A Nap a Day

A Nap a Day

On June 12, I posted a piece about sleep, but I find it is already time to update that piece.  In the original I focused on the importance of sleep, and how lack of sleep produces the most likely reason for an onset of MSD.  I wrote of taking specific precautions to make sure I got at least seven hours in each 24-hour period.  Now I would like to tack on to that piece some additional thoughts on sleep, as it has affected me.

To begin I can now surmise that my sleep issues began with the onset of manic periods.  Mania is typified by minimal sleep.  I chronicled how I struggled for periods of time in my life, able to fall asleep easily enough, but incapable of remaining asleep.  So if I forced myself to remain in bed, attempting to sleep, all it did was end up frustrating me, and then making me angry.  What could be more natural than to get up and sit by the fire, and read? 

Later, when the reading became writing, I never missed a beat.  I actually felt that I was getting over on the whole issue of no sleep, because I was making good use of my time.  Not so.  Sleeping would have been good use of my time, but I never realized how critically important it is.  After all, when one is suffering from mania, there are different forces coexisting within, that combine to give one a feeling of invincibility.  As in, “I can do anything, at any time, because, well, watch me.”  

The manic personality is suffused with good will and effervescence, for extended periods of time, until the stuff hits the fan, and the crash occurs.  Mind you, I have no recollection of any crash and burns, but I am confident those around me do have those recollections. With that thought in mind, I now work diligently to avoid any semblance of sleep deprivation.

Two nights ago, I encountered technical difficulties, after four and a half solid hours of restful sleep, when I woke up, very wide awake, and was unable to drift back to sleep.  I got up after an hour, looked over the computer for an hour, returned to bed, and still could not sleep.  I kept at it for another hour, refusing to give in to the urge to just get up and do a piece of writing.  I eventually got back to sleep, and ended up with the requisite seven plus hours for the night.  No big deal, right?

Then it happened again last night, a carbon copy of the previous night.  I refused, once again, and was subsequently able to get six and a half hours, with at least one-if not two-naps still to come.  I find I must take this “aggressive” stance, if you will, for lack of a better word for it.  Aggressively addressing the key component, which rocks my MSD world seems so logical to me.

I like to use the analogy of my way of fighting colds, aggressively, with no room for sniveling.  When I get a cold, I drink vast amounts of tea (the only time I drink tea), I take every natural herb and remedy I can find, abd I avoid across-the-counter medication at ALL costs, no pun intended. It all adds up to no cold ever getting the upper hand.

Now with MSD, the stakes are higher and the consequences a lot more dramatic.  So it is worth the effort.  Besides, how many people get to drop what they are doing, at any time during the long, hot, physically demanding day, and take a nice siesta?  It is a winning formula, and one that I plan to continue employing.  

Remember that old adage, “A nap a day (or two) keeps the MSD away.”

Form DD 214

Form DD 214

We moseyed down to Ukiah yesterday, for a session with Dr. Mark.  We left the house at seven-thirty in the A of M, and initially landed in Willits for a nine o’clock appointment with the tax lady.  Since our visit to the psychologist’s office was not scheduled until two, we knew we had a fair amount of time to kill.  There was a time when that sort of uncertainty inevitably produced anxiety in me.

Yesterday, with my laptop available, and a list of potential stops, I was not worried about past practices interfering with my new-found ability to not only handle the excursions to the shrink’s office, but to even enjoy them.  The first thing we did, after stopping at Pour Girls for our obligatory lattes (I get a special dispensation on the caffeine issue for this), was hit the post office.  I was expecting a special document from the National Personnel Records Center, located in St. Louis, Missouri, but since it involved the military, I was not holding my breath waiting.

Because our health insurance has run out from the school district, Annie and I are scrambling to acquire health insurance.  At our ages, that is not a given.  There is this stipulation about “pre-existing conditions,” that seems to interfere with this process.  I have decided to pursue the VA option, because I have been led to believe that this is viable.  I have to go down to Ukiah to see a doctor, or to San Francisco for something more serious, but that is just the price of poker.  However, in order to apply for any sort of Veterans’ benefits, I must be able to produce the document that states unequivocally that I have served my time.

When the Big Green Machine spit me out in Oct, 1973, it sent me on my way with a magic piece of paper, warning me to never set it aside, because it was my guarantee that the BGM would not be able to reach out and snatch me again.  Though I did make it through the twenty-one months of personal agony, better understandable now that I have been diagnosed with MSD, I did not manage to hang onto that precious document.

When I decided to pursue VA insurance, I knew the first thing I would need was that Form DD 214, the one which gave my entry and separation dates, and all other pertinent information concerning my illustrious military career.  Included in that information is the fact that I was awarded The Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal, an Army Commendation Medal and the Good Conduct Medal.  Of the three, the first and third were awarded as perfunctory measures for a job done well.  The second one, the Army Commendation Medal, was only awarded to those who made an impact.  During the sixteen months I served, I only saw one other of these handed out.  *

The company was gathered together for the presentation, and nice things were said about the individual in question.  In my case I had worked in my personnel management division, which was responsible for cutting orders for those returning home, and had made a proposal for changing the system within the office, to include a central filing system, which would allow access to information, that was otherwise scattered about in fifteen different stations.

As a result of the proposal, I  became the individual responsible for assimilating fifteen different filing systems into one centralized site, which began and ended with my desk.  It gave me something to do and got me out of the “barn” twice a day, to make the 8th Army rounds.  To this day I value the fact that even though I was bitter and resentful toward the military, I still kept it together enough to serve with distinction.

Now it was time to come knocking on Uncle Sugar’s door, asking for them to hook a former “soldier” up with a little health insurance.  It helps to know that I can ask my older brother for guidance, because he directs the show at the Veterans’ Hospital in Martinez as its Chief of Staff, and done so for a long time.  We are not especially close any more, and I do not even know for a fact any more than a peripheral idea that I am ill, but I do know that he has provided information in the past that relates to veterans’ affairs, so that’s my cue.

Having glommed onto my Form DD 214, we now proceeded to run some errands, enjoy a nice lunch, and then make our way to Dr. Mark’s.  We have only been three times now, but he has already conducted his diagnostic clinic, and concluded that we are certainly looking at a mood spectrum disorder, what would be classified as Bipolar II.  He examined my mood charts yesterday, going over them with me so as to understand the different columns, which I had modified from the original, so as to tailor it to my needs.

We talked about Interpersonal Social Rhythm Therapy and Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and how they applied to me, and agreed to meet again in two weeks.  With my sleep patterns now changing to reflect a more “normal” pattern, I am enjoying an extended eurythmic period, which simply means it doesn’t get any better.  Since that’s the ultimate goal, so I would say we are on target, so direct.


* I wrote an expanded piece which went into a great deal of detail on this whole process.  The name of the piece is "Military Madness (11) The Barn-Black Friday," and posted it last summer, in August.

Fireworks on FaceBook

Fireworks on FaceBook

FaceBook continues to amaze me, as a versatile and powerful means of reaching out to others.  Having been too self-conscious in the past to have ever felt comfortable enough to have embraced it, I find I am now in the infancy of a newly-found harmonious relationship with this form of social networking.

I do not mind that some people choose not to engage in FaceBook, because I remember what it was like to be up here on my mountain, perfectly content to be left A-Lone.  Everyone has the right to remain within the boundaries of what is comfortable.  For some the difficulty is the extension of self into the public forum; for others it is an invasion of privacy.  I have no interest in trying to convince anyone that he or she should become involved in FaceBook.  That is a personal choice; all I want to do is explain why it works so well for me.

I still find it immensely difficult to engage in social settings, comfortably.  I have to weigh each event on its own merits, consider all factors, and then proceed with caution.  With FaceBook there are no social anxiety issues.  I am not terribly active with the posting of personal agenda items, except for my writing, so I do not incur others’ wrath.  I also get a sense of enjoyment out of lending a shoulder for others to lean on, when times are hard.  It never seems to matter if the person needing a shoulder to lean on, is three thousand miles away.

It’s about having someone on the other end of the keyboard, who cares enough to at least read what was posted, and make some kind of response.  For some that is not how it works.  For others, it’s what works best.  I am someone who still derives a great deal of satisfaction out of taking no more than ten or fifteen minutes, a couple of times a day, to see if there are folks out there in cyber-space, who are hurting.

There are different ways that folks express pain.  There are those who lash out with personal attacks, directed at some unknown target, replete with plenty of spicy language to accompany the diatribe.  I avoid these, because they are personal.   Then there are those who simply speak in the present, saying in one simple phrase, life-altering statements that come from the depths of their souls, and the words hang on my wall on FaceBook, and scream out for a response.  

I see it as the same as the middle school kids who used to come early to school, and who would come into my classroom in the time before school started, to sit and chat about nothing in particular, except that the stuff they talked about involved the same sorts of issues, only from a less experienced perspective.  A person either has the capacity to sit and listen, while grading spelling tests, or entering grades into a notebook, or a person does not.

That is all a part of FaceBook.  Of course, many post a lot of stuff, but do not themselves, scroll down their walls, dutifully seeing what others have to say.  It doesn’t make them bad people, because they approach FaceBook differently; at least they are there.

What does annoy me, is that some people put FaceBook down, because they have a narrow concept of what it is all about.  They see it as idle chatting, which does describe a fair amount, but neglect to see that a wealth of other information also exists for those who care to pursue it.  Ignore FaceBook if you choose, but leave the criticism behind.

For those who feel the invasion of privacy issue, I conclude that I have no point of reference.  I no longer feel the onus of having a “spotlight” on me, as I did my entire life, until I got rid of my panic attack syndrome.  Now, I feel comfortable reestablishing ties with a multitude of individuals, who have unconditionally invited me into their spaces.

I find it very enjoyable, and satisfying beyond description.  The climb into the 21st century has been arduous and challenging, but has proven well-worth the effort.  All I have to do is click on my wall and start scrolling.  It’s like strolling down the boulevard, without the discomfort of jenky knees.

OK, let’s see who’s out there today.  I bet there will be some colorful pics of fireworks, not to mention some inspiring Independence Day feasts.  I don’t even have to leave my kitchen to see the fireworks displays on FaceBook.  And the dogs get a break from the firecrackers.

After the Whirling Stops

After the Whirling Stops

What is it about July that almost guarantees I will  be in a welcoming frame of mind?  With the Fourth coming up in a couple of days, we are looking forward to doing a little bar-b-cueing, with Annie’s brother and his wife joining us for turkey dinner, July style.  There is only one truly despondent July in my past, and that was July of 1972, spent 7,000 miles away from home, in the Republic of Korea.  I actually spent two Julys over in The Land of the Morning Calm, but by the time the second one rolled around, I was a two-digit midget, getting under the one hundred day mark for returning home.

I remember July of 1974, in our house up (or down) in San Jose, our little community living at the War Admiral house, scrounged up enough loot to go down to the local grocers, to buy steaks for the various members of our little household.  Until this point we had been vegetarian, more by economic necessity, than through choice, and so to us, celebrating the Fourth included big steaks.

As kids, we were traditionally treated to some sort of home production of available fireworks, rigidly monitored by my father.  He was like a kid himself around fireworks, with firecrackers being his favorite.  However, his childlike manner did not extend to allowing us small-fry to engage in anything more adventurous than the sparklers we were permitted to wave about, watching the patterns of dazzling sparks, remain in the air, after we had stopped the whirling.

For most of the years I taught summer school, the Fourth meant a break from the summer grind, usually in the form of a four-day weekend.  Whereas the summertime gig at school was never half what the regular school entailed, a four-day break is a gift no matter when it rolls around.  Now it was not a paid gift, mind you-just as “summer vacation” was never a paid gig.  It just meant that we were unemployed for the ten weeks of summer, unless we had alternative means of employment, such as teaching summer school.

When it comes to stacking up against the other holidays in my life, be it as a child, or as an adult, The Fourth of July is about halfway down the list.  Because it takes place in summer, we were already free of school, so it was not the reason for escape, as were both Christmas and Easter.  Also, the Fourth always meant bar-b-cues in our household, but so did practically each and every Saturday and Sunday, during the summer.  

I can remember working at Sunrize Market, back in the late sixties and early seventies, and getting paid triple-time by the Retail Clerks’ Union, so I welcomed working on the Fourth.  Any party worth its salt, was still going to be raging when I got off around nine-thirty in the evening, so I was good to go, and probably twice as thirsty.

As an adult, fireworks have never been my thing.  I like to see the bright colors, and ooh and ah with the rest of them, but have no desire to set them off myself, nor any real pressing need to go somewhere to see them.  I have seen the fireworks off of the Santa Cruz pier, and they are superb.  I have seen fireworks displays at the ball-yard, and thought they were excellent, but that is as far as I am interested in taking it.  Besides, with mood spectrum disorder, you never know.  If you hang around long enough, or just get lucky, you may see me go off at any time.

It may not match the fireworks you have seen in the past, but I’ll bet it’s the first time you have ever seen fireworks go off without a match.  There’s something to be said for spontaneous combustion, but I promised the management, that I would not go there.  Here’s hoping you enjoy the Fourth, and that all of YOUR fireworks require matches to set off.

Big Things Going On

Big Things Going On

Big things are going on around here; I called Dish Network to reactivate my account, so as to procure Bay Area Comcast, those magical folks who bring the San Francisco Giants to their fans, most of the 162 games of the year.  I think last season, there were a total of three Giants games not televised on some channel or another.

Could there possibly be any connection to the fact that Matt Cain just threw a perfecto, on June 13th, or that the Giants currently have shut out their opponent, four consecutive times?  Let me think about that for a second.  OK, time’s up.  Yes and no would be the answer.  Yes, there is a connection, because I am as amped as I am able to be, without tossing that “mania” term around, and yet have enjoyed listening to the games on the radio immensely, nonetheless.

The answer would also be no, because a stronger reason would be the upcoming 49er season.  Before anyone has a coronary, allow me to assure you that my first love in sports is baseball.  However, when the Niners open up their season, the Giants will still be playing, and hopefully that will extend into October as well.  So the likelihood is that I would have started trying to “work something out,” long about the time my birthday rolls around in the beginning of September.

As it is, what we worked out, is that I have been able to work since the beginning of May, with my legs finally recovering from their fling with Ms. Lethargia, and only my knees remaining with which to contend.  With the work comes the means to defray the cost of said DIsh Network.  All is well with the universe.  It took more than one call to accomplish the deed, but tonight at 6:30, I will be able to watch my first pre-game show of the season.

When I think back to opening days, both on the road in Arizona, and back home a week later against Pittsburg, I was traveling to Mendocino, and could only listen the the games on the truck radio.  When Annie and I were up in Eureka last night, I got to take in Madison Bumgarner’s gem from our room at the Discovery Inn ($64.95 a night).  I did not know for sure how to positively identify any of our three starting outfielders.  

Maybe that is just a stretch, because I saw the footage of Gregor Blanco’s now-famous catch, which helped preserve Matt Cain’s perfect game, so many times that I did indeed recognize him when he came to the plate.  But Melky?  Pagan?  Ryan Theriot?  Joaquin Arias?  Hector Sanchez?  I need introductions and that seems awfully funny.  It takes me back to the days of growing up on Fellowship Street, in SoCal, when the only baseball that was televised were the games between LA and SF, that were played in San Francisco.  So in those days, the Dodgers and Giants played 22 times, eleven at each site.  Of those eleven, maybe a half-dozen were on weekends, when I could have watched them.  (Bedtime was always eight o’clock until I got out of eighth grade.)

Now I even recognize the ball dudes, who “guard” the lines from foul balls.  And when I saw Amy Gutierrez last night, it was like old-times.  She has established herself as a premier authority on the Giants, and obviously has an excellent rapport with the players and coaching staff.  So much of baseball involves its characters and its character.  

The drama that encompasses the sport during the grueling 162-game schedule, unfolds that much more vividly, when viewed via high-definition.  And since I have established that my AT&T Park days are officially over, I look forward to my view from the bench, or couch if you prefer.  I do not have to wait for the popcorn vendor, because I am an expert at popping corn the old-fashioned way, over a gas stove, and I do not have to drive to Larkspur any more, to take the ferry to the ball yard.

I am good to go, and there are big things going on.  Now all we need to do is keep playing our brand of ball: stellar pitching, rabbits in the outfield and on the base-paths, sound defense, and a continuation of timely hitting to support the stellar pitching, to which I have already alluded.  That should bring about the desired result: October baseball without me having to justify the cost of the Dish.  Go Giants!

 

Chemistry in Action

Chemistry in Action

Someone help me out here.  How does a team muster up the fortitude to hurl four consecutive shout-outs? To accomplish the feat one time is always such a complete team effort.  It requires not only that the pitcher be 100% on his game, but that all of the defense in back of him, also perform at the highest level.  In fact the Giants have not made an error in six games.  Though they still lead the National League in total errors, they are beginning to climb out of this deficit.

As I have noted before, a team is in infinitely better shape to have begun the season struggling, before straightening up, than a team that comes out the gate like a firecracker, only to fizzle at the halfway point.  Our pitching, always the foundation upon which our team is built, has not only stepped up the pace, but established new parameters as far as expectations are concerned.  After all, they do not have to shut out the opposition, they only have to limit it to fewer runs than the home team scores.  Let’s just say they are overachieving at this point in time.

The ultimate result of this kind of run of success is confidence.  Most of the brain-trust most closely connected to Timmy, assert that his issue is all about confidence.  He has demonstrated all season, that there is nothing wrong with his mechanics, only with his consistency.  For a pitcher to be able to pitch well for 98 out of a hundred pitches is all well and good, unless those two errant pitches result in enough offense to surpass the heretofore anemic offense that the Giants have provided this past season.

So with the elevation of the pitching and the improvement of the defense, what is left?  How about offense?  I am not going to start giving you stats that prove that we are a better team than last year.  We have Buster back, so I can skip that step.  With Buster Posey on the team, whether he catches or plays first base, he is the heart and soul of the Giants, and he makes them a better team.  He is the franchise, and his presence in the lineup makes any combination of players stronger.

Brian Sabean had to decide over the offseason, whether he would pursue the “big bat,” or whether he would go with speed and defense.  It turned out that by going for the latter, he came mighty close to achieving the former.  I’m talking about the combination of Angel Pagan and Melky Cabrerra, playing center and left field respectively, who have provided much of the offense, missing from last year.  Melky is currently hitting around .355, third highest in the league, and Pagan set a franchise record, by hitting in 28 consecutive home games.  Though neither comes under the category of “big bat,” both fit neatly under the label of solid contributors. 

Next, we have seen the two Brandons, Crawford and Belt, emerge in varying degrees, which last year strongly hinted would be the case.  Belt has recently found his swing, and had an excellent run, which has included four home-runs, and a batting average pushing .500.  Add Gregor Blanco, a tantalizing addition to the team because of his potential, and we are seeing the same kind of chemistry starting to bubble that we saw percolating in 2010, and seemed so incapable of catching on last season.  Add to this mix, the rising status of such key components as Hector Sanchez, a promising figure at catcher, Ryan Theriot, Freddie Sanchez’ (remember him?) replacement, and Joaquin Arias, who filled in so adequately for Pablo, and we see the nucleus of a solidly contending team.  There are only three teams in the majors with a better win/loss record, and two of them are in the American League.

The one National league team with a better record, Washington, we will be playing four against right after we finish with Cincinnati.  There never seems to be much variation among the elite teams in baseball.  All have formidable pitching and all pose a threat.  Our record against the National League Central, is 15-7, a remarkable feat.  Now we will see how the NL East pans out.

I saved Santiago Casilla for last, primarily because of how significant the lack of a steady closer was last August and September, when we slipped out of first place, and ended up well-back of the Rattlers, in the NL West.  I also saved him for last because of the manner in which Santiago goes about his business.  Whereas Brian Wilson seemed to need a couple of base runners to get his adrenaline (and ours) going, Casilla seems much more efficient, Sunday’s setback at the hands of the A’s, notwithstanding.

Together, new Giants and old, are combining to establish new heights along the road to this year’s playoffs.  I know I will not be content, until I have seen the Giants in the World Series again, most likely against the resurgent Yankees (I can’t see Texas making it a third straight year).  I’ll stack our starting pitching up against any in baseball, and rely on Bruce Bochy to extract the most out of his talented and underrated lineup.  It worked in 2010 and with Buster back, it should work again this year.  If you don’t believe me, ask any Dodger fan.  A short while ago they were on top.  Now all they can do is watch the Giants’ rapidly disappearing taillights, in the mid-summer night’s twilight.  Get used to it because the vehicle for success has been put into motion, and with Timmy back, nothing is going to slow it down, until it hits the the crowd in downtown San Francisco, next October, at the parade.  Go Giants!

Epic

Epic

As a lifetime fan of baseball, I can only say that these are the times  I live for.  I ramble on continuously about the 162-game schedule that baseball utilizes, to determine which team has the moxie and perseverance, to come out on top.  When two teams go at it, head to head, and one comes out on top, the other is relegated to also-ran status.

Fans who spew out that their team got beaten by an inferior team, or that a team got “lucky,” annoy me.  There is no way that you can say that luck is the determining factor for a 162-game schedule.  A team may get lucky because it doesn’t face Clayton Kershaw on a visit to LA, but a team does not get lucky and win a division or win a World Series.  No, a team battles it out all season, with the other teams within its division, or with teams in other divisions, who want to win every game they can, because they are all competing with fellow division contenders.

There is a lot of adversity over the course of such a grueling period of time.  There are many individual sacrifices made, and there is a lot of teamwork going on.  For every high point, there are corresponding low points.  Four nights ago, the Giants, with Santiago Casilla pitching, were down to the last strike to put Oakland away, when the Athletics’ rookie catcher hit a three-run shot.  End of game, and a painful way to go.  Those are the worst kind.

What do you do?  There was no time to snivel with the LA [hot] Doggers coming into town.  We had to regroup, especially since the Angels were kind enough to dispatch the Doggers on the same night that we were getting “walked off” by Oakland.  It doesn’t matter what happened Sunday night; Monday night does not allow for looking backward.  If a team gets mired in negative events from previous games, that carries over.

Who was slated to start that first game?  The much maligned Barry Zito, who had given up seventeen runs in the previous fourteen innings, and who has alternated between brilliant, and ineffective this season, was the opening series pitcher.  I have to tell you, that when Bruce Bochy elected to sit Buster down for the night, and catch Hector Sanchez, I nodded in agreement, and figured we were essentially giving in on the first game.  That’s because I am on the outside looking in, and have nothing more than past practices to guide my reasoning.

Who could have logically predicted that Zito could shut out any team, let alone the first-place Dodgers?  But that’s baseball, pure and simple.  The most extraordinary things occur routinely, and blend and meld with the harsh realities of so many games, to produce an ambrosia for fans to savor, all summer long.  Baseball differs from football, in that you get a steady diet all summer long, almost every day.  During the fall, all of that sports angst builds up for a three-hour adrenaline rush on the gridiron every Sunday, and it’s all over until the next Sunday.

Having shut out the Bums for the first of the three games, what could the Giants possibly have done as an encore?  Do not forget that the Dodgers came into AT&T Park, three games ahead of the Giants.  Even if we took two of three, we still would have been two back, so you know that Don Mattingly, the Dodger manager, would have been amping up his troops.  He made it clear that going into hostile AT&T Park was a part of the baseball season, and that players had to get used to it.

The team the Giants faced the past three days, is not the same team that was rocking the baseball world, cruising along with the best record in baseball the first two and a half months of the season.  That goes back to the marathon approach I was talking about.  We have a team that has almost completely transformed itself since the end of the 2010 season, and is now coming together.

But the Dodgers have lost Matt Kemp, and have now lost Andre Ethier.

Ryan Vogelsong has been excellent all season, so the second game might have been more expected, a 2-0 shellacking of the Dog-men.  But what about Tim Lincecum?  I have said all season, “Don’t you worry about Timmy.”  Now that he is overcoming his issues, the Giants stand to emerge that much stronger.  Better Timmy struggle the first half of the season than the second half.  

The resulting seven innings of shutout ball, is just Timmy’s way of saying that he has arrived.  For the first time in its 129 year old franchise history, the Giants held the LA Dodgers scoreless for a three-game set.  The New York Giants had last accomplished the feat against a different opponent in 1954, but it had never been done againt the Dodgers.

Like the perfect game Matt Cain threw, it was a once-in-a-franchise occurrence.  I could get used to these happenings.  We still have to play the Dodgers a dozen times this season, but I like our chances  And do not forget that we have beaten Clayton Kershaw twice this season, thank you Ryan Vogelsong.  Go Giants!