Show Me Your Fridge, I Dare You ;p

At a fashion shoot, photographers will occasionally step away from their professional cameras to take a cheap snapshot. It gives a quick, fresh perspective and it’s an easy way to spot adjustments to lighting, background and pose in order to get that perfect shot.

So, what if you used the same technique with your life: snapshots to get a fresh perspective? I dare you – right now- to go and snap a picture of the inside of your fridge. Since in my fridge you might spot that black, fuzzy thing at the back of the bottom shelf, I’ll let words describe my picture:

• half a cake
• apples
• leftover fries
• milk
• homemade mac and cheese

Not too bad, but there’s probably room for improvement. Knowing you might want another peek soon, I’ll shop a little wiser today and be able to show off salad fixings, some more fruit and maybe some OJ next time.

Even if you're not going public with such info, taking a snapshot is a great idea to make us more aware of our daily choices. In fact, the idea comes from a group of researchers who used cell phone pictures as a creative way to combat disease.

Since a major cause of chronic disease is individuals’ everyday health-related decisions that affect long-term health, the researchers gave families cheap cell phones for the purpose of snapping pictures related to day to day activities. Simply drawing attention to what went on over the course of the day prompted families to think about what easy adjustments they could make to improve their health. Counselors also reviewed the information with the families and added nutrition education and health tips to further encourage a healthier lifestyle. (Find the full study here in the Journal of Participatory Medicine.)

The premise again is this: A major cause of chronic disease is individuals’ everyday health-related decisions that affect long-term health.

Put that up behind a fridge magnet and ponder it.

The Brakes On the Wheelchair

Last month, I felt quite clever but at the same time irritated that by the third visit to the hospital we were able to navigate the long walk from the front lobby to ICU without a map. After all, I didn’t sign up for this stint of several visits a day. It was involuntary enlistment.

Nevertheless, in such circumstances you learn the ropes and develop a routine. Being a quick study conserved my energy for more important things. What I noticed though, was how attentively the Cleveland Clinic hospital where my father was admitted eased the stress of family visits with simple courtesy.

Staff at all levels seemed trained to be mindful of visitors. Recognizing – and alleviating - bewilderment is apparently a priority. You get a map every time you check in. Stand still in a hallway for just a moment and staff – whether housekeeping, a tech or a doctor – ask how they can help to direct you. Everyone seemed to understand that – with the possible exception of the maternity floor – every visitor in the building wished they didn’t have to be there.

My first inkling I'd be catered to in this way came at the entrance, where visitor wheelchairs are stashed . On my first visit after arriving in town, the usually abundant supply was gone but a valet traipsed through two departments to retrieve one for us. Then, after we arrived at ICU, I realized my ignorance with this basic piece of equipment – fumbling at first until an aide pointed out the brake that would keep the wheelchair from scooting across the room, landing the occupant squarely on the floor (!).

Like everything else in healthcare, treatment of patient families is institutionalized and codified. In fact, my research on the subject turned up a press release from the Disney Institute announcing a new training module on family interaction for the purpose of increasing hospital satisfaction ratings, which are about to become a matter of public record due to new government regulations.

But only so much civility can be taught in a seminar. At a hospital where veterans lead by example and empathy is valued, painful memories of a last hospital stay are softened by the kindness of strangers.

The Empty Blog

There's no need to write up a post today.

Just click here for a must-read inspiring story.

When you're done, you'll suddenly feel the strength to move mountains.


(Image via Facebook. Painting by Margaret Stineman.)

Lace Up That Trusty Pair of Chucks

A trip to Ohio last week meant a rare chance to see my BFF and blogging partner Diane “in real life” as we say online. It was great to spend some time with her family! Two of the many fantastic things about the Buckeye State are her husband Dave’s grilling skills (he used to do it professionally – working his way through college) and that pitcher of margaritas that is was in Diane’s fridge.

I also brought back a souvenir for PatientLovingCare readers that I picked up on the front page of Friday’s Cleveland Plain Dealer. I immediately bookmarked this story about walkwithadoc.org and tracked down the organization website to share here.

Walk With a Doc is the brainchild of a physician who found that patients often had trouble getting started on an exercise program but were more than willing to take a walk at a local park if their doctor invited them to come along with him. Soon after he started the program in Columbus, Dr. David Sabgir had 100 people joining him for Saturday morning strolls.

Dozens of doctors have signed on since, agreeing to organize walks and socialize alongside regular folks who like the group support and the idea that healthcare providers are nearby as they tentatively step out for a fitness program. The docs are required to begin with a short health presentation and be available to chat for a 45 minute stroll.

It is said that one hour of walking adds two hours to your life expectancy. Who could refuse that kind of return on investment? I was curious though, what motivated the doctors to sign on for this busman’s holiday of having their patients join them for their workout time. Turns out it’s just good marketing. Sponsoring a local Walk With a Doc builds good will and brings attention to the docs as community leaders.

Click here to find a group near you. Or contact your favorite healthcare provider to suggest starting up a chapter – it’s win/win for both of you.

If I Told You To, Would You Believe In Yourself?

Today we dust off our soapbox on the topic of education. If you are caregiver to a child, you know the unquestionable importance of learning success despite medical obstacles.

What prompted this post was an opinion piece in the Philadelphia Inquirer with the attention-grabbing headline “Self-esteem exercise boosts minority teen achievement.” Despite my initial suspicions, it was not at all a rehash the ‘90s self-esteem psychology that I’ve seen employers blame for a young workforce ill-prepared to learn from constructive criticism because they’ve been raised on a strict diet of praise.

Rather, the article is about the profound power of expectations. Author David Kirp (a Berkeley professor of public policy) says that as early as kindergarten, a disproportionate percentage of African-American boys believe they lack the innate ability to succeed in school. And so they don’t. The piece goes on to cite middle school and college studies that, in a nutshell, suggest that when minority students are a.) told stories of upper classmen who succeeded in spite of feeling at first intimidated and unworthy or b.) given a primer on how “effortful learning” rewires the brain, the result is that test scores and grades measurably improved compared to control groups.

I’ll leave the education and minority-achievement debates to others. But I’ll take this opportunity to speak out on how chronic illness affected my own child’s expectations at school. His symptoms became progressively worse as he moved through junior high. A straight-A student in elementary school, he started to believe “I used to be smart, and now I’m stupid.” When things hit rock bottom, he was seeing several counselors outside of school. My child, his parents and school staff were at wits’ end. But the best thing any of us did - and what he may be most grateful for today - is when people told him he was wrong: he wasn’t stupid, he was just temporarily having trouble while we struggled to get neurological problems under control.

I am still very proud of the essay my child submitted with his college application. The third paragraph mentions a science teacher who recommended he be moved down from college prep to general ed classes because of his medical condition. “I set the goal to ‘prove him wrong’ and I was able to stay in college prep level classes…. I had to study harder and harder just to squeak by. Finally my hard work started to pay off and I was able to bring up my grades and do well on the SAT. For a while, I thought I wouldn’t be able to go to college and now I think I will have no problem earning a four-year degree.”

Fortunately, his college of choice agreed, and he is well on his way to succeeding at earning a bachelor’s degree.

Figuring out where to set the bar on expectations can be difficult. The wrong decision can be disastrous. But I can’t think of any circumstances where setting a goal for improvement is a mistake. Illness, minority status, nor intelligence tests can ever take into account the miraculous power of a child inspired to believe he can “prove them wrong.”

The Truth? You Can't Handle the Truth!

I’ve come across a rash of examples lately involving people who've felt misled in conversations with their doctor. We’re not talking egregious medical malpractice here. But the choice of words in the course of discussing treatment left the patient feeling let down as things played out.


The first example came from a newspaper column that addressed this very issue from a doctor’s perspective. The patient had heard “perfect vision.” The eye surgeon apparently had been alluding to “near perfect” vision, and ultimately lost the trust of the man in his care. How often do you ask your doctor to clarify things? Do you ever repeat back what you just heard to make sure you’re both on the same page?

The next example was a burn victim (a motivational speaker whose inspiring story I’ll save for another post) who didn’t fully comprehend the meaning of “we’ll reconstruct your face” as she lay bandaged up after a horrific car accident. Have you ever jumped to optimistic conclusions only to be later disappointed by medical results?

Then last night over dinner, a friend mentioned her own recent experience: Her rather routine outpatient procedure was halted when a red flag came up in pre-op testing. Over the course of a couple weeks, she was sent for scan after scan, all the while being told “don’t worry, it’s probably nothing.” She finally confronted the doctor with a possible condition they were trying to rule out. Something a relative had died from. The doc finally ‘fessed up. Yes, that’s what we’re looking for, he said. To everyone’s relief, everything came up clear. What would you have preferred? The unblinking truth that something terrible was suspected? Or vague answers to keep the “what if” monster from coming out from under the bed each sleepless night?

Leave a comment and share your own experience.

Round 2: The Family

Well, my job is totally consuming, my husband is working full time, we have a daughter living at college and a seventeen year old son that is finishing up his senior year and getting ready to begin college. There are all the end of year activities of his senior year and just trying to keep up with life. Anyone who has gone through the experience of your child graduating high school and going away to college knows the time and stress involved in this. The craziness starts around Feb. when the FAFSA (Federal Financial Aid) needs to be submitted. After that, the decision is made as to what college will get your child.

Around this time my mother started to complain about occasional pain in her upper arm and into her jaw. Knowing these are cardiac symptoms we quickly encouraged her to see her cardiologist. Within a month (in March) she went in for a heart catheterzation. Before she went in, we heard the patient in the next cubical had to stay because she needed to have open heart surgery. I silently bowed my head and said a prayer for her and was thankful that my mom was not in the situation. Within minutes my mother went in for the procedure and within an hour, little did we ever imagine, those words that were spoken to her neighbor were being spoken to her. Yes, my mother was going to stay in the hospital and have open heart surgery within 48 hours. I remember feeling numb and thinking, "No, this is not a good time." Soon I realized that there really is no good time for this. She went to her room and a parade of doctors came through her room and she had more tests than one could imagine. My brother came home to see her and stay with us for the long wait of surgery and beyond. Once again, our family was all together to deal with this crisis together. What a wonderful support system! I had memories of her hospitalization in 2007 when we thought we had lost her(see post dated Feb. 21, 2010). Going in to see her, the sound of the ventilator was very loud and all the tubes, gadgets and IV's were overwhelming, even for a nurse to see. What would be in store for us? Would she be able to breathe on her own again? Well, no time is the right time, but for some reason we manage to make it work because the power of love gives us the ability to do more than we can imagine.
She is now home. Weak and recovering, but around those that love her the most-her family!