A short disquisition on disease and disease prevention. Plus an unsung disease.

I grew up in a family that harbored health experts and world-class hypochondriacs, and I am one of ‘those‘ insufferable patients – a media surfer who wants to be on the same page as her doctors. Obnoxious. Well no, I’m pretty discreet.

Many of us oldies are lining up for double-whammy vaccinations to prevent or attenuate influenza (strains expected this year) and Covid 19 (idem). RFK Jr notwithstanding, those who can generally go for prevention. Despite some negative reactions it’s still wise. We won’t lock up RFK Jr just because he has issues with mainstream science, ignores and undermines it, obsessed with unverified theories of autism. New vaccinations have been developed, the door is open for more. We’ll simply carry on, despite Olympian Trumpian cuts to universities, the CDC, major medical research projects and so on.

We oldies still recall polio, whooping cough, measles, mumps, chicken pox, if not diphtheria, etc. Weeks and months of suffering. Bovine tuberculous was still alive and well in Switzerland, and all schoolchildren received chest fluoroscopies annually (with generous doses of radiation). Measles kept me in bed  for a month, a nightmare of fevers and isolation.  And measles is rearing its angry rash again among the unvaccinated, with the risk of severe complications.

All this is a lead-in for my favorite under-the-radar disease…….

Cat-scratch fever, with the beautiful Latin name:

 

 Bartonella henselae

My younger brother was diagnosed with cat-scratch fever by the pediatrician-who-made-housecalls with his stuffed monkey puppet meant to distract a scared child. My brother was 6, I was 11 and curious about all the attention he was getting.  He had very swollen lymph glands and fever, and simply wasn’t his usual sunny self. 

I was fascinated that a cat could cause this condition. Yet I have owned many cats, have endured many scratches over the years but never had it, and I haven’t met anyone else who confesses to being a survivor. 

The sheltered life? Better flea powder? Who knows?

Westerners still live with parasites, worms, head and body lice, scabies, etc. 

So where are the Bartonellistas?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

November Morning, Driving to Geneva

 

November Morning, driving to Geneva

While I was driving east to town today 

a metaphor escaped my morning mind

as sun blew off the mist, a brilliant reprieve.

As for that metaphor eclipsed by sun:

why substitute a simile or simply curse? 

If a trope eludes me then I’ll let it be, 

it’s headed for a better metaverse.

🌥

⛅

🌤

🌞

(written that night when I couldn't get to sleep!)

• 
  

WORDLESHIP - WORDLE WORSHIP

Let's face it:  it's an addiction. Playing Wordle produces a delicious rush of dopamine - your little morning energy shot.

Wordle is a social, if not sociable game, sharpening your competitive edge with friends and relatives. With or without commentary you can rely on a daily Wordle boost to wake you up.

Many go solo, but I enjoy rubbing my grid up against other grids. 

If a Wordle buddy doesn't send you their daily result you begin to wonder--are they OK? What's wrong? Why haven't I heard from them? 

They may not be part of your intimate entourage but you now have a Wordleship that needs  to be nourished, upheld---- a commitment:  I will play Wordle and share it with you, crow when I do better than you, cower when I don't.

Some begin with the same few words that favor maximum vowels or consonants. Key words, go-to five-letter words. To me that's boring -- I use whatever word pops into my head for variety.

And you know what? I have the impression that my own scores and those of my 'opponent' friends - over time - average out the same (though I haven't charted them).

There are no champions in my book!

triumphant two     thrilling three     banal four      frightened five 

stupid six

WORDSHARE ------ TACHYPHYLAXIS

A mouthful of a word. My brother-the-doctor (in fact both brothers are doctors) offered me the Greek word incorporated into the medical lexicon. In response to my complaint that perhaps a medication I was taking was no longer as effective after a long and happy coexistence with my body. Pills, pills.

Tachyphylaxis - that medicine you loved has stopped loving you.

Certain words are just too delicious. 

Like a hand-made dark truffle from Auer Chocolatier, rolled repeatedly over and under the tongue. 

So what do you do? Reduce dose, take a drug 'holiday' (a dreadful American term that makes it sound like you're on spring break in Miami), ignore it, get over it, shop around for another med ?

But this is nothing compared to what's happening to the overseas drug industry Americans have relied on for decades which Trump has tariffed mercilessly.  European Pharma may not be saintly, but it still should be allowed to serve the public, export medicines and their components to the US without costly impediments. 

Now prices in the US are soaring......unless the Supreme Court rules that Trump's arbitrary and vengeful tariffs are illegal.

The Supreme Court is busy mulling it over.

'Tachy'  means lightly, quickly

'Taxis' in Greek means order, regular disposition, arrangement....:

We beg the Supreme Court:   Tachytaxis  (pseudo Greek).

  

AI AND I #2

AI and I: What is Jeûne Genevois? #2

 Carol did tell us it Chatbots sometimes lied, invented facts -- perhaps to flesh out the narrative, pretend it knows, protect its ego and shut you up.

I queried my bot on the history of the Jeûne Genevois, a (religious) day of fasting (jeûne) on the first Thursday of September.

Well.....apparently it's a kind of SWISS CHEESE!

                                                                                                        

                                                                        WHAT?? 

Follow-up:

I checked both my search bots and now they have come

to their senses: a religious commemoration of the

Protestant Reformation (thought so) and some

people do fast. I haven't met them.

No one fasts. 

It's like Labor Day with plums.

People bake or buy scrumptious plum tarts, go to

the country, take in a show, meet with friends and enjoy   

Labor Day by the Lake.  

I simply wanted a bit more historic/religious context 

for this special holiday.

Bot Motto

"No deep-dive research - just a quick dip for whatever

floats belly-up to the surface.

Politicians can be liars to please the crowd.

Hey........just like a bot!

 

 

AI AND I #1

Witty, Cagey, Elusive, Lying

My first, and so far only investigation of the powers of AI-generated narrative is when Carol, our collective writing coach, challenged us to download ChatBox AI, feed it a storyline and set it free. 

I entered a general plotline and some distinctive characters and a vague narrative arc and set it free. 

The story was shockingly good. It also seemed to reflect my tone of voice. It requested more prompts so it could continue its filibuster. I use the word ‘filibuster’ because it can hold up a session of true personal creativity. It talks and rambles, taking up time and space, hungry for more feeds and then? I could put out a collection of AI fiction – as people probably have already – and ……..

I was so excited I accidentally erased all of it, just as I was contemplating a collection with a major bot-feed element. Surely writers have already done this, but I was an AI virgin (almost) and was ready for a fling. After the story got re-absorbed into the AI bardo I dropped the idea.  

At least for now.

 

 

 

GRILLED MANGO DOWN UNDER

PS for the previous post

I heard from Paula, who lives on the other side of the planet.

A true story, with variations:

"Believe it or not, in Queensland we barbecue mangoes - yep, on the grill. Pineapples too. Quite scrumptious actually. But you might have heard thrilled mangoes and wondered what all the excitement was about. Or spilled mangoes, an obvious result of their slimy character. What about killed mangoes? Of course we take a knife to them and cut off their cheeks - we even score them (score, not scar - adjust your hearing aids with that app!). How about drilled mangoes or filled mangoes..."

Fried Mango Reverie

Coffee time in Ferney-Voltaire 

🍦🍦🍦             🥭

 There are several Friday conversations going on at once: some of us discuss fruit ice cream and sherbet as the young daughter of one of our group lavishes attention on her passion-fruit ice cream in a sugar cone. Orange, lime, raspberry, strawberry, lemon, blackberry, mango, a rainbow of flavours, a reverie of tastes…….. I tune back in a minute later to a discussion about fried mangoes. 

Hmm, sounds exotic, perhaps a tad awkward to pull off. But then of course bananas and plantains are fried, pineapple is flambéed, pears poached, apples caramelised….not so far-fetched. I imagine skilled gourmet chefs. Grappling with the gelatinous mango pulp, flipping a skillet — fruit cuisine requiring skill…. accompanied by a tot of rum? crême fraîche? but then who but a chef would bother with it? 

 Mangoes are delicious au naturel. Hot mango on toast? Hot mango waffles? Hot mango stew? I am off on a mango daydream. Amazing, I say, in all these years of international gastronomy I’ve never encountered…. 

…….when one of my friends giggles and says, er sorry….we’re talking about dried mangoes, have you ever tried dried mangoes? 

 The reverie angles off: fried dried mangoes! I have a vision of sautéed leathery, desiccated mangoes…..in butter perhaps? Would they look like orange kippers? Perhaps as a winning side dish in an exotic brunch? Or maybe pre-soaked but not for too long, plumped up to its original pulpy state. But then you’d be stuck in the same situation: sauteeing squishy mangoes.. ……..worth it? Dried then soaked then fried, well no….. Re-directing my attention to the conversation, the proverbial penny drops as my friend had said “we’re talking about Dried Mangoes” It’s simply Dried Mangoes. Have you ever had Dried Mangoes?  There is no fried.

Life can be so simple and straightforward. But then ADHD has me dreaming up eccentric recipes during this quiet conversation with friends. …….Hmm perhaps a sprinkle of coriander and a flick of nutmeg?……. 

So for the hearing issue, there are hearing aids. Hearing aids are now part of my life, charging up in a box with a USB C slot, le dernier cri in ear technology. Used intermittently, as the spirit takes me: little plastic commas invisibly tucked into the ear with a clear fishing line that’s cradled in the inner curve of my ear (the concha), and a discreet microphone, a dream away one generation ago. 

We control them with our phone, adapt them to music, noisy restaurants, televisions and conversations. When I’m not in a hurry, I remove them  from their silver repository and curl one gently into each ear. Red one for Right and blue one for, well….left—should I accidentally drop them, as sometimes happens.

They are sturdy - the other day I entered a thermal bath wearing them and re-emerged with them faithfully lodged in my ears. No sweat. 

They're my little helpers who occupy small spaces and enhance life, stimulate the brain and fend off cognitive decline. 

 Or so they say. 

 I hear therefore (I think) I am cognizant.

A PS lexicon of the outer ear:  a lesson in anatomy, as well as in Latin and Greek. 

It would need a clever mnemonic device to memorize this.....

 Concha: The fossa bounded by the tragus, incisura, antitragus, antihelix, inferior crus of the antihelix, and root of the helix, into which opens the external auditory canal. It is usually bisected by the crus helix into the cymba superiorly and cavum inferiorly. 

Now I begin wondering  if part of my ear is bisected by the crus helix......um....does it matter? 

 Now about that ADHD….....