August: Dog Days

The Greeks and Romans named the period in late July/early August “the dog days of summer.”  The reason was that it was the time when the star Sirius appeared to rise just before the sun – the time of year that could bring fever or ominous times.  Many moderns think of “the dog days of summer” as a time when even dogs are so hot they are likely to lie around panting.

The latter interpretation is how we’re feeling about the dog days in the Mid-Atlantic region!  Too hot to write on August first this year.  And thinking of our fur-coated friends seeking the cool spots these days.

Tell us how you feel about these summer days where you are, or favorite dogs you have or remember.  Just click right here, be transported to the blog page, and write!  Pictures of pooches welcome.

P.S.  A hearty recommendation for Bettyville:  A Memoir, by George Hodgman.  A great way to spend summer hours with a remarkable writer whose year of caregiving for his aging mother made me further understand human connectedness.

Independence Day Musings by B.J. Kittredge

I have been blessed (with one exception) with top quality healthcare professionals my whole life. But there is one person who stands head and shoulders above the rest. Our family doctor, a board certified internist at PA Hospital in Philadelphia.

When my husband died five years ago I was desperately bereft. After the dust of the funeral had settled I made an appointment with Dr. Bob. He had cared for my husband long before I was in the picture so he had experienced his own loss with Pat’s death.

During that first visit we both cried. Then he prescribed an unusual regimen for me: he referred me to a psychiatrist who specialized in loss. Then he said he wanted me to come in every month to see him for a check-up. His concern was that grief can have a negative physiological effect. He wanted to check to see how I was surviving. So for the first year of widowhood I saw him regularly. On month thirteen he pronounced me in good hands with my counselor and said he wanted to see me on my usual pre-grief schedule.

My counseling continued with ever-decreasing frequency for three years. Finally, I “graduated” to using the coping skills I had learned on my own. But I will always be grateful to Dr. Bob for his remarkable support and care. I was finally on the road to being healthy. And I never felt alone.

Both of these extraordinary doctors are now enjoying active retirement. And I am so grateful they retired after I was no longer in distress.

It Takes Two to Tango by Carol Vorchheimer

Wonderful experience, and thanks for sharing, Thelma. Unlike your minimal need to ‘appreciate’ the wonderfulness of skilled physicians and skilled physical therapists, I’ve had need for a full measure of ‘appreciation’ over many years.

Yes, Good Shepherd in Philadelphia gives top notch physical therapy, that gains the hoped-for results, when you actually practice what they demo for you when there. My most unusual experience there was seeing a speech therapist, of all things, to learn how to swallow pills better, without choking and gagging. What I learned from a patient therapist who took such a good history was that I’d been doing it wrong all my life. She taught me to only swallow pills sitting down, and to bend my head forward when doing the actual swallowing. Duh. I always did it standing up, and throwing my head back: how wrong can you manage it!!! I still cannot swallow large pills, but she taught me to take them down with applesauce, which does the slidey trick nicely.

As for physicians, well, I always ask around to get the top specialist in whatever area of the body is involved, so I have nothing but glowing tales of treating me as a whole person, and helping me to gain maximum health benefits. Not by accident. I am extremely compliant with whatever regime or limitations I’m given. It takes two to Tango! My most serious medical condition is Primary Pulmonary Hypertension. One becomes a ‘long term survivor’ of this incurable lung disease after 10 years, but I am now 17 years, and going strong, with the same wonderful PH physician: Dr. Harold
Palevsky, at Penn Presbyterian. He gave me hope, always explained everything, was there for me when other minor illnesses like a simple cold laid me flat. He treats me as a whole person, not just a person with a disease in his specialty.

Over the years I have parted company with otherwise excellent physicians when the ‘fit’ no longer felt right. One has to trust your own instincts when it’s time to change. Sometimes it’s just a matter of style: watch and wait is not my style, so I aim for more pro-active physicians who are willing to explain all possible options for me. My husband was comfortable with ‘watch and wait’, but during his last illness involving a deteriorated heart valve, watching and waiting did not feel right to me, so I urged him strongly to get a top notch consult. The night before the surgery, he said: Carol, you were right. Even though he had bad luck and complications after successful surgery, that was the right
decision, and I had no regrets.

Getting older is not for sissies… How true. But, at the juicy age of 83 I recently purchased another condo that presented a more attractive living arrangement than my prior home of almost 17 years. Change may not be easy, but I’m glad that I knew when it was time to make a change, a big one at that.

Recommendation from B.J. Kittredge

Just finished Donna Leon’s FALLING IN LOVE. Each one of her novels seems better than the last!