otherwise, it is absolutely not true. My former close friend and neighbor was effectively evicted and sued for unlawful detainer for disagreeing publicly with the landlord's new non-smoking policy and the manner in which it was introduced (and enforced.) The man's responses were inappropriately couched, but he should have had the right to express his objection and, for that matter, his annoyance, within certain limits of acceptability. The landlord could have insisted he keep it appropriate, not insulting, but, instead chose to evict, leaving him devastated. He lost a great deal of property, and has returned to his previous homeless state. He is a disabled American veteran. We should be grateful, and be able to demonstrate our gratitude for his service.

The Civil Rights Movement, it wasn't just a couple of, you know, superstars like Martin Luther King. It was thousands and thousands - millions, I should say - of people taking risks, becoming leaders in their communities. ~Barbara Ehrenreich

When the site manager at Higgins Plaza stated that "as a recipient of a housing subsidy, you should be grateful for shelter. My response was swift and clear. I said, "My financial status and arrangements are absolutely private. My housing subsidy neither removes any of my rights, nor does it negate my expectation that my housing will be decent, safe and secure, in decent repair and reasonably clean. Your company is accountable for adherence to federal law!" I have said the same things in my current tax credit housing. The sad thing was my willingness to move into housing under the control of the same landlord and management company. Be assured it is due to the scarcity of affordable housing in this city.

It all depends, I suppose, upon whether shelter is or is not considered a human right. It depends on one's view, also of the civil rights of Americans. Bottom line ... segregating people by income is egregious. Segregating an entire portion of a development by income is unlawful, if that portion of the development is a separate building and populated by a preponderance of the ethnic minorities in the development. This condition creates "disparate impact," and it is against the law. Perhaps one woman in this LIHTC is not at all concerned about being unable to swim in the pool, use the health club, or sip a cup of coffee in the courtyard of the development. That does not make it right, not by any standard.

So I ask, am I grateful not to be under the Cherry Creek bridge with my little dog and what remains of my belongings? You tell me. Am I grateful for America's tax credit program, which is notorious everywhere in the Nation for promoting segregation? You tell me.

Nail Biter

After a Summer hiatus, it's time to get back to blogging. We live in an over-anxious world; the personal control which accompanies financial security teeters on top of a hat pin.

One of the women I count among my friends, is a neighbor of six years. We began talking as new neighbors, grew interested in each other's work, families and social lives. We are separated by a generation, Marti is young enough to be my daughter. We are dissimilar in personality, although, each of us, in her way, outspoken and independent. Marti, however, is someone who suffers from an anxiety disorder, and knows it. She has had treatment in the past, but nothing, so far has been consistently successful.

Marti is a hard worker, diligent and painstaking. She is a pleaser; it is part of her professional persona. She is a catering supervisor, both working for an international corporation and for a small, but highly successful, local caterer. It is a stressful, unpredictable, business. Tastes, the fortunes of clients, trends in food, entertaining and marketing  ... all bring new meaning to change as the only constant. Perhaps not the best choice of career for a nail biter, but, the reality of the workplace rarely meets the ideal. Most of us, let's face it, work to pay for life's necessities, not to mention, most are only a paycheck away from temporary shelter. 

Marti, however, worries about everything. A Colorado native, for example, she worries about Winter coming. So when she came to me, to ask whether my document processing business included living wills, trusts and powers of attorney, I might have guessed she would jump right in, only to back-pedal furiously shortly thereafter. Here is my personal confession. In spite of my customary lack of fear,  I have done this. At 75 I had no living will, no advance medical directives, no powers of attorney in place. The reason was no reason at all -- no, it wasn't pure procrastination. It came down to dread at the acknowledgement, not so much of death, but, of catastrophic injury or illness. What terrible words are limitation, relinquishment, incapacitation ... isn't death preferable, in other words, to ultimate indignities and dependency?
Marti says she's "not ready," and I don't blame her. However, I hope she will reconsider. She is a divorcee, with one child and one grandchild. Her former spouse died recently. His protracted illness and lack of preparation for the end of his life cost his son dearly.
   

Emotional Extortion

Whew! We're truly never to old to learn from our mistakes. Have you ever poured yourself into a relationship, only to regret you made the investment? People manipulate, often un-consciously. It is part of being human. On the other hand, if one day, you realize you are subject to repeated emotional blackmail, you may have missed the warning signs. Extract yourself expediently, and don't look back. The emotional extortionist hones manipulation to an art form. Here are some indications you are dealing with and, quite possibly, empowering, your puppeteer.

We are speaking of an individual who does not merely want you to do and say what he/she wants and expects. This is about he or she "who must be obeyed." Do you have the feeling nothing is about you; the planet orbits around your demanding other?  Fail to comply, and the issue ceases to concern right or wrong; you are loved, if you do, damned, if you don't.

The Half Apology

An extortionist rules by guilt, even while offering a half-apology.  Mr. X says, "I am sorry, I had such a brutal day at work;" in one way or another, he's unwell, exhausted, ill, hurting, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. You get the point. If you nail him for his ugly outburst, it is "Shame on you. I was suffering!" It isn't Mr. X; it is your expectation of self-control that is in error. 

Forget the apology. Of course it is neither heartfelt, nor unconditional. So what is the answer to this? Be clear. Tell Mr. X you aren't buying what he's selling, and you are entitled to a sincere apology. Consistently let someone who deals in what I call the migraine excuse that ill health and pain are commonplace events. Other people suffer from one thing or another, but do not use any level of pain to excuse outright abuse of others. I have been known to point out that "I am sorry," even in a contrite manner, cannot excuse saying and doing certain things." Once out, you cannot put a toad back in your mouth. 

Zero Accountability

An extortionist is rarely accountable for his/her actions. Any misbehavior is generally followed by, "If you hadn't done what you did (or said what you said,) I would not have acted as I did: "You made me do it." The message is obvious; you are the guilty party. Do not take on the guilt, not even subconsciously. Call the individual to account for his actions, make it clear and consistent. Have as a rule of thumb that no-one can make another person do what he would not do.

Selective or No Memory

The extortionist often disclaims any recollection of his or her statements. "I did not say that." "I don't recall saying anything like that." "I would never say such a thing." "What I said was just the opposite." Ms. Y promises to have her completed project on your desk by 8:00 in the morning. She procrastinated right to the very end, and the pressure is on her to perform. The next morning, 8:00, 9:00, 9:30 pass, but the project does not appear. Ah, but, it is you who has a bad memory. Again shame, shame on you! By the way, if you have no witnesses or material evidence, Ms. Y walks, leaving you to hold the bag for the missed deadline. Lesson learned: Make this extremely difficult for Ms. Y to repeat. Document, document, document -- write things down immediately, date and time them, put them in a timeline.

The Wages of Sin

An extortionist makes you pay, in addition to eroding your credibility with others by maligning you. The wages of emotional extortion are guilt. A master manipulator, close or not, has a mystical ability to perceive your guilt triggers. Given a chance, he or she will reduce you to a puddle of melted, watery gelatine. Never say, "I am sorry you feel this way," or words to that effect. Point out that, for example, your abuse of their generosity and friendship, is the other person's perception. It is also something you intend to discuss no further. Make it clear you will not take on the onus of false accusation. If you are feeling generous tell your accuser, you hope he/she will come to a different conclusion or understanding. If not, "Belay it," is good enough. As for your own character, or soul, the contents are between you and God.

A note to anyone who lives daily with a passive-aggressive partner or family member: Statements such as, "Don't worry about me! If you prefer the company of your friends, go ahead and spend the evening with them," my standard reply was ever the same. "Dinner is in the oven, enjoy! Have a good evening." In other words, I am not worried about you. I am doing as I choose, and I am doing it free of guilt or remorse.

Comin' In From Behind

Moaning, barely audible utterances, eye rolls, death-ray looks, door-slamming, head slapping... all of these and more, are in the passive aggressive repertoire. It is all back-of-the-house, rather than front-of-the-house. There is no such thing as direct eye contact or a forthright statement. The passive aggressive does not have the courage to be up front. A direct attack, if it does occur, is for dramatic effect; the attacker hopes it will prompt solicitous reactions. "Are you okay," we ask. Can I do anything for you? Soon you are seen as the aggressor.

If an extortionist manages to provoke you, and you lose control, you are officially in his corner. He is the one in control. As difficult as it may be, try not to flip your lid. Take a minute, and compose yourself.

If all else fails, some extortionists won't stop at scaring the bejesus out of you. So long as they can shock you and/or onlookers, nothing is off the table. I got a call at dawn this morning, from a tearful, nearly hysterical sister. "My brother threatened to kill himself. I called 911. Could you check, to see whether the dispatcher sent anyone... more tears. I was not the person to call. I said, "-Suicide? I'll believe it, when I see it, and, "I can hear the commotion as we speak, so the EMTs are here." She rang off, to call someone to do something. Her brother is fine. She may never be the same again, but her brother is fine.

Incensed and Incendiary

Make no mistake, wheedling, adult tantrums, guilting ... are no challenge for a true extortionist. The ultimate weapon is rage. When I said, recently, I see no need for me to have further involvement in this matter, what came back was ugly. It began innocently enough with a "How dare you," but descended into name calling and maligning my character ... at a glass shattering pitch. This was followed by a blitzkrieg of vulgar name-calling. And, of course, my statement of disinterest in getting involved in an ongoing conflagration, which did not involve me, ended up as "forbidding" the extortionist to speak to me. Nor will an emotional blackmailer stop with attacking you directly; he/she will go everywhere to everyone who will listen.

Threats of physical violence are another matter. Walk away, unless you happen to be currently a martial arts master, even then, walk away. Get rapidly into self-protection mode, and report the problem immediately. If, this time, no damage was done, an attack was launched on someone's person.

Mind Yourself

Mind your own emotional wellbeing; it is every bit as important as physical safety. Have you always suffered shaky self-esteem, or are you always appeasing others? How badly do you really need to be needed? Have a long think about how you interact with others, and whether you invite manipulation. Seek professional help or coaching, if need be. Absolutely do not spend a single sleepless night over the speech or actions of emotional extortionists.

Behind A Wall

   

Behind The Wall

Please forgive my rant and what may seem an unreasonable expectation. Stop characterizing people as bipolar, or assigning other psychobabble labels to human beings. While we know labeling is not diagnosis, it is a deadly sin. It inflicts enduring harm to the self-esteem of the victim, and is the tool of character assassination. With a complementary tip of the hat to people who are exhausted with political correctness, there is a movement afoot to change the language we use in reference to mental health issues, including professional terminology. In any event it is time to scuttle amateur psychiatric diagnoses. Whether in the heat of anger, or in everyday conversation, pasting a label on another person is a 'below the belt tactic," one of those hurts neither easily, nor soon forgotten.

      What prompts me to post this is the experience of a good friend, who is surviving a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. (He prefers the term Manic Depression) We agree that most lay people have no idea, when they use the term bipolar, what they are saying! Some folks actually believe it is  a minor imbalance, inconvenient, not devastating. Used improperly psychological terms mischaracterize people who do not have the disorder. Perhaps worse is diminishing suffering, as well as the struggle to be well. Don't misunderstand; there is nothing wrong with expanding your knowledge of Psychology. Nevertheless, while no lay person would diagnose another with lung cancer, it seems few hesitate to offer serious mental health diagnoses.

https://behindthewallstories.wordpress.com/

“There is a particular kind of pain, elation, loneliness, and terror involved in this kind of madness. When you're high it's tremendous. The ideas and feelings are fast and frequent like shooting stars, and you follow them until you find better and brighter ones. Shyness goes, the right words and gestures are suddenly there, the power to captivate others a felt certainty. There are interests found in uninteresting people. Sensuality is pervasive and the desire to seduce and be seduced irresistible. Feelings of ease, intensity, power, well-being, financial omnipotence, and euphoria pervade one's marrow. But, somewhere, this changes. The fast ideas are far too fast, and there are far too many; overwhelming confusion replaces clarity. Memory goes. Humor and absorption on friends' faces are replaced by fear and concern. Everything previously moving with the grain is now against-- you are irritable, angry, frightened, uncontrollable, and enmeshed totally in the blackest caves of the mind. You never knew those caves were there. It will never end, for madness carves its own reality.”
―  Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unique Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

     If someone shares the experience of his or her professional diagnosis, experience or survival with you, stifle the tendency to offer your expert opinion. Even mental health professionals and social workers, who are credentialed in their own fields, should stop short of judgments and recommendations beyond their pay grades. It is nonsense, damaging nonsense. Other terms have also become so popular as to be trite. Is there a junior high bully on the Internet, who doesn't know how to throw the occasional Mental Health Bomb? "You are a sociopath," texts the bully. "What would you know, you freaking Narcissist," replies her target. And so it goes.

     The worst labelling applies to the most complicated of diagnoses (and perhaps the least understood,) Schizophrenia. I have lived in close contact with people who have experienced and survived various mental health diagnoses, many, struggling with a diagnosis of Schizophrenia. Karis Community in Denver, Colorado, provides housing and services to people who have dealt with mental illness,long term. I'd rather say they are in the process of becoming survivors. It is a wonderful place, an accepting environment and, for many clients of its program an opportunity to step into new lives. We lived across the street from Karis, in the Congress Park neighborhood. We visited, took our dogs for "Dog Day" celebrations, got to know the residents and staff. Some of us became donors. All of us benefited from the privilege of being part of the Karis Community.

     I was and am so grateful not to have lived in my parents' era. Psychotherapy was off the table for them. Seeking, even, professional advice for anything that could be construed as weakness of character, spinelessness, was to be avoided at all costs. Of course nearly anything and everything did reflect on one's character, so shame was a given. Perceived excess, along with sadness and anger, was pure self-indulgence. Certainly gossip was rampant, so we kids were taught never to discuss family business, above all, not with family. Divorce was not a subject to entertain, not among Catholics. The local priest and confessional were the only acceptable recipients of private information. Even then it was selective. Adults seldom confessed to addiction and abuse. Bruised inside and out, our mothers and grandmothers went to mass, and shut their mouths. If anyone asked about a battered woman's face, a door had most certainly come off its hinges and leapt into her face.

     The link below provides alternative descriptives for amateurs and mental health professionals, alike:

http://www.hogg.utexas.edu/initiatives/language_matters.html

 Language and the way we use it has immense power. It also carries with it enormous responsibility ... changing language is a defacto way to change perceptions for and of people living with mental health diagnoses.

In The Absence of Love

       I had another terrible night on top of an unproductive day. My neighbor, R.R., becomes daily more anxious. He is having to cram a life time of memories, and the physical makings of his home, into boxes and crates. He must figure out what to leave, give away and trash. It is affecting me daily on a subconscious level, even when I am not there to witness or help. Out of desperation he wastes time attempting to redress the wrong he has suffered. This is not the time to hold the landlord accountable; it is the eleventh hour. He must move.
      Meanwhile I pray my R.R. will focus, the move will go unexpectedly well, and the losses will not break his heart. Most people who get to tax-credit housing, have already endured considerable loss (it shows more in some than in others, but this is the last resort, before homelessness for many.) Caring in the face of what seems lifelong disappointment can be an insurmountable challenge.

      I have been where my neighbor is today. Decades ago, in the wake of a bitter divorce, in the absence of love, we sold our Boulder home. Six years into single parenthood I broke. The large house and property in Boulder, Colorado, had become a black hole into which I poured hard labor and money. In addition the property, situated at the base of the NCAR Mesa, regularly bore the brunt of catastrophic wind storms. Clinical depression took a firm hold on me. Neither crisis intervention, nor psychiatric treatment relieved a crippling emotional paralysis.
     I had put my teaching career on hold at the worst possible time. Demographics were changing everywhere in the nation, not the least in Boulder County. Public schools were closing their doors, as student populations dwindled. My eventual solution was to downsize, and return to a business-related occupation. Fortunately I was able to land a job in a downtown Denver stock brokerage, Douglas and Company.  We rented a townhouse outside of town.
     The townhouse was small, so much of our larger household had to go to storage. The couple at the mom and pop storage facility, who seemed so sweet, were elderly sharks. They immediately tasted blood in the water. They waited patiently for the inevitable. Things went well for a few months. 
The end of my dream job came with brutal certainty. One morning a line of grey-flannel cutouts presented themselves at the front desk. I peered out of the window of my office, wondering, "SEC or Feds?" In no time flat the CEO and his partner lost their licensure. The doors closed within weeks. My last paycheck went for rent, groceries and school supplies. A local French restaurant hired me to work evenings as a dinner chef.  
      While I waited for my first check from the restaurant, Mom and Pop cut the bolt on my storage unit. They auctioned the contents just as a payment deadline approached. It was total devastation. Every scrap of my parents' furniture from prewar China vanished. Gone were photographic albums, framed art works, art objects. Worse my children's clothing, furniture, books, toys and photos went with the rest.
      It was by no means over. We had to vacate the townhouse. My beloved Irish Setter went to a pair of graduate students, who lived in the mountains. We moved to the only place I could rent, a trailer in a rural town between Boulder and Denver. The day we moved the drive train of the car broke. I wondered how far we could sink, until we discovered a black rat carcass under the kitchen sink of the trailer. My Siamese cat took care of the rest of the vermin. We disinfected like mad, but an epidemic of Bubonic Plague in the trailer park made headlines throughout the Southwest.
      I eventually went to work in the Trust Department of Colorado National Bank. It proved too little, too late. Rather than see the two younger children further deprived and endangered, I relinquished primary custody to their father and his new wife. My elder daughter and I made a home together, but she began to suffer emotionally, as displaced children do. The younger children went to private schools. They had all manner of advantages, but spent years in family therapy with parents, who lacked the most basic parenting skills.
       I hope R.R., who is relatively unencumbered, and who has a loving family, will fare well. I shall miss him -- he is a bright, kind, funny, man. In the end we can counsel and care for each other, but life takes us down lonely pathways. Despite sadness and desperation this is a memorable time. We shared dinner night before last. A friend came to visit, a wonderful musician, who played his viola for us ... right in the midst of the packing boxes. Extraordinary!
      Reality checks for depressive symptoms are routine for me, even today. My solid footing will return -- it always does. Meantime I can be present for my neighbor, until he returns home to Anchorage.

Pills or Lifestyle Changes?

Last week my blog post dealt with that battery of antacids and the little purple pills for "acid reflux." Maybe you've taken a proton pump inhibitor over a short period, and suffered no perceptible ill effects. Or, like me, you may have taken the purple pills over the long haul, and suffered side effects. Another realization we all reach at some point is, even though some symptoms have shown improvement, the root cause of our discomfort has not improved. On the contrary it may have become a far greater problem. Delicacy forbids me from being more specific here, but some of the gastrointestinal symptoms are, let's see, I think a good word is horrid. Here is a link to a "New York Times" article, with one patient's story: http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/25/combating-acid-reflux-may-bring-host-of-ills/?_r=0

Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it's always your choice. ~Dr. Wayne Dyer

     Two interesting aspects of  the woman in the "New York Times" article were her age (she was young) and her brutal schedule. Herein lies the problem. Young or old, alternate healing and lifestyle change work, but they work over the long term. I know, I know, your physician did not treat the PPI as he would a narcotic pain medication, by saying, this is a short-term solution. While you may notice immediate relief with something as simple as a slanted bed or pillow, designed to elevate the upper body. Other healing techniques, such as diet and exercise take time. So-called home remedies work, but they work more gently and it takes time to realize their efficacy. Don't be put off, either by the terms conventional medicine likes to attach to these. A remedy is a remedy, symptomatic relief is symptomatic relief. 
     Bottom line, time is a question of priorities, right along with the energy and thought we put into meeting academic, workplace and domestic expectations. Ask yourself whether there is a more important priority than recouping your health? That is the only question. The young student in the story was so driven to achieve her overwhelming goals, she put a patch on the problem and kept on with the habits that got her into trouble, in the first place. The patch came not to work, although it is nothing short of amazing that she got a decade, before she entered an entirely new phase of disease (or, collapse.)
      Before you go on another antacid trip, skip another social event (or suffer through another family dinner and its aftermath,) it may be time to consider lifestyle changes and alternate healing. A number of websites, from Livestrong.com to the Mayo Clinic's site, give good, solid advice. The only problem is whether or not you will commit to the long haul of gradual treatment. Here is a brief collection of recommendations from these sites and from personal experience:

Eliminate Food and Beverage Triggers.

1) Coffee or tea (both regular and decaffeinated) 

2) Carbonated beverages
3) Alcohol
4) Citrus fruits, such as oranges and lemons
5) Tomatoes and products that contain tomatoes, such as tomato sauce and salsa
6) Chocolate
7) Mint or peppermint
8) Fatty or spicy foods, such as chili or curry
9) Onions and garlic.

     There is a learning curve here, as in all things. Experiment a little; some foods may be consumed at the right times in the right (small) quantities. For example, a taste of chocolate or fresh tomato in a salad at mid-day probably won't harm. I find it difficult to do without oranges, for example, but I buy little mandarin oranges, and eat only part of one at a sitting. Alcohol, on the other hand, has become a no, no, and I miss a glass of wine with a meal. Again on a special occasion, a sip probably wouldn't do me in. I do not consume soft drinks, but I do occasionally drink naturally carbonated mineral water.

     The best possible diet and pantry rehab would addresses chronic inflammatory disease. Remember the heartburn/signal fire analogy? Often heartburn or "acid" indigestion signals inflammatory disease. Chronic inflammation may be in the body in places where do not suspect it.  Gary Null's anti-inflammation guidelines and cookbook are excellent on the subject. Look at the cookbook, and you will realize the ingredients for an effective anti-inflammatory diet are accessible. It is a big shift for many people, but it is so worthwhile, a lifesaver, in fact.

Natural Helpers

1) Apple Cider Vinegar with "Mother" Culture
2) Ginger
3) Licorice or DGL Chewable Tablets
4) Aloe Vera Juice

I would only add a thing or two to the list. I'd add 'alternative' sweeteners and vegan butter substitutes. Unfiltered raw honey is both a disinfectant and soother. Use it in moderation; it is sweeter than sugars.

Lifestyle Changes

Stop smoking.

Smoking precipitates heartburn and acid reflux disease in several ways. It may increase the amount of acid secreted by your stomach and when your stomach secretes acid. Nicotine is a culprit, because it interferes with the function of muscles that help keep acid down.

Loosen your belt. 

Take pressure off your abdomen:

• Don't wear tight clothing, girdles, shape wear panties, tight belts.
• If you're overweight or obese, take steps to lose weight with exercise and diet changes.

Sleep on the slant. 
If you don't have an adjustable bed, buy a GERD pillow, or place blocks under the head of your bed by 4 to 6 inches, or more. This will help to keep your stomach's contents down. (Do not use extra pillows because of the danger of increasing pressure on the abdomen.) Nap in a recliner, with the head and upper body elevated. Finally stop eating at least two or three hours, before lying down. No, really, no snacks, no cheating.

Ask your doctor about medications.

Acid Indigestion and Reflux may be triggered or exacerbated by medications. Do some research, and ask your physician. If you self-medicate or self-prescribe, be aware of the potential harm you may be doing.

• Aspirin, ibuprofen, naproxen and other anti-inflammatory pain relievers
• Some muscle relaxants
• Certain blood pressure medications

Heal a herniated hiatus with diet and exercise:

The Livestrong website has some excellent exercise recommendations for healing a hiatal hernia: 

http://www.livestrong.com/article/310958-exercises-to-stop-a-hiatal-hernia/

The above food, beverage, medication and lifestyle issues for GERD are the same as for a herniated hiatus. There are additional foods to avoid, and measures that will help close the hernia. Dietary changes and cooking tips can be found here:
http://www.webmd.boots.com/healthy-eating/guide/hiatus-hernia-diet-tips

Outsource This!

Think you've suffered the nightmares of the damned with foreign call centers? Oh I do not mean to offend you in any way. I know you're a veteran of outsourced Customer Service! After all do you not have a year-long relationship with Sengupta (or some other Gupta) in India's Call Center Hell? What's that you say? You've taught him better than to put your call on speaker, calling a halt to the laughter and scorn of Gupta and his co-workers over your technical challenges. Buckle up, baby! This is going to be a rough ride. You are about to meet ... bum, bah, bum, bum, Tammy, the American Call Center Queen. 

In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity. ~Hunter S. Thompson

Mistakenly I telephoned my Insurance Company to ask a couple of questions about the status of a claim. On the Insurer's website, there is an instruction to call a certain number, after hours or on the weekend; there was nothing about being flat unable to reach a living human. My Claims Adjuster was unavailable, and not returning my calls. So I called the after-hours number, and spoke with a gum-smacking, soda gulping nitwit, named Shana, explaining that I had questions for Ms. Adjuster. Shana cut me off mid-sentence. She said it would be best if she "researched" my account, rather than listen to my concerns. Shana returned, declaring, "The woman you have been speaking to is not an Adjuster for the Company, and had no authority to make recommendations. She went on.  "Ms. Adjuster was not IN ANY WAY, authorized to act on your behalf." She ended by saying no-one was so authorized, and no-one was available to take the call in Ms. Adjuster's stead.

Having instantly stepped down the rabbit hole, I responded as best I could. "I cannot imagine why an Insurance professional would overstep her boundaries in this manner. Why would she? Shana simply repeated her stand, so I asked to speak with a supervisor or manager in Claims Adjusting. "Dear, I am a supervisor in that department, and I am telling you, Ms. Adjuster has no authority. Anyway, smoch, smoch, Ms. Adjuster is on vacation for another 7 weeks. You won't be able to reach her, until..." Your issue will just have to wait. 

I started to get hot. "This is egregious," I said. Shana paused, seeming not to know how to respond. I went on, "I will find a decision maker. I will find a regulatory agency. When I do, I intend to file formal complaints." I wished Shana and her wad of gum a good day, and rang off. A few minutes passed, when Shana's alter ego, Tammy, entered the picture. Tammy spoke to my voicemail (oddly enough, sounding exactly like Shana, gum and all.) She wanted to apologize, and said she was the person with whom I had been speaking. At this point I began to laugh, thinking of Lily Tomlin's Ernestine.

Tammy said she had reviewed my file (evidently, within minutes.) She owned she had been mistaken about Ms. Adjuster, who did have the authority to do what she had assured me she had done. Tammy alleged she had mistaken the Adjuster's name for the name of someone else on the staff. That would mean, of course, she was not a supervisor in Claims Adjustment. She reiterated that Ms. Adjuster would be unavailable for more than a month and a half. Tammy had no idea how angry an angry bird can be. I saved the voice mail, and the record of my first phone call to the company. I e-mailed Board member, documented the incident, and requested his immediate action.

Not long afterward I received a personal call from a Vice President of the Company, who apologized to my voicemail at length. People talk to my Android a lot, these days. Then I got a call from Claims Adjustment, stating my matter was resolved. I'd receive a letter confirming this, within (now) a few days. I mentioned to the Vice President that I expected the Board member to man up, and apologize himself. Together we reviewed what had been said and done. Shana/Tammy, it seems, were Call Center Girls, not IN ANY WAY authorized to speak or act for anyone in the Insurance Company. Hysterical.

My call was mishandled by one or more employees of a call outsourcing outfit in the United States. All I can say is, if you plan to outsource anywhere, be careful! Be sure your organization is as big as Texas and not under water, so you can incur dislike and contempt with impunity. If your organization is not for profit, try to remember, you rely upon both client satisfaction and donations to stay alive long enough to serve anyone!

Cheap is virtually never good. Really, would you want Susan or Tammy to represent your company, even indirectly? Outsourcing may be one of the lamest ideas, since the dawn of time.

A Little Purple Pill

Antacid with that, Ma'am?

     GERD happens. I wrote a previous post, which talked about acid reflux, or Gastro Esopha-geal Reflux Disease. Whether you view it as a disorder or a disease, GERD happens to people of all ages, even, infants. For many women, it is a daily ordeal of pregnancy. The condition may simply follow months or years of "acid" indigestion. It is very important not to ignore symptoms, such as acid reflux incidents or difficulty in swallowing. Few of us equate them with cancer of the esophagus or stomach, but begin by not ignoring symptoms, on the chance they may signal cancer. Part of the problem with acid indigestion and acid reflux is, we don't view them as dangerous ailments. 

Do you suppose there is any living man so unreasonable that if he found himself stricken with a dangerous ailment he would not anxiously desire to regain the blessing of health? ~Petrarch

     Like so many conditions we've come to accept as part of aging, more elders suffer from acid indigestion and GERD, than do our younger counterparts. There is some truth in equating acid indigestion with age; many people less able to produce stomach acid as they age. Then there is the brutal truth posed by the cumulative effects of unhealthy life choices. We so want to believe we are suffering because our bodies have mysteriously begun to produce too much stomach acid. Never mind that it seems counterintuitive to believe otherwise. We have this reinforced by our physicians. Like most people, if my doctor says, "You're suffering from hyperacidity; I believe it. Anyway, I can taste the stomach acid of GERD. 

     Of course it does not help to have inherited plenty of myth from our own parents and grandparents. To top it off we're bombarded with a media blizzard of ads for antacids and proton pump inhibitors. Marketers know we want comfort, and, now. It is little wonder we reach for the easy answer. Before you open that bottle of antacids, though, think about what they do. They reduce or virtually shut down stomach acid production. Maybe we need stomach acid? Even if the problem were too much, rather than too little, stomach acid, antacids are not designed to address the causative imbalance. On the other hand, if we are not producing enough stomach acid as we need it, antacids exacerbate the problem, so we're making ourselves worse.
     Once antacids are solving nothing, or making things worse, your doctor may prescribe a protein pump inhibitor, a PPI. These are effective in the short run, so much so, they are among the most overprescribed drugs in history. Now that PPIs are commonly available over the counter, maybe, you'll simply try one. From experience you will feel bullet proof within a day or so. Whopeeeee! (Fade to t.v. ad on luxury yacht.) Please read the brochure, before you take the PPI. In reading the fine print, know this: Big Pharma does not have to report all of the side effects of the medications it produces. In addition, at best, the PPI is safe to use for a little over one month.  

     This is important. NO PPI was meant to be used for more than 6 weeks, period. Researchers in the development of proton pump inhibitors warned against high dosages or prolonged use of any PPI. By 2010 the FDA repeated some of the issues raised by these researchers in its report.  The sad and terrible thing is, these drugs remained immensely popular, in spite of the report, which echoed the researchers' recommendation to have patients discontinue the use of PPIs at or before 6 weeks, millions of people continued to use them for decades. 

http://www.fda.gov/Drugs/DrugSafety/PostmarketDrugSafetyInformationforPatientsandProviders/ucm213206.htm
     Ordinary antacids do not pass the acid test, either, no pun intended. Antacids of all sorts are associated with: 

• Decreased Absorption of Vital Nutrients from Food 
• Bacterial Overgrowth 
• Less Effective Immune Systems (opening the door to serious diseases) 

    Increased joint pain is a possible outcome of years of PPI use. It is what happened to me. It is said to be a rare side effect of the use of a particular PPI. It is also how I found out pharmaceutical giants do not have to disclose side effects believed to occur infrequently. Trust me there was no consolation in the notion that my profound joint pain was rare. While I was in excruciating pain, terribly stiff, and having my life diminished to an unrecognizable level, there was no such thing as consolation. Nor was my "issue" something I immediately associated with my PPI. No, it took more than a year and countless hours of researching medical sites and consumer feedback, to figure it out. Absent better ideas from the medical community, to solve the problem of a herniated hiatus, it took more research, commitment, time and effort for me to eliminate the PPI and antacids from my diet.

     To be entirely up-to-date regarding PPI issues is to be aware of a recent data-mining study, in which Stanford researchers noted that the use of a particular PPI increases the likelihood of eventual heart attack. So look upon the fire of heartburn as a signal fire. Ignored or improperly addressed over a period of months or years, it will likely become much more than an occasional or minor discomfort. Heartburn may signal the impending failure of an entire system of the body. Next come diseases, such as hypertension, depression, anxiety, migraines and insomnia. One or all may be related to the failure of stomach acid production and poor protein digestion. Read this statement again, and think it over. Even if it is not a given in each and every case, it is a game changer. 

     Finally consider what happens, when we cannot digest proteins. Nutritionists know the body must have appropriate levels of proteins for health. Amino acids from protein are converted to protein molecules, neurotransmitters and Nitric Oxide. All this is just to say, without sufficient amino acids, we suffer various nutritional diseases. Nutritionists also know people reduce their intake of salt, voluntarily or at the behest of their physicians. The problem is, they faithfully eliminate salt, while taking antacids or PPIs. It is a bad nutritional move. Sodium Chloride (salt) is the only source of chloride available for the body's production of, wait for it ... Hydrochloric Acid. 

 In next week's post I'll revisit lifestyle changes and alternative methods for approaching indigestion and GERD.

Large Scale Bullying

Smokin'

A lifelong non-smoker, I was raised by parents, both of whom were heavy smokers. One of my parents died at just under 51 of cancer, the other, of a massive stroke (with a carton of smokes in the freezer.) From cigarette burns on everything from fine furniture to evening attire and ugly cigarette stains on porcelain sinks, I loathed smoking. My parents had such impaired senses of taste and smell that I once alerted them to the odor of natural gas in a motel, where we were staying. They could not smell the gas tracer, but decided to have the gas company check for a leak. Fortunately nobody lit a cigarette, before anyone responded, or we would have been blown back over the Continental Divide.

Just out of high school I became a competitive skier and mountaineer. I was never again tempted to smoke. I am the last person on earth to sound an alarm about non-smoking zealots. In fact it would be easy for me to become one of them. In the high school where I first taught, the Superintendent of Schools, Dr. Stukey, automatically disliked any teacher who smoked in front of him. I began to keep cigarettes and a lighter in my handbag. Every time I clapped eyes on Dr. Stukey, I lit a smoke, and walked around with it dangling off my lower lip.

...what was happening with anti-smoking zealotry wasn’t nannying or nudging. It was instead plain, simple bullying. ~Frank Davis, Blogger

We have entered the bullying arena in the LIHTC where I live. The building has been open for something over 6 years. I was delighted, when the announcement of the opening appeared on the bulletin board of my previous housing. It looked to be a solution to the issue of quality in affordable housing. It has certainly been a journey, I'll give it that.

A couple of months ago management asked residents to complete a questionnaire. They wanted us to "vote" to have smoking prohibited inside our apartments. Ever suspicious of this landlord's motives, the word vote at the top of the questionnaire gave me pause, as did the "give us your opinion" request. Based on experience I declined to complete the questionnaire, and wrote a note to the Site Manager. It said something to the effect, I felt her request for an opinion and vote was disingenuous. "Regardless of the outcome of any ballot initiative," I said, "It is clear to me, the landlord will do as it sees fit." I went on to refuse aid the landlord to intimidate or bully residents, regardless of the issue. It seemed ridiculous impose a rule the management would not be able to enforce. What I failed to foresee were scare tactics. I did not imagine management would shake a big stick, and/or make examples of random tenants. Predictably a few weeks passed, and the change of rules was announced. The fanfare required us to attend a mass meeting, at which Denver Health representatives lectured residents about the rather obvious vicissitudes of smoking, and made suggestions as to how to stop the addiction. It was so reminiscent of my freshman year of high school. 

The meeting also involved signing a new lease addendum, repeating all the rules of the "community" and adding the prohibitions against smoking in apartments. The wording, however, banned nicotine, as well as any form of marijuana, medical or otherwise. We are to have no candles lighted, burn no incense. (Well everybody knows incense covers marijuana smoke, or, at least all college dorm dwellers think so.) "Hmmmmm, I mused, "No nicotine, ergo, no nicotine patches, no gum or lozenges, so how the hell are people to step down from their nicotine addictions?" Enough of that. I was absolutely unprepared for what happened next, and for what is still happening. The Site Manager posted the meeting/lease signing and policy notices in each elevator foyer, from the first floor to the fifth. I live on the fourth floor, so, the morning of the posting, these caught my eye. Someone, however, had scrawled in huge letters, "IF YOU SIGN THE LEASE ADDENDUM, YOU DID NOT PASS GOVERNMENT 101." There was a letter posted, as well, signed by one of my close neighbors.

The letter of protest, which my neighbor termed a missive, rambled more than a bit. It was pretty specific, however, that he has served his country, is a disabled veteran, and should be able to live as he chooses. All true, but he forgot just one or two details. First this is a huge, paternalistic landlord. Second Colorado is a tenant-unfriendly state. A landlord can evict for good cause, or for no cause at all. My friend sort of skipped over the part, in which, he has no money to move, certainly not on the turn of a dime (no pun intended.) I know this man, and know he would not imagine a witch hunt in the making, upon reading all the notices. He wouldn't make an example of anyone, because he believes in "freedom and justice for all." As for me, let's just say I am older.

My friend's next mistake was to telephone to say, he did not intend to comply. Well, duh, nobody here intends to comply. I won't say the words, "in the fullness of time," because the response was nearly instantaneous. A notice to vacate the premises, precluding any opportunity to recant or sign a lease addendum after the fact, was slapped on his door forthwith. He had, indeed, retracted his letter and his refusal to comply. He offered to sign the addendum, and apologized -- not good enough.

The man is a disabled veteran, whose health issues, alone, should preclude eviction. Too beaten to fight, he has agreed to move. Worse, the stress landed him in the hospital, where doctors found a massive infection, cellulitis, and kept him. He has, since, had two surgeries and many infusions of antibiotics. His V.A. housing counselor made repeated telephone calls on his behalf; she never received an answer. He did get a reasonable accommodation, and now has until the end of June to vacate. He will sacrifice a great deal of his property. It is sad.

I realize this is a huge developer/landlord seeing after its own interests, all the while lowering its insurance rates. I get that. What galls me is having the Nanny Site Manager blowing sunshine up my skirt, telling me how wonderful it is we've entered a new era of healthy living. Here is a link to an opinion you may find offensive. Or, if you are like me, not so much!

https://cfrankdavis.wordpress.com/2013/03/24/large-scale-bullying/