Gut Feelings: Revenge of the Pancreas

I have no idea if my many years of an unhealthy high-fat diet contributed to my current predicament, but they certainly couldn't have helped.  In the late evening of Monday, May 6, my pancreas decided to take revenge on me by attacking itself in what was a bout of acute pancreatitis.  The pain was beyond any that I had past experienced, mainly prior bowel obstructions.  It resulted in a four-day hospital stay and what will be a change in my diet for life.  I'm using this blog post to explain what the past couple weeks have been like for me, and while much of it might sound pessimistic, I will conclude this post with some personal points of optimism and hope.

The pancreas produces important hormones like insulin, but it also creates enzymes that break down food in your intestines.  During pancreatitis, the pancreas becomes inflamed.  Pancreatic enzymes begin to destroy the pancreas itself.  As one can imagine, this is not a healthy situation.  The two most common causes of pancreatitis are 1) excessive alcohol use and 2) gallstones blocking the path of the pancreatic enzymes.

When I began getting waves of minor abdominal pains in the early evening that Monday, I thought they might be indicators of a partial bowel obstruction, which I often get, but they tend to work themselves out pretty quickly on their own.  A couple hours later, the waves of pain got much stronger.  Within a short time, the pain became constant and unyielding.  I began infrequently vomiting while trying to find the most comfortable position.  It didn't matter if I was sitting, lying down, or standing up - the pain didn't let up.  I was sweating profusely and became very pale.  Finally, after about six hours I decided I needed to go to the emergency room.  At the time, I thought it likely I had a complete bowel obstruction.  I drove myself to the hospital around one in the morning, which took about 25-30 minutes.

The wait to be seen in the ER was only a few short minutes, but from that point on, it felt like an eternity until I saw a doctor.  When a bed opened up for me, I suddenly found myself in the pediatric section of the hospital (not quite sure why, but the pain blurred my memories at that time).  Hospital staff did an abdominal X-ray on me, and they initially did think it was a bowel obstruction.  They asked me if I'd accept the dreaded nasogastric tube, and I immediately said yes.  An NG tube goes through your nose into your stomach, while you're awake.  But I knew what was coming and I took it in stride, knowing the NG tube would likely relieve some of the pressure and pain by suctioning out anything in my digestive system.  I didn't even gag this time when they inserted the NG tube!  They then did a CT scan which along with blood work revealed I had pancreatitis.  They finally gave me the painkiller Dilaudid after being in the ER for about four hours.  The Dilaudid worked incredibly well; within ten seconds a certain wave of heat came over my entire body and stopped all of the pain.  It was such a relief that I immediately fell asleep.  Doctors and nurses woke me up every now and then with questions and syringes, and eventually they told me I'd be admitted to the hospital.

Thankfully, surgery wasn't necessary as the pancreatitis was caught very early.  The only treatment was the immediate cessation of any food or liquid other than a saline IV drip to keep me hydrated.  With the Dilaudid in my system, I didn't feel much pain at all.  One of my co-workers came in to see me that Tuesday afternoon, right about the same time they gave me an ultrasound.  No pregnancy!  They did the ultrasound to check my gall bladder which came up fine.  No gallstones... and I was adamant in my statements to the doctor that I don't drink much (I drink perhaps once every couple months, and it's usually just a glass of wine or a mudslide).  They did a lot of blood work, though the only immediate results they could get from that was that my triglyceride levels were high but not high enough to cause acute pancreatitis.  They did reveal a "fatty liver," which is exactly what it sounds like - an excess of fat in the liver, often caused by too much fat in one's diet.  Thankfully, that problem is reversible over time with a healthy diet.

After a couple days of the saline IV drip, they upgraded me to a liquid diet.  Jello and broth!  Actually, I really love Jello!  After another day, I was told I could try a diet of low-fat solid food.  I was getting occasional abdominal pains after eating, but it was tolerable.  By that time, I was declining the Dilaudid most of the time.  I don't like counting on narcotics if I don't have to (but they are wonderful when you do need them!).

I was labeled an "independent" at the hospital, which I took as a joke but it seemed it was actually their way of saying I could get out of bed on my own and didn't need much assistance.  Independent is a good life description for me, though... I dislike depending on others for my needs, a lifestyle which I should probably shed a little bit.  I enjoy helping others but have a very hard time accepting it for myself.  Hence, I drove myself to the hospital instead of calling someone else... and I definitely wasn't going to pay for an ambulance!  But again... I know I do need to learn to ask for help.

Funny story.  During my last night in the hospital (Thursday night), for some reason the nursing staff turned on my bed alarm.  So when I got up around 3am for an urgent trip to the bathroom, my bed let out this high-pitch ear-piercing sound.  As I hastily walked to the bathroom, a nursing assistant came in and let out a gasp because she didn't expect to see anyone walking around in the room so quickly.  The whole scene was awful at the time, but kind of hilarious looking back.

Friday I was told I could leave the hospital.  The gastroenterologist who had been popping in to see me daily told me he'd schedule an appointment with me for a couple weeks later.  An MRCP (advanced form of MRI) will eventually be scheduled to check for any possible physical causes of the pancreatitis.  Some specialized blood work results are pending (at least one test I know is to check for an autoimmune disorder).  In the mean time, I'm left wondering what the heck caused the pancreatitis in the first place.

When I was discharged, I asked the nurse how long I'd be on a low-fat diet. "For life," she told me, in a way that also said, "Didn't you know that, silly?"  My primary care doctor who I saw the following Monday confirmed the low-fat diet would be for life.  I'm also not allowed to have alcohol again.  I can deal with the absence of alcohol... but it has certainly been an eye-opening struggle and adjustment as I've been researching how to go about having a low-fat diet.  It's not going to be easy, but I'm gradually learning what I can and cannot eat.

For the first three days after being released from the hospital, I had almost no appetite.  I'd get hungry, but whenever I'd eat, I felt full after just a few bites.  Since being admitted to the hospital, I've lost almost ten pounds - not a great way to lose weight, but hey, I'll take it!  Thankfully, my appetite is back now, though I'm still not eating enough to simply maintain weight.  That will come with time soon, I know.

I am going to miss pizza.  And hamburgers.  And anything fried.  And pretty much all kinds of foods that I love to eat that are high in fat.  Instead, I'm having fruits, vegetables, lean turkey burgers, baked fish, and chicken vegetable stir fries with brown rice (without the cooking oil, which is high in fat), and lean turkey sandwiches.  I do love fat-free Fig Newtons and fat-free yogurt.  Those are my treats for the time being.  I have a steep learning curve ahead but I know that this is for the best.  I do think that my life-long high-fat diet did contribute somehow to the pancreatitis.  Even if it didn't contribute to it, switching to a low-fat diet will be good for my heart, my pancreas, and the rest of my body.

For now I also can't have caffeine, but I'm hoping when I see the gastroenterologist next week, he'll give me his blessing to have coffee every now and then.  Let me keep something I enjoy, like mochas!  Crossing my fingers about that.  If you know me well, you know mochas are a daily staple for me.

I don't know what my journey will be ahead.  I haven't dealt well with not knowing why this happened, but I hope to know in the coming weeks.  I also don't know if this will happen again, and that's a seed of fear that has unfortunately been planted.  Some weird things have been happening, too.  I'm getting night sweats even though it's cool in my bedroom with the air conditioner.  Also, my shin splints are back with a vengeance since the pancreatitis hit me (and they clearly weren't caused by running!).

But here's what I do know.  I know that I appreciated the visits at the hospital from my co-workers and staff members, as well as the phone calls, texts, and posts on social media wishing me well.  Support from others goes a long way.  I appreciated the cards and small gifts I received.  This whole experience has also re-kindled my spiritual reflections and beliefs.  Life is so fragile and precious.  On the morning after being discharged from the hospital, I stepped out of my apartment and observed an overcast sky with a subtle drizzle of rain.  The trees and plant life were especially lush with green.  I was briefly overcome with emotion at the beauty of it all and cried a few happy tears. Sometimes we need experiences of high stress and uncertainty to remind us just how amazing life really is.

Thanks to everyone for these measures of support!

It's More Than Just a Race

I'll officially be in a race again this year.  More to tell about that in a few moments.

Some run marathons to win.  Some run them to beat their pace record.  Some run them just to say that they did it.  Regardless of their reasons, anyone who completes a marathon deserves kudos for being inspiring.

When watching all of the news about the tragic bombing at the Boston Marathon yesterday, I felt a strong need to get back to a race.  I won't be doing a marathon, as I'm not marathon material.  Well... let me correct that by saying, there's no way I could run a marathon, but perhaps one day I'll walk one.

I walked two half-marathons in 2010 - the first in June near Boston with a couple co-workers, and the second in October in Newport, Rhode Island on my own (see linked blog posts).  Both were incredible experiences that made me feel so great about myself and others participating in the races.  You feel like you're part of something bigger than yourself. 

Training for a half-marathon does wonders for your health.  The consistent walking (or running or jogging) will certainly help you lose weight.  It's good for your cardiovascular system, and your energy and mood definitely is lifted. After my second half-marathon, I started running and participated in a local 5K in Bridgewater.  Regrettably, I didn't listen to my body and ran through some intense shin pain.  After seeing an orthopedic surgeon, I was told I should avoid ever running again.  That's easy for me to cope with as I hate running!  But I love brisk walking with a passion.  I've been inconsistent about walking since then - only walking about 3-4 miles once a month. 

But I've wanted to get back in the game over the last few months.  I just bought new sneakers a couple weeks ago, and the seed was planted for a return to a half-marathon in the fall, but I wasn't fully committed to it - not quite yet. 

I am inspired by those who ran the Boston Marathon.  By the people who supported the runners.  By those first responders to the scene after the bombings.  By the doctors and medical personnel treating all of those impacted.  By the Boston Police in their amazing response.  By counselors who are helping people cope with the trauma.  And by folks who are showing their support by dedicating their miles run and walked on this "Run for Boston" site started by a woman named Becca Obergefell (props to her for starting it).  I just contributed four miles this morning to the site.

Last night, I received all the motivation I needed to commit to a half-marathon.  I mean, what more motivation could you possibly need than the stories of human goodness coming out of the Boston Marathon? 

So I registered for the Maine Half-Marathon in Portland, Maine set for Sunday, October 6, 2013.  I chose this race because it's very walker-friendly and gives me a chance to see the city of Portland for the first time.  It also gives me a couple months to ease into a consistent walking routine, and then nearly three months to fully train for the half. 

Once I register for a race, I am COMMITTED.  So I knew I needed to register for the Maine Half-Marathon last night.  Every time I go for a walk, I'll be thinking about the people of the Boston Marathon.  And I'll be dedicating my walk in the Maine Half-Marathon to all of those inspiring people.

It's more than just a race.  It's a belief in humanity and the inherent goodness of people.

Oh, one more thing.  I love Boston.

A Niner Reminder

Reveling in the NFC championship victory by the San Francisco 49ers yesterday, I recalled a sort of youthful joy about football that I haven't felt since I was just fourteen years old.  This was back in the Niners' 1994 season when they won the Super Bowl.  I vividly remember jumping up and down for joy, though I was also sick with a cold and was so ready to go to sleep.  I didn't realize that when I'd wake up, the next time I'd see the 49ers headed to the Super Bowl would be eighteen years later.  

Since I save just about every paper I've ever written, I found one I wrote during my freshman year in college (1997) about how my love for the 49ers began, the first game that I ever went to, and the proclamation that I'd always stick with this team for life through the good times and the bad times.  The Niners have been a difficult team to watch for many years, and it's great to see the good times have finally returned.  

Watching Steve Young's enshrining in the
NFL Hall of Fame in San Francisco. [2005]

I've seen the 49ers play at several locales: Washington, D.C.; Charlotte, NC.; Cincinnati, OH; and Seattle, WA.  And in that freshman paper, I expressed a dream to see the 49ers play at home in Candlestick Park.  That ultimately happened when I lived in Idaho and decided to take a vacation in San Francisco.  I had no idea that the game I bought a ticket for would also feature the induction of none other than quarterback legend Steve Young into the NFL Hall of Fame.  That was a memorable, beautiful autumn day in November 2005.

Now I'm pulling (of course) for a Niner victory against the Baltimore Ravens in Super Bowl XLVII on February 3 (otherwise known as the "HarBowl" - the battle of the Harbaugh brothers).  It sure would bring back some super childhood memories and feelings.

So I thought I'd share that old paper from '97 in a blog post and provide some insight into the thoughts of an eighteen year old and how I came to love this San Francisco 49er franchise. Go Niners! 

The 49ers Game

Five years ago, I was a kid who didn't care about football.  It had no meaning in my life.  I was obsessed with computers and math, and I had virtually no social life.  I had a love for statistical figures.  One late night, I was spending my time surfing the Internet and I think I came across a little flashing button.  It led to a program that would take in statistics from football games, and try to determine what team would win in a upcoming game, based on their past results.  I thought this was all pretty cool, so I took out the morning paper and inputted statistics such as rushing yards, number of incomplete passes, number of interceptions, etc.  Many of these statistics I didn't have a clue of what they represented.  After I did all that input, I selected a game scheduled in a few days.  It said the 49ers would win.  I just had to wait until game day.

Game day.  I turn on the TV, preparing for what I initially thought would be three boring hours.  At this point, I didn't care about the game, but rather the statistics produced at the conclusion of the game.  My memory of the game is vague, so I can't remember who the opponent of the 49ers were.  Throughout the ballgame, the score remained close, but the other team took a quick lead with only a few minutes remaining on the clock.  With only a couple minutes in the game, I began to feel the tension and emotion of football.  The 49ers were behind, and they had only one final drive remaining.  If they screwed up now, they would lose the game.  The pressure was on them to win.  I began to root for the 49ers, because they were now the underdogs.  I've always liked the idea of being pushed back and fighting back to win.  The 49ers took charge and drove down the field, scoring a game-winning touchdown.  It was at this time that I would forever love the 49ers football team.

I'd eventually get a close view of my Niner idol, Jerry Rice
at a game in Charlotte, NC. [1998]

For a whole year, I watched the 49ers win and lose games and I also continued to put those statistics in the computer.  I eventually got drawn farther away from the statistical part of the game, and got closer to the power of the game.  It took me time, but I began to learn all the players' names, and the one name that always sticks out in my mind is Jerry Rice.  He is probably the greatest football player ever.  His dexterity and speed always had me in awe.  The guy would be covered all the way down field during a play and still find some way to break away and catch the ball.  After the catch, his speed would take over and he'd leave all the other players in shock.  Players like this make the game worth while and exciting.  

For the first couple years, the 49ers would have a good season and would go to the playoffs.  But they'd always lose to the Dallas Cowboys.  I grew to hate the Cowboys and I learned what a true rivalry between two teams really was. 

In their season of 1994, I got the chance to go see the 49ers play the Redskins at RFK Stadium.  It was a Christmas present from my parents.  Washington D.C. was a four hour trip from Norfolk, Va, and it seemed to take forever, as I was so excited to go to the game.  A lot of my friends told me before I left that 49ers would get their asses kicked by the Redskins, but of course they only wished that would happen.  The 49ers were by far, much better than the Redskins.  The trip to D.C. finally was over and we stayed overnight at a hotel.  It was difficult for me to sleep that night; my excitement could not be contained.  

Nostalgia: The old Game Day magazine
from the Redskins-49ers game that I saved.
[1994]

Sunday, a cool sunny November day.  My mother and I took a bus to the stadium.  It only took a few minutes and finally, we were there.  The stadium looked so huge from the outside.  We went to the entrance where a man took our tickets and handed back the ticket stubs.  Once inside, the stadium became even larger.  We went through the walkway surrounding the football field and closer seats.  It was a difficult task finding our seats.  It took around twenty minutes to finally find them.  Our seats were farther away from the field than most of the seats.  To our surprise, our seats were in the walkway.  The good thing about it was that the sun wasn't in our eyes, however, it was pretty hard to see the players down on the field, being so far away. Once we were in our seats, I looked around and saw all the people sporting their team's colors.  Of course, it was mostly Redskins fans.  But there were a few 49ers fans close to us. It took a while for the game to start, and as we were waiting, we bought a program booklet with all kinds of articles and stats on the upcoming game. The one statistic that popped out in my head was the 49ers record at RFK stadium.  In the recent seasons, the 49ers only won one game and lost four. It worried me that the 49ers had a losing record here, and perhaps they might lose again.   

When the game started, the crowd went wild. Everyone was cheering.  The Redskins band came out and played the famous "Hail to the Redskins" song, and then the teams were on the field, getting in formation to kick.  It was difficult to see all the players on the field from where we were.  Luckily, we had a pair of binoculars to get a better look.  I was so thrilled to see all the 49ers players on the field.  I looked for Jerry Rice and Steve Young, and all the other many excellent players.  These NFL superstar players were on a field, and I was a part of the whole game.  Without the crowd, football would be nothing.  The cheers, jeers, and boos are all necessary parts of the game, and besides, they make it so much more interesting and thrilling.  Sometimes the 49ers would create big plays, such as Jerry Rice catching a long touchdown pass.  It was what I saw on television - except now it was right in front of me - Jerry Rice catching the ball in mid-air, and somehow managing to break away from the Redskins player, running with intense speed.  When watching television, the crowd noise doesn't overpower you, and you're not a part of the game. The camera is in control of what you see and hear, while when you're at the game, you can hear and see everything. The 49ers won this game handily with more than a two touchdown lead.  I saved the ticket stub from this game, and it now sits back home in my closet.  It is a memento of the game, and just touching it brings back the feeling of the game.

I feel very lucky that I saw the 49ers play that season of 1994, because that year, the 49ers finished with a fantastic record.  They once again had to play the Cowboys in the playoffs.

This time, they did not lose.  They finally made it to the Super Bowl. 

On Super Bowl night, they would be playing the San Diego Chargers.  There was no competition here.  The Chargers were lucky to make it to the Super Bowl and the 49ers were destined to go after their thrilling season.  The 49ers offense and defense were both extraordinary.  Throughout the season, they had scored over thirty points in almost every game, and held the other teams to very low scores.  The playoffs was just as easy for them.  The Dallas Cowboys were humbled immediately in their match-up in the playoffs - the 49ers scored three touchdowns in just the first few minutes.  The Chargers had a fairly good season, but their trip through the playoffs was difficult for them.  They squeaked out a couple lucky close wins.  When the two teams met on the field in Miami, Florida for the Super Bowl, the 49ers showed the Chargers and the nation why they were the number one NFL football team. The 49ers whooped the Chargers' asses, making fools of them.  The final score was 49-26.  This Super Bowl win was so great because Steve Young, the quarterback, finally got the monkey off his back.  That monkey was Joe Montana, one of the greatest quarterbacks ever.  Joe Montana had won several Super Bowls while Steve Young hadn't even been to one.  Steve Young used to be the backup quarterback and since Montana was sent to the Chiefs, Young had the huge challenge of taking the reins of the 49er football team, in the shadow of Montana.  I think the win made things much easier for Young, since the media finally stopped procrastinating about how Young was no good, always have a great season, but then failing miserably in the playoffs.  

It has now been three years since the 49ers have been to the Super Bowl, and hopefully this season will lead to it.  They have a good shot at it, having already clinching their division and ensuring a good position in the playoffs.  Through these last five years, I have developed a great love for the 49ers.  Throughout the many Christmases and birthdays, I gained a large collection of 49er items.  Anywhere from sweatshirts to a clock to a trashcan - you name it, I've got it.  On a final note, I'm definitely not one of those people who jump on the bandwagon, rooting for only the team that is currently doing well.  I will stick with the 49ers for all my life, no matter how poorly they may do at times throughout.  The next hope of mine is to see the 49ers play at their stadium in San Francisco, California.  The excitement of the 49er fans, and just knowing that I was on the 49ers home turf, would leave a fantastic moment for my memories beyond.

Lunatics, Monsters, and Maniacs

I had serious aspirations to be a forensic psychologist for about four years throughout high school and college.  I majored in criminal justice and minored in psychology as a first-year college student.  The human mind fascinated me and still does to this day.  To ponder how and why humans choose violence is a process that will never provide a final conclusion to the questions.  But to ask those questions should never be considered wasted time.

The tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary School on Friday, December 14, 2012 has inundated the news lately.  It has caused a torrent of tears, feelings of anger and blame, and confusion about why a human being would willingly and carefully plan out the horrific act of taking the lives of children.  It really doesn't make any logical sense.  Eventually we suspect there will be some publicized explanations, however irrational or unbelievable they might be.  For now, we can only ponder it blindly.

Adam Lanza has become a name unfortunately emblazoned in our national consciousness.  There are those who do not hesitate to label this troubled man as a lunatic, a monster, or a maniac.  It is easier on us to dehumanize someone who carries out such a horrible act.  After all, these victims were innocent six and seven year old children - and the courageous educators protecting them.  Their inner light extinguished.  I have shed many tears about this like we all have.

But I have no illusions about the fact that Adam was a human being.  In my opinion, to label him a monster is an injustice in itself.  It is in my nature, based upon my upbringing, personal experiences, thoughtful reflection, and probably a bit of genetic coding, to view every human being as essentially a good person.  Whenever I get the desire to label someone as "evil," I catch myself.  My worldview emphasizes the need to reflect upon the similarities held among us in the human race.  And that for all of our cultural, socioeconomic, racial, and spiritual/religious differences, we share the common experience of being human.  Therefore, when such acts of violence occur, soul-searching is necessary.  If we label Adam a monster, then it is critical to look within our selves and ask the question, "Do I have the capacity to be a monster? A lunatic? A maniac?" Before you reply with a unflinching, automatic "No, I don't!", reflect deeply on that question.  Seriously.

Based on the limited knowledge we have so far about Adam, it seems evident that he suffered from a number of mental and physical disorders.  A very troubled young man.  These conditions clearly played a significant role in his development as a child and adolescent.  Obviously, he could not have come out of his mother's womb with an immediate intent to kill, need to hate, or desire to commit violence.  But his disorders did factor into his life experiences.  Perhaps he was bullied; maybe he was made an outcast; potentially he faced a personal trauma; possibly he developed a worldview that dehumanized others.  But if he had an psychological apathy for others and disinterest in social engagement, that is not enough on its own for one to commit violence.  With his biological disorders combined with a culmination of his interactions with others, he ultimately chose to take his mother's life, children's lives, and teachers' lives.  An awful, awful thing.  In the well-known theoretical debate over nature versus nurture, I'd say - like many would - both biology and life experiences form who we individually are.  But he made a choice, one that others may have unwittingly permitted or even nudged.  This isn't to say that we should readily blame Adam's family or the people who knew him.  We can't and shouldn't.  This was a choice Adam made himself.  But it is to say there must have been signs.  It takes time to plan out the horrible crimes that he enacted.

Adam was apparently mentally ill.  That does not make him a lunatic.  I despise that word for its offensive history.  Using such terms is a way for us to feel better about ourselves and push people like Adam outside the boundaries of humanity.  But then we avoid seriously talking about the problem and instead sensationalize his actions.  I can empathize with the sincere writer of "I am Adam Lanza's Mother."  How does one effectively parent a child who makes threats against him/herself and others?  Is it enough to send such a child to the hospital emergency room for a psychiatric evaluation?  Is it sufficient to provide him or her regular counseling sessions?  Is the answer to medicate?  Does it take a village, like Hillary Clinton might say, to ensure another Adam doesn't unleash violence - and if so, what are all the villagers' roles?  Do we simply lock such a person away for life or for a very long time in a psychiatric institution? And what if, as an adult, this individual with violent thoughts but no documented threats does not wish to be treated for their mental illness?  Should we enact laws to force this person into treatment, and if so, where do we draw the line?

I don't know.  I doubt any single mental health expert has truly credible, reliable, and consistent answers to these questions, either.  But I imagine it will be the professional community who provide mental health support that puts together a semblance of a plan forward.

We've heard about parents of families who initially led stable, productive lives but ultimately faced a series of personal stressors that brought them to despair, and they chose to take their family's lives and their own.  If these people are monsters, like Adam Lanza has been labeled, then look within yourself and consider what you might do in their shoes.  I'd bet you don't really know, though you'd hope you wouldn't do what they did.

Mental health is a critical discussion point for our nation.  It's not to be taken lightly.  Compassion for others is a crucial requirement for the treatment of mental illness - and for the treatment of our fellow human beings.

We cannot stop all of these personal tragedies from happening again.  And they're certainly nothing new (read about the horrific 1927 elementary school bombing that faded from our national memory).  But we can all do our part to care for our family members, friends, colleagues, and neighbors.  And that's a start.

I started this reflective piece by noting my aspirations to be a forensic psychologist. So why did I ultimately choose a different career path?  Focusing on the darker side of the human mind ultimately led me to realize that I didn't want to spend my entire life mostly attentive to the terrible things we are capable of doing.  I knew it would eventually bring me down.  So I switched majors and chose instead to direct my studies to the psychology of personality.  And I later chose to work in higher education and student affairs.  It's because I believe in the inherent good of everyone, and we can help others grow into their potential.  As long as we choose to care.

You're My Friend, But You're Also an Idiot (A Commentary on Politics and Empathy)

It's been a hard-fought political season among all levels of government this year.  Emotions run high, as they always do.  There is a plethora of disagreements, as should be expected.  Social media has become a mainstream method of communication, at least for most of the people I know.  But from my perspective, people rarely used social media as a tool to engage each other rationally.  Like-minded people tended to use Facebook and Twitter to agree with each other.  Those with differing views tended to use social media as a means to belittle others.  Anonymity can explain some of this, though it's not a good excuse.  But when we clearly go beyond anonymity, when people know that acquaintances, co-workers, friends, and family members are reading their statuses and tweets, I have a more difficult time trying to work it out logically in my head: "Why is it that people lose empathy on social media?"  And I know it's not just on social media - the technology we use is not the problem; rather, it's the behaviors we choose to enact that embody the concern.

Politics has always been entwined in upheaval, struggle, and emotional carnage.  I can only speak to what I've witnessed in my short life so far.  When political candidates become monoliths, you begin to see people demonize, demean, and dehumanize those candidates.  To a portion of the populations, these candidates suddenly become stupid, ignorant, malicious, greedy, selfish, divisive, uncaring, lazy, weak, brutal, dishonest, or even evil.  And to that I ask, why is this the accepted norm?

I volunteer that I've made critical attacks of statements that candidates and elected officials have made.  I know I've mocked their backgrounds and beliefs, too.  So I'm not without sin here.  But I was never comfortable when I saw others on Facebook and Twitter calling Mitt Romney "Mittens" or Barack Obama "Osama."  I cannot help but believe first that people have good intentions.  I wait for someone to prove me wrong.  I can't say that I ever hated any elected official or candidate.  I don't know them.  I don't know what's in their hearts deep down.  All I know is they are human, and they are in a position of power.  But the moment they are dehumanized, it opens the door to hatred.

I was really surprised this election cycle to see people socially close to me announce such disgust for the 'other' who voted or planned to vote for the opposing candidate.  It made me extremely uncomfortable when folks would say that the South voted for Romney because they're all stupid and uneducated.  Or that liberals voted for Obama because they're all self-claimed blameless victims.  When a family member or close friend would argue that anyone who voted for the candidate I preferred is an idiot, it just shocks me.  So I'm an idiot, too?  How are we friends?  How did we grow up as family members but suddenly get to this point?  Maybe it shouldn't bother me.  But it does.

We have every right to argue another person's political stance is wrong.  But when we call that person a moron for taking that stance, we have lost EMPATHY.  Rational discussions sometimes bridge gaps in beliefs, and sometimes they can't possibly even begin to do that.  Some of those beliefs are critical ones that impact lives and human dignity.  And that can be difficult to overcome.  But when we can't bridge those particular gaps, why can't we then choose instead to find other areas where we can agree?  Because in every person and in every political candidate or official - I'd argue we can find agreement in at least one - but likely many - of their beliefs and actions.  They're not "all bad."

This lack of empathy is what continues to drive this divisiveness in politics.  When using social media, I think we need to remember that we have chosen to set foot on a public stage with the spotlight on us.  In these political times, two friends might joke to each other what an idiot a particular candidate is and everyone who follows that candidate.  And those two people might be the most cultured people you thought you knew!  But HELLO.  The rest of their friends and family are watching their every move.  Sure, we have the right to offend everyone else.  But why would we want to?

The only we way we can accomplish stuff and move forward is by finding ways to collaborate and solve problems.  We need to humanize each other and remember none of us is perfect - and none of us is the devil-incarnate.  You can call me naive, but I'm confident that I'm not.

Where I Got My Res Life Roots

Tonight I thought I'd sift through some old papers and poems I'd written in high school and college - because, yes, I save almost all of them.  But then I came across something that brightened my evening - something I haven't read in years.  It's an "OTM" or Of-the-Month award - one of those acronyms we use in student affairs.  I think it's a sign that I need to start writing them again because I was so persistent about recognizing others as a college student.  I always felt it put a positive mark on a person's life - it put the spotlight on them and gave them strength in knowing the work they did was meaningful.  A little extra side effect?  It made me feel good to recognize others, too.

I rarely get teary-eyed but reading this OTM tonight that an RHA colleague wrote about me in February 2000 has certainly reminded me of where I got my res life roots.  It's totally self-promoting to post it but it's been more than twelve years since it was written.  And maybe folks who know me now can get a little sense of the guy I was.  I'm glad I saved it.  Thank you Kristen for the sweet nomination you wrote about me back then.  We lost touch but I hope you're rocking whatever you're doing in life.  :) 

Here ya go, everyone.

             Have you ever met the type of person that at first does not outwardly seek leadership positions, but when he finally does accept a position the results are remarkable? Michael Goodhart is that type of leader. At the beginning of the school year, Radford University’s Residence Hall Association (RHA) decided to create the appointed position of Webmaster. Michael more than fit the bill, through his love of computers and previously made web sites. 

            During the month of February, Michael has, without a doubt, been RU’s greatest residence hall student leader. He has added to and maintained the RHA web site almost daily. Recently, he has even scanned and posted pictures of RHA conferences, programs, and intramural events. One of his major projects during the month of February was formulating the RHA logo contest. He saw that RU’s RHA had a slogan but no logo, so he compiled examples from other Residence Hall Organizations across the country to show hall senators in hopes that someone would draw a logo for a reward of twenty-five dollars. Michael received over fifteen submissions by the end of the month, which was way more than anticipated! 

            Being fairly new to RHA, Michael had never attended a leadership conference. His first opportunity came at the beginning of February when the Virginia Association of College and University Residence Halls (VACURH) held their annual conference. The National Communications Coordinator chose Michael to head the name tags committee. This year, nametags would be judged as opposed to displays. Michael’s committee worked diligently to produce creative nametags that well represented Radford. The delegation proudly showed them off at VACURH. 

             Then during mid-February, Radford began preparing for the No Frills conference and writing a School of the Year bid. Even though it was not in his job description, Michael worked many sleepless hours on the bid with other executive board members. He played a vital role in compiling information, proofreading others’ work, and polishing up the final details. 

            Not only had Michael attended his first conference and helped write a School of the Year bid, but he also found time to start planning for next year. Executive board members for Radford’s RHA had to complete their bids to run by the end of the month. Michael knew he wanted to be even more involved next year, so he decided to run for Vice Chair of Policies and Procedures. His bid was not only thorough and concise, but it was ready to be turned in a week early! 

            In addition to his work with residence hall government on the campus level, Michael helps to advise his respective Residence Hall Council in Trinkle Hall. He is a positive role model for the hall council officers to emulate. They look to him for advice and ask for help during meetings when things are not running as planned. Officers also come to Michael for one-on-one guidance. This month, he has successful encouraged two hall officers to run for campus-wide positions next year! While still advising and helping Trinkle Hall Council, Michael also maintains their web site. His ability to create remarkable web sites even fascinates students who major in Information Systems! 

            Michael has truly exceeded all aspects of being a student leader by continuously showing dedication and effort to his campus.  His lists of accomplishments this month have truly been impressive. He has gone well above and beyond his duties as RHA Webmaster. For these reasons, I take great pride in nominating Michael Goodhart for Executive Board Member of the Month for February.

The Grammar Police

I could certainly be accused of being on the payroll for the grammar police, but I wish I could get the salary to go with it.  Responsibilities of a grammar police officer include appearing as a snobbish know-it-all while pointing out others' errors of spelling, punctuation, grammar, and improper word usage.  I do that well.

You could place a document in front of me with 500 words, and if there was only one error in it, my eyes would likely focus in on that mistake in less than five seconds.  That's not a joke!  It is an odd heightened sense of awareness that I wish could provide me some personal benefit.  Sometimes I laugh about this kind of scenario because it seems so surreal, but the person responsible for the document rarely finds it amusing.  "What a jerk," he/she/ze says.  I can't help but feel a little uppity about this talent.  It's familiar to me, and for a man who sometimes needs a lesson in being able to exude confidence, it's a rare strength I don't mind openly embracing.

I break the rules of grammar sometimes.  No one is flawless.  I generally don't mind being corrected because it's the only way I'll know how to properly do my job.  Also, my jurisdiction is limited to the modern English language in an American context.  British English is notably different than American English, and rules that apply in England sometimes do not apply in the U.S. (and vice versa).  Old and Middle English and other languages are completely out my reach, so I leave other skilled folks to monitor those areas.  I also try to take into consideration how different dialects might affect the spoken word.

As I have accrued my years of service, there have been several common violations that pass my eyes and ears, and I offer as a public courtesy and with a touch of sarcasm a short list of mistakes that grieve me:

"Smelled" versus "Smelt:" I smelt something terrible with an odor that made me want to vomit.  Unless you have practiced the art of metallurgy, you probably were smelting something improperly and should stick to an area in which you excel. Smelting deals with metal and ore, while smelling deals with your nose.  The other possibility is you're British (it's my understanding British English indicates that smelt is a correct way to use the word "smell" in the past tense).  Oh, and you can thank me for this little Condescending Willy Wonka meme I created on www.quickmeme.com.  He would be a perfect fit on the grammar police squad - just the right amount of snobbishness.  

"Orient" versus "Orientate:" I needed to orientate myself to my new surroundings.  This one is arguably a gray area.  I vehemently argue that orientate is incorrect, at least in the United States.  "Orient" has been around for quite a long time in the English language, while "orientate" only started to be used in the nineteenth century.  Something about that extra syllable gives me shivers.  It takes less time to say or write "orient."  I wonder what folks who are in charge of employee and/or student Orientation processes prefer to say?

"Literally" versus "Figuratively:" I literally died when he made fun of me.  This sentence is only accurate if you predicted you would die because someone laughed at you and you wrote it down before it happened.  If you ever literally die, you won't be around to tell the story.  Perhaps you meant to say you "figuratively" died, as that sounds much more realistic.

"Try and" versus "Try to:"  Just try and stop me.  Okay, first I'll try.  Then I'll stop you.  When you say you'll try and get things done, it implies you're going to make an attempt first and THEN you'll actually get it done.  In most circumstances, it's likely that you intended to say you'll "try to get things done."  The word "and" has a wonderful purpose, and "Try and" typically doesn't include that intended purpose. 

"Lightening" versus "Lightning:" That was a beautiful lightening storm.  Oh, that storm lightened up the night skies until it was day time again?  Amazing.  "Lightening" is a word, but it's not used when describing a thunderstorm.  It is used when you're making something less dark.

"Defiantly" versus "Definitely:" I defiantly want to do that.  I believe this improper word use came about from the wondrous spell-checking features associated with word processing.  Someone types "definately," which isn't a word, so a spell-checker notes that you may have meant to say "defiantly."  If you defiantly want to do something, then why would you do it?  Why be so defiant? 

"Honestly" versus "...silence...:"  Honestly, I just don't know what I'm going to do.  Honestly, this is more about overuse of the word "honestly."  It has become a habit for people to use the word "honestly" at the beginning of many sentences.  When I hear someone say the word "honestly," I immediately wonder if every other time they speak they're spewing lies.  Although if that was the case, then I guess I must praise them for letting me know when they're being honest and when they're not. 

I could write an entire book about grammar police duties.  There are so many mistakes that get under my skin (figuratively, not literally) such as "their, they're, and there," "effect and affect," "judgment and judgement," "too and to," and a willing disregard of the Oxford comma.  Several people have already written books on these topics, however.  They were all members of the grammar police.  A few of them got pulled over for reckless writing, though.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll even be given a citation for something wrong in this blog post.  Correct me if I'm wrong.