sdWhy You Treat Me Like a Dog?: June 2006 .comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}
The Main Page
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
 
Blogging is Hard
My friend Doctor Bean introduced me to Blogger about a year and a half ago. It began with an email he sent me with the subject "bloggy goodness" and included a link to his group blog Kerckhoff Coffeehouse. I have to admit that his email was opened, quickly read, and then allowed to languish in the never-ending queue know as "The Inbox."

For some reason, a few months later, I came across his initial email, and finally clicked over to Kerckhoff and read a few posts. I liked what I saw, and thought, hey, what a great idea, I'll just set up a blog, send out an email to a few friends I regularly correspond with anyway inviting them to join, and put our rantings and ravings on the 'Net for all to see and partake in. What could be easier?

No dice. Of the half dozen friends I emailed to join, not one responded. Now mind you, these are people I email and talk to regularly anyway, but on the topic of starting a blog, the response was no response. A second round of cajoling resulted in my Manhattanite friend goldstone jumping on the bandwagon, and he even posted a few times in the early days. My darling wife of course did what she could being eight or nine months pregnant and then nursing and doing most of the raising of Baby Wanderer. She supported me as I tried to get this blog off the ground.

Being the perfectionist that I am, I must admit that I have been disappointed with the results. Sure I've had a few ok posts and so on. I've also acquired a handful of regulars who stop by and shoot the breeze with me, and I am indebted to them - I don't think I would have lasted this long without them. I am continuously in awe (and jealousy) of the real blogs out there. You know, the ones who get like more than 20 comments per post, nearly daily and actually have something interesting to say, nearly daily. I am particularly in awe of the solo bloggers, who despite having "day jobs" still manage to churn out good stuff on a regular basis, without the benefit of co-bloggers to take up the slack on those apathetic days, and its the good stuff that really keeps 'em coming. Their quality humbles me, and makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong here.

People have asked me what the name of the blog means. In truth, the title comes from an old demented patient of mine during my training days in the Bronx. He would lie in bed all day long saying "Why You Treat Me Like A Dog? Why You Treat Me Like A Dog? Why You Treat Me Like A Dog?" Many medical professionals develop a cynical sense of humor that this type of patient and his mantra can feed. His chant had an almost hypnotic cadence to it, and it belied on many levels how terrible his life really was. In any case, it stuck with me, and goldstone, who trained with me, knew about it, so I thought it could work as a title for the blog. Since most blogs in the J-Blogosphere tend to have a conservative slant to them, I thought that there might be room for a more Blue State take on things, and anticipated some flack, maybe even being treated like a dog sometimes. Bella, our family beagle, just seemed like a natural mascot...

I didn't set out on writing this post like it were an obituary for this blog, but am beginning to feel that it reads like one. Perhaps the fact that it hasn't taken off is emblematic of the political shift that has been occurring in the American Jewish community over the last two decades. I know I am assigning myself more importance than I deserve, particularly given the overall lack of political material here. The truth probably lies somewhere else - relating more to the overall quality of writing and perhaps the subject matter (or lack thereof). Just another voice in the wilderness.

In any case, I think I'll be taking a break from posting for a while. Perhaps I'll be back, perhaps I won't. Maybe I need to create a new blog that'll be my own, and designed that way. I don't know, but I like being called wanderer, so if you see my name somewhere, just click on it, you'll either be brought here, or directed somewhere new. In the meantime, I'll just keep reading everybody else's blogs, because that's just what I've enjoyed most about blogging. Thanks for stopping by.
- posted by wanderer @ 11:10 PM 7 comments
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
 
Every Once in a While, There's A Patient
Miguel was born with a hole in his heart. He grew up in a small town in Mexico, with his poor, penniless parents always hoping that the hole would close on its own (as they often do). But every doctor who would listen to his young heart would invariably look up at his mother and shake his or her head, no.
By the time they crossed the border and moved to the L.A. area, Miguel was a teenager. He grew appropriately, meeting all his milestones and despite his "asthma" he was able to play soccer with his friends. His parents, illegal aliens, could not afford medical care for him and certainly didn't have medical insurance.
They brought him to the pediatric cardiology clinic at County Hospital, where again, the doctor would look up and say, "no, the hole is still there." Repair of the hole would require a pediatric heart surgeon, and the County didn't have one. His parents couldn't afford to pay for the surgery, and for some odd reason, no one ever helped them find other ways to get surgery for Miguel. He was lost to follow-up for a few years. Why bother, he and his parents thought.
I met Miguel in my first months as a training cardiologist at County Hospital. It was in the adult cardiology clinic, he was now 24 years old. He continued to play soccer, as long as his "asthma" wasn't too bad. He was married, had one son and had a part time job as, of all things, a luggage handler at LAX.
His was an exciting case for a training cardiologist. Putting a stethoscope on his chest was like listening to a veritable concerto of heart sounds, murmurs and gallops. We reviewed his records from the pediatric clinic and together with one of my mentors, I set out to work him up - completely.
An echocardiogram was arranged - the ultrasound images showed us the gaping hole between his two ventricles. One of his heart valves had been sucked into the hole with every beat for the last 24 years, and was beginning to collapse. He needed surgery.
His part time job did not provide him with insurance, though luckily by now he had obtained legal documentation and had a green card. Social workers were contacted and we began the process of obtaining adequate insurance coverage for what was now a very complex and unusual surgical procedure.
Two years passed – I continued to see him in clinic on a regular basis. In the mean time I was able to arrange for the necessary preliminary procedures to be done at County Hospital, and actually performed most of them myself. The social workers continued to work on arranging for surgery at Major University Medical Center.
Then one day in the fall of my last year of training, his insurance came through! By now his wife was seven months pregnant with their third child. The first two had been screened for heart disease and were spared; the third one’s fetal ultrasound was also encouraging. We arranged for Miguel’s surgery.
The heart surgeons at Major University Medical Center operated on Miguel and he did great! I visited him on the second day post-op. He had just finished vomiting his first meal. He had been given spaghetti and meatballs when all he should have had was jello and clear liquids… But he did fine.
I continued to see him in the clinic for the remainder of my training. He knew that I would soon be leaving County Hospital to enter private practice. On my last clinic visit with him, he asked me where I was going. I told him the name of the practice, and where it was. He said to me, “Doc, you have done so much for me and saved my life. I am going to get insurance, and I am going to come see you in your private office.”
Yesterday morning, five years almost to the day from that last visit, Miguel was waiting for me with a huge smile on his face in an exam room in my office. He had been promoted to a full time dispatcher, qualified for insurance and tracked me down. He now has two healthy sons and a healthy daughter. He still plays soccer, and even coaches his eldest son’s soccer team. His “asthma” is gone.
- posted by wanderer @ 11:56 AM 10 comments

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