Good News, Bad News

I’ve got some good news and some bad news.

The good news is that the Huntsville Times finally managed to get my entire column, including the all-important opening paragraph, into the online edition this month. Squeaky wheel gets the grease, I guess.

The bad news is that the title, “Even Menial Summer Jobs Can Elevate One’s Stature” is not what I had chosen at all. It’s not horrible, but I don’t think it has quite the punch as my choice, “Looking for Job Fulfillment? Try Cleaning a Floor.” I’m really not concerned as much about “raising one’s stature” in this piece as I am “lowering it,” and finding meaning in humility and service.… Read the rest

Speaking of Bloodletting…

I recently reduced my nostalgia series on work (here, here and here) from a whopping and totally-out-of-control 3,645 words to a slim and trim 672 for my upcoming Huntsville Times community column this Sunday.

Yes, politicians and preachers, it is possible to keep it “short and sweet.” You just have to work at it.

My disdain for “verbal sprawl” goes back quite a ways. Over the years, I’ve served as a reviewer for several professional journals and have edited a large number of manuscripts to prepare them for publication. I gained a reputation as a reviewer who “bled red.”… Read the rest

Like Bloodletting, Only a Lot Less Messy

I managed to make it through an entire winter of seeing patients with various upper respiratory infections, colds and flu without getting sick myself. I credit that to lots of vitamins, exercise, good diet, washing my hands like an obsessive-compulsive, occasionally masking-up if a patient is really cruddy and probably the most important factor of all–good ol’ fashioned dumb luck.

My luck has run out apparently, because I’m sicker than a dog this week. It started with a tickle in my throat Sunday night, progressed to fountain-like snot-works on Monday, and by Tuesday I was generally weak, lethargic and unable to breath beyond that which was necessary for minimal life support.… Read the rest

A 9:11 of a Different Kind

I have seen something else under the sun:
The race is not to the swift
or the battle to the strong,
nor does food come to the wise
or wealth to the brilliant
or favor to the learned;
but time and chance happen to them all.

–Ecclesiastes 9:11

Last Friday, 39-year-old Darren Spurlock was having a delightful lunch with his wife Kelly and their two young sons, Ben and James. It was like any number of such lunches that were no doubt occurring at the same time; family members meeting working Dads and Moms at various bistros throughout Huntsville, sharing some laughs, making plans for upcoming vacations, eating outdoors and basking in the warmth of the early summer sun.… Read the rest

My Favorite Pauschisms: Tell the Truth

If I could only give three words of advice, they would be “tell the truth.”

If I got three more words, I would add: “All the time.”

People lie for lots of reasons, often because it seems like a way to get what they want with less effort. But like many short-term strategies, it’s ineffective in the long-term. You run into people again later, and they remember you lied to them.

And they tell lots of other people about it.

–Randy Pausch in The Last Lecture

Tis the season for political statements and promises, so this one really rang my bell this morning.… Read the rest

Wake Up and Run For Your Life

Numbers One, Two and I ran the Cotton Row Memorial Day Run in downtown Huntsville this past Monday. None of us had been running much lately (I’ve had a bad case of “turf toe” since February), so a 5K for fun (and to get the t-shirt) seemed about right. We were running late, so we ended up at the back of the pack at the start.

As we stood there waiting for the gun to go off, we suddenly heard the people around us applauding and cheering. We looked up and saw the very last 10K finisher (it had started nearly 2 hours before) crossing the finish line.… Read the rest

There Ain’t No More Lead In The Pencil

While rummaging through the attic of my memories last week, I stumbled across another long-lost treasure.

Most residents in the nursing home where I worked during college had long since given up on any more hanky-panky and directed their remaining physical and mental energies toward more fundamental aspects of survival, such as chewing slowly without choking and making sure they didn’t throw off their pacemakers by getting a little too close to the microwave.

But there were a few who were hanging on tight and had a reputation for being real pistols. Especially that retired banker who use to “make his rounds” each day as he slowly pushed his walker from one nurse’s station to another.… Read the rest

Want Respect? Earn It

I was 28-years-old when I graduated from optometry school and finally gained that long sought after title of “doctor.” No more “scut work” for me, I thought. “Let respect flow like a river, and money like a mighty stream” was my motto.

Oh, if only it had been that simple. We moved to Nashville where I started a residency in ocular disease at a large ophthalmology clinic and referral center near Vanderbilt. One of the first patients that I saw in the clinic there stared at me in disbelief when I walked into the room and declared, “And what high school did you just graduate from?”… Read the rest

How I Became An Eyeguy; Or, It’s All In The Wrist

Regarding the various times that I worked construction jobs while in school, there are really only two words that need to be said.

I’m sorry.

Sorry for the outlet covers that were put on upside down, sorry for the insulation that wasn’t stapled in correctly, sorry for that door that just won’t shut quite right.

In numerous subdivisions and neighborhoods throughout the Southeast United States, homeowners are starting to do a double take at some of the so-called “quality craftsmanship” of their suburban executive homes and declare: “Who the @%#$&*! put this thing together?!”

Uh, that would be me, and I like I said, I’m sorry.… Read the rest

How I Learned To Speak Fluent Geezer

These days when college students come home and seek out summer jobs, there’s a good chance that they’ll find themselves doing what has become the Main Task Of The Day, without which life as we know it would cease to exist: Data Entry.

Tippity-tap-tippity-tap. It has not always been that way, though.

In the summers following my freshman and sophomore years of college, I worked as an orderly at a nursing home in Rocky Mount, Virginia. Looking back, it’s hard to believe that they would hire a skinny, inexperienced 19-year-old kid for a job that involved providing direct patient care to a very sick and fragile population.… Read the rest

My Favorite Pauschisms; No Job Is Beneath You

It’s been well documented that there is a growing sense of entitlement among young people today. I have certainly seen that in my classrooms.

Graduating seniors have this notion that they should be hired because of their creative brilliance. Too many are unhappy with the idea of starting at the bottom.

My advice has always been: “You ought to be thrilled you got a job in the mailroom. And when you get there, here’s what you do: Be really great at sorting mail.”

No one wants to hear someone say: “I’m not good at sorting mail because this job is beneath me.”

… Read the rest

“Once” Is Not Enough–I Need More

My friend Scott was all over this early on, but he’s considerably more culture and music-savvy than I am. I can be hip too, but usually it’s 6-12 months later than everyone else. Just call me “post-hip.”

But you can take my word for it, the movie Once is everything the critics say it is: mesmerizing, enthralling, ethereal, transcendent, and all the other fancy, multisyllabic adjectives that have been used in the hundreds of reviews that have been written. It is a tour de force of powerful storytelling employing a minimalist approach: a shoe-string budget, hand-held cameras and a simple narrative arc told in a naturalistic manner and setting (the streets of Dublin, Ireland).… Read the rest

“It’s a Small World?” Not Anymore

I’ve been examining patients 20 years now, and I’ve been able to gauge America’s growing trend toward obesity by how difficult it is to fit my patients into a slit lamp.

A slit lamp is the microscope that sits on a swinging table that I use to examine the front of a patient’s eyes. Back in the late 80s when I was starting out, I hardly ever recall having difficulty getting a patient into one of those. But over the years, the increasing girth of the average American belly often has a patient forcing themselves against the table and gasping for air as I try to do an exam.… Read the rest