Communion Of Dreams


Well, that’s annoying.
April 13, 2010, 5:17 pm
Filed under: Health

Well, I finished the storm windows on Sunday. As I told a friend, I wanted to get it wrapped up before Monday, when I expected my doctor to tell me to stop.

See, I had come to the conclusion that I probably had a hernia. Had it since early last week.

As it turned out, I didn’t get in to see my doctor until this morning. All the symptoms point to classic abdominal hernia – a small tear in the abdominal wall on the lower left, just opposite from the location of my appendix. No indication of bowel or intestinal involvement, so nothing actually serious about it. Just painful. It feels very much like someone shoved a thin 4″ knife blade into my gut, and left it there.

Well, a CAT scan tomorrow will give us a definitive answer. At worst, some outpatient surgery – nothing to worry about, and I already have more interesting scars. Just annoying, in terms of pain and messing with my wanting to get my garden in and more stuff done here around the house/yard.

Ah, well, that’s what I get for trying to be conscientious and getting the windows cleaned.

Jim Downey



And the mind’s true liberation.*
April 4, 2010, 11:50 am
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Depression, Health, Music, Writing stuff

A bit of spring cleaning.

Last weekend I started in on a long-delayed project. Honestly, it’s probably been delayed at least a decade. Maybe longer.

I started cleaning the windows.

* * * * * * *

I’m almost done. Well, with the current phase of work, anyway.

I’m talking about Her Final Year. I have one more ‘month’ to go through – doing simple editing, checking for typos, familiarizing myself with the material again. I should finish that today or tomorrow.

This is how I work. It’s something like loading data into a computer. I did it with the revisions to Communion of Dreams, as well. I go through everything, carefully paying close attention. And when I’m done, and have *all* of the material fresh in my memory, I can see connections and linkages that are harder to understand when you only read it a piece at a time. With CoD, it was how I was able to keep track of the minor tweaks and changes, and how they would play out in this or that plot twist or character development – you basically see the entire text at once, almost as some kind of three-dimensional construct or sculpture. Then it becomes easier to understand what to trim, what to smooth – the classic “remove everything that isn’t the sculpture.”

But it takes an awful lot of concentration to keep it all ‘alive’ in your head like that.

* * * * * * *

I’ve mentioned before how our home is a “notable historic property.” It was built in 1883, and while it has been through a lot of changes in that time, I think the bulk of the windows are original.

Most of them on the ground floor are tall – 8′ or thereabout. With 12′ ceilings, they fit the style of the house. So cleaning them is a bit of a chore. Particularly when you’re talking about cleaning the storm windows, as well.

Here’s how it works. I have to unlatch the bottom of the window. Undo the turn buckles about halfway up. Then pull out the bottom of the frame, and lifting the window at an angle so that the top part will unhook from the hangers which support it. The storm windows are made with stout wood, and heavy glass – about 2′ wide and 8′ tall. They weigh a ton. They’re subject to getting caught by the wind. And it has to be done outside, in places where you’re lifting the thing from about shoulder height or from a ladder.

And there’s something like 30 of them.

* * * * * * *

Had a good chat with my co-author yesterday, about how progress is going on the book. He’s doing the simple edit/review of my material, as I have been doing the same of his. The next phase is to go through and identify what entries or excerpts we don’t need. Because I’ve got more time than he does currently, I’ll be doing the bulk of that, moving things into a holding file if I don’t think we need them for the correct tone of the book.

Once that is done, then we’ll go through and make sure each entry is assigned to the proper ‘month’.

Once that is done, then we’ll go through and arrange the entries within each month so that they all connect to one another in a smooth way.

Then we’ll generate the additional material we need (chapter introductions, explanatory references, et cetera).

After that, a final read-through for editing to get the manuscript in shape for submission.

We both figure another 6 – 8 weeks should do it. Maybe less.

* * * * * * *

Once the storm window has been removed, then everything gets cleaned. First, extraneous splatters and swipes of paint are removed – over the years, there has been a fair amount of this. Then thorough cleaning with a towel and glass cleaner, inside and out. Do this for the actual window, as well as the storm window.

Then remount the storm window, reversing the process described above. It takes 45 minutes to an hour to do each one, and it is somewhat physically demanding.

Ah, but the difference it makes! I’ve done half the windows in the last week, doing two or three a day unless it is storming. Now, half the house is significantly brighter, almost rejuvenated. And I can look out and not feel like I am peering through a veil, or trapped inside.

All things are becoming clear.

Jim Downey

*from this, of course.



I know I’m being repetitive . . .
March 30, 2010, 5:03 pm
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Health, Writing stuff

I just sent the following message to my co-authors of Her Final Year:

I know I’m being repetitive from what I said a week ago, but the more I work on HFY, the more I am somewhat stunned at how powerful it is. I just finished “September”, and while I am exhausted emotionally, I am also filled with a conviction that this book will be a huge benefit to people.

There’s still a lot of work to do, with editing, sorting out the order of all the entries, et cetera. But now and then, take a moment and just read what is there. All our entries – the whole picture which emerges – are/is remarkable.

Time for a drink.

Jim Downey



You call them weapons,
March 23, 2010, 1:56 pm
Filed under: Gardening, Habanero, Health, Humor

I call them “seasoning”:

Indian military to weaponize world’s hottest chili

GAUHATI, India – The Indian military has a new weapon against terrorism: the world’s hottest chili.

After conducting tests, the military has decided to use the thumb-sized “bhut jolokia,” or “ghost chili,” to make tear gas-like hand grenades to immobilize suspects, defense officials said Tuesday.

The bhut jolokia was accepted by Guinness World Records in 2007 as the world’s spiciest chili. It is grown and eaten in India’s northeast for its taste, as a cure for stomach troubles and a way to fight the crippling summer heat.

* * *

“The chili grenade has been found fit for use after trials in Indian defense laboratories, a fact confirmed by scientists at the Defense Research and Development Organization,” Col. R. Kalia, a defense spokesman in the northeastern state of Assam, told The Associated Press.

Yup, time to place my annual plant order.

Jim Downey



“Her Final Year”
March 23, 2010, 12:18 pm
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Health, Writing stuff

I discussed yesterday some of the emotional toll of working on the care-giving book. And last October I mentioned the working title, and explained it briefly. I’ve been thinking more about that.

The idea for the book – the metaphor, if you will – is that you can consider Alzheimer’s progression and impact on a life as something of a whole. Just as the seasons progress, just as the days and weeks and months follow one after another in a fairly seamless manner through the course of a year, so does the disease advance. January starts with hope for a new year, in December you’re looking back at how things actually unfolded. You can predict, in general terms, what the weather will be like from month to month – but you can still have a glorious sunny day the week of Christmas, just as you can have a grim and cold weekend in September.

Likewise, someone suffering from dementia can have good days and bad days, even as the general trend of the disease moves relentlessly on to a known conclusion. Furthermore, in no two people will the disease progress in exactly the same way.

Therefore, in order to make our book the most useful to other people, we’ve arranged the “months” according to the general progression of the disease, and then we’ve placed individual entries – drawn from email correspondence, blog posts and Live Journal entries – into the “month” where it most seems to fit. There is a general tendency for those entries to follow an actual chronological progression, but it happens that sometimes they don’t match up that way. In addition, things are time-compressed: the actual experiences we’re relating happened over roughly four years, but in order to make the most sense of them they’ve been fit into this one-year framework.

I don’t know if this metaphor of a “year” will make sense to everyone. But it has given us a tool for understanding what we went through, and to organize that experience in a way which makes it somewhat more universal, even as intensely personal as it actually was. We’ll see.

Jim Downey



Exhausting.
March 22, 2010, 11:42 am
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Health, Publishing, Writing stuff

I haven’t mentioned it much, just a passing note last month, but I have been working a fair amount on the care-giving book these last weeks. And I’m about halfway done with my part of the editing work – at this point, I’m going through all of my co-author’s posts, and my co-author is going through all of mine.

In terms of actual editing work, it’s very minor, mostly consisting of looking for issues with spelling & clarity. But it is also emotionally exhausting, because each entry is a journey back into care-giving. I can only put myself through that for about an hour a day.

It is also extremely rewarding, though. Each time I work with this material – each pass through it I make – the more I find it to be powerful and affirming, and the more I think it will prove to be a very valuable resource for others who are taking that journey (or recovering from it.)

At least, I hope so.

Jim Downey



This could be dangerous.
March 12, 2010, 12:46 pm
Filed under: Google, Health, Science Fiction, Travel

I am still fighting a stubborn round of lung gak, so forgive the light posting/content here – creative energy is not what it usually is.

But I did just get a dangerous distraction from my good lady wife: seems that Google now has Street View for Wales. For like all of Wales.

Uh-oh.

And to tie it to Communion of Dreams, here’s a nice shot of the road going up to the falls at Pistyll Rhaeadr – referenced by Darnell Sidwell as the place where he was prompted to “wake up.”

Have fun!

Jim Downey



It’s probably . . .
March 10, 2010, 1:47 pm
Filed under: Health, Humor, movies, Star Wars

. . . just due to lack of oxygen thanks to this touch of pneumonia I’m fighting (I mentioned that I was prone to it, remember?) but last night as I sat down to watch a movie, an odd thought crossed my mind: what if you gave Star Wars the ‘Chicken Run’ treatment?

Nick Park, feel free to send me the check for this brilliant idea directly.

Jim Downey



Paradigm shifts.

In college (I graduated in 1980) I suffered repeatedly from peptic ulcers. My senior year it seemed that I lived largely on a diet of Maalox (which I came to loathe) and Tagamet, supplemented by Pepto-Bismol when I just couldn’t bring myself to drink any more Maalox. “Everyone knew” that ulcers were caused by stress, which produced an overabundance of gastric acid – technology had allowed for better studies of the production of gastric acid and the mechanism of it eroding stomach/intestinal lining – and there were more than a few occasions when my doctor recommended that I consider some kind of mild tranquilizer to help calm me down. I drank, instead.

Which, frankly, didn’t help my ulcers much. In fact, it just made me worse. My senior year was hell, and I actually got quite sick my final semester. Graduation helped, in that a big part of the stress was removed, and I backed way off of how much I drank, but I still had ulcer problems for the next few months.

But in the fall or winter of that year I developed a pretty nasty case of pneumonia (I’m prone to it), and had to go on a couple of courses of broad-spectrum antibiotics before I beat it.

I didn’t think much about it at the time, but the following year I didn’t have any ulcer problems. In fact, since then, I haven’t had any ulcer problems. It wasn’t until several years later that medical science came to understand why. No, it had nothing to do with me, though I had inadvertently stumbled upon the same thing that researchers came to discover: that stomach ulcers are predominantly caused by a bacteria (H. pylori). And the best treatment is a combination of powerful antibiotics with bismuth subsalicylate, the active ingredient in Pepto-Bismol. Yes, stress can be a factor in the development of an ulcer, but the real culprit is a bacterium. It wasn’t until the 1990s that this came to be the accepted model in the medical community.

This was my first personal, direct experience with how a paradigm shift can make a difference in our lives and health. Had I not gotten lucky with a combination of drugs and Pepto-Bismol, I might have been miserable with ulcers for another dozen years before medical science changed treatment regimens.

Now, I knew about Kuhn’s work – had read him in High School, I think, or at least in college. And his ideas were very influential in the science fiction I read, even my understanding of history (which I have written about before). And all of that plays out in Communion of Dreams, which is largely about a shift in perspective of what it means to be human.

This morning I came across another wonderful case study of this very same phenomenon of paradigm shift changing medical science, and how technology actually played a role in causing a misunderstanding of the mechanism involved, leading to more death and misery until a new paradigm came along:

First, the fact that from the fifteenth century on, it was the rare doctor who acknowledged ignorance about the cause and treatment of the disease. The sickness could be fitted to so many theories of disease – imbalance in vital humors, bad air, acidification of the blood, bacterial infection – that despite the existence of an unambigous cure, there was always a raft of alternative, ineffective treatments. At no point did physicians express doubt about their theories, however ineffective.

The disease? Scurvy. The case study? Robert Falcon Scott’s 1911 expedition to the South Pole. Here’s a bit from the beginning of the article:

Now, I had been taught in school that scurvy had been conquered in 1747, when the Scottish physician James Lind proved in one of the first controlled medical experiments that citrus fruits were an effective cure for the disease. From that point on, we were told, the Royal Navy had required a daily dose of lime juice to be mixed in with sailors’ grog, and scurvy ceased to be a problem on long ocean voyages.

But here was a Royal Navy surgeon in 1911 apparently ignorant of what caused the disease, or how to cure it. Somehow a highly-trained group of scientists at the start of the 20th century knew less about scurvy than the average sea captain in Napoleonic times. Scott left a base abundantly stocked with fresh meat, fruits, apples, and lime juice, and headed out on the ice for five months with no protection against scurvy, all the while confident he was not at risk. What happened?

It’s a long but fascinating article. And it perfectly recounts how technological improvements contributed to a misunderstanding of scurvy. One more passage from the article:

Third, how technological progress in one area can lead to surprising regressions. I mentioned how the advent of steam travel made it possible to accidentaly replace an effective antiscorbutic with an ineffective one. An even starker example was the rash of cases of infantile scurvy that afflicted upper class families in the late 19th century. This outbreak was the direct result of another technological development, the pasteurization of cow’s milk. The procedure made milk vastly safer for infants to drink, but also destroyed vitamin C. For poorer children, who tended to be breast-fed and quickly weaned onto adult foods, this was not an issue, but the wealthy infants fed a special diet of cooked cereals and milk were at grave risk. It took several years for infant scurvy, at first called “Barlow’s disease”, to be properly identified. At that point, doctors were caught between two fires. They could recommend that parents not boil their milk, and expose the children to bacterial infection, or they could insist on pasteurization at the risk of scurvy. The prevaling theory of scurvy as bacterial poisoning clouded the issue further, so that it took time to arrive at the right solution – supplementing the diet with onion juice or cooked potato.

Read it.

Jim Downey



Inspired.
March 4, 2010, 9:26 am
Filed under: Art, Health, Humor, Music, Pharyngula, PZ Myers, Rube Goldberg, YouTube

Sorry, been sick with the latest viral lung thing going around *and* trying to get a lot of spring cleaning and minor home repair stuff in prep for this Open House tomorrow night, so I haven’t had much in the way of energy to do any writing. But just found this over on PZ’s site, and for the two or three people who check out my blog and haven’t seen it, had to share:

Inspired madness. Discussion of it, how many takes it took, et cetera to be found here (and probably elsewhere).

Jim Downey




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