Or Daryl "Razor" Reaugh fans. (Yeah, the rest of you won't care.)
Razor thinks it's silly that Stars fans are superstitious. Stars goalie Kari Lehtonen was having a great season, but until just a few games ago he didn't have a shut out as a Dallas Star. Every time the opposing team hadn't scored and the third period started drawing to a close, Razor would comment (on the radio & in-arena broadcast), "Maybe Kari will finally get his shut out," or "It looks like we're headed for a shut out." Then the other team would score, and the fans would be pissed at Razor.
His point, reasonably enough, was that preventing the other team from scoring, or not, has more to do with the guys on the ice and how they're playing than with him saying the forbidden words, "shut out."
Okay, sure. I acknowledge the truth of that. But let me point out a couple of things.
First, sports fans are the most superstitious human beings on the face of the planet. Pay attention, Razor: There's something going on on the ice (or field or court or whatever), about which we care a great deal. We have no actual control over it, which is not a good feeling. So we start to notice things….When we're standing up, our team scores; when we sit down, they miss. When we have our caps turned backwards, they play well; when we turn them around, they don't. When we have gloves on, or our legs are crossed, or we wear blue socks, or we clap three times, it somehow seems to help them. And what kind of fans would we be if we didn't try to help our guys? So we wear gloves to clap three times as we sit in our blue socks with our legs crossed. Silly? Okay. Understandable? You bet.
Secondly, the Stars were doing great! I mean, beyond anyone's wildest dreams, they were playing so well and winning so much. They were #1 in their Division for 74 days. 74 days! Then on January 19th, you said, "For the Stars to fall out of the top eight over the final 34 games would be improbable to damn near impossible." And on January 27th, you said they had, "Momentum that I doubt can be halted…."
Well, as of now they're out of the playoffs and lately they just can't win a game, no matter how hard or well they play.
Oh, sure, I realize, we all realize, that you're not actually to blame. But, again, it's hard for even rational fans to not take pause at that. So I'm going to suggest something. Something that will make all those superstitious fans feel better: Let's Do Something To Razor. In effigy, of course; let's not get crazy here.
If you're not familiar with the word 'effigy,' look it up. I'm certainly not suggesting anyone do anything to Daryl Reaugh himself (please, please don't), but if we could come up with an inanimate substitute, that might be worth a try. Maybe we could reverse the bad mojo (yes, I do know how crazy that sounds) by hanging it, or burning it, or just pummeling it with pucks (I've got one with a Tobias Stephan autograph I'll donate to the cause).
I mean, if there's nothing to it, well…what could it hurt? (Tell your friends!)
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
And in conclusion…
Part 2:
Okay, so it appeared that something terrible was going on in my mouth, and I didn't even know it. My friendly dental hygienist was pretty alarmed, and recommended taking some kind of immediate action. Unfortunately, the action she recommended added up to about $1400 of uninsured dental treatment. Perio therapy, including anesthesia and packing with antibiotics. Plus the bacterial ID test, to find out for sure which antibiotics to use.
$1400. Seriously. Not a filling or crown or any other hardware involved, and still $1400.
It's not that we absolutely don't have the money, and we could pay for it if necessary. And I didn't want to just refuse treatment offhand. The sample DNA results she showed me indicated what type of bacteria, including exactly how transmissible they are. Since Rich and I share a Diet Coke at Stars games and have been known to swap saliva in other ways, too, this was a big red flag. But $1400…I wanted to give it some thought.
And while I was thinking, it occurred to me that this had happened pretty darn suddenly. Why, I asked myself, did it happen? How could it have happened? What changed? I'll admit, I had been a little lackadaisical about flossing for a few days prior to my appointment, but that wouldn't account for such a dramatic change. And surely I would know it if I had been exposed to some new pathogen, right?
Then I thought about Atkins, and the crummy way I had only semi-followed it.
It turned out to be not so far fetched. Googling 'Atkins' and 'perio pockets' got enough hits to make me think there was something to it. Plus there was…well, my hair. It grew. I swear to God, my hair grew at least an inch in the month that included our time on Atkins. All that protein obviously had an effect on me. If it affected my hair, maybe it also affected my gums. Maybe that protein overdose had allowed some normal flora to, I don't know, run rampant or something. So I thought that if I started eating a more balanced diet (bye-bye, Atkins; don't trip over the salad greens on your way out), maybe my gums would respond and the perio pockets would shrink. Before we spent $1400, I decided to give it a try. And, you know, flossing and junk, too. Again, time passed.
Meanwhile, I began to notice an inordinate number of single-use eye drop containers all over the house. They're Optive single-use containers, to be specific, the only eye drop approved for both sensitive eyes (which I have in spades) and contact lens rewetting. Yeah, not that you cared, and it doesn't really have anything to do with our story. Except that the "single-use" containers actually hold about ten drops, so I'll twist off the top of one of them, squeeze a drop into each eye, then tuck the little container back behind something. I don't mind using the drops from an open container a couple of hours later, as long as the tip hasn't touched anything. In the master bathroom, I carefully place it on the counter behind my makeup mirror.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, I started finding those single-use containers all over the house. They became cat toys and dog chews. The first one, I assumed I had tossed it at the trash can and missed, and one of the animals had found it. But then there was at least one new one every day. And on top of that, I'd go to use the already-opened one I had left, and discover I had apparently thrown it away and not remembered….
Yeah. It took me an embarrassing length of time to make the connection. Rocky, the cat, likes to walk around on the bathroom counter, especially when I'm in the bathroom. It occurred to me that perhaps he likes to walk around on the counter when I'm not in the bathroom, too. He finds the eye drop containers, starts to bat it around, and that's that. So I started putting the open ones inside the medicine cabinet so he can't get to them. Problem solved.
More time passed. I'm still eating more than just protein, flossing like there's nothing but tomorrows and knowing, just knowing, that I'm taking care of the perio problem. I mean, what else could be causing it, right?
Take another look at that photo. Right beside the eyedrop container, you'll notice a toothbrush holder. (Both those toothbrushes are mine. Following our dentist's suggestion, we each have two toothbrushes, one for morning and one for night. Most oral bacteria die within 24 hours, so that gives us a clean, germ-free toothbrush each time.) (See, I wasn't kidding when I said I take care of my teeth.)
Did it occur to me that Rocky could possibly be messing with more than just the eyedrops? Did it even cross my mind? No, it didn't. Until I was brushing my teeth one morning and noticed the back of my toothbrush seemed oddly rough. On examination, it had teethmarks in it. And not from my teeth. He had been chewing on it.
I had been sharing my toothbrush with my cat.
Fortunately, a cat who just had his own teeth cleaned about a month ago, or who knows what I would have ended up catching. From the time that I looked at my toothbrush and it registered what those marks were to the time that I had an appointment to have the bacterial DNA test done was, maybe, ten minutes.
I'm not sure if there's actually any point to this long, long explanation, besides that I'm occasionally kind of a dope, but there are four truths that became evident:
Okay, so it appeared that something terrible was going on in my mouth, and I didn't even know it. My friendly dental hygienist was pretty alarmed, and recommended taking some kind of immediate action. Unfortunately, the action she recommended added up to about $1400 of uninsured dental treatment. Perio therapy, including anesthesia and packing with antibiotics. Plus the bacterial ID test, to find out for sure which antibiotics to use.
$1400. Seriously. Not a filling or crown or any other hardware involved, and still $1400.
It's not that we absolutely don't have the money, and we could pay for it if necessary. And I didn't want to just refuse treatment offhand. The sample DNA results she showed me indicated what type of bacteria, including exactly how transmissible they are. Since Rich and I share a Diet Coke at Stars games and have been known to swap saliva in other ways, too, this was a big red flag. But $1400…I wanted to give it some thought.
And while I was thinking, it occurred to me that this had happened pretty darn suddenly. Why, I asked myself, did it happen? How could it have happened? What changed? I'll admit, I had been a little lackadaisical about flossing for a few days prior to my appointment, but that wouldn't account for such a dramatic change. And surely I would know it if I had been exposed to some new pathogen, right?
Then I thought about Atkins, and the crummy way I had only semi-followed it.
It turned out to be not so far fetched. Googling 'Atkins' and 'perio pockets' got enough hits to make me think there was something to it. Plus there was…well, my hair. It grew. I swear to God, my hair grew at least an inch in the month that included our time on Atkins. All that protein obviously had an effect on me. If it affected my hair, maybe it also affected my gums. Maybe that protein overdose had allowed some normal flora to, I don't know, run rampant or something. So I thought that if I started eating a more balanced diet (bye-bye, Atkins; don't trip over the salad greens on your way out), maybe my gums would respond and the perio pockets would shrink. Before we spent $1400, I decided to give it a try. And, you know, flossing and junk, too. Again, time passed.
Meanwhile, I began to notice an inordinate number of single-use eye drop containers all over the house. They're Optive single-use containers, to be specific, the only eye drop approved for both sensitive eyes (which I have in spades) and contact lens rewetting. Yeah, not that you cared, and it doesn't really have anything to do with our story. Except that the "single-use" containers actually hold about ten drops, so I'll twist off the top of one of them, squeeze a drop into each eye, then tuck the little container back behind something. I don't mind using the drops from an open container a couple of hours later, as long as the tip hasn't touched anything. In the master bathroom, I carefully place it on the counter behind my makeup mirror.
Well, a couple of weeks ago, I started finding those single-use containers all over the house. They became cat toys and dog chews. The first one, I assumed I had tossed it at the trash can and missed, and one of the animals had found it. But then there was at least one new one every day. And on top of that, I'd go to use the already-opened one I had left, and discover I had apparently thrown it away and not remembered….
Yeah. It took me an embarrassing length of time to make the connection. Rocky, the cat, likes to walk around on the bathroom counter, especially when I'm in the bathroom. It occurred to me that perhaps he likes to walk around on the counter when I'm not in the bathroom, too. He finds the eye drop containers, starts to bat it around, and that's that. So I started putting the open ones inside the medicine cabinet so he can't get to them. Problem solved.
More time passed. I'm still eating more than just protein, flossing like there's nothing but tomorrows and knowing, just knowing, that I'm taking care of the perio problem. I mean, what else could be causing it, right?
Take another look at that photo. Right beside the eyedrop container, you'll notice a toothbrush holder. (Both those toothbrushes are mine. Following our dentist's suggestion, we each have two toothbrushes, one for morning and one for night. Most oral bacteria die within 24 hours, so that gives us a clean, germ-free toothbrush each time.) (See, I wasn't kidding when I said I take care of my teeth.)
Did it occur to me that Rocky could possibly be messing with more than just the eyedrops? Did it even cross my mind? No, it didn't. Until I was brushing my teeth one morning and noticed the back of my toothbrush seemed oddly rough. On examination, it had teethmarks in it. And not from my teeth. He had been chewing on it.
I had been sharing my toothbrush with my cat.
Fortunately, a cat who just had his own teeth cleaned about a month ago, or who knows what I would have ended up catching. From the time that I looked at my toothbrush and it registered what those marks were to the time that I had an appointment to have the bacterial DNA test done was, maybe, ten minutes.
 |
| What the counter looks like now |
- Mis-applying Atkins may or may not be bad for your gingiva. I thought I knew, but I don't.
- Believe your dental hygienist when she tells you there's something going on.
- Cats have peripheral vision and occasionally act on it.
- As surely as I know what happens in my mouth, I can't say the same about my cat's.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A few seemingly random things and how they led to bacterial DNA testing
Part 1:
So Rich and I started Atkins at the beginning of the month. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, Atkins is a very low carbohydrate diet that involves massive amounts of cooking and food preparation. And salads. Lots and lots and lots of salads.
I wasn't good at it.
First of all, it really reminded me of those bizarre diets we used to hear about years ago, where people would eat nothing but grapefruit or cabbage or watermelon or something (though it was never, like, French fries or ice cream). You'd eat the same thing meal after meal, day after day, for as long as you could stand it. And with Atkins it's — you guessed it — salad.
Now, I like salad as well as the next person, really I do. But I think expecting someone to eat the same food two meals a day, every day for the foreseeable future is a little excessive. Or unrealistic. Or just tiresome. Plus there's the minor fact that it doesn't take me too terribly long to burn out on salads anyway.* I already knew that. Rich is perfectly satisfied with a salad at dinner every night. I'll go for a few months making them for both of us. Then I'll realize I can't face eating another one, eliminate mine and spend a few months making one for him every night. Then, finally, I'll realize I can no longer even face making them every day, and that's that for a while.
Anyway, I did try Atkins, and did great at breakfast. But then lunchtime rolled around and, even when I did feel like eating it, that salad somehow didn't just magically appear. And when things get busy, I want to be able to leave my desk, make a quick pass through the kitchen and grab something, then get back to work. So salad made the cut for about three days. After that…not so much. Low carb cheese is allowed on Atkins, and I had bought a giant pack of Muenster slices (which only has 1 gram of carbs per slice, just FYI) at Costco, so I'd grab a slice of that, maybe pick up a piece of deli meat if it was handy, and call that good. I'd have sandwich fillings. A bread-less, condiment-less sandwich. And if you're thinking that's not the best, soundest nutrition in the world, you're not wrong. Duh.
So I was eating way too much protein, and not enough of anything else. Times passed. Then I went to the dentist for my regular cleaning.
FYI, not that you asked, but I take rather good care of my teeth. I went through years as a late-teenager and early twenty-something being very scared of dentists, "forgetting" appointments and generally letting my teeth decay (literally). Once I got past that (and thank you Dr. Richard Lazor in San Antonio for helping me overcome my fear), I started being really conscientious about brushing and flossing. I never, ever have much in the way of calculus (tartar) build up. I'm just good that way.
So I went to my appointment, not expecting anything unusual. And, as always, I didn't have much build up. But I had deep, bleeding perio pockets. When it comes to gingival health, a measurement of 3 or less is normal. The checkup before this I had mostly twos with a couple of threes. This time I had a lot of fours, a few fives and a couple of sixes. Big, big difference. My friendly and skilled hygienist was concerned. She pointed out that pockets like that were almost always accompanied by lots of calculus, lots of build up. These weren't. That made her concerned that there was some kind of virulent pathogen (read: bad germs) at work. She told me about a test that would identify whatever bacteria I had in my mouth. It involved taking a saliva sample, sending it to a lab, then getting back the name and classification of my particular, personal flora. It also involved $200, and I don't have dental insurance right now.
*In the interest of full disclosure and presenting a balanced picture, it also doesn't take much chocolate to be plenty for me.
So Rich and I started Atkins at the beginning of the month. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, Atkins is a very low carbohydrate diet that involves massive amounts of cooking and food preparation. And salads. Lots and lots and lots of salads.
I wasn't good at it.
First of all, it really reminded me of those bizarre diets we used to hear about years ago, where people would eat nothing but grapefruit or cabbage or watermelon or something (though it was never, like, French fries or ice cream). You'd eat the same thing meal after meal, day after day, for as long as you could stand it. And with Atkins it's — you guessed it — salad.
Now, I like salad as well as the next person, really I do. But I think expecting someone to eat the same food two meals a day, every day for the foreseeable future is a little excessive. Or unrealistic. Or just tiresome. Plus there's the minor fact that it doesn't take me too terribly long to burn out on salads anyway.* I already knew that. Rich is perfectly satisfied with a salad at dinner every night. I'll go for a few months making them for both of us. Then I'll realize I can't face eating another one, eliminate mine and spend a few months making one for him every night. Then, finally, I'll realize I can no longer even face making them every day, and that's that for a while.
Anyway, I did try Atkins, and did great at breakfast. But then lunchtime rolled around and, even when I did feel like eating it, that salad somehow didn't just magically appear. And when things get busy, I want to be able to leave my desk, make a quick pass through the kitchen and grab something, then get back to work. So salad made the cut for about three days. After that…not so much. Low carb cheese is allowed on Atkins, and I had bought a giant pack of Muenster slices (which only has 1 gram of carbs per slice, just FYI) at Costco, so I'd grab a slice of that, maybe pick up a piece of deli meat if it was handy, and call that good. I'd have sandwich fillings. A bread-less, condiment-less sandwich. And if you're thinking that's not the best, soundest nutrition in the world, you're not wrong. Duh.
So I was eating way too much protein, and not enough of anything else. Times passed. Then I went to the dentist for my regular cleaning.
FYI, not that you asked, but I take rather good care of my teeth. I went through years as a late-teenager and early twenty-something being very scared of dentists, "forgetting" appointments and generally letting my teeth decay (literally). Once I got past that (and thank you Dr. Richard Lazor in San Antonio for helping me overcome my fear), I started being really conscientious about brushing and flossing. I never, ever have much in the way of calculus (tartar) build up. I'm just good that way.
So I went to my appointment, not expecting anything unusual. And, as always, I didn't have much build up. But I had deep, bleeding perio pockets. When it comes to gingival health, a measurement of 3 or less is normal. The checkup before this I had mostly twos with a couple of threes. This time I had a lot of fours, a few fives and a couple of sixes. Big, big difference. My friendly and skilled hygienist was concerned. She pointed out that pockets like that were almost always accompanied by lots of calculus, lots of build up. These weren't. That made her concerned that there was some kind of virulent pathogen (read: bad germs) at work. She told me about a test that would identify whatever bacteria I had in my mouth. It involved taking a saliva sample, sending it to a lab, then getting back the name and classification of my particular, personal flora. It also involved $200, and I don't have dental insurance right now.
To be continued.
*In the interest of full disclosure and presenting a balanced picture, it also doesn't take much chocolate to be plenty for me.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Email aggravation
I have no fewer than 27 email filters that run automatically, yet I still can't keep all the spam deleted. For the record, spammers, I don't want a psychic reading (and it kind of seems like you should know that). I'm not interested in Lasik, nor in growing blueberries, giant or otherwise. I don't want to be a medical coder, and 'Illustrated Bible' sounds exactly like a comic book to me. I'm not looking for a date, even if they are singles over 45. I'm not into Tarot, I don't need a credit check, and you can put me in your Who's Who if you'd like, but I'm not going to pay for a copy. I don't need mold remediation, I don't want a ceramic knife, and I seriously doubt I've got GI benefits waiting since I was never a GI. I've already got auto insurance, thanks, as required by my state's law, and for goodness sake, just how many bras do you people think I need? Maybe one of those psychics could answer me that!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Carbs & Mental Health, or The Next Time You See Me I May Be Wigged Out
Rich and I are going on Atkins for a month, starting tomorrow. We're doing this because we have to do something, and Atkins sounds like a plan we could actually live with, if we decide to. I had always thought Atkins was kind of, you know, out there, with the no carbs and all that protein and fat and all. But Rich's brother has real results with it and, doing some research, I discovered that it's actually not high protein and fat after all. And not no carbs, just low carbs. Pretty darn low carbs, in fact, at least to start with. The first two weeks, the Induction phase (their term), allows no sugar, no grains, no starchy vegetables and 20 grams of carbs (from other sources) a day. They also say that for the first week or so, giving up high carb comfort foods "may leave you feeling emotionally bereft." Oh, good. I'm not sure what the actual reason for that would be, but I'm assuming it's caused by changes in brain chemistry when you turn off the carb fountain. I've had some sad experience at brain chemistry changes. Or, actually, recovering from them, I guess. I quit smoking in January, 1998, and a rollicking good time it was, too! I was well and truly addicted to nicotine. If you ever have a free hour, look up 'nicotine addition.' When you get into the technical explanation of what's happening, you'll discover that nicotine causes the very same changes in brain chemistry as opiates. Only with much, much more frequent stimulation. (In my case, four packs a day, 20 cigs per pack, however many puffs per cig. That's a lot of endogenous opioid activity and dopamine pathways. Trust me.) Quitting was…hard. And tearful. And all-around crazy, for a few weeks. (After that, it was just unpleasant for a really long time, and I do celebrate every January 20th, let me tell you!) I'm sure, just sure, it won't be as bad as quitting smoking. As much as I love carbs—wallowing in potatoes, baking fragrant bread, stirring up the perfect gravy, carefully creating the lavish dessert—it just can't be as bad. Right?
Okay. Well. Anyway…Rich doesn't have quite the same yen for carbs as I do, but it's not going to be a romp in the park for him, either. If you happen to have stock in Nestle's Tollhouse Cookie Ice Cream Sandwiches, dump it. It's about to take a plunge.So, anyway, I'll be working hard the next few days, writing copy for a few websites, and we'll see just how dark my writing gets. Depending on how the neurotransmitters flow, I may very well imply that you should save for retirement or sell your real estate because we're all doomed, just doomed, and doing anything is pointless. With any luck, it won't take long to get out of the bereft stage into the increased-energy-and-sense-of-well-being that's supposed to happen next.
Two more things, real quick:First, in case you thought I wasn't going to talk about Dallas Stars hockey, Brad Richards was NOT traded today. Woo-hoo!
Secondly, we've been trying to get rid of all the loose carbs flapping around the house. We finished up the leftover lasagna, and had strawberry shortcake to get rid of the strawberries and the ice cream and whatnot. This is Rich's:
In the interest of remaining married, I'm obliged to point out that Rich was trying to use up all the whipped cream. But…yeah. We might be doing this Atkins thing just in time.
We'll see how it goes. Now I have to go drink that last beer, and get it out of the house by tomorrow. Yes, have to!
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