To all the valiant women here, Happy Mother’s Day! 

The Courage That My Mother Had

The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.
The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.
Oh, if instead she’d left to me
The thing she took into the grave!–
That courage like a rock, which she
Has no more need of, and I have.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

 I came across the following gem in a list of suggested questions to ask one’s doctor put together by the government’s Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality:

“Ask if your doctor if he has washed his or her hands before starting to examine you.  Research shows that handwashing can prevent the spread of infections. If you’re uncomfortable asking this question directly, you might ask, ‘I’ve noticed that some doctors and nurses wash their hands or wear gloves before touching people. Why is that?’”

Hmm . . . dirty hands spread germs, but is it safe to ask your doctor this question?  I doubt it.  My mother, who gets increasingly germophobic as she ages, did so –  and soon her doctor was her EX-doctor.  When Ma told me this story, I thought: “Wow, a kamikaze patient”. 

As far as their idea of a hint: the question doesn’t sound very bright and all it will tell your doctor is that your vision is OK.

While we’re on this subject, what about asking the doctor whether he’d cleaned his necktie?  Studies show that neckties can  spread germs in hospitals because doctors bend over sick patients while examining them, accumulate bacteria, and then repeat the process with other patients.

Best advice is to choose a doctor carefully and notice at the initial examination what his or her hygiene standards are.

You don’t want your doctor washing his hands of you!

Some weeks ago I posted a “Top 10 Reasons to Get Prostate Cancer” list.    I’ve found that I will have to “stretch it” a bit to accommodate some new entries.

It occurred to me that having prostate cancer might just give a guy the opportunity to get that tattoo he’s always wanted!  Dear husband has some artwork on his back as a result of his prep for radiation treatment.  (Unfortunately, it’s quite boring.)  And a recently diagnosed man wrote me this:

“BTW, It’s quite curious to see how people react to this disease. I had no idea. I had one dear friend refer to PC as “Cancer Lite,” because it’s “so curable.”

“Cancer Lite”.  I guess it’s the next-best thing to “Cancer Free”.

I am reposting the original “Top 10″ list in case anybody missed it.  If you have any additions, please let me know. 

“Top 10 Reasons To Get Prostate Cancer”

 10.  All of my buddies have it — and they’re doing fine.

   9.  Nobody dies of this.

   8.  You die with this, not of it.

   7.  If you’re going to get cancer, this is the one to get.

   6.  At this age, you’re going to die of something — why not this?

   5.  The robot will fix everything.

   4.  Where else would you meet such great people?

   3.  It’s the next-best-thing to getting cancer of the toenail.

   2.  You put some seeds in — and that takes care of it.  (Set it and forget it.)

   1.  It’s as easy to treat as the common cold

The best jokes are homegrown.  

A newly diagnosed man named Joe L., who tends to be a worrier, was on his way home from a visit to the urologist.  He was feeling good because the doctor had said his cancer was almost certainly localized.  Jeff wanted to celebrate.  So he decided to pick up some flowers for his wife (unlike some men I know who would go on a binge at Home Depot).  He wrote me:

“Yesterday when I stopped by the florist to pick up the bouquet, I decided to go with a custom job instead of one of the ready-mades sitting in the bucket.  The proprietor, a lady of a certain age, was eager to help me pick out the blooms I wanted. 

‘What’s the occasion?’ she asked.

‘Uhhhhh….we’re celebrating,’ I replied.

‘Ooh…a birthday?’ 

‘No.’

‘Anniversary?’ 

‘No.’

I was getting uncomfortable and she was so cheerful. 

‘Grandkids? New job? C’mon, what are you celebrating?’ 

I felt bad doing it but but someone had to break her of her nosy habit.  So I said:

‘My Gleason score is under 7.  Except for one core.’

She stared, wide-eyed. 

‘And my PSA is under 10!’

Her eyes were popping out. Finally, I announced in a loud voice:

‘I just found out my cancer hasn’t spread.’

Talk about your conversation killer.  For the rest of the day I felt awful but kept giggling.

Moral is: Don’t mess with a PC brother.