Stories that left us in stitches

Many have heard the term, "accident prone", and it congers up is an image of someone who just seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Is it carelessness?  Is it a measure of risk taking?  Or is it just bad luck lurking nearby?  Perhaps, it's nothing more than a combination of all of these things.  Well, when my brothers and I were kids, we would have been characterized as accidents waiting to happen and that's where this story begins.

Growing up in a large family, increases the odds of mishaps, and we were no exception.  We spilled things, broke things, and occasionally had other minor incidents that could be characterized as accidents.  Naturally, many were minor but some of them required the expertise of our very own team doctor, otherwise known as dad.

Before my 2 younger brothers and I were in school, we spent our days entertaining each other under the watchful eye of our mom.  Naturally, she tried to accomplish anything she could while keeping 3 very energetic preschoolers busy.  We helped her with things that potentially wouldn't create a hindrance to the goal of managing a household.  She mentored us as painters, carpenters, and even short order cooks on occasion.  Of course, the list of projects seemed endless, and the list grew faster than she could check the things off.

On this particular day, my mother was interrupted by a phone call from my aunt.  The 2 of them would discuss adult stuff while my brothers and I carried on.  When the door bell rang we quickly offered to see who was there.  Well, it was a gentleman delivering a package from the USPS.  It was as if it was Christmas day; we couldn't wait to open it up to see what treasures were inside.  Since mom was distracted with her phone call, this was the perfect opportunity to take matters into our own hands.  In those days, packing tape was rarely used and this package was tied up with twine.  Naturally, we hadn't learned how to untie those feisty knots, so I thought a sharp knife might help our cause, and since my brothers were younger, it was up to me to do the cutting.  The ideal choice was this black, bone handled carving knife that was quite accessible in the kitchen.  Before giving any further thought to this undertaking, I was swiftly cutting through the twine to unveil the contents of the package.  However, what I hadn't given much thought to was the proper technique needed to use such an instrument, and before I knew it, I had sliced through the twine and the momentum carried the blade right into my forehead, boink!  I had successfully opened both with one swift stroke.  At first I didn't think too much of it, but when the blood came dripping down my face, I knew I needed an adult's assistance.  I proceeded to interrupt my mother's phone call while still holding the knife in my hand.  What a sight that must have been, young boys crying, a sharp knife and blood spurting; this would have been a bit of an unsettling scene for my mom, and always, she handled it calmly.

In 1963, my parents were frantically preparing to take 8 kids on an extended vacation to visit family in Wyoming.  The washer was doing double time and my father was getting his patients settled in with covering MDs.  The older siblings were responsible for themselves, but the youngest of us well, we were simply not supposed to get into trouble.  However, trouble typically found us!

The preparations were progressing as planned considering the challenge, but that's when the wheels came off.  My younger brothers and I offered to carry the bags to the car for the ride into Boston's South station where we were scheduled to catch the train heading west, but we encountered a slight, unplanned detour.  While moving the bags into the car, the car's middle seat, which was folded up to allow access to the back, fell down onto my youngest brother's foot, perfectly between his big toe and second toe.  The fountain of blood followed quickly thereafter.  I reacted by frantically informing my mom that I thought the toe had been severed off; fortunately, a detail that was incorrect.  Once again, the team's physician was called in to assess the situation, and since my father's surgical skills were being tested regularly by this group, he was equal to the task.

Not surprisingly, these are just a few of the many stories from our active lives growing up.  I recall that my older brother suffered at least 3 lacerations, my next younger brother had sutures at least once, my youngest brother had them several times, including on successive days, while I counted having had them more than 20 times in those early years  There was a lot of mileage in suture material alone recounting these tales.  As for my sisters, they seemed to have been somewhat spared by comparison.  No doubt, if we all sat down today and recalled the number of times we needed the team physician and his appointed assistant, my mom, to help him, the stories would have us all in stitches!

This diet is no ‘Dud’ or is it?

There has been an ever evolving litany of diets published over the years which have touted successes from losing that stubborn midlife weight gain to curing cancer.  Mind you, some have achieved immediate traction while others quickly have failed simply because of their impractical precepts.  The human body is a remarkable, miraculously engineered marvel made up of intricately balanced parts performing regularly at a level of unparalleled perfection.  Even when disruptive forces arise, the body wants to correct the imbalances to preserve its functional capacity, a beautifully conceived creation indeed.  However, every so often we push ourselves to the limit of reasonableness, and that's where this story begins.

What would you say if I told you that you could eat all the protein that you wanted but must drastically restrict your carbohydrates?  There are diet experts who believe this is the desired method for weight loss. I suspect you've heard of the more recognizable Atkins or South Beach diets too; and for the all the non dieters out there, the "see food" diet seems to be quite popular.  Sadly, this is the one diet that seems to be a good "fit" for the largest number of individuals in our society. Even with all these options, other diets continue to surface and become popular.  The true test will come over time, but nothing will replace a good old fashioned, balanced diet, unless it's a "dud".

One of my friends has done multiple endurance athletic events, including an Ironman, several marathons and long distance trail runs to name just a few.  Her sheer willpower and determination is remarkable to say the least.  I marvel at her ability to commit to something and even in the face of setbacks, she perseveres and achieves her goals; noble qualities at any level.  However, what perhaps has me most puzzled is her ability to do much of this on a rather unconventional diet to say the least.  Most athletes today pay very strict attention to their diets and the intake of, shall we say junk food, is nearly forbidden.  Why even Tom Brady has explained his absolute adherence to such restrictions, especially during his playing days.  However, there are those who don't follow conventional wisdom.

If I told you that I was going to propose a diet strictly of peanut butter, corn chips with the occasional salsa, protein bars, and Milk Duds you probably would look me straight in the eye and say I was nuts.  I'd agree that it does appear to be rather restrictive to some, but if you follow it religiously, you will be able to compete in the Ironman and do a variety of other endurance events, if you wish to do so.  Sound suspect?  Well, what I would say is that it isn't for everyone.  In fact, it may only be for one unique individual, who would probably have most of us for lunch on race day.  Now that's a diet my friend would surely feast on!

It was just supposed to be coffee

Oftentimes, when people meet and begin developing a friendship, simple outings or gatherings serve as cornerstones from which the rest of that relationship seems to evolve.  In the movie, "You've Got Mail", Tom Hanks reveals to Meg Ryan that, if he had met her under different circumstances, he would have asked her for her phone number and from there he'd have asked her to go for coffee, for drinks, dinner or a movie.  These are nonthreatening, logical ways to spend time getting to know one another.  Nowadays, people rely on technology to meet, such as dating websites, yet these basic, historically safe encounters still remain a fundamental part of the process.  Regardless of the method used, it is all about how people meet and how they progress through those various and sometimes awkward stages of getting acquainted.  It is truly remarkable how such brief moments in time may influence the trajectory of one's life; very powerful indeed.

What follows is much like comparing it to the morning commute.  If the traffic is light, then it may not take as long to get to the next destination; however, if it is rush hour, then all bets are off and you find yourself maneuvering in and out of jams, just to move ahead.  Occasionally, you encounter major detours, but even those don't have to be monumental.  You simply have to find an alternate route.  There is roadside assistance, highway patrol, and rest areas along the way, all of which are circulating in the background to support the process.  Hopefully, we don't need to enlist their help, but it is reassuring to have those services available when we need them.  Of course, what we all want to avoid the dreaded accident.  That may present significant issues and the consequences could be emotionally devastating.

Hypothetically then, you exchange phone numbers; perhaps there are several phone conversations even before agreeing to coffee or something more.  Of course, you probably make your own arrangements for transportation for fear that, if things go dramatically off the rails, there is a means of "escaping".  This is all part of the process of this thing  I have called predating.

There is no set timeline for any of these events either; it just seems to take on a life of its own.  There are the usual planned activities and some are more spontaneous.  It's a refreshing mix and part of the intrigue.  Equally, I do believe that the personalities of the parties involved contributes greatly too.  There are any numbers of factors that garner influence, but in the end, it all takes time, continued interest, and a modicum of effort for the process to move forward.

So, where does this all lead?  The possibilities are just as varied as there are flavors of coffee today, and it all might begin with that simple cup of java.  Given the variety and absolute number of coffee shops today,  this whole experience may be "unavoidable".  Who would have thought that such a common everyday behavior could be something created by the coffee industry to propagate the masses?  Here I am thinking, it was just supposed be coffee.  C'est la vie!

Penny Candy

In an era not long ago, cities and towns across America and for that matter worldwide had neighborhood convenience stores.  The concept of the large superstore hadn't yet been brought to the masses and most of us relied on these oftentimes, family owned businesses to be there for the basic food emergencies.  My experience was just that with a little twist.  Allow me to explain.

The neighborhood store was there as a lifeline for my friends and me when it was too far to walk home to fetch a snack. The oasis in the "hood" provided the perfect blend of needs and wants for a child.   What young kid could make it through the day without a few treats to survive to dinner?  Well, all I can say is thanks to the many people who provided this critical service at a time when the neighborhood was an extension of the back yard play ground.

In my home town, I could name dozens of such establishments.  The businesses survived on the daily foot traffic from the locals and in those days, most of the patrons came on foot, as not all families even had a car or cars.  I remember such places as Ted's, MacNevin's, Cote's, Antelle's, Liberty Market, Belanger's, Rallis' , The Elm Street Cash Market, and even a place called Dowdy's.  They served as cornerstones of the local commerce.

Back in the day however, soda bottles had a 2 cent return and all of these places would gladly take in the bottles.  We'd line our pockets with the cold hard cash for only a moment ,however; this windfall afforded us purchasing power and we wasted little time spending it.  This behavior really served 2 purposes, the bottles got returned and we had "piggy banks" that looked more like trash barrels!  If you recall, there was an old Cracker Jacks commercial that demonstrated this vey point.  The young boy traded in in his jacks and a few pennies to pay for his box of CJ!  Those were the days.

On saturday afternoons in the fall, the high school would play their home football games just down the street in a WPA era built stadium.  I wasn't much for watching the games in those days but if it was a warm, sunny afternoon, my friends and I would wander down to the stadium to catch the second half of the game.  By that time, we were permitted to enter without paying.  Something we could "afford" on our budgets.  After the patrons departed, my friends and I cashed in by starting to collect the empty soda bottles, and the pennies were adding up.  The challenge was hauling our loot to the store, but we managed for the rewards were sweet!  Depending on how much we actually collected, we could get an ice cream, a bottle of tonic, and some penny candy.  We were living the dream; it was free money and we could do with it as we pleased.  After the owner of Belanger's filled our small brown bags full, we'd go out to sit on the stone wall and bask in the Sun with smiles of our faces.  Heaven on earth, or at least for awhile.

This scenario repeated itself as long as the warm weather was on our side.  We'd pick up bottles at the town park too and head to Ted's, different store, same outcome.  We were financial wizards of sorts.  I remember pointing to the candy through the glass case and muttering, "I'll have one of those and two of those, until we had spent our net worth.  As they say, another day another handful of pennies for us!

As I reflect on this little part of my youth, I now realize just how fortunate I was to have this whole experience.  Kids today likely don't get this kind of opportunity.  We were outside for hours roaming the streets, without a care in the world.  If hunger struck and we could find some returnables, the neighborhood stores were open for business.  More importantly, however, we were resourceful, had enough when we needed it, and the store owners welcomed their patrons, both young and old.  It was oh so sweet!

I Feel the Need for Speed...Golf

In the movie, Top Gun, there is a scene where Maverick and Goose were preparing for their training mission and high-fived each other while blurting out that they felt the need for speed!  The expression has become an iconic movie line. 

When I trained for the Ironman in Lake Placid, NY in 1999,  I had come across an article discussing speed golfing.  I had put my golfing interests aside to focus on the monumental task of training for an IM.  However, to keep things interesting during a family vacation, I picked up the sticks to do some of my run training while playing a few holes of golf.  There was a par 3 course at the resort, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to do some sprint training on a softer surface.

The par 3 course was quite typical,  a 1000 yards long and most of the holes were around a 100 yards.  So, I selected my 3 clubs accordingly, a putter, a 9 iron, and a wedge, plenty enough for this tract of real estate.  I simply carried my clubs in one hand, put a few balls in my pocket and off I went.  Although I had begun my IM training in earnest, I wasn't as well prepared for this iteration of run training, as I expected.  However, after successive rounds, it became easier, and the scoring improved too.  In an hours time, I managed to play 45 holes and was able to break 30 at least twice, no aces on the card, however.  All in all, a fun "day" on the links and an interesting twist to a game I had grown up playing.  

Earlier last year, I received a notification for SGUSA's US Open in friendly upstate NY.  Coincidentally, it was being held in the community where I did my residency training.  I have some dear friends still living in the area so the invitation to compete in this event provided the inertia to rekindle that enthusiasm for golf but without the lengthy commitment of time, a perfect combination.

I actually had been training for a short distance triathlon, so naturally, I thought I'd be in a good position to "just do it", not appreciating that the golfing element wasn't going to be quite so easy this time.  We played at 2 separate venues, each measuring out at over 6000 yards and the heat index approached 100 degrees.  I'll be the first to admit now that this was quite an undertaking, but one I haven't regretted at all.  In fact, the experience has generated a new found love of golf, coupled with a passion to be outdoors while "running",  a veritable trifecta of fun.

Although my first foray into this arena has been, shall we say, a long run spoiled, I have thoroughly enjoyed the adventure.  However, I can see the potential for this sport to take off, and I'm excited to be a part of the "club"!

When Running Ceases to Be

Thanksgiving is marked by many celebrations. including the famous Macy's, Thanksgiving Day parade and the seemingly endless opportunities to view football games.  Couple that with an abundance of food choices and you have the makings for a traditional Thanksgiving Day holiday menu of events. Additionally, oftentimes there is a game of touch football or the local road race featuring a pie for all finishers.  Indeed, the bounty is as diverse as it is plentiful, but long before the tryptophan hangover slows you down, you might fall victim to the effects of Father Time.  Here's my story.

Starting the Thanksgiving Day celebration off with some sort of exercise has typically been an activity that many openly embrace, as evidenced by the overwhelming number of turkey trots across this land.  Why wouldn't you?  After all, the calorie consumption per person far exceeds the usual intake of most other days.  However, regardless of the  amount of caloric expenditure, there is little many of us can actually do to balance that equation, but it sure makes us feel better about it.  Of course, the added benefit is the sheer pleasure of being able to join the fun.

Well, if you spend Thanksgiving at my brother and sister in law's home, the day begins with a light snack followed by a call to mobilize for the local turkey trot.  The weather certainly influences the mood, but little can deter the high level of holiday emotion.  We've run in the cold, the rain, ice and snow but no matter the conditions, the exuberance wasn't dampened.

Although participating in these events is a bonus at my age, running actually brings on a new meaning.  During a recent race,  I was running along at my customary and comfortable pace when I began to notice that the people ahead of me were getting further away and there were a disproportionate number of individuals passing me.  What was this unfamiliar phenomenon?  I had rarely experienced such a thing.  In fact, I was proud of the fact that I oftentimes ran negative splits ie. running the second half of a race faster than the first half.  But the epiphany moment came when the majority of people passing me were the walkers and families with baby strollers.  What had become of my days as a runner?  I was  simply enough, lost in transition.  I realized I was at my physiologic limit and even that wasn't quick enough to be running.  OMG!

Although I finished the race, I may as well have been the "last man standing", but it wasn't as traumatic as it all appeared.  I had participated in an event where people were having fun doing what they enjoyed doing, all the while working off a few calories before indulging in a few more.  But most importantly, I was alive, breathing in fresh air, and able to process the whole ordeal.  For that alone, I can give thanks!

Lessons from Life

I am truly humbled to be inducted into the Amesbury Educational Foundation’s Hall of Honor.  I’d like to thank the members of  the entire AEFI committee for their tireless work, genuine concern for the community and their ongoing efforts in support of the students and educators who benefit so richly from their actions. I’d also like to thank those who nominated me and wrote letters of support.  I’m honored to join such a distinguished group of individuals, and through your support, AEFI will continue their vital mission.

My class of 1974 is currently planning our 50th class reunion and this whole experience has prompted me to do some reflection.  The first thing that comes to my mind is, “where have those 50 years gone?”  It seems like just yesterday that I was embarking on this journey and now I am processing the stark reality of just how quickly time passes.  My education began right here in Amesbury, something which provided an excellent foundation for my future pursuits.

As you have heard, I am Dr. S. However, when I was in grade school and later in high school, I was known simply as Steve, Stephen, or The Schizz.  The real Dr. S was my father, a friend to all and a beloved family doctor to so many in this community.  

When I joined him in practice, people had difficulty telling us apart on the phone because our voices were so similar, so my father dubbed me the young Dr S;  a title I still enjoy using on occasion.  

My gray hair is a reminder that the young part is no longer needed.

From the very beginning learning becomes part of our lives, and hopefully, embeds itself as a lifelong pursuit. Oftentimes, we follow our mentors, be it a family member or a teacher or that singular person or persons who help influence our lives and perhaps even guide us onto a career path.

Like many young kids I imagined myself playing ML Baseball, or becoming a fireman, or a carpenter, but before long I just wanted to work alongside my father, so I set my sights on becoming a physician.  The dedication and hard work were just commitments to that greater goal, something that frankly never even crossed my mind.

I confronted the usual academic obstacles and managed to circumnavigate them with an unwavering resolve.  However, those experiences provided valuable insights for a career dedicated to solving problems and helping people. 

In fact, life is made up of an infinite number of crossroads with choices.  The road we choose is not always easy or obvious, but the destination we set should remain crystal clear. That’s what makes life the journey that it is, our personal adventure.

The practice of medicine has offered me a unique opportunity to serve people, yet it carries a heavy burden of responsibility.  However, caring for and aiding people in any capacity ought to be at our very core, regardless of what we do.  

Although medicine has been my life, my passions outside of work are my family, my friends, and regular exercise.  I once made running the Boston Marathon, a goal which I first did in 1986.  Since then I have been fortunate to have participated in many other athletic events, but my own love of exercise has transformed my ability to counsel patients about many facets of life including the merits of regular exercise, nutrition, rest, hydration, even rehabilitation after illness or injury, as well as the psychosocial implications that go along with it.  

When I consider the value of this to my practice , I am frequently reminded by its contribution to me, both professionally and personally.

Sharing this with patients, encouraging them to take personal responsibility for their own health and instilling hope have been mainstays of my practice.

Patients have oftentimes asked me what I was training for, and I’d just say, “I’m training for life!”

Regretfully, even with regular exercise, none of us will escape this thing called aging.  We simply must adjust our expectations and embrace them.  

The frequent participation in such formal events as the marathon is now a rarity. However, when the Marathon bombing occurred,  I like everyone else was frightened, angered, but more than that motivated to be a part of the marathon again.  I looked at my father and said, “they are going to need more physicians next year because of this and I am going to volunteer.”  He looked at me and said, "What a great idea.”  I just volunteered for my 11th Marathon and felt a similar sense of accomplishment, just as I had by running it in 1986.  

I am reminded that kindness and service to others are their own gifts, values I learned growing up right here in Amesbury.

I’d like to conclude my remarks this evening with a quote from the late, great Maya Angelou…

“People may forget what you said…people may forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” 

My hope is that I have made people feel better by what I have done for them!