If you’ve never experienced a migraine or cluster headache, you probably think those who suffer through them are crybabies.  If you’ve ever had a minor migraine, you probably think they’re a piece of cake.  However, when people tell me they have them, I expect them to be like mine, or at least somewhat close.

     I’ve said before that I’ve suffered from them — doctors have told me different things about whether or not they’re migraines, cluster headaches or cluster migraines, or maybe a mixture of things — for over 30 years, but thinking back a little more, I wonder if I didn’t have them from birth.  I can remember a few instances of lying in the floor of a trailer we moved out of when I was four years old, in pain, unable to move, being blinded by the sunlight coming in the bedroom window.  Where most mothers would have taken their children to a doctor and showed some concern, mine simply decided that I had no tolerance for pain.
     As a matter of fact, save for a single trip to the emergency room where I was paralyzed — my father drove me — I never received any actual “treatment” until I was eighteen and able to get my own medical advice.

     I described the pain a few months ago.  It’s constant, persistent, assymetrical, and becomes more intense as time drags on.  Left unchecked, it will develop into something very akin to having a large portion of your skull removed with a jagged ripsaw while someone else digs into the open bone with a high-speed drill.
     If you can’t imagine that, try this: cover a piece of ice in aluminium foil and bite down on it as hard as you can with your most sensitive tooth.  While taking a baseball bat to the back of the head and have a red-hot fire poker jabbed into your eyes repeatedly.
     And now, that you’ve imagined that, imagine that it’s constant.

     It’s a threshhold-of-pain incident where you can’t make it any worse and pass out, and you can’t do anything else to make it tolerable.  Often, you’ll lose control of your bodily functions, causing you to defecate, urinate and vomit all over yourself.  Sometimes, you’ll end up paralyzed — not from fear that movement will cause pain, but because your legs simply won’t work.
     It’s a sort of pain that makes you pray to God to end your life.  Forsaken and alone, it makes you wonder what kind of “loving Father” would allow children to experience that kind of Hell.  Suicide seems logical — if not necessary — to make the pain stop, as you know for certain that Hell will not be as excruciating.  Torture is for pansies!  You curse yourself for not having the ability to die by your own hand, and then curse God for not taking your life for you.  Finally, you have no choice but to relent that there is no God.  You curse your body.  You curse your Life.  You curse everyone around you.  You curse the Universe.
     When it finally ends, you’re so fragile and exhausted you can’t even appreciate the fact that it’s over.  Your memory is cloudy, and if you’re lucky enough to remember everything you did, it’s often hard to understand why.  You probably have a lot of apologizing to do, and have a hard time trying to superimpose “normal” over all of your mania.
     And, more than anything, you’re terrified, knowing that one day, it’ll happen again.

     According to a report I read this morning, I’m not alone. 

The nationwide study of 1,007 migraine sufferers was conducted by The Gallup Organization for Cerenex Pharmaceuticals. It found that the pain of migraine is so excruciating that 35% of sufferers indicate that they have wished they were dead during an attack. In addition, a significant number rated migraine as being more painful than childbirth (19%), a broken bone (28%), arthritis (33%), athletic injuries (42%), and a bad burn (42%).

Ninety-three percent of migraine sufferers have used over-the-counter (OTC) or nonprescription pain relievers to treat their headache. Forty-nine percent of those who take OTC medications noted that these nonprescription pain relievers are not successful in alleviating the pain. A similar number admitted that they take more of these OTC pain relievers than recommended.

Approximately 57% said that migraine makes them feel “out of control,” while 73% stated that their daily activities are limited or impaired, including leisure pursuits (49%), socializing (50%), and driving (45%).

While not a psychological disorder, migraine can have a psychological impact on the sufferer. Fifty-eight percent felt that it has reduced their ability to enjoy life; approximately half have feelings of anxiety (54%) and helplessness (48%); and 41% experience depression.

Migraine affects more than the sufferer. Seventy-two percent noted that it has hurt their ability to take care of family and personal responsibilities, and 64% believe it has a negative effect on family or others around them. “Migraine often impacts the entire family,” explains Margaret Abernathy, director, Headache Treatment Center, Georgetown University Medical Center. “If sufferers are not seeking proper help to manage migraine, they often find themselves retreating to a dark room for the duration of the attack. This obviously has an effect on the sufferers’ ability to function normally in family and social situations.”

     From 7AM last Tuesday morning until around midnight on Friday, I went through one of the worst episodes in years, although the severity changed dramatically from hour to hour.  The last time I can remember one being “Emergency Room” bad was nearly six years ago. The last time I can remember it paralyzing me was maybe ten years ago.  Then again, my memory’s still a bit foggy…
     Regardless, absolutely nothing would help.  Wednesday, I cried the entire day.  Thursday, my legs ceased to work.  I got stuck in the floor in an upright fetal position, unable to move myself onto the bed.  The Wildcat struggled like Hell to move me, all bent up and deadweight, and I was completely unable to help her help me.  Some time later, I drug myself — by my arms — into the bathroom and over the edge of the tub into hot-only water where I laid on my left side for God knows how long.  I couldn’t feel the burn until Friday afternoon.  I incorrectly assumed all my itching was an allergic reaction from the massive amount of Advil I was eating.

     My Wildcat … All she could do was watch helplessly and insist that I get to the hospital to be treated — in retrospect, at least ten times.  I stupidly and stubbornly refused.  Rightfully so, I believe she guessed that since I refused treatment, I probably wasn’t that bad.  A terrible error in judgement on my part…  How could she not think that?  [ Note to my Wildcat: Baby, I am so sorry. You did try, God, and I simply wouldn't let you help. That was really stupid of me. ]
     The truth is, there’s a reason I never want to go.  When you’re blind, half-paralyzed and manic, they make it more difficult with all their paperwork and waiting and stupidity, and it’s easier to just lie there wanting to die.
     Most of the time, even if you a get there, they treat you like a drug addict, a second rate criminal, even though you clearly need pain medication.  After a point, there isn’t a lot they can do but shoot you up and wait it out.  And they’re so antsy at that point, they rarely give you enough to stop the attack… it just makes me a little more manageable.

     On Friday, I finally relented and saw a doctor.  I was immediately referred to the ER, thus skipping a lot of the usual BS.  Sure, I still ended up with the “addict” stigma from the ER doc, but he was righteously chastised by the staff for it.
     Later that day, another regular doctor actually listened, and prescribed me something useful.  He chastised me for waiting so long, and warned me that as I’m getting older, an established headache will be more intense and harder to get rid of.  ”Take your medication as soon as you feel it coming on!  Do not wait like this again!  Next time you may not come out of it so well!”

     It was an altogether different experience.  ER doc aside, they all took really good care of me.  There was concern.  They helped.  They checked up on me.  Very different than the usual McHealthcare fare…

     Do you want fries with that?  Thank you.  Drive through.

     To top it all … I’m certain that there are people who have it even worse.

If you do not study history, you are bound to repeat its mistakes…

While I think that it is a wonderful idea for economic and social change.  It needs to happen, but to what extent?  More importantly which set of morals should we change to?

First off, socialism is not the answer.  It doesn’t work on a large scale.  An individual will rise to the top of the chain of command and then will push the country into a dictatorship.  See Cuba, Russia (Both the USSR and currently,) a number of South American countries, and many Eastern European countries as well.

More over, I would pull for less government involvement in the personal lives of its citizens and companies.  While I believe safety regulations and environmental controls are a necessary evil.  Let us not get on a high horse and cripple our ability to let our market driven consumerism operate properly. 

The time for change is know, but how are we to do this with our choices for the fiasco in November?  Our elected officials are supposed to be the best and brightest our country can offer.  These choices we have do not fit into this category even remotely.  So I guess I might as well cross my fingers and hope for the best.

Or might just try to change the world through music and let all creation feel the love in the idea of doing what is best for all.  While it may force a few lazy people to get off thier rugged looking rumps and do a hard days work.  Surely everyone can do something to help there fellow man.  All it takes is a little bartering to cover the basic needs of a person.  Together we could make this work.  Unfortunately, I think I’ll probably just be writen off as a hippie nut, but oh well.  I’ll be here doing my thing until I can’t do it anymore.

i was at my worst with nothing left
and all the world was blue
and never saw a ray of hope
’til the day that i met you
and while you’re in that place
i give your words back to you

you told me…

you can’t be strong all the time
or keep hiding all the tears
sometimes you have to let it out
and stand your ground to fear
when you feel that all is lost
remember that i’m right here

always.

     Today — well, yesterday, since it’s after midnight — was my birthday.

     All I got was grief, with a bit of hardcore depression thrown in for good measure.

     I can only expect the present trend to continue.

So, as of late we here at blogitude.com have not been writing as frequently as we should.  Although I think it might have something to with the fact some of us got caught up in our own lives.  So I will take the first step in order to break the silence.  I have to offer two funny articles: the first on why unothodox Christians would never breed if they truly followed their own ideas  (Yay! No more Temple Baptist Church, School, or Crown College); the second more condom news!

Whack, Unwrap, and Enjoy!

Tip: Thanks to Beth for the links.

     Everyone knows everything everyone else does small towns, although they live quite a distance apart.  One day, in my best redneck accent (I do voices quite well, and though it’s dead-on, you’ll rarely meet anyone who sounds as inbred as I do when I do it), I quipped, “By God, you could fart at one end o’ th’ county and by the time ya git to th’ other end, ever’body knows what it smelt like!”
     They died laughing, although they didn’t like that I said “fart.”

     Good thing they don’t hear some of the other words I say on a regular basis…

     One of the things I’ve always known is that there are many factions in small towns.  There are people who it’s okay to talk to, and there are people who it’s not.  That’s kind can get tricky, because quite honestly, I talk to everybody and don’t care about that kind of stuff.  Generally, people don’t bother to get upset with me about it, because I’m a ”nice guy.”
     One of the unique things, tho, is the constant use of the archaic word “queer” to describe these people you’re not supposed to talk to or “watch out” for. Although, it has nothing to do with someone’s sexual preference, and is pronounced quite differently…  
     One day, I asked, “Quare?  How ya spell ‘at?  Like ’square’ without the ’s’?”
     This resulted in the age-old, universal, one-fingered gesture in my general direction.
     To which I replied, “Well, ain’t that mighty Christian of ya?!”

     Also good for a laugh.

     A couple of weeks ago, after hearing about how everyone in town was “queer,” someone asked me, “So, Mark, how ya like it here?”
     I said, “I dunno.  They’s too many quares.”
     “What?” they asked, shocked.
     “Yeah, by God, ever’body I talk to, they tell me, he’s quare, she’s quare, and by God, they even told me you was, too!”
     The blank look was priceless.

     Give it a minute, give it a minute… Yep, they died laughing. 

     Another incident happened when an elderly gentleman came up and said, “Oh, man, it’s a beautiful day!  I’m gonna home and work in my garden!  Do you have a garden, Mark?”
     “No, sir,” I replied.  Keeping a straight face, I added, “My girl won’t let me play with hoes.”
     One person who overheard the conversation cupped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.  It took him a minute to catch on.

     Now every time I see him, he laughs, and tells me, “Stay away from them hoes!”

     Another day, I was answering questions about some software when I leaned forward and hit my funny bone on the edge of the desk.  My uncontrollable reaction was to blurt out, “Motherf…” at which point, I caught myself and stopped the profanity midstream.
     She ignored it, and continued her explanation of the software issue without skipping a beat.
     I gave her the answer and showed her an alternative method to do what she was asking.
     She responded to the answer, and added, “And, by the way, I know that must have hurt.  But next time, just go ahead and finish the word because we all knew what you were thinking, anyway.”

     Laughter is always good medicine.

     And being just slightly off-color does tend to relax even the most uptight people.

     Older people, especially, seem to enjoy it even more…

While on blogitude, we may question and sometimes push the limits on what are is, I have an announcement to make.  As part of Maryville, Tennessee’s Last Friday, I will have my first photography show inside Southland Books.  The festivities begin at 5:00 and go until the cows are about to come out.  So feel free to show yourself for a night of art, music, wine, and cheese.  If you can’t make it you can also see my exhibition on flickr.com. 

I have had gay friends all my adult life. I have been comfortable with homosexuality for a long time. A few things lately have made it clear to me that a lot of people have very little understanding of homosexuality. I want to make a few points clear.

People are born gay or straight. Many people grow up hiding their sexuality for various reasons, but the fact that they announce they are gay after they are adults, or even after they have had spouses and children does not change the fact that they were gay when they were born. They don’t get converted or victimized into it. Nor do they choose it. It is a very difficult thing they usually struggle with for years before they admit it. They choose when they call themselves gay, but not when they are gay.

This is extremely difficult for many to deal with because it means God created gay people as gay and yet, we are all told God hates homosexuality. To believe people are born gay is to believe that God is a liar or something. What do you do?

The answer is that we live in a very different time than when the Bible was written.  Some things are as true today as they were 4,000 years ago, but many things are not. We don’t take laws set down by God concerning donkeys to literally apply only to donkeys. Things change. In this case, we now know that homosexuality is an inherited trait as much as red hair or black skin. They didn’t know that a couple thousand years ago. Times change. Things change. We have knowledge they didn’t. It doesn’t nullify God’s Law, it amends it. And it gives us the chance to be more righteous and good than the saints and the prophets.

The good news is, homophobic men don’t have to worry any longer that they will turn gay from a hit on the head or perhaps a drunken fling with another gay. You’re straight, get over it.

A lot of very dumb things are perpetrated because of this lack of understanding. Many people are trying to limit knowledge of homosexuality as a means to limit homosexuality itself. They think that if people know about it, it creates it. The truth is, people are gay, and some know what they are and some don’t. When they find out that what they are is gay and there are millions of other gay people, they are relieved and announce what they have always been. To the paranoid outsider they imagine that the knowledge created the homosexuality. That’s as true as finding out that there is something called hiccups and realizing you have them and they are normal. Knowing about hiccups didn’t cause hiccups, it gave it a name and a context.

This is the issue of our time. It is the Jim Crowe era for gay people. They can’t have the legal protections and rights others take for granted. They are ridiculed without consideration. They are mistreated. They are discriminated against. They can work their entire lives with a partner and end up with no rights to share in their life in terms of inheritence, etc. as they would were they straight and married. All these things happen because of the way they were born. Same as skin color. They had no choice and would likely have made a different one if they could. And so they are mistreated because of how God made them.

Be glad you were not born gay in these times. Just as there was a time when simply being born black in this country was going to be a struggle against society, today, being born gay makes you an instant victim.

And much as in those segregation times, the people who have the strongest feelings against gay people, have not been around them. My growing up with black people in my schools and churchs and as my peers and friends made it impossible for me to be a racist as my parents generation was. Having many gay friends lets me see how normal it is and I can’t imagine a reason to treat them as less than equal humans and citizens. But for those who live where no one dares come out of the closet, they are free to continue to imagine that gay people are some monster to be fought. It’s the same way in the all white counties of this country where racism continues to be passed down without being contradicted by the existence of people of color in their lives.

     In response to a message asking, “What does ‘happy’ look like?” I decided to post a photo from earlier today.

     It looks something like this…

     …minus the squinty eyes from snow blindness.

     Nice Snow Angel, huh? 

     I’ve gotten some sporadic e-mails and messages wondering where I’ve been the last couple of weeks.  I’m simply not telling.  The fact is, I needed a change from ridiculous work hours, and really needed to shrug off a lot of the responsibility that’s been bearing down on me.
     Now, there’s no more dealing with bad checks, fraudulent credit cards, delinquent accounts, support phone calls from customers who can’t figure out time zones or other day-to-day craziness of trying to run a business.  The day-to-day harrassment and stress is gone.  Things that weren’t working out are beginning to turn around.  I’ve completed my first week of work, and found that I actually have time for things again.

     Being able to enjoy time away from work and BS and drama is a good thing.  Being able to spend more time with the Wildcat is an even better thing.

     I took a Systems Analyst job at a small-town hospital with several, small satellite clinics.  What I get to do is learn the software that they’re using for digital record keeping in order to help them maximize the use of it so that they know pretty much everything they need to know from start to finish — from health records, to insurance, privacy, billing and revenue.  The objective is to be able to see the business processes through from start to finish, document everything, train everyone up to the same level and have a nice, neat collaborative platform that can be used in conjunction with patient records.

     It’s good for the patients:  they’re able to receive better care, having their full histories in a central location instead of having such disparate dissemination of information, and having a simple way to schedule, refer and assist in their diagnoses.  It also gives them a lot more choice about where they receive their care, as they don’t have to start out blind with a new Doctor.
     It’s good for healthcare providers: they’re able to get a better, overall view of a patient’s health, what’s been tried, what’s working, what isn’t and what kind of maintenance and service their patients are getting.  They can see trends with patients and better prepare for epidemics thanks to having data over time.
     It’s good for the staff: they’re able to better assist patients with scheduling and insurance issues, move them from the waiting rooms to the healthcare providers more quickly and get general overviews to assist them in making decisions about how to best care for the patients.
     And, lastly, it’s good for the administration.  They’re able to get a better overview of what’s going on inside their organization, how to budget based on usage and volume, and the best ways to handle new, Government-imposed rules.  They’re also able to get real and useful data about profits and losses at their locations and assist them in improving the quality of service.

     At least, that’s how it will be, once I get a lot of work finished. 

     Despite being a small healthcare system in several small towns, there are as many providers and staff as some of the “large” hospitals, and certainly no shortage of ailing patients.  There’s a reasonably high learning curve to what has proven to be some pretty quirky software, and there seems to be a lot of connectivity issues between locations.
     Oh, and did I mention that I’ve never used this software before?

     Some people might consider it a daunting task.

     For me, it’s exactly what I enjoy doing.  I get to go into a business, learn its processes from top to bottom, liberally apply technology, train everyone how to utilize that technology to the best of its ability and end up with a lot more speed, efficiency and, ultimately, accountability.  You’re able to see where things are falling down, improve processes, and eventually end up being able to provide customers with better service.

     The thing is, as much as I’ve complained about healthcare providers over the last few years, now I’m inside a system where I can do something for the greater good.  I can’t knock the place where I am, because despite being a small system, they do their communities a great service.  They’re an incredible public benefactor, which is one of the reasons I’ve been so impressed with them.

     I also see this as a very real chance to improve the quality of care that patients receive.  If I do a good enough job, perhaps it can be used as a template for larger healthcare systems where patients are treated as numbers instead of names, where profit takes precedence over patient care.
     I’m sure everyone in Knoxville knows exactly where I’m talking about…

     As for the organization, there are many more things that have impressed me.  People are friendly and talkative, they legitimately enjoy their jobs, they offer suggestions instead of incessantly complaining, and they care about what they’re doing. 
     The IT staff are equally impressive.  It’s the first time I’ve gone into a company and not seen an arrogance level that dwarfs their ability.  In fact, these guys actually want to learn, ask questions and try to solve problems.

     The last thing that really stood out happened yesterday morning.  At 8:30AM, when time allowed, there was a completely voluntary meeting.  Out came the Prayer Book.  It was filled with names of friends, family and patients to pray for.  The deceased weren’t marked out — no, they were highlighted in green.
     My two-year-old neice is in the hospital on a respirator.  I don’t know what’s wrong with her, what hospital she’s at, or even how to get hold of anyone to ask because the phone messages I get are more damning than informative, and completely devoid of any contact information where I might be able to figure anything else out.  I know that it’s out of my hands, so, I added her to the Prayer Book.
     We held hands in a circle, were led in prayer with a song and our requests, and made a few silent ones of my own.
     Burdens off, we went back to work.

     That felt good.

     All in all, I needed the change.  I’ve felt trapped and claustrophobic for the last couple of years, and suddenly been offered a great opportunity which I’ve grabbed by the horns.  I enjoy my work again.  I’m enjoying meeting more people, talking to people, and doing what I do.

     To top it all, my Wildcat’s lying three feet away from me, fast asleep, a gentle smile upon her face.  I thank God for this woman every day.

     For the first time in a while, I’m unequivocally happy.