Here's to Pleasant Surprises

It's been a busy week or two lately. You may have noticed a lack of posting here, but be sure I was busy elsewhere.

Last week at this time I was starting a short midyear conference of the National State's Geographic Information Council (NSGIC), in Annapolis. I'm communications chair for that group and so spend the conference taking notes and developing an on-line, cloud-based repository of conference stuff.

And when I returned to the office, it was to a release of 2010 Census redistricting data for Delaware, which I am working my way through as lead staff (the entire staff, to be honest) of the Delaware Census state Data Center.

So I was looking forward to this weekend; to a nice dinner out with both our girls and to ferrying daughter #1 back north to Villanova after her mid-term break. But old-lady nature threw me a curve and hit me with a fast-moving sinus infection that settled over the roots of my upper left molars for an effect like an un-ending explosion.

I'm on the mend though. And this morning came across a pleasant surprise in my RSS Reader feed (took me a while to get here, didn't it?). Yesterday I added a new blog, that of the proprietor of a new bookstore that has just opened here in Lewes called biblion. reading back through her entries, I found one from a week ago that included, as a one-off gesture to a friend, an embedded performance by
Rodrigo y Gabriela of their guitar duet Tamacun.




I've been a fan of this pair ever since hearing them interviewed on NPR a few years back. They are from Mexico, where they played heavy-metal rock before dropping out of that scene and travelling around Ireland for a time, where they earned their living playing more traditional music. They play a fusion of folk musics with a rock and roll abandon that I quite like.

This tune is on my iPod and gets much use when I'm writing, the rhythms and fast pace seem to help my fingers keep up with  my brain.

Eye-Surgery Report (I Can See Clearly Now)

This is the "before" picture of my eye-glasses. This is what I have been wearing for a year or so now as a cataract has grown in my right eye. You can see its growth in the relative size of that right lens as compared to the left. And I could have sprung for an even thicker lens over the last 9 months if I wanted to see fully clearly.

Today, by contrast, I have a plain piece of plastic in the right side; no prescription at all. And my eye doctor has just tested that eye as seeing 20/40. I'm very pleased with that measurement. Just one day following cataract surgery and I am seeing better than I have in years; better than before the cataract, I think. My doctor describes it as "a home run."

This, then, is my report to you on cataract surgery. I have a few friends considering similar surgery who look to me as a test-case. I can say, so far, that it's not so bad. The worst part was thinking about it before-hand; the idea that someone will cut open your eye is a little freaky.

Sunday night and Monday morning, thinking about it too much, were odd. But once we got to the outpatient surgery center, things went quickly and were well-organized.

I deal with stress over health issues by taking an interest in the technology and the process. I wanted to know what blood pressure reading the nurse got, and I used the beep-beep of the heart monitor to try to play bio-feedback games while she bustled about. We talked about the best places to have an IV inserted as she placed a needle into a vein on my right hand. And when the nurse-anesthetist came in to give me a minor sedative, I tried to gauge the progress of that drug as it took hold.

To be honest, though, at that point I disappeared from the process and only have a few impressions of the procedure itself.

They tell you before the surgery that it will go like this:

1. You get a sedative ("happy juice," someone called it),
2. They put you to sleep for a few minutes so they can hit your eye with a local anesthetic and get it fully numbed out,
3. They wake you up for the procedure (I assume since you eye needs to be open),
4. They brief you and whoever brought you on post-op care and help you into a wheelchair and out the door.

My experienced jumped from sedative going in almost straight to my wife (the Lovely Karen) coming in to pick me up.

I do recall being sort of awake and under a blue cover of some sort around which there was activity and some talking. I could dimly see some eye-doctor-like equipment through the cover (I assume with my left eye). I remember feeling cool water around my eye as they worked. And I think I remember the doctor saying "we're almost done."

But I really wasn't present for all that. And I am fine with that absence. The doctor assured me today (at a follow-up check) that I didn't reveal any deep dark secrets.

The whole thing took about an hour and a half.

When I got home, I felt good enough to take a self-portrait. My eye was under a shield for a few hours. When I took it off, I found I could see well-enough, though through a film of medications, to watch a little TV, but not for long stretches. My eye was a bit sensitive to light and itched a fair amount.

This morning, when I awoke, the itching was largely gone and the sight from that eye is noticeably better. I drove myself to my follow-up appointment (the post-op instructions say you can drive the ext day if you feel up to it and can see well enough, and if you have a valid driver's license).

I do find it is best if I wear the old-guy style full-coverage sunglasses that they gave me when I drive. I assume the light-sensitivity will ease with time.

I do not expect to know just how well this has worked until early January. The doctors say it takes about a month for the eye to settle in and "accept" the new lens. I have an appointment the first Monday of 2011 to find out what my final prescription will be. If any (he wrote, hopefully).

As a side note, I ran into an older couple at the eye doctor office today who remembered me from yesterday. The wife had also had cataract surgery and her husband remembered Karen and I coming in while he waited. We compared notes and found that we had had very similar experiences.

Want to Flow Your Own Data?

For the last month I have been beta-testing a site called "your.flowingdata.com" which uses the twitter API to create a simple data-tracker for personal information such as your weight and eating habits, your sleeping patterns, your feelings, and even your bowel movements. The site appears to now be out of beta-testing and open to all users.

I tried both "feelings" and "eating & weight." I didn't find much use for the "feelings" application, but I find it interesting to track what I eat and what I weigh as I try, again, to gain control of my personal mass. This is a simple application, but helpful as a regular reminder that what I put into my body has a connection to what I weigh and how I feel.

If you are interested in this sort of thing, and you are a twitterer, have a look and see what you think.

Spring Has Sprung in All Its Glory and It Is Making Me Feel Like Crap

Spring is a time of growth and rebirth. The world wakens from its winter slumber. Flowers, grasses, and trees burst into color and life. Spring is when we are made new.

And it is making me utterly miserable.

The pollen content of this spring air is as high as I can remember. I'm one of the Hay-Fever sufferers sneezing and hacking through this week.

I'm glad that spring is here. I love the new green and all the flowers. But I am tired of feeling like crap.

Stepping Back Into the Walkability Discussion

A post on mileage in my Prius earlier this year sparked a discussion about the relative walkability or non-walkability of our lives. I was just thinking about that when I wrote my latest mileage report a few days ago.

I had a sense of irony, therefore, when I saw a link this morning to a web site called Walk Score which asks "How walkable is your house?" The site uses Google maps and geospatial data on the locations of things you might need to get to to determine how close things like schools, grocery stores, restaurants and other destinations are to your house and to determine the extent to which you could get by without a car.

Not too surprisingly, even though I live within the City of Lewes, the score for my house is a lowly 34 out of 100. That's in what Walk Score calls the "Not Walkable" range; "Only a few destinations are within easy walking range. For most errands, driving or public transportation is a must."

Downtown Lewes itself is a fairly walkable place, but we are on the outskirts. Of course, I do want to point out that there are schools, a grocery store, doctors, restaurants and the library all within half a mile of my home.

The site is pretty open about what its limitations are. It is not set up to include in its measurement my commute, which is longer than it should be. On the other hand, I do make my drive to and from Dover in a very clean car.

My work location is more walkable, scoring an 84 out of 100. I'm lucky enough to work in the historic center of Dover and can do almost all errands, once I'm there, on foot.

Today, for example, I held a walking meeting with a colleague, on our way to a downtown restaurant, then walked over to DNREC to confer with a few of the IT folks there before walking back to my office to end the meeting. Very pleasant.

So. How walkable are your life's locations?

This Makes Me Feel Good

There is an organization known as The Association for Applied and Therapeutic Humor (AATH). That makes me feel better about life.

I got an e-mail today asking for nominations for the 2008 AATH Book Awards. The awards are set up to honor authors of books that further the mission of AATH: "to advance the understanding and application of humor and laughter for their positive benefits."

I was tempted to scoff at this as simply self-evident. But, while laughter in itself is good for you, it is also the case that, with training, one can build therapies on that fact and enhance the power of the smile.

There is a similar therapeutic effect with music. The Lovely Karen is a trained and certified Music Therapist. Music Therapy appears to be a bit further along as a profession, but I see a role of Humor Therapy as well.

Our neighbors Charlie and Nancy were involved in humor therapy for many years. They volunteered around the community as the clowns Happy G and O Lucky; we would see them in parades and at street festivals. We always thought it was simply their way to have fun.

Colleen interviewed them for a school project one evening and they explained to us about the deeper work they were doing, visiting the sick and dying and bringing cheer into hospitals.

I think that's pretty cool.

Governor's Run/Walk

I took part today in the Governor's Run/Walk event in Dover. This is part of the push to get state employees to live healthier lifestyles. It makes sense from a budgetary standpoint; healthier employees cost less in the long run in health insurance payments.

The event featured health-related displays, a station for getting your blood-pressure checked, and things like that. after very brief remarks from the Governor, there was a 5K run, a 5-K walk and a 1-mile fun-walk.

We started at a point on Kings Highway. Our route wound down several back streets and an alley and through Silver Lake Park. It was twice around a course to make the 5 kilometers.

I was among the walkers. At a point on our first circuit, the lead runner came through us, preceded by a motorcycle policeman.

I was not sure I would do the whole walk today. I spent the long week-end and Tuesday with a virus and a moderately high temperature. It seemed wise to start from the back and go easy. In the end, I did finish, and I enjoyed the walk.

My time (55:56, unofficially) was not great, but I was happy to have been able to take the walk.

At the end, there were oranges and bananas. We heard the winners honored. Then headed back to the office for one of the sweatier afternoons in recent state government history.

Feeling The Urge to Get Outside

It feels like spring is just around the corner. Stormy skies have given way to sunshine and rising temperatures. The days are getting longer.

In younger days, this sort of weather made me want to drive down back roads in rural Maine, listening to acoustic Grateful Dead and looking for water -- ponds, lakes, the Gulf of Maine -- and mountains. Water and mountains represent nature for me; I always want to get out into or onto them at this time of year.

Now that I'm older and more settled, this time of year has me looking at the yard with a gardener's eye. I'm not very good at it, but yard work brings me that same natural feeling.

This is also when my urge to walk and take photos comes on strong. I've spent the last two months nursing back and sciatic problems. Yesterday, though, I took a short lunchtime ramble (about a mile and half) in Dover. It was a test-walk and I wasn't crippled by pain.

Things are looking up.

I Just Hope the House Doesn't Sink

I started a new approach to exercise today: swimming. And I have learned that I have some way to go before I can call myself a strong swimmer.

At the start of the new year, I made a promise to myself to make the lifestyle changes it will take to get into better shape. I've not made a resolution to lose weight; I think it more useful to resolve to change the way I do things in a way that may result in weight loss.

I started strong, adopting healthier eating habits and increasing my levels of activity. My sciatic troubles, though, have reduced the activity side of that equation. I just can't stay on my feet as long as I'd like. At least, not yet.

Instead of my habitual walking lunches, therefore, I've decided to jump into the 8-lanes and try swimming for exercise at the Dover YMCA. I've been a member for years and I've tried to get into the weight room for the treadmills or the weight machines at least a few lunches each week.

Today, I took the the pool-exit from the locker room and joined the ranks of the swimmers.

Not without trepidation, though. The pool is a whole new place, with its own rules and traditions. I was ever so slightly worried that I might offend the regulars.

In the locker room, I ran into two older gentlemen who I have often seen at that time of the day, coming out of the pool while I get ready for the weight room. Today, I asked them for any tips on the etiquette of the lane-swimming set. They were most helpful, outlining the "way to be" in the lane-pool in a few short suggestions.

And they were inspiring. One of these fellows is probably in his 70's. He suggested picking a number of laps and keeping that number in mind. Start slow. Rest when you have to. But keep going. Eventually, that number will increase. He had just finished 70 laps, he said.

So I, like fool, started fast, going right into a lap of my old head-up, life-guard style Australian crawl. Too fast. I slowed down a bit, mixing in a slow breast-stroke, some relaxed back-stroke, and a sidestroke.

I swam for 20 minutes. My arms felt like lead. My legs were tired and my heart rate was elevated. But I was able to get some exercise without aggravating my sciatic nerve.

And I didn't drown. That's important.

May I Just Say, For The Record: OUCH!

My leg hurts. Not as much as it was hurting on Saturday, but enough. I'm just coming out of a bout with sciatic pain. I don't like it.

I have chronic problems with my lower back. They have something to do with my being 45 years old, over-weight, and out of condition. Every once in a while, over the last few years, things have flared up, causing discomfort. This week-end, I got the full effect.

It is my own fault, of course. I had been feeling some sciatic pain for a few days, but I volunteered to drive Christina and some of her fellow dancers up to Newark on Saturday for a Dance-School audition.

When I got out of the car in Newark, the pain came on in full. From then on, I was unable to find a comfortable position, standing or sitting. I spent the day leaning on the backs of chairs or hobbling along with burning daggers twisting in the back of my thigh.

Luckily, Karen had come along and was able to drive home. The ride home was rough. When we pulled into Lewes, I asked Karen to just head over to the Hospital so I could beg the ER doctor for some relief.

I must have been a sight in the waiting room. I was completely focused on enduring. When they took me back to the treatment room, I was shuffling along feeling very sorry for myself -- until I saw the various broken bodies already in the ER.

They took me to a room and asked me to strip to my skivvies and put on a gown to await a Doctor. That was tough; I was having trouble bending and reaching down. But I got it mostly done. Soon I was leaning on the back of a chair with the gown, untied, hanging from around my neck. Waiting.

When the doctor came in, he had two Sussex County Paramedics in tow. The EMS staff were shadowing the Doctors that night.

The Doctor took one look at me and made a sign for me not to say anything. He turned to one of the Paramedics and asked if he could tell what my problem was.

The Paramedic looked me up and down very briefly and said something like, "The way he's having to stand like that, I'd say it's sciatica."

I guess I'm not very original.

The Doctor was very nice. He made sure that I understood what was going on and how to treat it.

Sciatica is not a disease but is a set of symptoms that occur when the sciatic nerve, which runs down the leg, gets pinched or compressed. Short-term treatments can address either muscle-spasm or muscle and nerve inflammation. Or both.

In my case, they gave me a muscle-relaxant shot and prescriptions for a muscle-relaxant, a pain-killer, and an anti-inflammatory. I didn't like the muscle-relaxant; it just made me woozy. The anti-inflammatories, however, work fairly well.

So here I am, two days later, still sore and walking gingerly. I don't much like it.