Spo-Reflections

Spo-reflections on homosexuality as a disease.

April 4, 2025 in Spo-Reflections | 30 comments

Note: before The Spo-fans and random Walkers-by get up in arms about this one, it was written a bit tongue-in-cheek. Afterall, I suffer from a mental disorder – or it used to be one – or may become so again. Oh just read it and hopefully have a chuckle or two. Spo.

Lately I’ve been wondering if homosexuality will be reinstated as a mental illness Nowadays, science and objective data are being discarded for whatever one wants to believe, or how one wants to interpret The Bible: fluoride is evil; vaccines alter your genetics; the world is flat; black is white and book reading turns you gay or worse liberal. It all makes me wonder if thems in charge will decide to advocate for the return of the believe homosexuality = mental condition. This conflicts with their ongoing conviction loving Steve not Sally is a choice like choosing a flavor at Baskin and Robbins. Not to be worrying! Folks are notorious at holding contradictory convictions and seeing no problem with this*; believing queerness is a choice and a mental disorder isn’t too difficult.

Urs Truly has psychology textbooks from the 50s and the 60s and I when I read them I never know whether to laugh or cry.** Before the APA declassified homosexuality as a mental disorder in 1972, being a Streisand fan and knowing all the Broadway shows was a sickness in need of treatment, usually through a long drawn-out expensive psychoanalysis that didn’t work. When the APA was confronted with the dearth of data to support such they had to admit there was none to support knowing how to create color combinations and make a killer pasta salad were signs of mental illness. They dropped the official diagnosis – much to the chagrin of American psychoanalytical society, who has dozens of cases of depressed/anxious gay men with feelings of persecution – obviously from being gay.***

The Margo Mussolini’s minions will probably make gay marriage again illegal, as that violates the sanctity and dignity of straight marriage, although getting divorced and marrying a few times like The Felon did is OK. But will they go so far as to rebrand flying the rainbow flag as a mental illness? On the bright side, being queer can be covered by health insurance. Blue Cross/Blue Shield will pay for dazzlers and tickets to The Cher Show. Happy Hour at Kobalt counts as group therapy – with two olives not one.

If thems in charge negate my marriage I will continue to wear my wedding ring, not caring tuppence what ‘they’ think, but the long-time joke about setting fire to some public building may become a reality. If the diagnostic manual at work is forced to put homosexuality back in, I get to wear my Viking helmet to work. After all, it is part of my treatment.

*My great aunt believed tornados were G-d’s punishment for wickedness and thems effected it ought to be their own fault until one hit her town and then it was a government obligation.

**A Dr. Edmund Bergler in the 50s wrote:

I have no bias against homosexuals; for me they are sick people requiring medical help. Still, I have no bias, I would say: homosexuals are essentially disagreeable people… their shell is a mixture of superciliousness, fake aggression and whimpering.

No bias there!

***Rather than these conditions came from being easy targets of arrest, being regularly beaten, or losing your job. No, it was their mother’s fault.

Thorsday thoughts

April 3, 2025 in Random Thoughts | 24 comments

We got rain yesterday, one of those typical downpours without much warning, then boom! All at once the sky gushes like a popped water balloon. There was hail too, the size of a pea. It cooled everything down and gave the yards a much-needed watering. I don’t do well with cold and wet anymore. Today Thorsday I have the heater on at work. How am I going to live again in the Midwest I wonder, if I get cold below 80F?

The week seems jinxed. A can of cola burst its thin aluminum side while being transported in The Most Difficult Case, making all my patient cheat sheets soggy. Oh the pain. As soon as they dry, I will make copies. It’s not difficult, but tedious. The same day, while eating at my desk, watching The Tube of Yous, my plate of Mongolian Beef and rice suddenly flipped over and down into my lap. Mercifully I had a napkin there. Both accidents at heart are my own fault I suppose. I shouldn’t transport cans in The Most Difficult Case and I shouldn’t eat at the work desk.

Work has been rawther slow lately and I don’t know why. Maybe word’s out I’m a quack. On the positive, it gives me time to do online courses. I received an email the other day, informing I hadn’t done any lately. This is untrue; I did several last week thank you very much. Apparently, I didn’t ‘save them’ and had to do them all over again, another thing probably my fault and tedious. Next week I demonstrate to some Overlord via Zoom how to do CPR on the dummies laid out on the table in the conference room. I learned what ‘tickler’ is, and it isn’t a dating app. It is Urs Truly sending a note to The Medical Assistant to call the patient to make their follow up appointment. It is not clear if this circuitous route replaces my telling patients at the end of their appointment ‘after we hang up call the office and make your follow up appointment.’

Otherwise, I lead a dull life. Someone caught a cold standing outside during one of his workdays, and he’s wrapped burrito-style in bed and no good for nothing, poor fellow. Today and tomorrow, I need to prepare for the arrival of Brother #4, who is coming to cool inclement weather, a disappointment. I suspect he wants to use the pool. He is crazy-mad to do so if he does. Then again, he is coming from Michigan Land of Perpetual Snow and Ice, and temps in the upper 50s/lower 60s may seem quite nice for him.

World of mine Wednesday’s Ws

April 2, 2025 in World of mine Ws | 24 comments

What’s top of my mind: Keeping the house clean. Last weekend I got a bit frantic getting La Casa de Spo ship-shape for the arrival of the relations. Brother #4 called last Sunday to say there was a change of plans: rather than Monday things are postponed until Saturday. This was a relief to have more time to tidy up. Now that the main areas are accomplished, things need to stay tidy. It’s pollen season again, and the usual dust load is double with acid yellow pollen from the mesquite trees.

Where I’ve been: The backyard patio. It took most of the weekend, but it is back in shape and tenable, not only for guests but for myself. I can sit out there in the evening with a book and a snort of scotch and listen to the pool fountain tinkle and the howl of the coyotes. Nice.

Where I’m going: The butcher. Brother #4 is Grill Master. Through practice he has become sensational at BBQ, grilling, smoking both meat and fish. I am not one to eat much meat, but when he cooks, my soul swoons at the quality. He thought to take Someone and I out to dinner next week when he is on town, a thank you for hosting him. I requested instead why don’t I get out the Weber and he can grill something. He is delighted to do so, provided I get some specific high-quality meat, no rubbish. There is a butcher shop in town with top-notch cuts. It’s a bit far and my eyes cross at the prices but B#4 doesn’t do no rubbish.

What I’m watching: The arrival of The New Yorker. Once upon a time my grandfather and my parents subscribed to ‘the magazine’ as it called. As a boy I read it for the cartoons. The New Yorker had the best; do not dare to question this. Later in life I read the articles and theatre reviews. I cannot remember when I last had a magazine subscription, a physical one that shows in the mail, something to look forward to.* I decided to get it again, not only for the cartoons and theatre reviews, but for the articles and the literature.

What I’m reading: War and Peace. Yes, you read this right. Sometimes a book lover resembles a mountaineer: you just have to tackle the big ones to say you have done so. I plan to read this slowly, chapter by chapter, hoping I don’t lose track of the plot and I live long enough to get through it.

Have you read ‘War and peace’?

What I’m listening to: Crickets. Somewhere in the house, between the kitchen and the living area, dwells a solitary cricket. I know it’s there as I hear it chirping away – until I get near and this it becomes mum as an oyster. I wonder how it senses I am near? It chirps mostly in the morning but not enough to cause me to wake. I don’t like it being there mostly because where’s there are crickets there be scorpions after them. What is the remedy for a single cricket in the house? The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections suggests setting fire to the place, no surprise there.

What I’m eating: Fiber. I don’t take supplements other than a fish oil capsule. However, I added a fiber pill as I do not get enough fiber in my diet. Fiber is good for so many things and most Americans don’t get enough; a fiber supplement is a good thing. Mine are in gummi-form, looking and tasting like red gumdrops. I had them in the fridge for a while, where they were forgotten, so I moved them to a clear glass jar on the counter to remind me to take 1-2 with each meal. Meanwhile, I am adding black beans to the cooking (when applicable).

Who needs a good slap: Just about everyone these days. The nation is being run by lunatics and fascist wannabees, passing laws based on hype rather than data or fact, disregarding due process of the law, which they do as no one is going to stop them. Every time I turn on the news it seems The Felon slowly becomes THE law of the land (Congress need not bother) and thems in the legal and political worlds do not dare to oppose him, lest he come after them like a good dictator does.

On my 1-5 scale, I give 5 slaps to the folks who voted for this things to go this way and another five slaps to the cowards who capitulate to the demands of the unhinged.

Who gets a fist-bump: Spo-fans and friends who are bakers. Despite ongoing unsuccessful efforts to produce a decent loaf of bread, many send me emails and recipes encouraging me to keep trying. They are dears; please don’t feed them buns and things – at least not my attempts.

What I’m planning: Container pot gardening. Again. While cleaning up the patio I decided to replenish the empty pots with chili peppers, a couple of tomato plawnts, and some herbs. Every year I vow to do some container pot gardening and every year they die in the ardent summer heat. You would think I would learn, but I don’t. I persevere. which is one of my charms, I suppose.

What’s making me smile: My annual evaluation. I am doing good; The Overlords have decreed so:

He is productive and far exceeds provider expectations on a regular basis. Patient feedback is continually positive. Dr. Spo has illustrated adaptability and resilience despite the significant changes that have occurred over the course of last year.

What could I do better?
I would like Dr. Spo to consider using the appointment tickler.

Now, what the hell is an appointment tickler?

*OK, I get Whisky Advocate this way. This isn’t a magazine, but an event.

Spo-reflections on The Fool/Clown

April 1, 2025 in Jungian Psychology, Shrink Stuff | 16 comments

“Lily, tells us, why did you go into comedy?”

“Well, (said Lily Tomlin), at an early age I realized people were laughing at me so I thought look, might as well try to be funny.”

Today being April Fool’s Day and yesterday’s post being so serious, I thought I would lighten things up a bit with some Spo-thoughts on the archetype of The Fool.

Who knows when people started making jokes and being silly to get others to laugh. Perhaps there are examples of such in other primates. After all when we are being silly we are told to ‘stop monkeying around’. There are jokes recorded on clay tablets in Mesopotamia* and even the lofty Greek plays are full up with fart and dick jokes. We need to laugh, especially in a group, at someone’s shenanigans. Thus, The Clown archetype. When the totalitarian attempts to suppress it, The Clown pops up to drop its pants again to mock thems trying to suppress it.

Urs Truly and his relations are well-versed in this archetype. Our late Father exceled at it. At home he was quiet and not one for the dad’s jokes, but out in public it as like the spotlight was on him to make folks laugh. Thanks to him, channeling Clown energy feels as natural as breathing, and I have to be conscious not to open up the clown car too quickly before I assess the situation.

A lot of Comedy is laughing at another’s mistakes, pain, or bungles. Perhaps there is a confusion of an identity, or someone trips on a banana peel, or gets a pie in the puss. It’s a way to release tension of the sorrows of life. Satire mocks the serious to bring them down to size. Farce does the best at making Life’s absurdities bearable.** The Spanish Inquisition was a terrible thing but made impotent via Monty Python’s three Inquisitors poking heretics with soft cushions and forcing them to sit in comfy chairs.

The Clown is a necessary element of human existence; without it, Life is too painful.

Like all archetypes, it has its dark side. As a Persona, The Clown can hide inner sorrow. The Clown distracts us from Life’s pains, but it also diverts others from seeing our inner selves with doubt and sorrows. Go listen to Vesti la guibbia why dontcha. We all identify with the sensation we are smiling to the world and suffering inside.

Whenever I see “A Christmas Carol’ with The Ghost of Christmas Past telling Scrooge it is going to show him all the things he did wrong in life, I want to shout at the screen there’s no need, my brain does this all the time. In the middle of driving or reading a book, Psyche decides to remind me of that awful moment in my youth when I was caught picking my nose in public, or letting out a fart as loud as a foghorn in church, or when I tripped over a stone and fell with a loud splash in the mud puddle. Oh the embarrassment. In their defense, people just can’t help not laughing. It could have been them, and once upon it time it was.

The Clown/Fool archetype in me just reread this for editing and decides what’s called for is to don the red rubber nose and tell a joke:

I went to see a podiatrist, he turned out to be a psychiatrist. He said to me, ‘there is something terribly wrong with you, your nose is running, and your feet are smelling!”

Ok, you tell me a joke.

*The Sumerians are credited with the first recorded joke, which dates back to ~ 1983 BCE:

“A dog walks into a bar and says, ‘I cannot see a thing. I’ll open this one.’”

No one can quite deduce why it was funny, but there is no accounting for taste, is there.

**One of my professors once said whenever you are taking Life or yourself too seriously, go watch a Marx Brothers movie.

Spo-reflections on living with someone with depression.

March 31, 2025 in Spo-Reflections | 24 comments

One of the hardest things about my job is sitting across from “A”, who as “B” in their life, and “B” is either in pain or anguish or going to hell in a hand basket (drugs, alcohol, bad choices) and “A” feels helpless to do anything about it. Oh the pain. No one want to see their loved ones suffering, particularly when ‘B’ could do something about it like seeking help. In helpless desperation, “A” turns to me for help.

he situation is even more ticklish when B’s problem derives from mental illness. Somebody with a physical symptom refusing to go to a doctor may be doing so out of time, cost, or fear elements (usually the latter). But what if the matter is mental, as in depression, anxiety, or drug abuse?

One of the worst elements of depression is hopelessness. It’s the opposite of ‘rose-tinted sunglasses”. In depression, the glasses are dark-colored wrap-around types that filter out all light so everything looks pointless, useless, and insurmountable. Even when B is willing to extract the spectacles, they don’t come off easy.

So, what can A do, really?

Let’s start with what ‘A” should not to say or do:

Telling a person to cheer up or try not being depressed is both useless and insulting. You might as well try telling a person with diabetes try not having elevated glucose. Geez Louise, if depression was that easy to deal with, ‘B/ would have done that long ago.

Another not-helpful endeavor is ‘A’ trying to being B’s therapist. Pointing out their depression is because of their childhood, their choices, Mercury in retrograde, or eating nonorganic foods isn’t going to help. Mind! There may be elements of truth to these, but insight only cures ignorance, not depression. By the way, my patient can tell me the factors that contributed to their depression; they don’t need me to tell them.

With that out of the way what would be helpful?

The sad truth (oh this hurts!) is one cannot ultimately rescue another. The jail door is locked but it is locked from inside. ‘A’ is outside the door with with Hope, hope that the ‘B’ will realize the situation is not helpless, unbolt the doo,r and come forth into the sun, scary or hard as that is.

‘Being there’ remains the best help one can give. ‘A’ feels they ought to do something, and this is especially true with the menfolk, but what needs doing isn’t action or advice but listening. “Go with the affect” is a good thing. If ‘B’ expresses anguish, anxiety, or hopelessness – that’s what you go with. ‘B’ knows ‘A’ knows their emotions and the two don’t get into ructions about the cause or what to do.

We become what we do, and getting folks with depression to live the ‘antidepressant live’ is the key. What would someone without depression do? This sounds absurd and impossible to thems with depression, at least at first.

The big mistake is feeling you need motivation to start to do things. Low motivation, apathy, and hopelessness are ubiquitous in depression, so motivation isn’t feasible at the beginning of action. Rather, it is the end-product of action.

Example; the depressed loved one has no motivation to get up and go out for a walk in the sunshine, which does good for physical and mental well-being. A and B decide every day preferably at the same time, regardless of motivation and desire, to go for a walk. Maybe you have to start with only fifteen minutes. So be it. Something is better than nothing. When there are skipped days due to resistance, ‘A’ and ‘B” don’t quit; you try the next day.

We become what we do. A helps B to dress, brush their teeth, apply make up (if you are that way) and put something on other than T-shirt and boxer shorts (if you are that way) even thought it feels false and useless. But in time it grows.

Being there; conveying Hope; encouraging ‘B” to do through the motions of living; getting them out among friends and loved ones (regardless). These are not great tools, but they they are what is available.

Tell me in the comments if you know if what helps when you are depressed or have a loved one with such.

Sunday Spo-bits

March 30, 2025 in Sunday Spo-bits | 21 comments

It’s been awhile since I last wrote. Someone has us going to a variety of theatre shows; whenever I have a life this leaves no time in the evening to do anything else, let alone write. This weekend is nonstop tidy up, in anticipation of next week’s guests. There is still a lot to do. Happily, the patio is almost tenable and The Blue Room should be done in time. The organ is gone! I put the desk in its place, which is a small alcove off The Dragon Room. This makes the bedroom less cramped. I plan to put the bed back up today, facing the other way, hoping this provides Feng Shai or something. If this works, the recently purchased Shag Store print would work nicely on the opposite wall. Guests in The Dragon Room would be able to admire it as they sleep, as would I when I need to get up and sleep in another room.

All is not housekeeping. Yesterday Someone announced we had a Saturday matinee to go see ‘The Cher Show”, which is something I didn’t know existed. For a few hours a trio of Cher-types ran around the stage dressed in outrageous costumes, accompanied by chorus boys in open shirts from the 70s. Jolly good fun! What was almost as curious was the audience. The majority were as old as she is. Curiously, there weren’t many of her acolytes viz. gay men.* Someone states the demographics could be due to it being a ‘matinee”. Apparently afternoon shows are more attractive to the oldsters. Could be could be, for I didn’t fall asleep for once. Does this make me one of the oldsters? Oh the horror.

Other than this, I lead a dull life. I go to The Home Depot (or someplace like it) this morning to replenish the patio pots now devoid of dead plants. I may get some herbs and a tomato plant. This is stupid. As Rocky says to Bullwinkle ‘but that trick never works!” If I don’t stay on top of watering these wither over night, worse luck. Every year I vow I will keep on top of things and every year this doesn’t happen. But I keep trying, which I suppose if one of my charms.

Just as the patio becomes pleasant enough to use, the mesquite trees release their pollen and everything is gets coated with an acid yellow powder. Life ain’t fair, isn’t it.

*There were some, well over four feet and quite over sixty.

Notes from the office.

March 28, 2025 in Shrink Stuff | 20 comments

A Spo-fan* recently wrote me suggesting I write on the topic of ‘overdiagnosis’. Apparently, this is an idea being discussed across the pond, as well as in The States. Over the decades there has been an increase in the number of available diagnoses. This is true not only in Psychiatry, but Medicine in general. In long established maladies like hypertension, there seems to be more people diagnosed with such. So, what’s going on?

The main factor (probably) is the growing population of oldsters, who are more likely than youngsters to have maladies like hypertension, high cholesterol, and diabetes. There is also a growing awareness of folks mindful of their health through fitness apps and devices who are finding things. Going online imitates what is nicknamed the ‘medical student disorder” where thems in med school study an illness and start to feel they have it.

Another factor is ‘lowering the bar’ who qualifies for a diagnosis. This is done on the grounds catching things earlier like colon polyps and rising glucose levels in the long run is a good thing.

There is the factor of ‘spectrum’. Take for example, attention deficit disorder. I get a lot of folks wanting to know if they have such. Many of them have taken online ‘do you have ADD’ tests. They are often correct yes, they have some – but then this isn’t black/white yes/no but a gradient – and equally important is it actually a problem? Only then is it formally diagnosed as ADD disorder.

Another example is autism. Back in my training in the early 90s, hardly anyone had such. This is a combination of a high bar, specific criterion for the diagnosis, and just not looking for it. There has been a dramatic increase in folks with autism diagnosis from the ‘spectrum approach’, clinicians more aware of it to ask, but (mostly) adults online learning about it and feeling it applies to them.

Speaking of autism, having a proper diagnosis of such is often necessary to qualify for resources at school. Insuranc companies are not going to pay/cover things if there isn’t an established diagnosis of something.

I have had borderline glucose levels, which would put me into the pool of people with a diagnosis of pre-diabetes, but ten years ago, when the bar was higher, my readings would not qualify me as such. Knowing about this makes The Good Doctor and I more watchful this way, which is a good thing.

The question the Spo-fan is asking is, are we over diagnosing people. People want to know if there is something in the water, the food, the air, society, or the way we do things that has caused a rise in cases of autism, depression, ADD, diabetes – add your favorite to the list. True there are more folks with maladies but are there more than really are? Greater minds than Urs Truly are trying to sort this out.

What I don’t see is a correlation of pharmaceutical ads driving up business. Nor do I see Big Pharm cooking up meds for conditions that get established for their use.

As an aside, I am seeing a surge of generalized anxiety and insomnia cases these days, and you don’t need to be Freud to figure out why, and who is the most correlated to such.

The irony or tragedy of the rise in diagnosis is the people with clear disease aren’t getting help. Thems with bona fide depression, autism, hypertension, diabetes, etc. still aren’t getting the help they need. This is mostly from lack of resources (money and time to seek help combined with a dearth of providers in areas where help is needed most), but there is a hint thems with resources are hogging the health care system, keeping others out.

One last thought on the topic. Medicine in America is geared towards procedures and addressing maladies. it is not geared towards preventative medicine. Insurance reimburses a heart stent, but not for time when the doctor is teaching someone how to avoid getting one.

*Specifically, Paul, who is a dear and well over four feet.

99 questions to ask your grandparents #32

March 27, 2025 in Spo-Reflections | 30 comments

32. What is the scariest thing that ever happened to you? How do you feel now about it?

This is a good question, although the asker (a grandchild, presumably) may not realize what grandma or grandpa remembers as the scariest thing may be something a) they don’t want to discuss and b) causes an inner PTSD-like response. Sometimes the family knows what the scariest thing is, but it is not discussed “never bring up with Grandpa the ‘you know what’ “. On the other hand, maybe no one until now has asked this question, and they let loose, wanting to get it out, and junior becomes overwhelmed that a simple question is getting a play-by-play account.

What scares us is subjective. Grandpa may say the scariest thing for him was a war-related event, perhaps embellished a bit in the tale to spare the feelings of the asker. Grandma is statistically more at likely than her spouse having had physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. Maybe to save face and feelings she will say ‘being chased by a bull’ rather than a wicked uncle.

If my hypothetical grandchild asked me this question, what would I say? I review my life there have been a handful of scary events, but now they don’t seem not too bad. I was scared by bullies, nerve-wracking tests, and gym class ordeals – they all seem like ghosts who have lost the ability to haunt me. There were scary airplane and boat rides, but these too do not linger either.

The scariest event that happened to me was the call from the doctor telling me I tested positive for HIV. It was 1992, in August, a few months after completing my lifetime schooling. Life had just begun. I had just turned 30. Back then, this news was a death sentence, the equivalent of being told you have terminal cancer with only a few years to live – and they won’t be good ones. At the time I wasn’t out to my parents or to many. Being HIV-positive made you a pariah; no one wanted to be with you, let alone touch you.

Realizing you are soon to die when you weren’t expecting it. I cannot think of anything scarier.

With the prognosis of five years at most, I trimmed my Bucket List to a few real essentials. Bought a home and went through Jungian analysis to understand who I was prior to losing both. I was obliged to come out and lo! my family was all accepting.

But I didn’t die. I am one of the fortunate ones who survived long enough for medications to develop that have kept me going to see my present age of sixty-two years.* I met Someone, and that relationship has been going on nearly thirty years. Fortunate indeed!

When you are told you are doing to die, and after the Kubler-Ross stages occur,** and when you don’t die, this grace installs in you a sort of philosophy. One still has fears, but none as strong. It gave me a certain courage and when death shows again – probably for real – even that isn’t so scary.

What was your scariest event? Are you willing to write it?

* I have been alive more years with the bug than without it, can you imagine?

**Dr. Kluber-Ross worked with the dying. Her take-home lesson is people learning they are dying go through ‘stages’ in the approximate order of denial, anger, bargaining, and finally acceptance. This isn’t as clean and pat as she saw it, but it summarizes the emotions one has when facing death. It applies to any bad news.

World of mine Wednesday’s Ws

March 26, 2025 in World of mine Ws | 30 comments

What’s top of my mind: Climate. It’s only a few days into spring and the temperatures are already near 100F. Last week I was walking about in a sweatshirt and now the AC is on. Oh the pain. My allergies are acting up too – normally they don’t get going until late April. That ain’t good. The longer we live in PHX the shorter grows the springtime for every expanding ardent summer. I daresay this only will worsen.

Where I’ve been: The back porch. I dragged the furniture out from underneath the roofed area and started dusting and wiping down the windows and sliding doors. Curiously, a few potted succulents survived the neglect of winter. On the other hand, the two door mats made of rope, came apart in the Maytag. They came out looking like large brown spaghetti. Oh the horror.

Where I’m going: Home Depot. So it is off to Home Depot (or someplace like them) to get fresh flowers and plawnts and two doormats to make the porch pretty. Better than going to HD, I will drive further away to the ACE Hardware. The store is smaller and more expensive than Home Depot, but it is owned by one man who is there, and his employees are available and helpful. I feel I get real service there vs. none while wandering the orange aisles of HD feeling lost and no one to help me to save my life. And I am supporting a local business too.

Alas, Babylon! Between the pollen and the heat the porch may not be used much, but at least it will look less dingy.

What I’m watching: My blood pressure. Some of the nurses at The Other Clinic take their patients’ blood pressure. I took mine with the office machine, only to discover my SBP (systolic blood pressure) is over 130 in the afternoon. That ain’t good. Is this due to stress or a sign my BP medication dose isn’t strong enough? At home, the SBP is between 120-125, which is good. I am trying to deduce if the discrepancy is work related or something about the cuff.

What I’m reading: Instruction pamphlets. During tidy-upa at La Casa de Spo I am finding instructional pamphlets for kitchen appliances, the fire alarms, the thermostats, etc. I gathered them all together and put them into a large brown accordion folder. I thought to just to throw them out, on the grounds I had lived OK without them and I daresay I know now how to operate Cuisinart. But who knows if someday something blows and I need to remind myself how something works.

What I’m listening to: The management of TB (tuberculosis) in the workplace. From time to time The Overlords send me some educational videos, which I am obliged to watch. Most of the time these don’t seem too relevant to my daily doings, like how to handle toxic spill. The tutorial on tuberculosis at least is interesting.* It’s a coincidence John Green (the dear!) recently sent me his new book on the subject. There is a general consensus TB is a nasty bug that should be eradicated but for money and social inequalities get in the way. There is speculation of a probable rise in TB cases, what with population, global warming, and stupid people in charge of health decisions.

What I’m eating: Vegan treats. One of the therapists at the MESA office is bringing in baked goods. She is a vegan, so the sweets are all such: vegan cookies, vegan cakes – that sort of thing. They taste fine; if she hadn’t told me I wouldn’t have known. The treats always come with the recipe attached to the container, in case one is interested.

Do you cook much if any vegan?

Who needs a good slap: Opinionated patients. Every once in a while a patient comes in having been told something by a friend or having read something online. They don’t ask me my opinion is it true/useful/do I have any experience with this. Rather, they tell me it is true and (said with mild rancor) why haven’t I addressed this? For example, a patient recently came in telling me her GP did some sort of genetic tests suggesting she didn’t have enough serotonin and she has a genetic matter linked to (but heard as causing) depression and insomnia. So why didn’t I give her methyl-folate? It turns out she started it on her own anyway way four weeks ago. I am all for processing ideas and I don’t know about something I say so. I don’t like is being told I don’t know what I am doing, especially based on online influencers.**

On a 1-5 scale, I give know-it-alls two slaps.

Who gets a fist-bump: The Nurse at the PHX office. Last Friday she bought us pizza. Interesting she gets two: one is a typical pie and the other is a gluten-free, vegetable-only pie for thems in the office who eat that such. Despite these thoughtful arrangements, by day’s end the typical pie is nearly all gone and the other has 1-2 slices at most taken. Maybe thems who eat ‘typical’ eat more pieces, but I suspect thems professing preference for the other are secretly eating the former.

What I’m planning: An IRA. When Father died, I was surprised to he left the majority of his money to his sons. I thought it was all going to his seven grandchildren, on the grounds his sons don’t need money. This is reasonable. so I didn’t say nothing against it. Obtaining my cut of his IRA has been difficult mostly because I have never done this before. I am the last of the brothers to do this. I recently got an email from the lady at the IRA place, telling me she received the forms via secure email and results pending. I wonder how long this will take. During this process, the stock markets have fallen like soggy souffles so I don’t think I am getting as much as was told to me. Still, it’s something not nothing and more than I thought I was going to get. The Good Investor at ML suggests once established I transfer it to my other IRAs, so it won’t feel lonesome I guess.

What’s making me smile: The removal of the organ. Hot puppies! The Good Movers are coming on Thursday to remove the organ in The Dragon Room! I hope there are no dead bodies behind it lest Someone be embarrassed when TGM take it out of its space. Opinions differ what goes into the space, the dresser or the desk. Chances are I will rearrange things a few times to find out.

*I majored in microbiology.

**The patient conveyed the OTC item isn’t helping with sleep, and she wants to try now a prescription.

Caption This

March 25, 2025 in Spo-Reflections | 20 comments

The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections feels these later entries are rawther serious and gloomy. They suggest I lighten up a bit – try doing something funny, why don’t I. Alright, here’s some fun, something to cause some mirth.

I thought to try a new category of entries titled “Caption This”. I post a painting or photograph and ask the Spo-fans (the ones well over four feet anyway) to provide a caption, title, or meme to go with it and post it in the comments.

The one with the funniest or most clever entry wins a banana.

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World of mine Wednesday’s Ws

Caption This

The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections.

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