Is it acceptable for a sixty-year-old like me to label another person “elderly?”

I wonder…

Anyway, whatever possessed me to make a trip to the grocery store on a Saturday afternoon, I’ll never know. But that’s what I did. I traveled over to San Rafael late today to pick up a few things from Trader Joe’s. It was very, very busy — and it took about 15 minutes to check out of the “express lane.”

Then, after I got back out into the parking lot, I started the car and proceeded to wait and wait just to back out of my spot. The traffic surrounding the store was totally ridiculous!

While looking in my rear view mirror to watch for an opening, I noticed an “elderly” guy (80ish, I’m guessing) exit a vehicle across the way. After he got out of his car, I could see that he glanced my way. Then it seemed as if he was staring at something in my direction.

It turned out he was. When there was a little break, and a car stopped for him so that he could safely cross, he walked directly over to me and tapped on the window.

When I rolled it down a notch (he looked harmless enough, but I was still suspicious of his motives), he immediately asked, “are you a Beaver?”

This is a rather strange question, of course. And, for many of you out there, I’m sure it could be a tad offensive. But, for me, given that I have an “Oregon State Beavers” license-plate frame and a “Member, OSU Alumni Association” sticker on the rear of my car, the inquiry was a pleasant surprise.

“Yes I am,” I answered. “I have two degrees from OSU and lived in Corvallis for twenty years.”

“Did you see the game last week?,” he asked.

“Yes I did! Was that amazing, or what?!” (OSU toppled the Number 2-ranked team in the country last Saturday, defeating California, at Berkeley, 31-28.)

We traded names, shook hands, and then continued on with our respective Saturday afternoons.

So I found another member of the Beaver Nation! (Or rather, he found me.) Right here in Marin!

I had my first experience with nuclear medicine this week.

Recently, as I was explaining my medical history and ongoing issues with chronic pain to my new doc here in California, he seemed to actually do some listening. Although he didn’t quite buy into a diagnosis of fibromyalgia to explain my problems, he seemed to concede that my symptoms could be accounted for thusly. He suggested we rule out other explanations as well, though, so he ordered some tests.

One of which is a nuclear-med procedure called a whole-body bone scan. I went to the hospital yesterday to have it performed.

The process started with an injection (into a vein in my arm) of a gamma-radiation-emitting radioactive substance (technetium-99m , a metastable nuclear isomer of technetium-99) suspended in methylene-diphosphonate (MDP), a substance which can be preferentially taken up by bone.

I was told to drink lots of water, then come back for the actual imaging procedure three hours later. I went back to work and tried to keep my mind on some simple tasks for awhile. Upon my return to the hospital, and after making sure I went to the restroom, the technician escorted me back to the nuclear-med scanner.

I emptied my pockets and took off my belt, sort of like preparing for airport security, and was told to lie down (face up) on the massage-table-like part of the machine. Buttons were pressed, there was a whirring sound, and soon I found myself inside the device with a portion of the machine about four inches above my nose. I closed my eyes and reminded myself to keep breathing.

Soon she said, “we’re taking pictures,” and I realized that the table was slowly moving. It wasn’t long before I was brave enough to open my eyes and discovered that my head was outside the chamber.

I lost track of time, but the first part of the scanning procedure probably lasted about 20 or 25 minutes. After a short rest-room break (I had taken the water-drinking assignment seriously!), we did the second part, which the technician called “close-ups.” It was during this part of the procedure, when my head was turned for a time, that I was able to see an image of the bones of my head and upper body, from my cranium down to my ribs.

Weird!

Apparently the way this works, for diagnostic purposes, is that any increased physiological function, such as a fracture in the bone, will typically lead to an increased concentration of the technetium-99m. This can result in the appearance of a hot-spot on the image. Some disease processes result in the exclusion of a tracer, resulting in the appearance of a cold-spot.

It should be noted that nuclear medicine differs from most other imaging types in that the tests primarily show the physiological function of the system being investigated as opposed to the anatomical. Additionally, this differs from an x-ray procedure because instead of delivering the radiation source externally, this time it is internal.

I’m told this is a pretty expensive procedure. Luckily, it’s covered by my insurance. And I’m hoping for a totally-negative result, because for many of the kinds of things this test picks up, well, nobody really wants to hear that kind of news.

The Mayo Clinic website has an easy-to-understand discussion of the procedure, in case you’re interested.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Toe bone connected foot bone
Foot bone connected leg bone
Leg bone connected knee bone
Don’t you hear the word of the Lord?

(“Dry Bones” – Negro Spiritual)

In keeping with the Boy Scout Motto, Marin County has initiated the “Get Ready Marin” campaign in order to raise awareness about how to best prepare for the next earthquake, flood, fire, landslide…or whatever other kind of disaster you can imagine. Hundreds of these bright yellow signs, such as the one above (shown here attached to the Larkspur Fire Department building), have been appearing all over the place to alert us to the effort.

Even though evidence of this campaign is difficult to avoid (there are tons of banners, signs, posters, Golden-Gate-Transit-bus advertisements, cocktail napkins, cable-television public-service announcements and, I’m told, even an airplane with a trailing banner), I hadn’t really been paying much attention (nor had I visited the website) until I read the article in the Marin Independent Journal this last weekend which explained the program. Finally, I got it: pay attention, TechnoMonk!

Apparently, there are free, two-hour-long disaster-preparedness classes that we can now sign up for to help us “get ready” for the Big One: all funded by a huge grant from the Department of Homeland Security.

I suppose I should attend. After all, what did I do when I decided to live in one of the most earthquake-prone parts of the world?

I rented an apartment located on the side of a cliff.

Soundtrack Suggestion

Well, shake it up, baby, now, (shake it up, baby)
Twist and shout. (twist and shout)
C’mon c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby, now, (come on baby)
Come on and work it on out. (work it on out)

(“Shake It Up Baby” – Isley Brothers)

After receiving last week’s bad news, I desperately attempted to keep some semblance of normalcy in my life. For example, last Sunday I drove over to Berkeley to attend the city’s “How Berkeley Can You Be?” parade and festival. It sounded like it could be an afternoon of great fun, and I had expectations of displays of outrageousness from the citizenry there…reminiscent of the annual “out-there” behavior exhibited during the Eugene Celebration.

Now, perhaps it was my state-of-mind, but I was pretty disappointed. There were a smattering of laughs and “Berkeley-like” folk around (see the accompanying grandmother-for-peace photo), but my experience of the event was quite different from the all-out kind of effort that Eugene (for example) puts into its identity-defining celebrations. It seems to me that Eugene is more Berkeley-like than Berkeley is these days! Who woulda thunk?

My mood for this last week has been semi-dark. I seem to have been struggling with continuing issues of loss and change…or at least that’s the best explanation I have right now for the cloud I’m living under.

On one of my early-evening walks this week, I was trying to enjoy both the sunshine warming my face and the music coming from my iPod when, all of a sudden, I found both my hands clutching my chest as if I had pain there. But, it wasn’t really pain; actually, just momentarily, I was gasping for breath. I guess, maybe, I’d been forgetting to breathe. How weird.

But given my thoughts, not really too unusual. I had been dwelling on the loss of a friend to cancer; and the losses of jobs, attachments, familiar sights, and highly-significant people in Oregon: in essence, evidence of a total lack of control. While the changes I’ve made have also brought me meaningful gain, it’s the losses that have been my preoccupation. So much is gone. So much different.

This last week, I’ve been in a sleep-walk, a trance, moving in slow motion. As if this life I call mine is only some kind of surreal caricature of another’s.

Soundtrack Suggestion

While I was watching you did a slow dissolve…
Did I imagine they held us hypnotized
Did I imagine or do the walls have eyes…

Life in slow motion somehow it don’t feel real…

Snowflakes are falling I’ll catch them in my hands
Snowflakes are falling now you’re my long lost friend

(“Slow Motion” – David Gray)

One of my best friends in the Oregon University System (OUS) has passed on. I knew Martha Anne Dow from the time I joined the OUS Chancellor’s Office staff in 1995. At that point she was the Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs at the Oregon Institute of Technology (OIT) in Klamath Falls. When the incumbent president retired in 1998, Martha Anne was the natural and logical choice to take over the OIT reigns.

I was a huge fan and supporter of hers, as I found her to be one of the most decent individuals I had ever encountered in a higher education leadership role. Similarly, I knew her to be a true-blue fan and supporter of mine. I don’t have an actual count of how many times she was contacted during the last three and half years of my job-search process, but it was several. At one point a prospective employer disclosed, after doing reference-check phone calls on me, “whatever you do, don’t take Martha Anne off your reference list!”

Martha Anne, I’ll miss you. You left us way too soon.

PORTLAND, September 29, 2007 – Oregon University System chancellor, George Pernsteiner, announced with sadness this evening the passing of Dr. Martha Anne Dow, president of the Oregon Institute of Technology, who died today after a six-month battle with breast cancer. President of OIT since 1998, Dow is widely recognized for her leadership in advancing the mission of Oregon Tech and her passion for expanding access to higher education for Oregonians.

Governor Ted Kulongoski said, “Dr. Dow’s dedication to raising the aspirations of Oregon students to attend college reflected her unwavering belief in every person’s ability to grow, learn, and give back to their communities. She will remain for us always a heroine of educational advancement and a true Oregon treasure.”

Henry Lorenzen, president of the State Board of Higher Education, said, “Martha Anne was not only a highly talented and innovative educator, she was also an incredibly kind, thoughtful and genuine friend and colleague for all of us who had the honor of working with her. Our hearts are breaking for her family, friends, and for ourselves. Martha Anne has left an indelible mark on OIT, Klamath Falls, the state, and on the thousands of students she has taught, mentored and guided to a college degree in Oregon.”

Martha Anne Dow became the fifth president of OIT in May 1998, after serving there for six years as Provost and Vice President for Academic Affairs. Enrollment at Oregon Tech grew by almost 1,000 students during her tenure, and programs in engineering, computer science, applied health fields and geothermal power grew to meet regional and state needs. Dr. Dow worked tirelessly during the 2007 legislative session and previous sessions to gain new programs and support services for students, and to expand programs to meet current and anticipated workforce needs. Earlier this month, OIT’s new Center for Health Professions was named after Dr. Dow at the request of the major donors to the Center, Dick and Nancy Wendt.