Friday, June 29, 2007

Dyson Is a Feminist Issue

As a young woman, I boycotted cooking and cleaning. Feminism was in full swing, and I wanted more out of life than menial jobs that were relegated to women. Someone had to cook and clean; when I had to do it, I refused to enjoy it.

Through the years I've shed the contraints I put on myself in the name of feminism and realized that I love to cook. Most of the men in my life are great cooks. I exchange recipes with my brother and with my son who's a professional cook.

Do I also love to clean? Not necessarily, but like most people, I feel more comfortable and emotionally uncluttered in a tidy and clean room.

Enter the Dyson brand vacuums. Awhile back, my cleaning lady brought her Dyson to my house, and she was kind enough to try vacuuming the back of my car, as nothing would remove the dog hair. It took her awhile because German Shepherd hair gets embedded in the fabric, but the car looked pretty dang good.

I don't have the luxury of a cleaning lady right now, and I decided to invest in a Dyson vacuum. I'll say right now that the Dyson brand is expensive. But Dyson is in a category of its own. There are vacuums and then there is the Dyson. There are several dog hair models. Mine is the D14.



The first time I used the D14, I had already vacuumed my family room, which is about 9 x 12 feet, with my other vacuum. With the first pass, I filled up the whole bagless chamber with dog hair. I have grandbabies and don't like them crawling or lying in dog hair. Working with the right tool makes a difference, and I can truthfully say that I love to vacuum, using the Dyson.

I've tried various methods to pick up dog hair. With previous vacuums, I had them repaired regularly because the dog hair clogged them and put too much stress on the motor. If the Dyson gets sluggish, I glance at the see-through chamber and see that it's full of dog hair. This basket is simple to change.

The Dyson is cleverly designed. When it is totally upright, the suction comes out of the top that hooks to the attachments. When the Dyson is tipped backwards in vacuuming position, the suction comes out of the base on the carpet or floor. The permanent hose miraculously stretches far enough to vacuum the stairs. The D14 is relatively easy to carry upstairs, especially with the basket removed.

One caveat: I noticed that the cleaning lady's Dyson was getting a little banged up. She may have been throwing it down the stairs or using it for a doorstop. It might not be built to shove in and out of a trunk. It has plastic parts. But I've had my D14 for probably a year, and nothing is broken, nicked or scratched.

I consider my Dyson an investment, so I shopped around. At that time, the price was the same everywhere: at the Dyson site itself, at Costco, and at Walmart.

On my blog I like to share things I like a lot (I'm the Oprah of blogland). My blog is not a store, but I do post links to items I write about. If I don't own it and love it, I don't write about it or post a link to it.

I'm posting a link below to Amazon. You can read about the hepa filter, the mini-turbine head, and the lifetime filter. I often find good deals at Amazon. At the time of this writing, the D14 costs less at Amazon than at Costco or Walmart.

All the Dyson models are similar. If you buy one for your family, everyone will want to use it. Warning: Don't try using the Dyson to vacuum bathroom rugs. The suction is too strong.

Death by HMO

Today is the nationwide release of Michael Moore’s documentary Sicko. Maybe I’m a dreamer, but I hope this movie is the catalyst for the long-needed change in our medical system. No matter how much attention Sicko garners, it’s still up to all of us collectively to stand up and be counted, and refuse to tolerate conditions as they are. In a “civilized” country such as ours, the medical care is often far from civilized. In a country (the USA) that prides itself in technological advancement, our medical care really isn’t “care” at all.

If you’ve never been exposed to medical negligence or indifference, you are vulnerable to betrayal. Caring doctors and nurses are out there, but we can’t assume the professionals know best without us asking many questions and doing our own research. People often question their auto mechanic more than they question their doctors.

One family’s fight to reform the medical system is documented in an excellent, but gut-wrenching book, Death by HMO: The Jennifer Gigliello Story. This book is written by Dorothy Cancilla, a bright and feisty woman, who learned the hard way how callous and incompetent some medical providers can be. Cancilla’s book documents her daughter Jennifer’s eight years of painful illness that eventually led to a premature and avoidable death. Jennifer (below) died four days before her 30th birthday.



I’m amazed at how much information and detail is compiled into this 132-page book. The reader gets an education on the human body, and the tragic errors made by doctors at every turn become very clear.

I can’t imagine helplessly watching my daughter suffer, as Cancilla was forced to do. She and the rest of the family tried everything they could to support Jennifer and help her make the right decisions. Their biggest mistake was daring to think that doctors and Kaiser Hospital had Jennifer’s best interest at heart.

Jennifer’s problems began with frequent abdominal pain and vomiting. While doctors debated about the cause of her suffering, she trusted her doctor who literally butchered her (let’s tell it like it was) by removing her pancreas, instead of her gallbladder. Jennifer, who was somebody’s mother, wife, daughter and sister, tried to live a normal life around many hospital stays and surgeries. Cancilla portrays her youngest daughter as heroic. Anyone reading this book will fall in love with Jennifer, but what pulls at my heart is Cancilla’s loss—a mother’s loss—that never goes away. She honors her daughter and husband by writing this book.

Death by HMO documents medical negligence and indifference but also shows how truly callous some businesses can be for the almighty dollar. In Jennifer’s case the greed of the HMO set off a chain of events that affected her life––and her death—which in turn devastated her family. While viewing Jennifer in her casket, her father Lou Cancilla had a heart attack and died. Dorothy Cancilla and her family lived through a horror show, barely hanging on, in a daze, wondering which family member might be next as they survived two funerals.

To add more insult to much injury, Kaiser Hospital (and members of it) promised to release the facts of the cause of Jennifer’s death, only to hide the autopsy until the courts intervened.

I love Dorothy Cancilla. What a mom she is, and one tough cookie. She did not disappear in her grief, but joined the family in suing Kaiser; and then she later wrote this book. Although the family was triumphant in winning a lawsuit against Kaiser, I’m disappointed that the law limited their financial compensation—received by Jennifer’s husband and son—to a whopping $125,000. Of course, no money really compensates for suffering and loss of life. But at least the judgment in the case allows the author to legally and openly state that Kaiser was at fault.

People need to know what can happen to any of us once we put ourselves in someone else’s hands. We must advocate for ourselves and our loved ones. We cannot assume that the doctor is always right. We have to keep in mind that the only body we have has to last us a lifetime. We are the ones who are affected by wrong decisions. Ultimately we must consider the medical professionals as part of our team. They are expert consultants and sometimes gifted surgeons. But even the most dedicated doctors are imperfect, not God-like. Even decent medical people may be cajoled into betraying their patients by the HMO who pays their salary.

Death by HMO will surprise and dismay you. But you will be inspired by the courage of Dorothy Cancilla and her family. This story has all the elements for a great movie.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Squamous Part Deux

On Tuesday June 18, Dr. Ting removed the tiny carcinoma from my left cheek. The procedure only required one pass--to remove cancerous tissue to be examined under the microscope. When Dr. Ting returned from the lab, he asked me if I wanted to see the incision ("excision" is more precise). I normally prefer to be involved in my own care as much as possible, but I didn't have the heart to see the results.

A soft paper cloth draped over my face caused me the most discomfort. The purpose of the cloth was to keep the wound sterile. Feeling smothered is a personal quirk of mine, but it was no big deal, and no pain whatsoever was involved otherwise.

Stitching the wound required more time than anything else, partly because the skin needed further cutting to compensate for the gap made by the vacant hole. Dr. Ting made some sketches of potential cuts he could make as part of Mohs procedure that I previously described.

Here are Dr. Ting's sketches:


Holy guacamole, Batman! Can't you just spackle the hole, instead of making it bigger?

I'm usually a control freak about my medical care. But since my dismay about getting my face cut made it difficult for me to picture minimal scarring, I asked Dr. Ting to do what he thought best. Mohs procedure is a bit bizarre. The idea of making a relatively big incision in order to keep scarring to a minimum is hard to grasp. You can judge for yourself whether you think it works or not by viewing the photos below.

The biggest problem in dealing with skin cancer has been the inconvenience of the surgery and the $2000-deductible I have on my medical insurance policy. Once I removed my bandage a few days later, I looked like Frankenstein's distant, distant cousin.

Day 6 before my office visit:


I suffered no discomfort, getting the stitches removed. I had opted not to take antibiotics for this procedure. And when I found out that the topical antibiotic ointment was $48 a tube, I did not buy the prescription. I kept the wound very clean and used the topical ointment that Dr. Ting gave me.

Day 6 after the removal of my stitches:


In two weeks I return to Dr. Ting to get more moles and precancerous bumps off my skin that are typical to baby boomers who worshipped the sun when we were young, especially here in California.

If anyone reading this gets skin cancer, I'd try not to worry. A melanoma is more likely to cause problems than a squamous cell carcinoma or a basal cell carcinoma. Early detection of all of these is the key. It is definitely time to wear a hat when I go for a hike, play a game of golf, or work in the yard.

Dr. Ting swears by sunscreen with an SPF rating of 50 or higher. He also recommends that I get a chemical peel to remove other recancerous marks on my face. I will research both these topics and post what I decide here on this blog.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Google Your Name

In 1997 my first book was published. I recently wondered if the book would still show up if someone Googled me. So I Googled my name. The results surprised me.

The first entry was from a dental forum. I’d had surgery on my gums several years ago that I deemed personal. I was mortified to think that someone looking for my book would come across this piece of information. I had thought the dental forum was private.

The second entry was from a hepatitis C forum. In 1988 I received several units of transfused blood as a result of a serious accident (subject of the above-mentioned book). Luckily blood was screened for AIDS at that time, but screening for hepatitis C didn’t begin until 1992. So I received the gift that keeps on giving.

I choose to be open about most things to most people. But choosing is the key word. I can reveal personal facts about myself. Few people reading this blog actually know my last name or who I really am. For those who know my true identity, I’m open anyway.

Hepatitis, for the record, isn’t always as scary as the media portrays it. Thousands of people have quality of life without going through Interferon treatments. Hepatitis isn’t as contagious as most people think. It is blood to blood, and rarely passed to a sexual partner.

Many members of the two hepatitis forums I frequented had been married for years without passing the virus to their spouses. I also learned that support forums about illness are generally negative. Few people are proactive in managing their care. They rely on doctors or other forum members for information.

I was a member of two hepatitis forums and one dental forum for a nano-second, and Google remembered these tidbits of information, information that I thought was private.

Here is part of the problem: If you post a question or response at a forum, using a screen name or alias, your identity is protected. But if your real name is in your email address, the search engine will group the information together. For instance, at Yahoo forums, your email address is revealed to the forum when you respond to someone else’s post. You can choose to keep your email address private, but if you are gathering information of a personal nature, you may want other members to email you their personal answer.

I have used my whole name in my email address for years so that anyone wanting to write me could easily remember it. Now, I question the wisdom of this choice, especially when it's tied into a forum message. In addition, I cannot receive email without revealing my whole name. With crazy people stalking individuals or stealing their identities, we must develop a new awareness of the downside of technology.

I revisited the dental forum and stated my case. I saw that the forum was indeed public. The owner of the forum either didn’t understand the setup options, or he didn’t see the need for discretion. And, as a member, I had not paid attention. After I explained my dilemma, the forum owner gave me moderator status, so that I could delete my past messages. Unfortunately, my name–-in the form of my email address--appears in the messages of others who had responded to me.

The only information that Google revealed about me and the hepatitis forum was that I had frequented a hepatitis forum. There’s nothing I can really do except to find other ways to get noticed by Google, so that previous entries move down on the list.

The good news is that at least two other women share my full name. One of them writes westerns. If one of her old high school boyfriends Googles her name, he might wonder if she has hepatitis. And somebody else might think I write westerns.

I now choose to be careful about what I might reveal. Your neighbors, if they’re Internet savvy, can Google your name, instead of knocking on your door or calling you on the phone. Isn’t the twenty-first century great?

When I’m bored, instead of cleaning my house, I Google people I know. I haven’t discovered any tasty tidbits yet. I’ve merely learned how creative I can be when I don’t want to do housework.

Prospective employers will now Google job candidates. FYI, some also look on Myspace to see what they can find out. We need to arm ourselves with a new mindset to protect our privacy.

Have you Googled your name?

Sunday, June 10, 2007

The Word Is "Squamous"

Two days before my 59th birthday, my telephone rings at 8 a.m. When I see my dermatologist's caller I.D., I assume his staff is contacting me. I've recently had session two of moles and other weird thingies removed from my face, mostly for cosmetic reasons. I don't want my grandchildren to see an old witch when they look at my face.

After session one, everything was benign. I haven't thought twice about the lab work from session two until I hear my doctor's voice on the line. He says that one tiny bump on my face has come back positive. "Remember that one bump that I thought looked suspicious?" he asks. I remember. He says I need to come in and have it cut out. No big deal.

What could be difficult? Nothing really, except that he will excise some skin, freeze it, and send it to the lab. We will then wait for the lab results before sewing me up or before cutting deeper. If he cuts more, he will freeze more cells and send them to the lab, and the procedure will repeat until there is no sign of cancer.

He asks me to look up "Mohs surgery" on the Internet. Hmmmm. I've been looking forward to this year's birthday. I'm not sure how to feel now. Once I Google "Mohs," it becomes difficult to be optimistic. I read that the physician makes an oblong incision, plenty long to get all the cancer cells. Nothing significant on someone's forehead or arm, but my tiny lump is on my cheek, near the smile crease that goes from my nose to my mouth.

I call the doctor back and talk to his staff. "I need to know what kind of cancer this is," I say. "The doctor told me to look up "Mohs surgery. He did not say what kind of cancer it is." The nurse says: "Squamous cell carcinoma." "Isn't this worse than basal cell carcinoma?" I ask, trying my best to pump her for info that will give me some peace of mind. She seems noncommital.

I find out that both basal cell and squamous cell carcinomas are usually 100 percent curable if treated right away. Squamous cells may metasticize more quickly, but basal cells go deeper and may be more disfiguring. In my case I'm more concerned about potential disfigurement--I think. I request the name of a plastic surgeon.

When Dr. Ting calls me with some surgeons' names, I ask to schedule an extra appointment to discuss my options, face to face. Is surgery a must? I don't want to be disfigured. I love Dr. Ting. He fits me in two days from now. I've decided that once I do everything possible to insure success, I will put this topic out of my mind. I'm feeling more in control as I pursue more information.

Meanwhile, I find infinite sources on the Internet indicating that the Mohs procedure provides the highest assurance of complete cancer removal but preserves a maximal amount of normal tissue.



I go to my consultation two days later. Dr. Ting draws an incision on my face as plan A. He will do Mohs procedure on eight different people on my big day, and I'm second in line. I like the order. He can warm up on number one, but still be fresh during my turn.

Below is the squamous cell carcinoma on my left cheek. What you see started as a tiny thing before it was cut and sent to the lab a few weeks ago. Note: I cropped away my face like they do in the medical journals--to display these silly cancer cells.



Dr. Ting erases the ink and draws plan B, in case there are lots of cancer cells. He tells me that the plastic surgeons will charge $6,000 to stitch the hole closed. This fee is obscene. Why would one human overcharge another human to do an hour's work when this procesure is not optional?

Dr. Ting looks like an Asian Doogie Howser. He credits his consistent use of sun screen for his youthful appearance. (He reminds me to put on my SPF50 before I step outside.) He has performed Mohs technique many times; he is confident that the scar will not be a problem for me. I believe him. I decide to count on him. June 19th. I will say so long to "squamie" and update this topic.

Sunday, June 3, 2007

No Extended Warranty for Me

Can you see Google ads on this page? I cannot see them. I don’t know why. While using the Adsense Troubleshooting Wizard, I probably tore out half my hair. At this point I've cleared my browser cache and deleted my cookies. I decide to print some instructions that a Google rep has sent me.

Oh, good grief. Why is my printer only using red ink? I recently changed the cartridges. One of the problems with red ink, besides being hard on the eyes, is that the pages are blank wherever black ink or any other color of ink should appear. Oh, cripes. I’ve now had to detour from the Google issue, which was a detour from writing. Why did I think I could write a blog each day?

I change the black cartridge, even though I’m pretty sure the old one is full. I print. Still, red ink only. I look in my stack of unfiled computer stuff and find my Epson C86 manual. I check the troubleshooting section in the back of the book. My particular problem is not listed.

I go to the Epson site and install the most current driver. That doesn’t help.

I go through the Windows XP Troubleshooter. No paper jams. No connection issues.

By now I’m surrounded by messy mounds of partially printed computer paper, and I can feel physical signs of anxiety. I’m sweating. My heart is racing. I have a headache. I am buggin’.

I know that fixing this little printer--which is over two years old--will cost more than buying a new one. I check Costco online. None of their current deals speak to me. Off I go to Target, the place I normally go to unload money. But they have a poor selection of printers. Office Depot has a long row, with printers on both sides of the aisle. I see that laser printers have come down in price. Make no mistake. We are all getting gouged with the price of the cartridges. Did you know you can now print labels directly onto your CDs and DVDs? I want to print labels directly to my CDs and DVDs, but I don’t need the added expense.

I look for something small that I can move from room to room with my laptop. I see an Epson C88. It is almost the same as my C86. Yippee! The cartridges look the same. It looks like I can use my inventory of cartridges.

I decide on the Epson C86 for $80. I don’t need a shopping cart. I carry it to the checkout stand. By now I’m mentally fatigued from a day of troubleshooting. I fumble with my purse and wallet. I can’t seem to access my credit cards and money without letting valuables hang out of my purse. But this is a different subject begging for a future blog.

As I fumble around, the cashier asks me if I want an extended warranty for only $15. I say, “No thanks.”

She tells me that Office Depot will only honor returns for 14 days, and anything could go wrong with my printer after that. $15 is almost a fifth of the cost. Why would I spend this money? Doesn’t she know that if I’m going to unload money for no reason, I do it at Target?

She is in essence telling me that the product this fine store carries may be a piece of sh*t. Otherwise, why would I need an extended warranty? Don’t products speak for themselves anymore?

I’m more than annoyed. I’ve already said no. Yet, she is still talking. Here comes another blog topic. I do not feel good when I speak and my wishes are ignored. Is everyone my age treated this way? Do younger people all lack manners? Well, yes and yes.

I ignore this woman as she continues her spew. I say, “What’s the total?” as if she hasn’t been talking to me. She doesn’t realize how tempted I am to laugh in her face. I still have a Google problem to resolve when I get home. I’m not interested in what commission she earns. She says eighty something, and I slide my magic card–-magic until I get the bill. By now she’s chatting with a coworker as she hands me my receipt and I leave.

In case you haven’t figured it out, this blog is about extended warranties, mostly. I’ve had them with computers. I don’t like them.

My warranty with Gateway was a joke. Shortly after I bought my previous laptop and extended warranty, Gateway closed their stores. When my laptop malfunctioned, I told them what the problem was. Gateway ignored my written comments. I had to mail my laptop to them three times before they fixed it. I now have a Dell XPS.

I get home with my new printer. It is easy to set up. Just like my C86, except....

Would you believe that my old cartridges do not fit?