Friday, May 22, 2015
Link to New Post for the NWPF: Reflections on Care Givers
Caregivers: the gossamer thread that any of us, at any time, may come to
hang by. Reflections on those who choose to share the burden with those
who must. A new post for the Northwest Parkinson's Foundation.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
"My Degeneration" Festinates a Step Closer to Publication
OK, show of hands, what is the difference between the two pages below, excerpted from the manuscript of my forthcoming book about living with young-onset Parkinson's Disease?
The top is the way the page looked when I thought it was finished. The bottom is the way the page looks after encountering orthographic ninja Laura Reed-Morrisson, copy editor for Penn State University Press.
Laura lopped an apostrophe off the slang contraction "Didja" (Second panel) and plucked the extra "L" from "Skillful" (Bottom of page). So, big deal, I made a couple small errors. What's the point? This: those little errors can quickly add up in the reader's mind to doubt about the author's credibility. As the little mistakes pile on, you eventually reach the dreaded tipping point, where the reader decides that if you are incapable of writing simple English, you certainly are not mentally equipped to plumb the murky depths and infernal complexities of neurology.
Laura found similar little errors on at least 25 pages of the manuscript. That's 25 pages I had been over countless times, looking for these kinds of problems. And it was more than just usage or spelling questions. She also caught continuity problems in the drawings (a sequence in which I left a tone out of a drawing resulting in prematurely gray hair for three panels, after which it mysteriously reverted to my normal reddish-brown,) and a misquote of Henry David Thoreau, as well, (it's "I have travelled a good deal in Concord," not "I have travelled extensively in Concord.") And if you are worried about the spelling of "travelled" with two of the letter "l," relax. Laura found precedent in editions of Thoreau out of both Yale and Cambridge.
Just to spice things up, my copy of Photoshop became mildly hysterical, and decided I could not save documents under the same name name once they had been edited. It would protest "Cannot save. This document was left open or is being used by another program" when the file in question clearly was not in play. So I was forced to save the document under a different name, then go to the directory where the file was, and change it back to the original name. Some of the changes did not survive this cumbersome process and had to be redone. To complicate things further, our page numbers were skewed by one page due to the addition of a table of contents late in the game, Laura was working with the table of contents as page one, while my page one was the first page of the actual story. So I would have to correct the numbers as we went. This is a recipe for disaster, or at least feelings of rage and frustration.
Laura never cracked. Her emails were invariably clear, good-humored, polite and exquisitely patient. The book will be substantially more... substantial, thanks to her sharp eyes and disciplined brain. If I sound a little awe-struck, it's only because I am.
The top is the way the page looked when I thought it was finished. The bottom is the way the page looks after encountering orthographic ninja Laura Reed-Morrisson, copy editor for Penn State University Press.
Laura lopped an apostrophe off the slang contraction "Didja" (Second panel) and plucked the extra "L" from "Skillful" (Bottom of page). So, big deal, I made a couple small errors. What's the point? This: those little errors can quickly add up in the reader's mind to doubt about the author's credibility. As the little mistakes pile on, you eventually reach the dreaded tipping point, where the reader decides that if you are incapable of writing simple English, you certainly are not mentally equipped to plumb the murky depths and infernal complexities of neurology.
Laura found similar little errors on at least 25 pages of the manuscript. That's 25 pages I had been over countless times, looking for these kinds of problems. And it was more than just usage or spelling questions. She also caught continuity problems in the drawings (a sequence in which I left a tone out of a drawing resulting in prematurely gray hair for three panels, after which it mysteriously reverted to my normal reddish-brown,) and a misquote of Henry David Thoreau, as well, (it's "I have travelled a good deal in Concord," not "I have travelled extensively in Concord.") And if you are worried about the spelling of "travelled" with two of the letter "l," relax. Laura found precedent in editions of Thoreau out of both Yale and Cambridge.
Just to spice things up, my copy of Photoshop became mildly hysterical, and decided I could not save documents under the same name name once they had been edited. It would protest "Cannot save. This document was left open or is being used by another program" when the file in question clearly was not in play. So I was forced to save the document under a different name, then go to the directory where the file was, and change it back to the original name. Some of the changes did not survive this cumbersome process and had to be redone. To complicate things further, our page numbers were skewed by one page due to the addition of a table of contents late in the game, Laura was working with the table of contents as page one, while my page one was the first page of the actual story. So I would have to correct the numbers as we went. This is a recipe for disaster, or at least feelings of rage and frustration.
Laura never cracked. Her emails were invariably clear, good-humored, polite and exquisitely patient. The book will be substantially more... substantial, thanks to her sharp eyes and disciplined brain. If I sound a little awe-struck, it's only because I am.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
"The Bad Doctor," a Graphic Medicine Prescription for Patients and Doctors
What is graphic medicine? It's the broad term for those works (this blog, for instance) that take on issues associated with illness, treatment, wellness, the health care system, and their place in community and the wider world, through the visual language of comics. The idea is that comics can be a powerful medium to open beneficial lines of communication between patients and medical service providers. They may also help clarify our thinking about tough subjects such as end-of-life care, or fairness in the distribution of care and resources. Comics can be potent in their ability to distill and pass on complex ideas and intense emotions. If you don't believe me, you haven't read "Maus," by Art Spiegelman.
Penn State Press is undertaking an effort to publish a series of books both about, and of the Graphic Medicine genre, on the theory that it "articulates a complex and powerful analysis of illness, medicine, and disability and a rethinking of the of the boundaries of "health'" (Full disclosure, the Penn State publications will include my book "My Degeneration" about dealing with young-onset Parkinson's Disease.)
The first two books in the Penn State series have just been published. They are "Graphic Medicine Manifesto" written by editors of the series, and "The Bad Doctor" a graphic novel about a middle aged doctor who practices in the British countryside. It was written by Dr. Ian Williams, one of the editors of the series. I've read "The Bad Doctor," and can answer the question of whether it makes the case for the merits of this genre with a clear "yes."
One advantage of comics is the form's ability to compress information. In just over 200 pages "The Bad Doctor" lets us look over the shoulder of its central character, Dr Iwan James, as he encounters an assortment of patients ranging far and wide on the spectrum of "normal." We also get close-ups of number of James' colleagues, who emerge as people remarkably like the rest of us. They struggle with romantic problems. They have personality flaws and philosophical conflicts about how to run their practice. They have moments of strength and weakness, idealism and avarice.
Nobody embodies these conflicts more than Dr. James. While on duty with patients, He exhibits a calm and caring competence. Underneath there is tension. He is attracted to one of his partners, and at odds with another one, who is opportunistic and lazy. Not that Dr. James is above researching bicycles on the internet when he should be attending to clinic business. Furthermore, we learn from a series of dreamily-rendered flashbacks, he still is still troubled by the intrusions of a case of obsessive-compulsive complex. We see Dr. James' baseless fear that he may harm one of his patients subtly reflected in the fear of an obsessive-compulsive man he treats who is tormented by thoughts he will damage his beloved nephews.
Dr. James is no Dr. Kildare, able to pull miracles from his pocket. James' pocket is more likely to produce lint.
So what is the lesson here?
When I first began to attend support group meetings for people with Parkinson's Disease, I was surprised at the amount of time the group spent airing anger at the doctors who were supposed to be our allies in our efforts to cope with the disease. Often these feelings were based on callous remarks or moments of utter cluelessness that these Doctors inflicted on their patients. These moments of casual destructiveness were made all the worse by our expectations of doctors, that they are demigods, learned, deft healers, immaculately trained and disciplined, yet wise and caring.
Well, bang goes that illusion. And really, good riddance. Thanks to "The Bad Doctor" we may see doctors as limited like the rest of us. Once we no longer imagine them as high priests of healing endowed with holy infallibility, two things happen. First we can see our doctors as human, struggling to do the best they can with the tools at hand. This will enable a more realistic expectation of what is possible, and a gentler sense of disappointment when these (mostly) good people fall short of the perfection we sometimes count on.
Second, with the recognition of doctor's limits, it becomes all the more important that the patient accept more responsibility for managing their care. Patients need to learn what they can about their affliction, and to be alert to factors or phenomena that their doctor may have overlooked or not been aware of. The new paradigm is for partnership between doctor and patient to treat disease.
"The Bad Doctor" acts like a vaccine against the notion that we can delegate responsibility for our health to anyone else. We must find the best-trained, most capable medical care we can, and then to work with them to achieve the most satisfactory result. We must be realistic about what doctors can do. That's not a bad thing. It's a recognition of reality.
There certainly are miraculous things accomplished today by the people who wield the tools of modern medicine. None is more miraculous than the important fact at the core of "The Bad Doctor": these mighty feats are performed by people not so different from you or me.
Penn State Press is undertaking an effort to publish a series of books both about, and of the Graphic Medicine genre, on the theory that it "articulates a complex and powerful analysis of illness, medicine, and disability and a rethinking of the of the boundaries of "health'" (Full disclosure, the Penn State publications will include my book "My Degeneration" about dealing with young-onset Parkinson's Disease.)
The first two books in the Penn State series have just been published. They are "Graphic Medicine Manifesto" written by editors of the series, and "The Bad Doctor" a graphic novel about a middle aged doctor who practices in the British countryside. It was written by Dr. Ian Williams, one of the editors of the series. I've read "The Bad Doctor," and can answer the question of whether it makes the case for the merits of this genre with a clear "yes."
One advantage of comics is the form's ability to compress information. In just over 200 pages "The Bad Doctor" lets us look over the shoulder of its central character, Dr Iwan James, as he encounters an assortment of patients ranging far and wide on the spectrum of "normal." We also get close-ups of number of James' colleagues, who emerge as people remarkably like the rest of us. They struggle with romantic problems. They have personality flaws and philosophical conflicts about how to run their practice. They have moments of strength and weakness, idealism and avarice.
Nobody embodies these conflicts more than Dr. James. While on duty with patients, He exhibits a calm and caring competence. Underneath there is tension. He is attracted to one of his partners, and at odds with another one, who is opportunistic and lazy. Not that Dr. James is above researching bicycles on the internet when he should be attending to clinic business. Furthermore, we learn from a series of dreamily-rendered flashbacks, he still is still troubled by the intrusions of a case of obsessive-compulsive complex. We see Dr. James' baseless fear that he may harm one of his patients subtly reflected in the fear of an obsessive-compulsive man he treats who is tormented by thoughts he will damage his beloved nephews.
Dr. James is no Dr. Kildare, able to pull miracles from his pocket. James' pocket is more likely to produce lint.
So what is the lesson here?
When I first began to attend support group meetings for people with Parkinson's Disease, I was surprised at the amount of time the group spent airing anger at the doctors who were supposed to be our allies in our efforts to cope with the disease. Often these feelings were based on callous remarks or moments of utter cluelessness that these Doctors inflicted on their patients. These moments of casual destructiveness were made all the worse by our expectations of doctors, that they are demigods, learned, deft healers, immaculately trained and disciplined, yet wise and caring.
Well, bang goes that illusion. And really, good riddance. Thanks to "The Bad Doctor" we may see doctors as limited like the rest of us. Once we no longer imagine them as high priests of healing endowed with holy infallibility, two things happen. First we can see our doctors as human, struggling to do the best they can with the tools at hand. This will enable a more realistic expectation of what is possible, and a gentler sense of disappointment when these (mostly) good people fall short of the perfection we sometimes count on.
Second, with the recognition of doctor's limits, it becomes all the more important that the patient accept more responsibility for managing their care. Patients need to learn what they can about their affliction, and to be alert to factors or phenomena that their doctor may have overlooked or not been aware of. The new paradigm is for partnership between doctor and patient to treat disease.
"The Bad Doctor" acts like a vaccine against the notion that we can delegate responsibility for our health to anyone else. We must find the best-trained, most capable medical care we can, and then to work with them to achieve the most satisfactory result. We must be realistic about what doctors can do. That's not a bad thing. It's a recognition of reality.
There certainly are miraculous things accomplished today by the people who wield the tools of modern medicine. None is more miraculous than the important fact at the core of "The Bad Doctor": these mighty feats are performed by people not so different from you or me.
Friday, May 8, 2015
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
The Parkinson's Rag Rag
Recent news that, for the third time in a row, this blog had been recognized as one of the top 14 blogs about Parkinson's Disease seemed cause for celebration. So, sparing no expense, I commissioned myself to do a t-shirt. (Of course I got the crony discount, that's the way the world goes 'round.) A reasonable facsimile of the end result appears above, It comes in a wide variety of sizes and colors. You'll want one for the entire family, but I suggest buying each member their own, as quarrels over whose day it is to wear the shirt are sure to ensue if you only buy one. They cost $24.98, and you can order yours here.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Off and On, The Alaska Parkinson's Rag, Named One of the Top Parkison's Blogs for 2015
Once again Healthline, a Web site devoted to increasing patient well-being through the dissemination of information has chosen Off & On as one of the top Parkinson's Disease Blogs for the year. And 2015 isn't even half the way over yet! It's the third time in a row that Healthline has bestowed this honor on this raffish little Alaska-generated blog.
Here is their statement about including Off & On: "The blog is an addictive mix of posts that showcase the author’s artistic talents, cutting-edge wit, and easy-to-digest data on the science and medicine surrounding Parkinson’s Disease."
There was no entry submitted, the Web Site apparently searches for blogs and judges which ones best meet their standards. Then they drop you a note about being selected. It's a nice surprise, and an honor.
There is a list along with short descriptions of each of the 14 blogs named to the list here.
Healthline |
Here is their statement about including Off & On: "The blog is an addictive mix of posts that showcase the author’s artistic talents, cutting-edge wit, and easy-to-digest data on the science and medicine surrounding Parkinson’s Disease."
There was no entry submitted, the Web Site apparently searches for blogs and judges which ones best meet their standards. Then they drop you a note about being selected. It's a nice surprise, and an honor.
There is a list along with short descriptions of each of the 14 blogs named to the list here.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
May Parkinson's Disease Events for Southcentral Aalska
Here
it is, May already! This is good news for those without PD because it
means that it is no longer Parkinson's Disease awareness month. The rest
of the country, indeed, the rest of the world, will be free to go back
to being unaware of PD. Lucky them. As this is not an option for those
who actually have the disease, you will be happy to know that we will
have the following blockbuster opportunities to learn more about this
affliction, and how to cope with it.
The Telehealth interactive broadcast presentation will be May 11, 2015 at 1:00 p.m. To find the Alaska meeting, proceed with all deliberate speed to Providence Hospital oncology wing on Piper St. ( Go to the second floor, walk down the lonnnnnnnng hall that stretches South from the cafe and look for room 2401 pretty much at the end of the hall on your right. ) Once there, after a certain amount of blundering with the high-tech equipment, we will have a presentation from Caleb Foss, physical Therapist. Topic: Caring for the Caregiver with physical therapy techniques for
reducing the chance to getting hurt while caregiving. Tips on how to lift, transfer and move a person with PD.
Our
monthly support group meeting May 16th at 3:30, promises to be a
humdinger. There will be three different presentations. We will warm up
with two short sessions. The first will be on Medicad help for people
who have Parkinson's. The second will be from the Alaska representative
of the Parkinson's Action Network, outlining the political environment
at the federal level for Parkinson's research. These will be followed by
the main act, local movement disorder specialist Dr. Alec Glass. Alec
will give a talk touching on the current state of PD research, and
things that he is hopeful about in the not-too-distant future for the
treatment of Parkinson's. There will be time for questions, so if you
want to ask a smart and approachable doctor your PD questions, you will
never have a better chance.
And don't forget the Regular Tuesday Yoga for PD sessions every Tuesday, 1:30 PM, at the Anchorage Dance Studio, 550 E. 33rd Ave. Anchorage, 99503. Something new is always being presented, so
challenge yourself to a safe & uplifting hour of movement and
IN-SPIRATION. You will be glad you came!
Your faithful servant,
Peter
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