just hope you never get really sick

Almost twelve years have passed since I had a heart attack. I was a 43-year-old woman, and because of that, I was seriously mis-diagnosed. After a series of tests, the G.P. I was seeing remained clueless. When he finally asked me if I was "having problems at home" and if I wanted a prescription for a tranquilizer, I told him what I wanted was a referral to a doctor who could figure out what was wrong with me. Fortunately, he referred me to Dr. Razak Kherani, a caring, compassionate cardiologist, then affiliated with the Elyria Memorial Hospital. It didn't take Dr. Kherani any time at all to figure out what was wrong with me. The episode I described to him: intense pain under my left arm that radiated up into my neck and shoulder and left me writhing on the floor in agony, was clearly a heart attack. Couple that with my inability to climb even a single flight of stairs without stopping to catch my breath, and, clearly, I was in trouble.

After he examined me, Dr. Kherani invited me back to his office for a consultation. He would prefer to get me into the cath lab that very day, he told me, but regretted that we would have to wait through the weekend for that. He made the arrangements for the following week and gave me a prescription for nitro tablets. When I had to take one of the tablets, and it relieved my pain, it all became real to me.

My trip to the cath lab showed that one of my arteries was, indeed, 99% blocked. Dr. Kherani immediately performed a balloon angioplasty. I watched on the monitor as the team worked on me in the cath lab, and found it surreal and fascinating. If my relative youth had masked my coronary artery disease, it also helped in my recovery from the procedure. And, really, I was a model patient during my rehab. No, really, I was. They ran an article about me in the local newspaper, with a photo showing me and my golden family, walking down a leafy, sunlit street.

I saw Dr. Kherani every six months for the next couple of years. What a wonderful man, what a compassionate doctor he is. Each time, he examined me, then invited me to his office, where we chatted. He knew where I worked, and how my kids were doing in school. Dr. Kherani was pleased with my progress, and let me know it. He clearly cared about me. I don't think I am exaggerating to say that he saved my life.

Time passed, and, of course, I backslid. We moved to a new town where instead of being within walking distance of the hospital, we didn't even have one. When the familiar pain returned, I found myself in an emergency room in Akron, forced to deal with whatever cardiologist was on duty that day. His name doesn't matter, but I will say that he belonged to The Heart Group, a large group of cardiologists who seem to have a lock on all the heart patients in several surrounding counties. Another trip to the cath lab showed no blockage, and I received virtually no follow-up care. I was, however, given a prescription for a statin, to help maintain healthy cholesterol levels, and so had to have periodic blood work done.

Several years went by, until during a phone call to the doctor's office for a new prescription, my file garnered some unexpected attention. As I gave the woman on the phone my information, she was amazed to see how much time had passed since my last appointment. "Honey, you need to come in and see the doctor," she told me, and set up an appointment for me. He didn't remember me, and I didn't like him any better than the last time I had seen him. I decided to switch doctors. I could see someone closer by, I thought, and he couldn't be worse than the cardiologist handling my case. Well, as I said The Heart Group has a virtual monopoly in this area, and I ended up with another one of their doctors. While he isn't any worse, he isn't any better, either. It is amazing how impersonal and indifferent both of these men seem.

Since I switched to this doctor, my annual appointment has been in the fall. Accordingly, I called his office earlier this year to schedule an appointment. The doctor's secretary was incredulous that I expected to get in any time soon. "We are now scheduling for (six months out)," she told me. "Well, perhaps I should just see one of the other doctors, then," I told her. "Oh no," was her response, "their schedules are the same." "What a racket," I replied. "Schedule me whenever you can, then, but I will need a refill for my prescription before then." "That's not a problem," she reassured me. "Just give me a call when you need it."

My supply of pills has dwindled since then, so I called her yesterday for a new prescription. She cheerfully offered to call it in to the pharmacy of my choice. I waited until today to pick it up because I didn't want to make a needless trip. Do you think my prescription was at the drugstore waiting for me? Of course it wasn't. I made another phone call and reminded the secretary that she promised me just yesterday to phone in my prescription. "I think you have to have a blood test first," she told me. "Let me check. Yes, you need a blood test before your prescription can be renewed." I was sorely tempted to ask her when she intended to share that information with me, but instead took a deep breath and made arrangements to have my blood work done later this week.

Hopefully, soon, I will be allowed to purchase the medication I need. I am not getting my hopes up, however. How I miss Dr. Kherani and his kindness and concern. The doctors in The Heart Group would do well to take a page from his book and remember that the assembly line of half-clothed bodies they briefly see in their examining rooms are actually people they need to look in the eye and treat with respect. I'm not holding my breath for that, either. I'll let you know if I get my pills.

the death of Halloween?

I read in the truly wretched local newspaper this morning that the celebration of Halloween in Portage County elementary schools is being phased out. In fact, according to this article, most area schools have already substituted "fall festivals" or "harvest parties" for the traditional Halloween party. Children are no longer allowed to wear their Halloween costumes to school nor are their classrooms decorated with ghosts and witches, but with corn shocks and bales of hay instead. Pardon my French, but what a crock of shit.

Although the reporter dances around the real causes of this phenomenon, for the most part it seems to be parents who are members of the rabid religious right complaining about celebrating the occult and the devil and witches and really bad things like that. It's the same old story of a handful of people ruining things for everyone else. I truly hope this is merely a local ignorant redneck trend, but I fear that it is not. Chalk this up as just one more reason I am glad that I am not trying to raise young children today. What a world.

a stray irritation

When Rufus and I take our daily walks, at one point we pass four or five locust trees planted in a row. As we walked along there yesterday morning, yellow locust leaves rained down all around us when a sudden gust of wind blew. The falling leaves were a golden shower in the morning light against the blue, blue autumn sky. As I thought that, I was instantly irritated that I can never use that phrase without a vulgar, sexual connotation being attached to it.

In fact, it irritates me every time I think about it.

lack of progress report

So now I have a big blister on my right heel because my shoe has a worn spot, almost like a hole, on the inside part of the shoe where my heel rubs. Now, I would think that because there is a "hole" there, it would be more comfortable for my foot instead of less, but that doesn't seem to be the case. The blister hurt too much to wear the shoe last night, so I wasn't able to use the treadmill. I showed the shoe to Ben, and he said it can be repaired with that good old American fix-all, duct tape, so I may try to do that today.

I couldn't find any nice green grapes when I went to the grocery store yesterday, so the only fresh fruit I currently have in the house is apples. That doesn't seem like enough (any) variety to me. There wasn't enough low-fat granola left for me to have for breakfast this morning.

I made the mistake of weighing myself again after only three days on the treadmill, and instead of losing weight, I had gained .5 pounds. I tried on the next smaller size of my jeans, and they still don't fit me.

This is the type of minutiae I get bogged down in when I try to focus on my healthier lifestyle. But I will persevere. What choice do I have?

is it warm in here or is that my blood starting to boil?

KSU is in the local newspaper again this week. One of this morning's front page stories informs us that university president Lester Lefton has hired a "special assistant" to "develop university and business sector partnerships meant to capitalize on university research and intellectual property, while assisting with resource development efforts." He will also "serve as a key adviser and strategist to Lefton on vital opportunities and policy issues."

The story does not tell us what salary this special assistant will be receiving, but the article directly below it states that KSU students may soon have to pay a "$100 to $500 technology fee to be charged to students for the purpose of updating aging classroom technology." This would be in addition to the cost of their tuition, which has been frozen by the state. The fee would be for a technology update, you understand, not to pay Lefton's new assistant.

Now, I guess I can understand that Lefton might need an assistant for that sort of thing. I mean, he is kind of an old guy, and he has to attend a whole lot of fund-raising luncheons and dinners all across the state of Ohio. It's just more than he can handle, you might think. But, no, you would be wrong about that because earlier this week the university announced that not only would Lefton be receiving an increase in his already obscenely high salary, but a bonus of $70,000 as well, because he has just been doing such a darn good job.

Let me summarize for you. Lester Lefton will be doing less work for more money and the students will not be paying for his raise or his new assistant with this new "technology fee," which is not a tuition hike because the university is not allowed to raise the tuition. And if you believe all that, then I wish you a belated happy birthday because you were born freakin' yesterday.

I read the news today, oh boy

Lots of photos in the local newspapers this morning of a grieving family at a military funeral. A young man from the little town just up the road was killed in Iraq on his 21st birthday. When I first read reports of his death, my heart ached for his parents and for his very young widow, whom he married before he left. Then I read that his father was not only a veteran himself, but an "unpaid volunteer military recruiter", whatever that means. This guy has a rec room full of military paraphernalia that glorifies fighting and war, and he invites local high school kids there to try to talk them into enlisting.

Here's what I think about it now: At least he got his own son killed instead of someone else's.

reading assignment

This ran as an op-ed in today's Cleveland Plain Dealer. It should be required reading for the parents of every college student in the country. No on is ever going to say this to the parents of the students at my former place of employment. And I will tell you why. Because parents represent what is the bottom line to colleges today: the almighty dollar. Parents threaten to take their money and leave, and rather than explain that a college degree is earned, not purchased, administrators cave to their demands.

Kudos to Tom Chema for saying what every administrator, instructor and staff member at every university and college knows to be the truth.


Tripped up

Dependence on parents leaves college students unprepared

Cleveland Plain Dealer
Friday, August 24, 2007
Thomas V. Chema

The overloaded SUVs, pickup trucks and minivans are pulling up in front of our dorms at Hiram College. In my four years as president, I've seen more than a few U-Hauls filled to the brim with big-screen TVs, rolled-up rugs and giant futons. One survey estimates the average freshman spends $1,200 on necessities for his or her dorm room.

All that new "stuff" our students bring to college doesn't bother me. It's the fact that so many of our academically well-prepared students aren't ready to cut the cord to mom and dad.

And really, why should they?

Having their parents run interference has worked well for this generation. Many of today's kids are very comfortable with having dad call the coach to complain about playing time. Mom chats online with teachers and uses Web-based grade books to keep daily tabs on academics. Because they are continually tracking and monitoring their children's whereabouts via cell phones, parents quickly solve any problems or scheduling glitches. Coming to the rescue is part of their job.

But what happens once the college search is over and the new extra-long sheets are on the dorm bed? As part of our three-day New Student Institute at Hiram, we intentionally scheduled family farewells for 3 p.m. today, Day One. In other words: Time for the folks to say goodbye and go home.

Unfortunately, that's when our student life staff starts fielding calls. Even before the New Student Institute is over, parents are on the line asking what the college is going to do about their 18-year-old's roommate problems. Statistics show that 90 percent of first-year students arrive on campus having never shared a bedroom. These kids don't know how to live in close quarters with someone else, let alone deal with conflicts over TV channels, music choices or when to shut off the lights.

But they do know that a cell phone call to mom will take care of it. And -- even more alarming to me -- when these students get their first critical comment from a professor or a grade lower than a B, their solution is to call home and have dad fix it.

I feel sorry for the students and sorrier for their parents. Families are making a huge investment in a college education for their offspring but not using that experience to prepare their child for the real world.

So what should our first-year students bring with them to college? Here's my wish list:

A commitment to confront their own problems.
Responsibility for the choices or decisions they make.
An open mind and willingness to negotiate with others.

The stuff these young adults really need -- responsibility and resiliency -- is not for sale at Target or Bed, Bath & Beyond. For 18- to 22-year-olds, college is a time to begin to grow up. For parents, it's time to let them have that chance.

Chema is president of Hiram College.