And you thought Lyme disease was bad...

New England is pretty much ground zero for Lyme disease. (The name itself comes from the town of Lyme, Connecticut.) And I know a couple of folks who've been diagnosed with it. It's the No Fun Zone, for sure. The friends I know "just" have the long-run joint pain, but there are all sorts of pretty serious symptoms associated with Lyme.

I'm not out in tick territory very often, but have had a couple of scares over the years. 

The bulls-eye rash was probably from a spider bite acquired in the wilds of Maine, but my doctor prescribed an antiobiotic just to be on the safe side. 

With the second scare, the rash wasn't so bulls-eye-ish, but I sent a picture in and had a tele-appointment with a doctor. Turned out to be big nothing. Phew!

Who wants Lyme disease?

Not I, said the fly. Or the tick. Or whatever.

And if I thought Lyme disease was a must-avoid, what am I to make of alpha-gal syndrome, brought to you by the lone star tick and now breaking out in Massachusetts' elite island environs:

Likely brought to Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket by migrating birds, lone star ticks are native to the American South, but climate change has allowed them to survive in northern coastal areas and given them a longer active season. Their typical period runs from April through September. (Source: Boston Globe)

Which, natch, is vacation time for the rich and famous, and everyone else who loves these islands. Although I've only been to MVY and ACK - I see cars in my 'hood with the airport designation stickers on the rear window -  a few times, and not in years, they're both beautiful, charming, and all sorts of other good things.  

And they are more likely than deer ticks, which carry Lyme, to be found in the short grass of a mown lawn. 

As in just outside your front door. Supah! 

Alpha-gal syndrome sounds sort of jaunty. Kind of like girlboss. But the gal is for galactose (a simple sugar), and the syndrome is anything but jaunty. A tick bite can result in an "incurable allergy to red meat, dairy, even some medicines found in everyday life across the island. " While some folks aren't affected, in others:

 ...sugar primes their immune system to wildly overreact when they eat food that contains that same molecule, such as red meat and dairy. Symptoms range from a mild rash, hives, itching, stomach pain, and diarrhea to, in some, anaphylaxis. It is believed that repeated bites from lone star ticks can worsen the allergic reaction.

Swell!

And, unlike the deer tick which brings us the gift of Lyme disease, the lone star tick doesn't just dwell in woods and tall grasses, which you can kinda-sorta avoid. Or wear long pants and socks pulled up over the pants legs. (A nice look which I have sported on occasion in walks in the scrub on the Cape.) The lone star tick is everywhere, including lawns. 

Longtime islanders have to be wary of going in their own yards, and school lunches pose a threat to kids who might be allergic. Even some medicines pose a risk if the gel caps they come in are derived from animal proteins that could trigger an outbreak.

Residents are trying all sorts of things - chemical and organic sprays.  But also:

...pesticide-treated clothes, acupuncture, herbal medicine, even genetically engineered mice — all are on the table as preventatives or cures.

Pesticide treated clothing? Yikes. I'm sure that's a real joy for parents. Does this come in a onesie?

And there are the inevitable tensions between the chemical and organic advocates. 

The lone star ticks are, of course, on the march. Some have been spotted in Massachusetts. Good thing I don't have a lawn, I guess. 

Culling the local deer population is also under consideration. But the lone star tick is wilier than the deer tick that's responsible for so much of Lyme disease. And:

Lone star ticks are also faster and more aggressive than other species. Their larva cluster into what’s called a tick bomb. When disturbed, the larva, about the size of a grain of sand, can swarm a person by the hundreds.

Restaurants are responding with "alpha-gal friendly" menus, but some folks are so sensitive that even a whiff of a hamburger broiling away on the grill can cause a reaction. And forget taking a gel capsule medicine. Chalky tablets for you, my friend. 

The good news is, once you're on the beach, there are no ticks. Just don't walk through scrub and dune grass to get there. But once you're in the sand, it's still okay to go barefootin' and flip-floppin'. 

But overall, alpha-gal syndrome sounds just ghastly. Sure, you can convert to being a vegan, but if just smelling a burger being cooked can set you off, this one is a must avoid. 

And I thought Lyme disease was bad...

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Image Source: Fortune

Hypochondriacs, assemble!

Just when I think I've said everything I have to say about the perils of AI, up pops another one. And this pop up is a doozy. A not surprising doozy, but a doozy nonetheless.

A couple of years back, Almira Osmanovic Thunström, a medical researcher at a Swedish university (and an "AI strategist") came to the realization that an awful lot of folks - including brainiacs who should know better, given how cavalierly so many of them are using AI - hadn't a clue how it works. (Bad enough that innocent bystanders, naive googlers, mere consumers of misinfo are blissfully ignorant.)

“It was interesting how few of them [her students], or how few even people within A.I., understand how large language models (LLMs) are built,” [she said]. (Source: The Smithsonian)

So she decided to teach her class how the AI systems that produce the info we get when we google are constructed. (Not all AI stems from LLMs, but when we amateurs are out there googling, the information/misinformation regurgitated to us on a platter of convenience and speed likely comes from an
LLM.) 

And what better way for a medical researcher to do so than to concoct a fake disease and see what AI could do with it.  

“...I really wanted to have a clear case that leaves breadcrumbs throughout the whole system to show both how data is processed, how data is churned out, and how the prediction model and training model works when it comes to distributing information,” adds Osmanovic Thunström.

The condition that she and her team came up with was bixonimania, a malady associated with computer screen use.  (And who among us hasn't searched a time or two to see if we could figure out how all our screen time was impacting us mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually?)

They unleashed bixonimania on a searching, unsuspecting world in early 2024.

They put out two blog posts on the website Medium and two research reports on a preprint server, where scientists post studies that have not been peer-reviewed... The papers’ lead author was named Lazljiv Izgubljenovic—which translates to “lying loser”—and one of the studies’ titles says something akin to “Hyperpigmentation: A Real B.S. Design.” (Both reports have since been taken down by the preprint server.)

In defense of AI - and this may be my one and only defense of AI - maybe it would have picked up on the fakery if the author's name was given as "Lying Loser" in English, rather than in Bosnian, Serbian, and Croatian. Maybe.

Anyway, LLMs started to run with it. You searched on your symptoms and Microsoft Bing's Copilot would tell you that “Bixonimania is indeed an intriguing and relatively rare condition." Indeed!

Naturally, Chat GPT got in the act. And Google's Gemini attributed the condition to too much exposure to blue light. (By the way, those eyeglass lenses that are supposed to help prevent occurrences of bad things associated with blue light? They're apparently as dubious as bixonimania. As I found out when I ordered them - and paid a couple of hundred bucks extra - without checking with my eye doctor first.)

Worse yet, a number of scientists crazily/lazily went ahead and cited the BS apparently without having drilled down on the "research." Or even read it. (I'm guessing those gulled by the fakery were using Chat GPT to author their own work. Full circle!)

This despite the fact that Osmanovic Thunström's team threw in a bunch of Easter eggs that gave away the fakery - or should have. References to financial support from Lord of the Rings, and intellectual support from fellow scientists at the Starship Enterprise. 

At least one of the papers even explicitly stated, “This entire paper is made up,” reports Nature.

And that wasn't enough for the LLM to pick up on? Maybe the AI's eyesight was faltering due to bixonimania. Oh, wait...

“This is a master class on how mis- and disinformation operates,” says Alex Ruani, a misinformation researcher at University College London who wasn’t involved in the project, to Nature. “If the scientific process itself and the systems that support that process are skilled, and they aren’t capturing and filtering out chunks like these, we’re doomed.”

Doomed? Yikes! (And what a job title: misinformation researcher.  Bet that position didn't exist ten years ago. Maybe it's one of those swell jobs they keep telling us AI will create once it kills off all the current jobs.)

Meanwhile, I can think of one group of folks who might just delight in having a bunch of fake but harmless conditions out there. Hypochondriacs, assemble!

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Image source:  Amazon

Yet another thing that shouldn't be for profit

There are plenty of things that shouldn't be run on a for profit basis.

Prisons. Jails. Healthcare. Rehab. Armies. Student housing. And schools. Grammar schools. High schools. Colleges. And, yep, nursing schools. 

Across the boards, the need to maximize profits tends to lead to a lot of bad behaviors. Depending on the industry, this can mean pressure to grow in areas that shouldn't be expanding, but should be contracting. (Looking at you, prison industrial complex!) It can mean corner-cutting and shoddy service delivery to minimize expenses. (Dorms are supposed to be crappy, no? And that patient with bedsores can wait to get shifted in her bed. She's on her way out anyway.) 

For-profit schools for younger children often weed out the kids who are most likely to be poor learners in need of extra support and who would thus put some dents in a school's vaunted "outcomes" metrics.  

In higher education, profit maximization often means predatory marketing, pressure on the low-income students they recruit to take on more debt than they can afford, and folks ending up with a substandard, unrespected degree or credential. If they achieve that degree or credential at all. 

So like most of the insitutions of "higher education" that are run as money making schemes, for profit nursing schools are controversial. They tend to focus on non-traditional students who want their education to be fast and flexible. Who are easy to get sucked in.

Florida's Carleen Noreus was the president (owner operator) of two eponymous schools in Florida: Carleen Home Health School, Inc. in Plantation, and Carleen Home Health School II, Inc. in West Palm. (Really? She gave her schools her first name? That should have been BIG RED FLAG #1.) But teaching nursing was apparently way too much work for Carleen Noreus. Those who can, teach. Those who can't teach - or just don't want to - can just sell fake diplomas. Both of Carleen's schools have been shuttered, but while she was open for business:

Prosecutors said she conspired with others to sell fraudulent nursing diplomas and transcripts to people who hadn't completed the required coursework, enabling them to take national nursing board examinations.

Between April 2018 and October 2025, Noreus was responsible for providing 2,956 fraudulent nursing diplomas through the schools, prosecutors said.

Of those, around 2,274 passed nursing board examinations, allowing them to obtain nursing licenses and work as nurses in Florida and across the country, authorities said. (Source: NBC Miami)

The fake credentials she provided were for RN's, LPN's, and for BSN degrees. And goody good that the majority of those who short-cutted their way out of nursing school managed to pass their licensing exams. But baddy bad that they did so without completing important coursework AND without critical clinical experience. 

As a result of her "work," Noreus - who pleaded guilty to wire fraud and money laundering - is facing lengthy prison time once she's sentenced. Not clear what happens to the 2,274 certified nurses who passed their tests with flying colors. Presumably their licenses will be revoked and their careers will crash and burn.

Noreus was one of 13 defendants in this case, which was brought by the DOJ's South Florida District. It's certainly good to know that the DOJ is still capable of focusing on something other than selective persecutions prosecutions of those on Trump's enemies list. 

This prosecution is part of the second phase of Operation Nightingale (such a great name!) "a nationwide effort targeting fraudulent nursing diploma schemes operated by for-profit nursing schools in South Florida." (During Operation Nightingale's first phase, 30 miscreants were convicted.) Florida, huh? Why am I not surprised.

“Nursing licenses must be earned through education, training, and demonstrated competence, not purchased through fraud,” said U.S. Attorney Jason A. Reding Quiñones for the Southern District of Florida. “By selling thousands of fraudulent diplomas and transcripts, the defendant undermined the integrity of the nursing profession and our healthcare system. The Southern District of Florida remains committed to holding accountable those who profit by corrupting professional licensing processes and placing the public at risk.” (Source: US Department of Justice)

Nurses. RNs. LPNs. BSNs. PAs. NPs. 

I respect and admire nurses. Sure, they're not all Florence Nightingales. Not all Edith Clavells. (A WWI nurse-martyr.) They're not all the nurse Cherry Ames-es, the nurse Sue Bartons, of the insipid book series I consumed as a kid. Some nurses are no doubt Nurse Ratchets.

But to me, they've been the human and humane face of medicine. The ones who have more time and patience for their patients.  

I have had nothing but wonderful experiences with nurses, both personally and through second-hand observation. One of the most supportive professionals we encountered during my husband's long cancer fight was the NP who worked with Jim's oncologist. During one particularly gruesome period near Jim's end of life, I emailed Kelly at 5 a.m. on her day off, hoping that she'd get back to me the next day. She got back to me at 5:15 a.m.

My ortho is a PA. When needs be, he consults with the orthopedic surgeon he works with to review XRays and MRIs, and I have 100% trust in him. 

Sure, those 2,274 wannabe nurses passed their licensing exams. Who knows what prompted them to participate in this scam. They ran out of money. They flunked an exam and didn't want to take a course over. Who knows?

But I wouldn't want one of them showing up at my bedside, that's for sure.

I guess this is just what happens when you put the profit motive first. 

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Image Source: Daily Nurse

Good news for those who aren't a whiter shade of pale

A couple of weeks ago, I had what is likely my final visit with my dermatologist.

I was there for a periodic skin check, but the doctor found nothing to be worried about. On the one hand, I have very fair skin and skin cancer hits us pale faces more often than it does those with darker skin tones . On the other, although I did suffer a couple of hurty-hurt sunburns when I was a young fool, I've never been much of a sunworshipper. And there's no immediate family history of squamous cell carcinoma (vs. "good" skin cancer, which is basal cell) or melanoma. Plus I'm old. So unless I spot some worrying skin lesion, there's no need to come back. Ever. 

I do have vitiligo, an autoimmune condition that causes white patches to appear on my body. Mine are on my legs, arms, and armpits (of all things), but because I'm so light-skinned those white blotches just blend right in and aren't noticeable unless you're looking. And trust me, ain't nobody looking. Except Dr. Angel - my dermatologist's real name - and she has to look to find it.

Vitiligo can, of course, be awful, especially if it appears on your face. And especially if you have dark skin. For some vitiligo sufferers, it's obvious and disfiguring. 

Anyway, skin tone matters for a lot of reasons, and some of them - like the likelihood of cancer and the impact of vitiligo - are medical. And it's not just in medically obvious ways.  Skin tone is used to help "diagnose low blood oxygen, neonatal jaundice, and hospital-acquired pressure injuries [i.e., bedsores]." And most of the diagnostic tools that look at skin tone have been oriented towards white people. 

There was a standard for measuring skin tone, used from the mid-1970's on, that covered a six point spectrum. But four points on the scale were for those with light-colored skin, with two additional points for brown and Black skin. But those two points didn't incorporate the full spectrum of possibililties.

Enter the Monk Skin Tone (MST) scale which was developed by Ellis Monk  - a Harvard sociology professor - in 2019. Some

of Monk's academic work had focused on colorism (prejudice, often intra-race, towards those with darker skin).  Encouraged by colleagues and his wife (because behind every great man...), Monk began working on a more expansive way of evaluating skin color.

The sociologist ended up developing a 10-tone, open-source scale aimed at improving inclusivity in skin tone classification across technological and clinical domains...Its original form, with colored spheres, reflected a much wider range of skin tones. But Monk settled on a 10-point scale for pragmatic reasons. “Ten points are pretty much the breaking point for having people be able to consistently use it as a subjective scale,” he said. (Source: Harvard Faculty of Arts and Sciences)

The MST is being used beyond medical applications, and is improving search engine, driverless car, and facial recognition technologies. Facial recognition tecnology in particular is notoriously less effective in differentiating one Black person from the next - which has resulted in many innocent people being accused of crimes they had nothing to do with. Etc. 

But the MST is now being adopted by the medical industry. And this cost-effective device is saving lives. 

Among the life-saving applications are pulse oximeters - you know, the little finger thingies we all bought for ourselves during COVID - which:

...measure blood oxygen by analyzing light as it passes through the skin via a small finger clamp. However, darker skin absorbs light differently than lighter skin. Because pulse oximeters originally used white skin as the standard, people with darker skin would get inaccurate readings. And because these inaccurate readings skewed higher, many people with dangerously low blood oxygen ended up with too-high readings, meaning they would appear to have normal blood oxygen.

Then there are bedsores.  

The[se] injuries are traditionally under-diagnosed in darker-skinned people, but a laminated badge displaying the MST scale, along with 15 minutes of training, is helping nurses recognize more incidents of HAPIs. A 2026 study finds the badge, which costs approximately $2, reducing these injuries by 94 percent at a 900-bed Level I trauma hospital in Los Angeles.

Because of his work, Monk has been "awarded the National Institutes of Health Director’s New Innovator Award. Monk was the first sociologist to win this $2.5 million grant." Unfortunately, the grant was canceled in 2025, presumably by DOGE know-nothings. Presumably because Monk's work is about color. And we can't have that. So what if a bunch of old Black folks get bedsores? Solving that problem is so patently unfair to whites. 

Despite termination of his NIH grant, Monk intends to continue this work, having seen applications for common medical tests such as EKGs and EEGs, which also take measurements through the skin.

“People have been operating blind to color,” he said. “You can’t do that, because the skin is your interface with the technological world.”

Good for Professor Ellis Monk. And good news for those among us who aren't, like me, a whiter shade of pale. 

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Image Source: Research Gate

For the record, although some days I feel as pallid as an A, I'm pretty sure I'm a B on the scale. 

Release the kratom? What's it worth to you?

Although I've been known to pop a mini-can of Diet Coke to jolt me out of my longing for an afternoon snooze, I've never imbibed an energy-boosting drink. No Jolt. No Red Bull. No Monster Energy. (Seriously, who needs the energy of a monster?)

Most energy drinks are, like my mini-can of Diet Coke, caffeinated. Just a lot more potently caffeinated than my mini DC.

But there's another category of energy boosters - often sold in gas stations to help drivers ward of falling asleep at the wheel -  that use kratom leaves, which are also supposed to be useful for painkilling.

Admittedly, there aren't many things beyond water you can put in your mouth without risk of something or other. And even bottled water is so unregulated that there could be something no good lurking in every gulp of H2O. But "kratom has been linked to liver toxicity, seizures and thousands of deaths." 

From 2020 through 2024, kratom was found in the system of more than 5,200 people who died of drug overdoses, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention based on death certificates and other official reports. Though often found in combination with other drugs, one study determined that those using kratom carried a sixfold increase in the risk of overdose death. (Source: NY Times)

Oh that...(Guess I won't be looking for kratom gummies to kill the pain in my paining knees.)

Despite linkages to things like death, there are many kratom proponents working to make sure that kratom-based supplements and drinks aren't regulated. One of these proponents is Markwayne Mullin, former senator R-Oklahoma and now Secretary of Homeland Security, who was a big booster of kratom boosting before being tapped to run DHS (and I'm guessing since as well). 

Was good ol' boy Markwayne doing this out of the goodness of his heart? Well, bless your heart for thinking the best, but Mullin was in fact an investor in Botanic Tonics, a kratom company, to the tune of as much as $1M. 

Last summer, while still a senator, Mullin:

...endorsed proposed federal restrictions on more powerful synthetic supplements that compete with kratom for shelf space. In explaining his position, Mr. Mullin pointed to a history of addiction in his family, though health experts say kratom products have also been shown to be addictive.

Oh that... 

Jerry Ross is Botanic Tonics founder, and he's been spearheading kratom-related lobbying efforts. Successes include getting the FDA to remove info on its kratom webpage regarding a case against Botanic, and then - what the hell - getting the DOJ to drop the case entirely. (I won't mention that Jerry Ross is an ex-con, because I really do believe in rehabilitation.)

All this successful "advice-giving" don't come cheap:

Mr. Kennedy, as health secretary, called the governor of Ohio to try to head off a state ban on kratom in the fall of 2025. Months later, Botanic Tonics donated $1 million to a political committee associated with Mr. Kennedy.

Ross also donated over $400K to the RNC.

The lobbyists, of course, pooh-pooh the implication that they're up to anything untoward. 

The CEO of a rival kratom company has said that "'It’s not pay to play. It’s pay to have conversations. It’s pay to have a chance at the table...I mean, that is the world that we live in.'” 

He's right, of course, but what a hell world. And also upside down world, as the Trump admin promotes risky, unproven products as a means to Make America Healthy Again. (As in healthy back when kids were crippled and killed by polio? MAHA? HAHA!) What, us science?

Speaking of pooh-poohing, it will come as no surprise that the White House (via spokesman Kush Desai) is claiming that it would never be influenced by lobbyists with checkbooks. 

“The only guiding factor behind the Trump administration’s health care policymaking is gold standard science,” he said in a statement. The administration, he added, was working “to get this critical matter correct and ensure the health and safety of Americans.”

I'm going to take their word for it here. It's not like they'd ever sell a pardon or make coin trading on insider info or award an inflated no-bid contract to someone willing to shovel some cash their way. (Only kidding.)

Not that corruption will automatically disappear when these guys are all good and gone, but, man, they are so openly and blatantly coin-operated it ain't even funny.

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Image Source: ClipartMax

I, Crepitus! (Snap, Crackle, and Pop)

I have been averaging 5-7 miles a day walking for years. While I fully understand that this is not a perfect workout, it has mostly worked out for me. If I have an occasional ache and pain (arthritis in both knees, the left ankle, the left hip), it's seldom been a big deal. Sure, I know I should also be strengthening my core, working on my balance, but my walking routine suited me just fine. Cleared my head. Allowed me to have 2 - maybe 3 - cookies with my afternoon cup of tea. 

Make that I had been averaging 5-7 miles a day walking for years.  As of mid-April, I've put my Fitbit aside. I'm walking a bit, but out of necessity, not for pleasure or exercise. And if I were to hazard a guess, my average daily walk is closer to 2 miles in total. (But who's counting? Not me, any longer.) 

I was visiting my sister in Tucson when the first sign of impending doom appeared. 

Although I had hydrated on the flight (plenty I thought: apparently not) and moved around (a couple of bathroom trips), when I got to Kath's I was experiencing leg pain. So I got in the spa and soaked up the warmth, and ordered compression socks for the trip home.

We were out walking on my next to last day when all of a sudden I could barely put any weight on my leg. We were not far from Kath's house, so I was able to drag back home, where Kath supplied me with a knee brace. (She has arthritis in her knee, as well, and is facing a knee replacement. Thanks, Nanny for gifting us with what in the family is known as the Trainor Knees!) I hobbled over to the spa for a good soak. And got me a collapsible cane at Walgreen's. I also called my doctor to schedule an appointment for the day after I got home.

Well, I did learn that people in airports are very kind to little old grey-haired ladies with canes. Unfortunately, I had to learn this by being a little old grey-haired lady with a cane. And so it goes. (Note: Most of my airport assistance was thanks to my sister Trish, my traveling companion.)

I got home late (10 or so) and made it up the front steps with my suitcase, relieved to have limped home and ready to seee my doctor the next day.

I have an upside down, two-floor condo. The first floor has my living room, kitchen, and second bathroom. Downstairs is where my den, office, bedroom, and main bathroom are. There are three ways to get downstairs: the steep, narrow, and winding staircase inside my unit; the broader, more gradual starcase in the communal area; and the building's ancient elevator.

Although I pay my full share for it (which is plenty: the elevator is 100+ years old), I rarely have any reason to use the elevator. But I really didn't want to schlepp my bag down the stairs, so I pressed the button for the elevator. When I couldn't hear it gearing up, I group texted the other residents to see if the elevator door was left open on one of their floors. Not here. Not here. Not here. 

So I decided to carry my bag down. (Why I didn't unload it in the living room, carry the clothing down, and leave the damned suitcase on the first floor, I'll never know.) 

They say when you tear a meniscus, you sometimes hear the pop.

Well, yes, yes that is the case.

Anyway, the hellzapoppin meniscus tear - as I learned after an initial x-ray, a later MRI, and a second x-ray - joined a bunch of other small tears, and arthritis galore in my left knee.

The ortho PA I met with told me that, at this point, there was no need for a knee replacement, but that given the extensive arthritis, the knee could give out at any time. He gave me some exercises, and told me to stop walking so much, but to gradually introduce walking back into my life. He also told me to come back if things went to hell, and I could get a cortisone shot which would probably enable me to put off surgery for a while anyway. (You can't get the shots indefinitely, as they destroy whatever there is around your old knee that holds the whole shebang in place.)

I then made an appointment with a physical therapist, and while gimping out to meet with her, I realized that it was no longer a matter of just the funky left knee. The arthritic right knee had decided to get in on the act.

Well, PT has been helpful. I do the exercises twice a day. And I've joined a gym, where I'm working twice a week with a trainer on strenghtening the quads and hammies, and doing a tiny bit on upper body strength, core, and balance. 

The gym, HealthWorks - where my sister Kath is also a member and has been encouraging me to join for years - is great. The facilities are terrific. Extra points for being all-women (or non-binary). The trainer I'm working with, Correen, is a peach.

I have had to update my wardrobe, as I didn't want to embarrass my sister by showing up in twenty-year old stretchy capri workout pants from LL Bean and whatever ratty cotton tee-shirts I had sitting around. (Or which there is an abundance.) So now I have some very comfy joggers and complementary color tees, and while I can't compete with some of the super-fit young women in their shorts and midriff tops, I no longer look like Haystack Calhoun's sister. (May the gods of decency forgive me for ordering my gear from the execrable Amazon.)

The knees are improving.

I'm mostly walking to wherever I have to go - St. Francis House, the grocery store, PT, the gym, errands in the 'hood - and mostly without the cane or knee braces. Which I mostly carry with me, in case I need them on the way back. 

Sometimes - if it's too damned hot, if I'm carrying a lot of groceries - I Uber. 

When I get up from the couch or a chair, I sometimes hear creaking. This is not entirely new, but it's now a lot more frequent than it used to be - back in the days when I wore a Fitbit and averaged 5-7 mile a day. 

Worse, when I do the exercises, I sometimes hear a crinkling noise. Straight out of a bowl of rice crispies. Snap, Crackle, and Pop. 

It's crepitus, something I'd never heard of, but now it's my lived experience. And it's not, in fact, about old age. According to Cedars-Sinai, crepitus is:

The crackling, crunching, grinding or grating noise that accompanies flexing a joint.

And:

Even though "crepitus" comes from the Latin word for "creak" and has the same root as "decrepitude," its snap, crackle and pop sounds do not necessarily signify advanced age. The sound arises from air or other gases in tissue under the skin. For example, crack your knuckles and the microscopic nitrogen bubbles inside pop to attention.

Who knew? Even though I used to love to crack my knuckles, I didn't know there was a word for it.

But it's hard not to associate all the creaking, all the snap, crackle, and popping, all the pain-in-the-knee, with aging, with becoming - yikes! - decrepit.

I, Crepitus! Or, I guess, retrieving my long-ago Latin, I, Crepita!

I find myself increasing quoting the Stones these days: What a drag it is, getting old.  But truly, you just have to laugh...(I do, anyway.)

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Image source: Fandom

Longevity. (Remember when 80 used to sound old?)

Last month, Tracy Kidder died at the age of 80. Kidder was a terrific long form journalist and I was a long-time reader and admirer of his work. His most recent book, Rough Sleepers, centered on the work of Dr. Jim O'Connell, founder of Boston's Healthcare for the Homeless. When the book - which I loved - was first published, I heard him speak and interviewed, alongside Jim O'Connell, at a Boston bookstore. 

I learned of his death when my friend Joyce texted me. 

In response, I asked her "Remember when 80 used to sound old?" She replied "Thought same." Joyce and I are both 76. Next January, her husband turns 80. We are old. And when you're old, occasional thoughts do tend to turn to big questions, like realistically, how much longer?

I have no desire to live forever. Yet I'm still hoping for a few more good years - a decade or so - and would be fine with living to be the new old-old (90+) if I still have reasonably good health. I.e., I'm not demented, I'm mostly healthy, and can still live independently (or with a light assist). I'm okay (good thing) with the small depredations of aging: occasional forgetfulness, minor aches and minor pains, a bit less energy, a bit more creakiness. But, like pretty much every one of my age peers, I want to stay in this pre-Big Sleep state until I just die in my sleep some night (or afternoon, during my nap). 

But this getting old thang does make me curious about longevity, so I was interested in a recent roundup of 2025's "Top Ten Longevity Cities." Where were they, and what made their residents so long-lived? 

The group doing the rounding up are from SuperAge, a media platform dedicated to helping folks live better and longer which, as noted, I'm all for as long as longer and better go hand in hand. (I took their longevity quiz, and got the prediction that I'm likely to live to be 90. So phew. But the quiz was imperfect. It asked at what age your grandparents died, and you got to pick one age range. Depending on which grandparent, I could have chosen under 60 (both grandfathers - one in his mid 40's, the other in his early 50's) or over 90 (paternal grandmother: almost 97). But still, I found a predicted longevity of 90.18 years a comforting and interesting result. Nice to learn that, statistically speaking, I should have a few more years in which to actually accomplish something. (Guess I should start now. Or tomorrow, anyway.)

Here's how SuperAge landed on "the best longevity hotspots:"

...we analyzed multiple data sources, including global life expectancy reports, healthcare rankings, lifestyle studies, and socio-economic factors. Here’s what we looked at:Life Expectancy Data: We pulled numbers from the World Health Organization (WHO), United Nations, and national statistics agencies.

Healthcare Quality: Cities with universal healthcare, accessible medical services, and a strong emphasis on preventative care made the cut.

Diet and Nutrition: Places where whole foods, Mediterranean diets, and heart-healthy eating habits are the norm ranked highly.

Active Lifestyles: We considered regions with walkable cities, public transit, outdoor recreation, and cultural emphasis on movement.

Community and Social Well-Being: Social connection plays a huge role in longevity, so we focused on cities with strong community bonds, low crime rates, and high levels of life satisfaction.

Work-Life Balance: Stress is a silent killer. We highlighted cities with reasonable working hours, paid leave policies, and government-supported wellness initiatives.

And the 10 winners are:

• Seoul, South Korea - Life Expectancy: 83.5 years
• Madrid, Spain - Life Expectancy: 85.4 years
• Zurich, Switzerland - Life Expectancy: 84.0 years
• Quebec City, Canada - Life Expectancy: 82.5 years
• Melbourne, Australia - Life Expectancy: 83.2 years
• Singapore - Life Expectancy: 83.6 years
• Copenhagen, Denmark - Life Expectancy: 81.3 years
• Tokyo, Japan - Life Expectancy: 84.6 years
• Oslo, Norway - Life Expectancy: 83.0
• Boulder, Colorado - Life Expectancy: 82.4

Two things were not exactly surprising. 1) All of the countries represented are affluent, with modern economies; 2) The United States doesn't exactly shine. We have only one top-tenner, and that is - of course! - hippy-dippy-outdoorsy Boulder, Colorado.

And it's sobering to see that only one city - Madrid - had a life expectancy over the age of 85. Let me tell you, from where I sit, 85.4 doesn't sound all that old...

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Image Source: New Statesman

Why we have regulations, Part one million, three hundred thousand, nine-hundred forty nine

Chances are that, at any given time, there'll be a chunk of Parmigiano-Reggiano in my fridge. Some pasta on the shelf, a bottle of olive oil, a jar of black pepper...as long as you've got some Parm just sitting there waiting to be grated, you've got the makings of cacio e pepe. Mangia!

What I had never realized until I actually looked at the label the other day is that Parmigiano-Reggiano is made using raw milk. 

This gave me the tiniest of pauses. Raw milk? Isn't that kinda-sorta Bobby Kennedy-esque?

But from a quick google around, I learned that the aging process, the salt content, the hardness of the cheese, and a few other parts of the product and process combine to make this glorious cheese safe to eat. Plus authentic Parmigiano-Reggiano comes from Italia, where they have high standards for safety and rigorous safety practices. So, blessedly rare listeria or E coli. 

But there is a reason why things like, say, pasteurization exist, and why most of us in modern times drink pasteurized milk, and eat ice cream and cheese made with it. And that's so we don't suffer from the listeria- and E coli-causing bacteria that may exist in non-pasteurized milk and milk products. Who wants diarhhea from slurping down a glass of milk with a sleeve of Oreos? Who wants abdominal cramps from gulping down a maple walnut ice cream cone? Who wants to end up hospitalized with kidney failure because of cheese gone bad?

No one actually wants these outcomes, but some are willing to risk them because for some reason they believe that raw milk is healthier for you.

I don't understand why anyone would be against pasteurization. I guess the claim is that the process diminishes the taste and nutrition of milk, with little downside. (In their view, anyway.) But it's not as if pasteurization introduces any foreign bodies; it's not as if it's a chemical process. Heat the milk, kill the bacteria. Seems pretty straightforward to me. 

Not to mention that, since it's introduction in the mid-19th century, pasteurization has saved hundreds of millions of lives from milk-borne illness. 

But raw milk and raw milk product consumption has been on the rise. I'm guessing this is among the same brigade who doesn't think that measles or polio vaccines are good ideas, either. Maybe, like RFK Jr., they also enjoy a good roadkill dinner on occasion.

Recently:

Raw cheddar cheese from Raw Farm[the country's largest raw milk distributor] has been linked with an outbreak, though no Raw Farm products have tested positive for E coli... Cheddar cheese from California-based Raw Farm identified as ‘likely source’ of infections across multiple states. (Source: The Guardian)

The FDA recommended that Raw Farm agree to a voluntary recall, but they're not having it, pointing to their products having been "negative for all harmful bacteria." (In 2024, California did recall some Raw Farms products that tested positive for bird flu.)

Frankly, I'm surprised that the FDA made this recommendation, given that RFK Jr. is a big proponent of raw milk. And is, in fact, a long-time Raw Farms' customer. Probably just a matter of time before he roots out anyone in the organizations he oversees - FDA, CDC, etc. - who isn't getting with his raw milk, anti-vax, and other quackery program.

Wish RFK would focus on the things that science actually supports, and that could have a positive health outcome. I would think we'd all be in favor of fewer crazy chemicals in processed foods.

But food regulations came about for a reason. And that was that people were getting sick and dying from contaminated food and drink. A bunch of kids getting sick from eating raw milk cheese is entirely avoidable. There are plenty of reasons why we have regulations, and this is just one of them.

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Image Source: Erewhon

OK. AI is good for some thing(s)

One of the very worst diseases I can imagine is ALS. I had a friend - not a close friend, but a friend nonetheless - who died of ALS, and it was just brutal to see this vibrant, brilliant, funny, kind, generous, irreverent very tough guy suffer through this. That Jake was also an athlete - a rugby player, a multi-multi-multi-multi-marathoner - made his dying of a disease that robs you of your mobility all the more poignant. But even if someone lacked Jake's wonderful character and traits, they wouldn't deserve to die from ALS. There is no one on the face of the earth who I despise more than I do DJT, and I wouldn't even wish ALS on him. 

ALS pretty much robs you of everything, including speech. 

I don't know David Betts, but thanks to a story I saw on the news, I know of him.

He's a Pennsylvania man who, like Jake, was stricken with ALS. David Betts' had enjoyed a highly successful career in consulting (with Deloitte), so he decided to take his analytic mind and problem solving skills to doing something about what was happening to him and, of course, the others who have the misfortune to get stuck with ALS. 

What David Betts did was develop an "AI-powered text-to-speech app. It speaks back in your choice of dozens of voices, but the kicker is, it's your actual voice."

He dubbed the app "Talk to Me, Goose."

"If anyone is a 'Top Gun' fan, it's the very first line in the very first film," David Betts said. "It's what he says when he needs a little dose of courage, and I kind of thought I'm going to need a little dose of courage." (Source: WCVB)

Although I liked 'Top Gun' well enough to also watch (and enjoy) the sequel, I wouldn't say I was exactly a fan, and I had no recall of the movie's opening line. (I did remember that Mav's (Tom Cruise's) best buddy was Goose (Anthony Edwards), and that Goose died in a freak top gun sort of accident. 

Anyway, Goose sure talked to David Betts, and he went out and created an app that will let those with ALS speak in their own voice.

He first looked at what was around for folks with speech limitations. He didn't find much

"They were still predominantly using what I found to be voice technology providers that sounded very robotic, and that's what terrified me. I did not want to sound like a robot," he said.

The technology to make voice clones already existed, so he took it a step further, learning how to create an app and putting it all together.

"I felt like I didn't have anything to lose, like there was no downside," Betts said.

And plenty of upside for those who could use a break.

Having successfully used his own app, Betts asked the question "How can we take this technology and reconnect people with their own voice?" The answer was to partner with an organization with broad reach into the ALS community. So he joined forces with Live Like Lou, an organization that supports those with ALS and their families, to make the app available for free. (The organization honors Lou Gehrig, the Yankees great of the 1930's who died of ALS.)

Available on iOS and Android, Talk to Me, Goose! helps individuals express themselves and share stories using advanced text-to-speech and personal voice cloning, even if their natural speech changes.

My friend Jake had a fast-moving version of ALS and lived less than a year post-diagnosis. During that year, he raised a ton of money for ALS research, including throwing a 65th birthday party fundraiser for himself that, on a snowy January night in 2020, just before the COVID curtain dropped, brought out about 500 folks to celebrate Jake's life and raise money for ALS. (Amazingly, this was a very fun party: an Irish wake while the person being waked was still alive. Jake's voice was going, but he could still talk to pretty much everyone there.) Jake also continued to run his signature charity (Christmas in the City, which focuses on making the holidays a little merrier and brighter for poor and homeless families in Boston). And I'm pretty sure he ran a half-marathon in there, too.

If I were diagnosed with ALS, I don't know what I'd do, but it probably wouldn't be run a half marathon or invent an app to help others. So bravo, David Betts. (And to Jake: we all still miss you!)

Image Source: Live Like Lou

Dr. Who? Dr. What?

In October, I received a form letter from my primary care physician, announcing that she was leaving her internal medicine practice to become a concierge doctor.

I was not happy to hear this news, as E has been my doctor for well over a decade, and I trust, like, and admire her. E is a good 20-25 years younger than I am, so I had been hoping that she would see me out the door. (Her husband is my dentist, and my hope is that he ain't going anywhere. I've been getting my dental care at his practice for nearly 50 years. E's father was my dentist for decades, and I was delighted when E joined the practice.) 

The form letter from E stated that all of her patient's would be assigned a new doctor by mid-November, and we were not to contact her office. Don't email us, we'll email you.  

When I saw the note, I gulped and did three things: 

• I wrote E a very nice snail mail note telling her that I was grateful for her care over the years, and, while I was disappointed in the news that she was leaving, I wished her well.
• I got in touch with K and M, two friends from different spheres of my life who are also patients of E. All three of us are long-standing members of the E Fan Club. All three of us were upset by the news.
• I wrote an unwanted email to E (or E's practice) saying that, before assignments were made, patients should be asked for their preferences. Mine would have been a woman doctor, one affiliated with Mass General,where I have been a mostly healthy part of the family for nearly 50 years, and one who was relatively convenient to get to. MGH is the hospital where my husband spent the last week of his life. I know my way around there. Brigham & Women's is part of the Partners healthcare system that MGH is a member of. I did not want to get shunted off to The Brigham, even though it is a fine hospital. Whenever I visit someone there, I get lost.

No response to either the note (wasn't expecting one), nor the email (kinda/sorta was).

Pairwise, K, M and I had several convos about the sitch. (As an aside, K is a retired primary care physician, M a retired nurse. They know things.)

On a lovely mid-October day, I was on the train, tootling out to the 'burbs to have lunch with a friend. I was checking my email and saw a notice from Partners. I had my assignment. In suburban Waltham. 

I immediately texted K and M, and spent the rest of my train ride on the phone with one or the other of them.

K had also been exiled to Waltham. M, through a convoluted set of circumstances - and a lot of persistence on her part - had been okayed to see O, a resident in E's practice.

The notification said that the Waltham facility was accessible by public transportation.

Their definition of accessible is not quite the same as mine. 

I plotted a trip, and for me to get from home to the new doctor in Waltham via public transpo would take 1.5 to 2.1 hours each way. It would involve multiple changes train-bus-bus, and, depending on the route, would require a .4 to 2.0 mile walk up a hill. (The detail on the hill climb wasn't included in the route info, but, as it turns out, I used to work in that area and know all about the hill.) 

Not that I would ever be taking public transpo out to the wilds of Waltham - Uber all the way, baby - but, seriously folks, to expect a carless elder who lives a 10 minute walk from E's practice - which is still a practice - to trek out to Waltham seems pretty daffy to me.

When I got home from my lunch, I shot a response off, saying that I thought it was pretty outrageous to assign a carless city-girl elder to the boondocks. I also asked to be assigned to O, the resident physician that M had arranged to see. The curt auto-response was pretty much of the sorry/not sorry variety. It included a number to call if I wanted something different.

So I called and spoke with a very nice young woman who told me that there were no MGH-affiliated PCP's anywhere in the city of Boston taking new patients. She laid out my options, which were mostly in locations farther away than Waltham, but the coup de grâce was that I could get assigned - guaranteed, they're taking new patients - to Amazon One Medical. NO THANKS! Make that NO FUCKING THANKS.

While I was speaking with the very nice young woman, I saw that another message had come in from E's office, this time not an auto-response, but a personal note from E's practice manager. She apologized for the process having upset me, and told me that if I were willing to see a resident - who would only be around for a couple of years - she would assign me to O. 

Yes, seeing a resident 10 minutes from my house was infinitely preferable to schlepping out to Waltham. Over the course of time, I've seen a number of residents and nurse practitioners and physicians assistants. Happy to see any and all. Sure, for continuity of care it's nice to have your very own personal Marcus Welby, but that's not the wave of the present, let alone the future.

Meanwhile, K wasn't able to line up with O, but was assigned to another resident which she, as a physician herself, thinks is just fine.

So all good.

But it's no secret that there's a shortage of primary care doctors, and Mass General Brigham has been hit especially hard. 

So they've now launched:

...an AI app that questions patients, reviews medical records, and produces a list of potential diagnoses.

Called “Care Connect,” the platform was launched on Sept. 9 for the 15,000 MGB patients without a primary care doctor. A chatbot that is available 24/7 interviews the patient, then sets up a telehealth appointment with a physician in as little as half an hour. MGB is among the first health care systems nationally to roll out the app. (Source: The Boston Globe)

Look, medicine is one area where I think AI shows some real promise. I've read that it's proving to be better at identifying breast cancer than mammograms are. And I'm sure that eventually AI will be very good at looking at tests and symptoms and making a diagnosis, which should be especially helpful in rare and complex cases. There's too much stuff to know out there, and doctors really aren't able with keeping up with it all. So bring on AI. (Not to mention that half of us are using AI search to get preliminary diagnoses for ourselves, our friends, and our families. Asking Dr. Google - and making sure that the sources are legit and not some ChatGPT iodiocy spewing bot - helps us figure out what to ask the doctor when we see them.)  

But I'm not fully sold on sticking an AI intermediary (and AI-driven devices) between patient and physician. 

It will, of course, happen sooner rather than later. And there may be plenty of places - refilling a prescription, the common cold - where Dr. AI will perform plenty well enough. But there's something to be said for the doctor in the white coat actually looking you in the eye when they're delivering good, bad, or just sort of meh news.

Maybe MGH needs to start treating its primary care doctors better so they won't be running out the door. It's a demanding job to begin with, and the paperwork, the midnight emails, the Dr. Googling don't make it any easier. But I can certainly see a point where having a personal PCP will only be for those who can afford concierge medicine, while the rest of us "see" a robot, or a doctor in Timbuktu via telehealth, or a rotating carousel of residents and nurses, or whoever it is that's on duty that day in the healthstop or Amazon's fakeroo doctor's offices. 

Me, I'm just happy to be seeing Dr. O for my annual come January.  So what if it's the first, last, and only time I'll see her? Crisis averted, at least for now. No more worrying about Dr. Who and Dr. What. 

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Image Source: SciTech Daily

An eye for a tooth, a tooth for an eye

One of the most aggravating and disheartening aspects of the Trumpian elimination of so much medical research funding is that there will be all sorts of wonderful, seemingly miraculous outcomes that will be delayed or disappeared entirely when the research dollars dry up. Rsearch aimed at prevention, aimed at cure, aimed at making life more liveable for those with maladies that might or might not have been preventable or curable.  

I thought of this one-more-reason-to-fear-and-loathe-the-current-administration when I read recently about something called "tooth-in-eye" surgery.

This complex form of surgery wasn't developed through U.S. government research funding. It was created by an Italian opthalmic surgeon in the 1960's, and has rarely been performed. 

But for Brent Chapman, a 34 year old Canadian, "tooth-in-eye" surgery has been a life-changer.

Chapman went blind at the age of 13 after having a terrible (and obviously extremely rare) reaction to taking Ibuporfen - a reaction that left him blind in both eyes. 

Chapman spent his teen and young adult years trying to find a treatment that would restore his vision.  Then he ran into Vancouver opthamoogist Greg Moloney.

Moloney suggested the rare “tooth-in-eye” procedure on Chapman’s right eye. The surgery — which was developed in the 1960s and has only been performed on several hundred people worldwide — entails multiple steps.

The patient’s tooth is pulled and then flattened, and a small hole is then drilled in the center. A prosthetic lens is fitted over the hole, and the tooth is ultimately placed at the front of the patient’s eye, where they can see through the new lens.

Moloney explained to Today.com that a tooth from the patient is used because it decreases the chances that the body will perceive the object as a foreign body and reject it.

“Usually, the reaction is shock and surprise and frank disbelief that it [the procedure] even exists,” Moloney told the outlet while discussing the treatment. (Source: People)

Shock, surprise, frank disbelief? Yeah, that would be me. Brent Chapman's initial reaction was that it "sounded a little science fictiony." Crazy was a word Chapman used.

I wasn't thinking "science fictiony." For whatever reason, I thought of a James Bond villain - Eyetoother? - plucking out a tooth and screwing it into his eyeball. Am I the only one who can hear Shirley Bassey belting out the theme to Goldfinger? Only this time, the villain is Eyetoother.

Eyetoother, he's the man, the man with the screwball eye. Such a weird eyeball...Pretty girl, beware of his toothy eye, for you will die.

But Dr. Moloney is neither Bond villain nor sci-fi weirdo. He's just the fellow who looked at an old procedure and thought it might work for Chapman. Which it did.

No, eye tooth surgery has nothing to do with Trump. But there could be tooth-in-eye breakthroughs of the future that we'll never see. Drugs, treatments, procedures, interventions that help the deaf hear, the paralyzed regain mobility, save parents from watching their children suffer and die from something that could have been prevented, cured, treated. 

We will never know the totality of what we'll lose out on, thanks to the idiotically insane cutbacks to research funding now being made. And can't you see the idiotic DOGE bro seeing an application for something like tooth-in-eye surgery and chortling to his buddies as he clicks delete on it?

Meanwhile, we can celebrate with Ben Chapman, and laud Dr. Greg Moloney. Tooth for an eye seems like a pretty worthwhile exchange.

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Image Source: iStock

Just put your lips together and blow

One of the many pleasures of my pre-school days was meandering around the neighborhood with a small covey of my fellow three- and four-year olds. Unsupervised. (Those were the days!) We didn't stray far, but there was plenty to do on Winchester Ave, that's for sure.

Every few months, the sewer cleaners came by remove the dead leaves and whatever other gutter leavings had washed into the sewer. It was fascinating to watch the sewer guy maneuvering the claw thingy, and bringing up wads of dead, sodden leaves, and sometimes even a red ball that had fallen in. He would toss the ball over to us, and even though it did kinda-sorta smell of dead leaves and whatever else had ended up in the sewer, we were delighted to have it.

If someone in the hood had gotten a recent large appliance delivery, we would commandeer the box, stuff a couple of kids in it, and hurtle down the steep banks in front of the houses on our side of Winchester Ave.

If a delivery truck of some sort was parked on the street, we liked to scamper underneath it, always on the alert for someone turning the engine on. Whee!

We liked to go scrounging door to door, ringing doorbells to see if someone would give us something to eat.

Gladys "Chubby" Smith was a favorite port of call, because she always had candy and always welcome us into her living room, where she sat in a stuffed armchair chain smoking and eating candy, and where her obese cat Sylvester occupied the stuffed armchair opposite Chubby's.

And then there was the Anderson-Johnson house, where two of the three flats were taken by members of the Anderson-Johnson family.

The Johnsons were super kind. Super kind Bobby Johnson was in college, but when he was around, he'd always spend a few minutes tossing a ball - maybe even the little red sewer ball - with us. (Bobby went on to a career as a teacher and school principal. In 1984, his mother - the super kind Lillian Johnson was murdered. She was no longer living on Winchester when she was killed, but down nearer to Clark University. The cold case was solved in 2007 thanks to DNA evidence.)

Miss Anderson, the super kind aunt(I think) of Lillian Johnson lived on the first floor, and when Miss Anderson was at home, we struck it rich. She always gave us each a nickel or a Milky Way. And if she wasn't home, or if we'd already exhausted our weekly nickel or Milky Way allotment, we could always pick up the conch shell outside the front door, which had her spare housekey hidden in the shell's fold, and listen to the ocean.

There aren't many sounds that to me are lovelier or more evocative.

And now, it seems, there may be another use for the noble conch shell.

Blowing into a conch shell could help tackle the symptoms of a sleep disorder that affects millions of people across the UK, according to a study. Conch blowing, also known as shankh blowing, is an ancient ritual that involves breathing in deeply and exhaling into the spiral-shaped shell. The practice could improve sleep for patients with obstructive sleep apnoea (OSA), which usually needs to be treated with uncomfortable machinery, according to the research. (Source: The Guardian)

I don't know whether he was ever officially diagnosed with obstructive sleep apnea, but my late husband was a snorer. Wish this had been known back in the day, as we would definitely have invested in a conch shell. Or two. One for Jim to blow into, and one for me to listen to the ocean with. 

“Shankh blowing is a simple low-cost breathing technique that could help improve sleep and reduce symptoms without the need for machines or medication,” said Dr Krishna K Sharma, who led the research.

“The way the shankh is blown is quite distinctive. This action creates strong vibrations and airflow resistance, which likely strengthens the muscles of the upper airway, including the throat and soft palate, areas that often collapse during sleep in people with OSA.”

The most common form of treatment for sleep apnoea is a continuous positive airway pressure (Cpap) machine, which involves patients wearing a mask that blows pressurised air into the nose and throat while asleep. Previous research has also found that playing a woodwind instrument could help with the condition.

Although the machines are effective, they can be uncomfortable, leading the researchers to suggest that shankh blowing could be a promising alternative.

Sounds quite promising. And picking up a conch shell on eBay (or in a beach-side gift shop) is cheaper than a breathing machine or investing in a woodwind instrument. Plus easier to operate. Playing a bassoon or saxophone is hard. But we all know how to use a conch shell. It's just like whistling. Just put your lips together and blow.

Image Source: Wikipedia

Yet another unintended consequence of our errancy, our profound stupidity

I had the measles when I was 4 or 5. It was during the summer, I remember that. And my sister Kath, who would have been 6 or 7, had it at the same time. We spent the course of our illness in the double bed that we shared at the time. (A couple of years later, we graduated to twin beds.) Our bedroom was darkened for the duration, as at that point in time (1950's) it was believed that keeping light to a minimum lessened the likelihood of vision problems, or even blindness, associated with having had the measles. Most kids did get measles, and most kids didn't die from it. But hundreds of measles death a year were recorded during the 1950's. It wasn't a death warrant, like leukemia. And it wasn't as terrible as polio. But kids did die. 

I don't know if my brother Tom, who would have been 2 or 3 at the time, ever had measles. He doesn't know, either. But given how contagious measles is, and how we were living in fairly close quarters in a flat in my grandmother's three decker, he probably did.  

There was no cure for measles. Treatment consisted of isolation and bedrest. Maybe calamine lotion or cool compresses? St. Joseph's Baby Aspirin for fever? I don't think our family was quarantined when we had measles, as we were a few years later when we all got chicken pox. (My father could go out to work, but that was about it.) 

Measles vaccine became aailable in the early 1960's, so the younger kiddos in my family likely dodged that particular childhood illness bullet. Trish knows for certain that she never had measles; Rick isn't sure. 

Thanks to that measles vaccine, this disease was, by the year 2000, pretty much eradicated in the United States. 

But that was then and this is now, and the now is that more people are refusing to get their children vaccinated. And the now is that more kids are getting the measles. And the now is that some of those children are dying. Not many, but some. And some seems like an awful lot, given that the disease was once considered eradicated in this country. 

In the before times, as I noted, there was no particular treatment, let alone a cure. Measles ran its course. And then, thanks to the vaccine, measles ran out of steam. So there was absolutely no impetus to develop any treatment for it. In the before times, I have no idea whether - when millions of kids were suffering through house arrest in darkened rooms; or like the quarantined kiddos in the 1943 ad, were just stuck inside, not able to go out an play in their Red Goose shoes - there were pharma companies researching measles treatment. Everyone was more laissez faire back then when it came to things like childhood disease. 

But that was then and this is now. And the current regime's antipathy to vaccines means that there's an opportunity to work on treatment. So:

...as vaccination rates fall and infections rise, scientists are racing to develop drugs they say could prevent or treat the disease in vulnerable and unvaccinated people...

Scientists across the country including at biotechs Invivyd and Saravir Biopharma—and institutions such as Vanderbilt University Medical Center and Georgia State University—are in the early stages of measles-treatment development. The drugs are still a ways from becoming available to patients but could offer alternatives to people who are immunocompromised, don’t respond to the measles vaccine or are vaccine skeptics. Antibody treatments could treat someone who is sick or help prevent measles in people recently exposed to the virus. (Source: Wall Street Journal)

So if I've got this straight, because there are vaccine skeptics who for some reason believe that vaccines do more harm than good, because lunatics like RFK Jr. are in charge of our healthcare system, and when we're at a time when all sorts of research grants are drying up, pharma companies and academic institutions are investing in research on treatment for a disease that was already eradicated. Rather than investing in research for maladies - like, say, all forms of childhood cancer - for which there is no known prevention and cure.

Swell, just swell...

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Image source: eBay