Inclusionary Olympics

This is what I sent to the International Olympic Committee tonight:

So, in the sprit of the Olympics, I am suggesting that we consider an inclusionary Olympics:  Why have a “regular” Olympics and a “Para-Olympics.”  And now facing the controversy of “transgender Olympians,” why not figure out a way to:  do “Parallel Olympics.”   Do not hold them sequentially, but inclusively.   Hold the various categories and name the winners of these “categories” and then if THEY choose, let them compete against each other.  Including if male and female Olympians want to challenge each other.

 

In the name of world peace, survival of the Earth and Human Rights, you configure this out.  You are smart, and, hopefully would not be on the Olympic International Committee if you were dedicated to the Principles the Olympics stand for!

PTSD, Hollywood, and the TV show "Combat"

Okay, so one of my anomalies is that I am interested in TV war shows, war movies and books about the history of war, or, as in The Red Badge of Courage about the character development than can occur in any catastrophic situation.   For someone who does not think killing is an option to solving problems, this is a major contradiction. But not really because catastrophe does sometime develop character.  War depicts the worst of mankind, but also, sometimes, the best.  

I have found a Saturday night lineup, on a TV channel called Heroes and Icons, of TV shows from World War II, and Vietnam.  One of my favorites is Combat!, and I cannot say why, except that we watched this TV show as a family when I was a child, and it evokes memories of being in the living room with my family, enjoying the family time.  Good memories.

Some of the episodes of Combat touch on the issue of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, although that was not an official psychiatric diagnosis until the 1980s. The article noted indicates that mankind has no doubt suffered from PTSD from since the beginning of time... It has been known or at least referred to by many other terms, including, but not inclusive, shell shock, hysteria, traumatic neurosis, nervous breakdown, battle fatigue. Infamously, among other things, General Patton, in World War II, is know for two incidents of slapping soldiers, who were suffering from PTSD, but he accused them of malingering.  

Literature, drama, movies and TV have long addressed PTSD. A movie that comes to mind is Captain Newman, MD, based on a book by the same name, written by Leo Rosten. The Wikipedia article referenced above (PTSD) even refers to a reference in the Bible.

The point being, that what has been known anecdotally for perhaps thousands of years, has become codified by science and medicine. Personally, I think there is much in folklore and indigenous history, including oral history and pictorial history that science can learn from.  And, our authors, storytellers, and native "medicine men, shaman, seers, conjurers" and others who demonstrate a keen awareness of human nature, have much to offer science about human nature, and human history.   I just think we have to keep an open mind to all the possibilities. 

The Protest Psychosis: How Schizophrenia Became a Black Disease by Jonathan M. Metzl.

This is probably more academic than useful to someone as a practitioner, but I feel the need to share it, and I am not sure with whom. I think if some of administrators, who know nothing about mental health care would read this, it might help them to understand what is needed in mental health care in prisons, but of course, that is like wishing for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. 

I recently read The Protest Psychosis: How Schizophrenia Became a Black Disease   by Jonathan M. Metzl. The Protest Psychosis I am not sure how much I agree with a lot of his premises, especially evaluating the use of schizophrenia and schizophrenic in the media, including popular, but not scientific, media but there were some interesting ideas and information advanced in the book.  Most of it was based on information from the Ionia State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, in Ionia, Michigan

One of the saddest was in Part V, about Rasheed Karim, in 1967.  His story is not too dissimilar to many we hear today.   He was committed to the Ionia State Hospital, because he was attacked, and in defending himself, assaulted police.  But this part of the book is not just about his ongoing attempts to be released from Ionia State Hospital.  It also refers to the 1963 Mental Retardation Facilities and Community Mental Health Centers Construction Act.  I think you might recall the de-institutionalization of mental health patients, with the promise of community support programs that did not materialize.   This was supposed to be “cost saving” but I suspect it cost more than keeping people in institutions, as expensive as that was, because in the community, everyone HAD to have individualized care plans, and individual care providers. 

This section of the book goes on to describe how the Ionia State Hospital became the Riverside Correctional Facility, and the warehousing of the mentally ill who would have previously been in a “state hospital.”   Skyview, in the Texas Department of Criminal Justice system, was originally on the grounds of the Rusk State Hospital, and sadly, became a TDCJ treatment facility.  Hopefully, treatment before the Ruiz judgement was not just warehousing.  The Montford Unit, in Lubbock, Texas,  is in existence because of the Ruiz judgement.  But  the letter of the law of the Ruiz judgement does not reflect the spirit of the law  in terms of what is provided for treatment today.   

 

 

 

Happy Easter and God Bless!

 

When we were children, there was a lady in Millers Falls, who made elaborately designed Easter eggs, and possibly, decorated eggs for other occasions.  I don’t know if she was Polish, Russian, or Ukrainian.  Her eggs were beautiful and sometimes, magical in design.  We are hearing, now, about the increased significance of the decorated Ukrainian Easter eggs.  I am not sure when, where or how this Tradition began.  I sent an Easter ecard referencing the Romanov decorated eggs, a Russian tradition that may or may not be related to the Ukrainian tradition of decorated eggs. The point is, the Russians, the Poles, and the Ukrainians have so many shared traditions. It is so sad that peoples with shared traditions can go to war against each other. It is also a blessing that the Polish people and other Eastern European peoples have opened their hearts and their homes to the Ukrainian refugees.

Easter is a time of renewal and rebirth.  It is my prayer that there is some opportunity peace, renewal, and rebirth for the Ukrainian nation.

It is also my prayer that your personal trials find peace, renewal, and rebirth.

God bless and Happy Easter.

 

 

 

A Trip to the Library

When I was young, I used to love to go to the library.  Of course, we lived within walking distance and the librarians all knew me.  in the summer time, I even went to the library barefoot, although that was probably a social "no-no."

For a large part of my adult life, I have made a weekly trip to the library, as much to browse as to select books to read. Sometimes, the libraries in my community have presentations, and even it they did not sound like something I was interested in, I attended, to support the library, and I would say 95% of the time I enjoyed the presentation.  

There have been times when I have not accessed the library. The reasons don't matter. Except I wiil say most recently, I had purchased some books, and wanted to finish them before I checked books out from the library. This past week, when I went to the library, I took my time to browse around, check the card catalogues (on computer) and look at the displays.   In the past several years, I have not taken the opportunity to do so on every weekly trip to the library.   More often than not, i went to the library with a book or books in mind, found them, checked them out and left.  It was like reconnecting with an old friend, to just enjoy spending time browsing in the library.  

Retirement? And then, un-retirement

 I kind of get it.  I mean, Tom Brady announced his retirement several weeks ago, and this past weekend, announced his "unretirement."  He is not the first sports star to do so.  And, I sort of get it.  My father retired, but worked as a consultant to the extent he was working more than less.  He returned to work for a while, but later, retired.  He was devoted to his work his adult life, and although he loved his family, his identity was also bound up in his work at the papermill where he worked.

There are many athletes who have retired and returned to playing sports:  Michael Jordan, Tony Conigliaro, Yogi Berra, Jim Bouton, Satchel Page, Bob Cousey, Joe Louis, Floyd Mayweather, Mohammed Ali, George Foreman, Sugar Ray Leonard, Gordie Howe, Michael Phelps, Rob Gronkowski. Some after a brief retirement for healing, others with even briefer retirements, and some with several years of retirement.   I think Michael Phelps was articulate about the fact that his life was still defined by his sport, and he still needed the competition to define himself.   

I am not sure why, after just a few weeks, Tom Brady decided to return to actively playing NFL football.  But I get it.   After 45 years of social work practice, the last 26 and half at the same job, I retired.  It took me from June, when I decided it was time to retire, until December, to actually reconcile myself to the fact that I was retiring, although, because of health issues, I could not execute my work at the level I had in the past.  Even then. I was not eager for the final day of work until about the week before it occurred.  By then, I was relieved as well as still having a heavy heart at leaving my patients, my colleagues, my responsibilities, and my professional identify.   

When asked, I reported my retirement plan as sleeping for 2 weeks, which, literally I did. And then some. And there came the day that I thought my strength and stamina had returned.  And I thought,  "Why am I retiring? Why am I not working?  I can still do this."  And, of course, the next day, I needed to sleep most of the day.  

The point is, when I found myself having second thoughts about retiring, there was a mixture of thoughts and feelings to deal with: "I miss my co-workers. I miss the satisfaction of helping patients.  I was good at what I did.  I appreciated the recognition for what I did.  It was an ego boost.  I could not keep up.  I could not work up to my potential. I was disappointed in my failure to perform up to my own expectations.  It was not fair to my boss, coworkers, and patients who had a right to depend upon me. My performance was unprofessional, and even, perhaps, unethical.  I did the best I could.  The expectations from the administration were so overwhelming as to make the job impossible in some ways. It was time to get out of that depressing environment. It was heartbreaking to see a once premiere program ground down to almost nothing, no matter how hard the staff tried. It was not our fault; there was not enough staff to provide the high quality programming we could have been doing. It was time.  I made the right decision.  Who am I kidding?  Myself most of all."

My internal dialogue reflects what I thought and felt, not anyone else.  But I get the decision to change plans. 

Cats and Chaos, War and Children

 I had three cats,  Sake, Haiku, and Taki.  I can't say that they were friends, the best I can say is that they tolerated each other.  They could not all 3 sit on the sofa at the same time; two at most, and at best.  The one place all 3 could share, besides the kitchen at meal time,  with separate dishes, was the bed.  They could not sit together, but they could share the bed.

And, they shared something else.  I don't know if they learned this from each other, or it is just something they had in common, but they would become anxious when I stripped the bed to wash the linens, and did not make the bed quickly enough to suit them.  They did not like to sit on the mattress. I think that was a hold over from when I had a waterbed.  But when I stripped the bed, I would make the comforter available to them, on the mattress, or elsewhere in the bedroom. And sometimes, when I did start to make the bed, they liked to play with the linens and hide under the sheets and comforter.  For a short while.

The only cat left is Taki. She is learning disabled, but functional for the most part.  She forgets how to pull a door open some days, but never forgets how to push a door open. She forgets that playing with claws extended, and biting are not allowed, or just cannot control her impulses. She also is not much of a snuggler, but will sit adjacent, and even likes to hold my hand in her front paws!  She likes to eat where I eat:  in the kitchen when I am in the dining area, in the computer room, when I am there.   If her dishes start in one area, and we move to another, she seems to forget where her dishes are.  But she knows the words "kitchen, breakfast and dinner."  She has not learned the word "commercial" but she knows that when there is a  break in the action, or a change in tempo, I will get up and try to tend to her requests (if I can figure them out)

So, all the to say I washed linens today, which set Taki off a bit, because that is usually a Sunday chore.  I was slow at getting the laundry dried and remaking the bed.  Meanwhile, Taki took up residence on the comforter that was piled at the end of the bed.  She was not resting peacefully, but keeping a careful watch on the bed. And that is when it struck me:  This is a common weekly occurrence in our house, which is calm and quiet for the most part, (except during sporting events.) History in her life indicates the bed will be made and we will have a bed again!  Although I can try to explain this to her, and I do, her vocabulary is not as good as Sake:s and Haiku's, so I do not think she really gets even the general idea of what I am saying.

And this brought me to what I am seeing on the news about the events in Ukraine, and how it is effecting the civilians. Especially, the impact on children, who may not really be able to grasp what is going on, or are too young to have any idea about what is going on.  I do not wish to demean the children of the Ukraine in anyway.   I have never had children, only fur babies.  But if an unmade bed can create an anxiety reaction in my cats, can you imagine how the noise, explosions, fires, destruction impact the children of war.  How being bundled up, leaving home behind with only what you have on your back, with crowds of strangers, usually only one parent, and minimal provisions on a trip in an uncomfortable, crowded truck, bus or train.  Not knowing how long the trip will be. Not knowing what will be waiting at the destination, which probably is only an interim destination, before repeating the processing to yet another unknown destination.  

And, this is just the beginning of the trauma.   There may or may not be a safe haven at the end of the journey:  relatives who are lovingly eager to take you in, or shelters that are waystations until some other plan can be made for you, by someone you do not know, who may or may not be able to accommodate your preferences..  In a different country, with different customs, languages, and expectations.  With discrimination possible and even likely, once the novelty wears off. 

As one individual, there is only so much I can do to help:  I can pray.  I am a firm believer in the power of prayer, and the more united the prayer, the more powerful.  I can attend vigils, solidarity demonstrations, and educational presentations about the events of the world. I can donate goods, funds or perhaps even services.  I can advocate with my legislators regarding my concerns and viewpoint for these world issues. 

And, so can you!