Spo-Reflections

I am contemplating a break from blogging. It is one thing to put up with a boring period in ones work or relationship, but a boring hobby makes no sense. The Muses (or someone like them) have been away for some time and there is nothing in my life or in the recesses of my pumpkin that seems worthwhile to blog, worse luck. I joke I lead a dull life but the truth, is I do; there is nothing interesting going on in my life upon which to blog these days. In its twenty years existence I have never gone on hiatus; at most I’ve skipped a week while away on holiday without access to the internet.

As we say in the shrink business: what are the fears? I can think of two.

One: if I stopped blogging even for a week, I would return to find no one has been waiting for me.

Two: I go on hiatus and never pick it up again; I disappear without fanfare as so many bloggers do.

The second fear is not likely. Although I have writer’s block I still have the itch to write. I would never be so ungallant as to ghost thems who read my works. If I were to end I would tell you. The first fear is unlikely as well. I’ve seen other blogger go on breaks, some times for a month, and when they come back and they haven’t lost readers.

Perhaps a break from blogging would be a good for me. I could gather ideas for my return. Herr Beethoven walked around with a little notebook to jot down notes when he thought of something and later he turned them into sonatas and such.

Then again I should just push on and persevere. I wish I had a shilling for all the times I enter The Doldrums and stare at the white empty screen and wonder what on earth am I going to do – and something comes up. Another matter: I don’t recall if The Contractual Obligation allows for breaks. The Board of Directors Here at Spo-reflections does not take kindly to loafers and layabouts. If I can’t think of something to do they will provide all sorts of tasks. Heorot Johnons II has all sorts of there’s-work-to-be-done chores desperate in need of doing. Nothing inspires to act than being called upon to scrub the oubliettes.

Tomorrow Someone and I fly to Spokane to meet up with brothers and cousins for a long family reunion weekend complete with fun run. Something interesting to blog upon ought to arise. Then again maybe there will be something but I’m too busy to write.

Not to be worrying! If I go on break, you will be the first to know. If I don’t blog for a few days it is more about being with the cousins. Interesting fact: it was their father who coined ‘I lead a dull life”. Life is dull at times but always full of ironies.

#73. What was your everyday beauty routine (i.e., hair, skincare, makeup, hygiene)?

Why a youngster would want to know what an oldster does in the morning is mystery. Youngsters look at the oldsters with some unconscious horror they don’t want to look like that when they age, so what beauty routines gramps and gran are doing must not be working and of no value. Granddad doesn’t have hair anyway and both of them smell like old people.

I don’t have so much a beauty routine, but a trying-to-stop-the-decline-of-things ritual. Harry of Harry’s razors (the dear!) sold me some of his ‘Summer Rain’ products. There is a facial scrub which feels like it has sand in it. It is supposed to cleanse pores and make my face radiant while it contributes to the microplastic problem. After the scrubbed nosed shower I stand in front of the vanity mirror and start at the top. One the crown goes is a spray of whatever cologne is at hand. I don’t know how it happened but we have several bottles of all sorts of scents I am working through on the grounds of Midwestern thrift. Mr. Harry also sold me some white goo I rub at the corners of my eyes and around the orbits and underneath onto the bags. This is supposed to stave off wrinkles. Fat chance of that. All the lotions of Arabia cannot wash away my wrinkles. Anyone know a good surgeon? *

Working downward I next do some PT which isn’t Physical Therapy but Proboscis Therapy. A few squirts of saline go up each nostril to wash away the crud, followed by the Flonase, the goal to lower inflammation and diminish allergies. I am told the effects take time and I never know if it is beginning to work or I’ve just waited long enough for allergy season to dissipate.

Someone has me using the electric toothbrush and my technique is improving with practice. We go through a lot of mouthwash and we buy it by the boxes at Costco. We use whitening toothpaste but our teeth still look like yellowed ivory keys on an old piano, the consequence of a lifetime of tea drinking. I floss in the evening, not the morning.

Next comes the whiskers. Every day I do a deep contemplation: can I get by without shaving today? In my youth a little scruff looked sexy; this is not so at sixty. Au unshaven set of neck and cheeks, along with an untrimmed beard, makes me look like a crazed street person, minus his charms. Mr. Harry again to the rescue! He keeps up in razor blades. I use Clubman aftershave. Remember this? It is what all barbershops used in the 60s and 70s regardless if you wanted something else. It is old man fogy stuff but dammit it has a good scent and it reminds me of my youth when men got proper haircuts.

I have a confession: I don’t use deodorant on a daily basis; some days I skip. There are studies suggesting leaving alone the indigenous wee beasties and not killing them daily with Old Spice (my roll of choice) paradoxically diminishes sweat and odor, the result of bacteria of other strains pooping their sulfurous excrement. I can get by with this approach in the winter months and when I won’t be seeing any patients or people that day. This doesn’t work so good in the summer when all the Clubman there is isn’t enough to mask things. Oh the embarrassment.

Arizona with its dry heat is a land where even the men use lotion. We have a lot of lizards and my skin looks like I am of that genus. I have bottles at work , home, and on the vanity to address awful-looking elbows and knee caps. Like cologne I don’t recall purchasing any, but we somehow we have heaps. What do I use? Answer: the ones in the linen closet.

At day’s end I am known to take an additional shower, just a quite rinse really, to symbolically cleanse me of the day. I am told by thems who are allergists our hair and skin pick up a lot of dust and pollen so it is good to wash it away rather than bringing it all to bed. Sounds sensible.

That is what Urs Truly does to be beautiful or at least make himself less dingy. If anyone has recommendations to better myself, I am open to suggestions. As the joke goes, anyone got something for a fat ass?

Everything cleansed, sprayed, rubbed, trimmed, and shaved – temporarily.

*I recently heard a podcast given by some great dermatologist for the edification of other dermatologists what to recommend to their clients. Apparently I am doing things all wrong. Soap and water: might as well be rubbing shards of glass into my face. I am supposed to be using some sort of cleanse followed by retinol followed by a sealing solution, maybe not in that order. The goal? prevent an aging looking face, which was conveyed as ominous as having liver cancer. I grew up in the Midwest where the men never once worried about wrinkles and such. That is what men look like as they age, and damned proud of their looks. And don’t get me started on cosmetics for men.

Note: this one could become violent. People get awfully queer about their colors. Spo

A few years ago The Other Michael (the dear!) made Someone and I some shot glasses. Someone’s’ glass was purple, but what was the color of mine? I said it was cyan and it was but TOM said no, it was cerulean. This started an ongoing argument rivaling The War of Spanish Succession and no prettier. Friends have tried to intervene but to no avail; as the African proverb goes: when two elephants fight it is the grass that gets trampled. When we gather for a game of Mexican dominoes and cocktails I get out my shot glass and play the role of the goddess Discord and ask for a pour of something into my cyan shot glass. The Other Michael flashes his eyes and says something bitchy like I’m sorry I don’t see any cyan shot glasse, do you mean that cerulean one? Fellow domino players who aren’t aware of what they are entering into, agree or disagree, saying no to either but it’s aquamarine or some other blatantly-wrong answer. No it is cyan; I am not arguing but explaining why I’m correct. This leads to ructions and if all goes well murders and suicide. Once when we were at each other’s throats TOM and I paused to hang high the fellow who suggested teal.

A group of queens discussing color is an ugly sight to see.

When people argue over the definition of a word they consult a dictionary but colors are ticklish as various people and paint companies call the same color different names. One man’s deep cyan is another’ aquamarine and don’t get me started on Prussian Blue versus Midnight Blue.

Making the shot glass color controversy worse is the shot glass seems to be changing color over time. When I took it out for the photo it looks more green than I remember it. Not only is the color uncertain, the color isn’t constant either. Oh the horror. It’s enough to hold one’s breath until you turn cerulean in the face and drop dead from frustration.

Someone and I made a reservation for a weekend in Palm Springs in June. I plan to bring my shot glass and invite The Other Michael to bring his dominos and let’s have another round shall we.

Please tell me in the comments what you think is the color of the shot glass. Thems who say cerulean or just ‘blue green’ are itching for a fight.

I am inundated by things wanting my attention. Not so much people, including handsome types well over four feet whom I would be honored to give attention to, but mostly ads. Bloody #$%cads. As a masochistic experiment I ought to tally how many ads I see in a day. I suspect I see over a hundred. The worst offenders are websites like The Book of Faces and The Tube of Yous. Unlike billboards on the highway these ads positively leap up out of nowhere and wave their AI-arms at me, often in the middle of something I was watching or reading. It feels like a young needy child who barges in and won’t wait until asked what is it. Of course this how social sites make their money: selling ads. It seems in time these sites are more ads than content, but this may be because they ‘stand out’ being irritating.

In hindsight we should have decided to pay for things, perhaps a modest monthly or annual fee. Rather we decided the internet ought to be free to everyone. Why did we not see human nature as it were would start turning the world-wide-web into a billboard? Worse, we often pay for things and still have to sit through ads. Someone has subscriptions to several streaming services, and it burns my bacon when we are watching a show and suddenly an ad for HIMS or something arises. And you can’t fast forward through them. I am old enough to remember with television it was the commercials when you got up to trip to the loo, or clean up the kitchen until you heard the show return.

Thanks to hummingbird brains I have a knack for tuning out things and most ads go in one ear and out the other. Then there are so many ads the brain can’t retain things – at least mine. It’s a mercy.

The ads I encounter make me wonder why on earth am I being targeted for such. Aren’t they supposed to be individually tailored to my needs and wants? The ads on The Tube of Yous are often about cosmetics, online shopping for women’s attire, and miracle supplements to cure conditions I didn’t know could be cured. The Book of Faces is more specific: there are ads there for loud shirts, not that I would buy any. Come to think of it, I don’t think I have ever purchased anything from an ad on a social media site, so perhaps thems in charge can stop all of them. Fat chance of that.

Of course I could take the Mae West approach. When she was asked about people outraged by her radio program, she replied ‘well they could have turned it off’. When I feel overwhelmed by exposure to ads, nothing is better than to close the laptop and turn off the phone and sit in an ad-less environment, having a nice hot cup of tea – while I read the package for the tea bags.

“Writing is a kind of revenge against circumstances: bad luck, loss, pain. If you make something out of it, then you’ve no longer been bested by these events.” – Louis Gluck.

I write all day long. Unlike other physicians, I don’t have to lay hands on patients’ bodies; I sit across from them and type as they talk, composing out of what is often non-sequiturs a coherent progress note. With the new ones, the ‘evals’ , I use a stencil upon an 8.5 X 11 piece of paper, upon which I write notes by hand as they tell me their history. Mercifully I no longer have to write my signature. The truth behind the cliché of doctor’s bad handwriting is they are rushed to get things done and they hurry as they scribble. Now we type. Good luck for me, as I am very good at typing. I had a patient who was a court stenographer who once told me if being a doctor didn’t work out I could be easily hired in his line of work.*

You would think at day’s end writing would be the last thing I would want to do, but I am a Writer at heart, although it is not my profession. Every evening I write three things in the Gratitude Journal and before going to bed I write something in my journal, things worth jotting down. Over time the journal has become more like a captains log than a place of reflection; the latter I scribble online on this blog.

I enjoy writing by longhand, and over the years I’ve grown even more fond of using a pencil (a good one, no rubbish) to slowly write in cursive my thoughts. This careful prose forces me to go slowly and think what I am doing, which is the point. Hot emotions are paused upon which to reflect and put them in perspective. Counselors tell their clients to keep a journal for this reason: it isn’t so much purging/catharsis but getting folks to be mindful of their emotions.**

The big question is: why write more? Certainly there is enough writing already and there is lack of folks who are writing far better prose than I. I’ve been scribbling a blog for twenty years and a personal journal on and off since the 70s – by now I haven’t anything new upon which to write. Yet I keep writing and will continue until The Muses (or somebody like them) say that’s enough. My journals are private but my blog is not so, and I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t give a tosh is no one read it. So long as things happen and I have need to reflect on them I persevere. It still brings me Happiness, which is all that matters.

*It is sorely tempting. I suspect being a court stenographer has less germs and less hand-to-hand combat.

**There are many types of journaling, depending on the task. Some emphasize focusing on the positives among all the negatives. Others are to analyze what actually happened rather than what was imagined or feared to have happened. Thems with trauma histories, writing is a means to address matters with less likelihood of becoming overwhelmed.

A few Spo-fans who lived asked me once upon a time to Spo-reflect on The American healthcare system. Oh the pain. Mind! I am not an expert on this topic; I am a Polynesian writing about icebergs. I will do my best; if Spo-fans know better please clarify in the comments. Spo

Spo-fans (here and elsewhere) are often surprised to learn most doctors (including Urs Truly) are not trained in how the system works.We were told to focus on becoming a good doctor and never mind the structure. We had to learn like everyone else.

The first step to solving a problem is to understand it. Lots of folks (mostly good people) are trying to do this now. They have a hard task before them. Both political parties and US citizens tend to blame and provide solutions to the US health system in simple terms. Truth is there is no single source of blame here, folks. There are so many layers and contributing factors it make my (and others) eye cross.

The health care system is the U.S.A. unlike other countries. The rest of the world views health care as a public service, something citizens are entitled to, like roads, police, and fire departments. The USA healthcare system is mostly a commodity, a business – or a series of businesses viz. for profit companies who offer services. American citizens often complain the system doesn’t work but it does when you stop thinking its ultimate goal is providing health when the ultimate goal is making money for its shareholders. It works very well this way; health insurance companies have record profits.

In 2024 ~ 18% of the USA GDP was spent on health care, about $15,000 per person. Health care systems in other countries spend about 10%. You would think given the spending and market enterprises thems in The States get better health care and live longer and better compared to other countries. You would be wrong. Despite the larger than average spending, U.S. citizens have shorter life spans and a higher rate of chronic diseases. We don’t get more bang for our buck. Far from it. We pay more for the same stuff, whether an MRI, a hip operation, or a brand name drugs. We spend more because how the system is built, often with government not bargaining for lower prices, or health care companies looking to better profits though high deductibles and denials of services.*

Now if it were only free market it would be simpler, but it isn’t. It’s unlike any other system in the world. It is a complicated patchwork of government-fun programs AND free market, a patchwork of public programs and private insurers and government oversights. In the U.S. you can get health care through your employee who provides a company-run system or you can get Medicare and Medicaid, which are government-run health programs for thems over sixty-five and thems without means, respectively. However these programs are also supervised by private plans.

There are layers galore and scores of people are employed to sort through it. Hospitals, offices, and insurance companies have whole teams to work through billing and such. I read nearly 30% of healthcare spending is towards administrative work, far more than other countries with simpler (government-run) programs.

Most people feel the US health care system isn’t working but they spend their time not addressing the complicated contributions to the problem. They point fingers at the other political party and simplify the situation. Private insurers through lobbying have us scared any tinkering with the system with result in – gasp – ‘socialized medication’ (whatever that is supposed to be) with rationed care and long waits for getting things.** Last time I looked all the countries who don’t have a health system similar to the US are NOT voting to scrap theirs and be like The States.

I once asked my accountant if income tax would ever become simplified. He doubted it; there are too many people employed to run the complicated system and if it got easy lots of people would be unemployed. This goes double for the US healthcare system, I suspect.

When I can (meaning when I understand it) I will comment on The Big Beautiful Bill on the US Health System.

This simple chart sums up what I am trying to say.

*Speaking of high deductibles, I read somewhere the point of them was to make folks prudent in spending their health care dollars. What actually happens is folks delay getting things addressed like paying for prescriptions or avoiding going to the doctor until it serious and often too late to do much, which ends up spending more for the wait.

**Whenever my patients complain about high prices and such, they are quick to point out the horror of some government bean counter telling them if they can get a hip replacement or this med or that. I remind them their insurance companies they all love ho ho ho do that now.