Bad Pig

This is Bad Pig. She is helping with the computer.

Bad Pig was born, or made, in 1982 or 1983. I made her in college. She is constructed of a coat hanger, a cardboard tube and some stuffing and then I found fabric to cover her. I used post earrings for eyes, because that is what I had on hand. They are rather nice earrings. Her tail curls around so that she can sit on your shoulder like Anne McCaffrey’s fire lizards. I made her for a convention of some sort. Fantasy, I think.

Anyhow, I gave Bad Pig to my sister Chris. She was not named Bad Pig at that time. I don’t know what Chris named her. But she continued with Chris through multiple moves. When my sister was in hospice, I asked if I could take Bad Pig back home with me. Chris said yes. Later Chris asked me to keep the bad pigs from harming anyone else. I was not exactly sure what she meant, but I said yes.

On the way home, I named the dragon Bad Pig and explained that I didn’t want her to harm anyone. Let the past be the past and bygones be bygones. I am not sure exactly what the details of Bad Pigdom were, but it’s the future I am concerned with.

Bad Pig has been in the living room on the book shelf since coming back to Washington. Currently she is helping out with the computer. I tell her when the computer is considering being unhelpful and Bad Pig then considers breathing fire on it. However, the computer straightens up at that point, so she doesn’t have to.

My sister was born in the Chinese year of the dragon. In hospice she said, “How will I find you?”

I said, “You are a dragon. You are letting me take the dragon I made you home. You will be able to fly. All you have to do is find the dragon and you will find me.”

So it is very comforting to have her so close.

My father’s mother’s father

The eldest gentleman in this picture is Fred Bayers, my father’s mother’s father. And his family.

My father’s mother’s mother is present as well. Let me not overlook the women.
Gertrude Bayers.

My father is there and his two sisters. Their spouses and children are present.

My mother is there. My father’s mother and my grandfather and my grandmother’s siblings are present.

I am there. So is my little sister.

Look at all the love there. We need our families so much during this pandemic.

Sending love out.

All love comes back to me.

I hope it comes back to you too.

The Brewer’s Big Horses

This is one of the Songs to Raise Girls, songs that I learned before Kindergarten. A very weird list of songs.

This song comes from my maternal grandfather. My mother said that it was a Congregationalist temperance song….

The photograph is Morris D. Temple and his grandson, F. Temple Burling. F. Temple Burling is my maternal grandfather. I am related to Temple Pumps. According to my mother’s stories, Morris Temple was more interested in Japanese art than in Temple Pumps and the company eventually folded. I don’t know if that is true, or if it was a different Temple then Morris. However, my middle name is Temple.

This song is one that I don’t have memorized, though I know the tune. I have my mother’s handwritten lyrics, with her drawings framing it. There is a tape of my grandfather singing it in the Library of Congress, according to my mother. I would like to go listen to it some time.

I’ve copied it just how my mother wrote it out. There might be an issue about political correctness, but I have a picture of Morris Temple in the 1860s, in his civil war uniform, with a sword. You will have to wait for that post to see which side he fought for….. I presume that my mother wrote it down as she was taught it. I am not sure who talked like this in Iowa in the 1880s, but maybe it was most people.

The Brewers’ Big Horses

O, the brewer’s big horses, comin’ down de road
A totin’ along old Lucifer’s load
Dey step so high and dey step so free
But them big horses can’t run over me

Chorus:
O no! boys O no!
De turnpike’s free where ever I go
I’m a temperance ingine don’t you see
So them big horses can’t run ovah me
Repeat with “toot toot toots”

O de liquo’ men been actin lak de own de place
A livin’ off de sweat o’ de po’ man’s face
Dey’s fat and sassy as dey can be
But deir big horses can’t run ovah me

Chorus

I’ll harness dem horses to de temperance cart
I’ll hit ’em with the gad fo’ to give ’em a start
I’ll teach ’em how fo’ to haw an’ gee
So them big horses can’t run ovah me

Chorus

It took me a while to find this song on the internet. It is listed in temperance songs in wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temperance_songs and is mentioned in The Christian Advocate under lyrics: The Brewers Big Horses. It is listed as written in 1913 by JB Herbert and HS Taylor. Isn’t it interesting that Budweiser still uses the Brewer’s Big Horses in advertising?

Again, this is a song I was learning way before I know what a brewer or a turnpike was. My parents stopped singing a bunch of songs when they realized that I was memorizing all of them. They did not want me singing certain songs in Kindergarten.

They did not need to worry. I shut up when I got to school, because no one wanted to sing and no one knew the songs. They all talked about television and we didn’t have one.

I was very disappointed in school. Not enough singing and it was lonely.

biotics explained

Are you confused about BIOTICS? Is your neighbor taking more Mysterious Healthy Pills than you? We can help! We are marketers posing as scientists from Mega Super Good For You and the Planet CoreValuePoration! Look! We have white coats and ours are clean!

PROBIOTICS: These are GOOD and GOOD FOR YOU! You should take them, you should take ours! We have capsules and we stuff them full of good-for-you biotics. We don’t call them bacteria, because bacteria are gross and yuky and cause infections. You know ours are best because they are the most expensive, the health food co-op sells them, and they have to be refrigerated. Take one everyday! You can never have too many biotics in the teaming mass of millions in your gut!

Conbiotics: These are BAD FOR YOU! They are sold by the other companies. They lie. They get biotics from prisoners poop. They will turn you criminal. They will make you fight with your mother and disinherit your first born, lie, drink too much and cook meth. You will know they are conbiotics because they are cheaper and not refrigerated. And some of the biotics in their tablets are bacteria! Do you want to take bacteria? DEAD BACTERIA, they don’t even give you live ones.

Antibiotics: THESE KILL PROBIOTICS. BY THE MILLIONS. THESE ARE PASSE, OUT OF FASHION, EVIL AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT THEM (unless you have strep throat or pneumonia or sepsis, and even then, the antibiotics suck because the sepsis mortality rate is 28-50%, THAT MEANS HALF THE SEPSIS VICTIMS DIE EVEN WITH ANTIBIOTICS, DOES THAT PROVE THEY SUCK OR WHAT?)

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All ingredients generally recognized as safe http://www.fda.gov/Food/IngredientsPackagingLabeling/GRAS/, you should listen to us, don’t listen to your mama, she says “Don’t eat poo!” but what do mamas know, Mother’s Day is so OVER for the year and we have WHITE COATS!

Deep Vein Thrombosis

Our clinic had a band back before 2009. Me and 4 of the nurses. We were into heavy metal. This was when I was working for Port Townsend Family Physicians. The county let me go and PTFP changed their name. Could not have been because we wore our band regalia to work, right? After all, it was Halloween.

Maybe they were afraid that the songs would catch on.

Little blue pill

Don’t code in the waiting room

Evidence based BM

Probiotics make you psychotic

Better that way

Alcohol is better than benzos

Mr. Sable is Unable

Buprenorphine: better n morphine

EMR means Eat My Rear

The 18 Patient Blues

Idaho Gigolo

I played flute and saw. J played fiddle and air siren. The others, well, you should ask them. I think all the tapes got burned by the hospital. Too bad, so sad.

I can’t credit the photographer. I don’t know who took it.

Quota

Quota

honestly
I feelΒ despair
when I try
to think about the newΒ schedule

Twenty four slots
Of 20 minutes
See three people
For 40 minutes
Twenty on the schedule

UnansweredΒ questions
Wake me on Sunday morning
If I am called to a labor patient
Must I make up that clinicΒ face time?
What ofΒ holidays?
The clinic is closed.
Night callΒ is nowhere addressed
Will they hire more and more
Who don’t take call
Until I am the last woman standing
Red rimmed eyes staring
Numb with fatigue

What of my nearly deaf patient
WhoΒ reads lips
May we take forty minutes?
All the fairly deaf elderly?
New parents, anxious
Questions pour out like
Coins from a jackpot win
What of the tearfulΒ brokenhearted
And anxious?
I shrink at the thought
Of crushing their hearts
Into twenty minutes

And what if I’mΒ sick?
(sick leave & vacation all one)
It’s not aΒ holidayΒ if I’m on call
No make-up day off
If I cancelΒ clinic
For illness
Do I make up those days
A quota of patient face days

I am in theΒ factory
TheΒ mines
People are the shirts I must sew
TheΒ tons of coalΒ I must load
I mustΒ meet a quota

Doctors die younger
Our life is measured out
InΒ patients
I won’t let theΒ quota
KillΒ my love

Aces again

I am singing: “You are coming up ACES!”

Ok, but, hopefully not. Because I am talking about ACE scores, Adverse Childhood Experiences. See the CDC website, this is all based on a ginormous Kaiser study in the 1990s.

Here: About the CDC-Kaiser ACE Study |Violence Prevention|Injury Center|CDC

Yep. A very very interesting topic for a rural family practice physician.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: ACE.

love poem to the monsters under my bed

I am trying to wrap my mind around an aspect of Adverse Childhood Experience Scores. Ace scores.

Raised in war or chaos or an addiction household or a crazy household, kids do their best to survive and thrive. I acknowledge that first. “You survived your terrible and terrifying childhood. You are amazing. You have crisis wiring in your brain. You had to wire that way in order to survive.”

And what does that mean? High alert, high adrenaline, high cortisol, reactive. One veteran says that the military loved him being able to go from zero to 60 instantly.

“Yes, and how is that serving you now?” I ask. “Do you want to change it?”

“No.” he says.

“Why not?” I say.

“Because I know I can protect myself.”

He can protect himself, as I can too. But being on the alert for a crisis, being good in a crisis, being able to fire up like a volcano, is that what I want and is that what he wants? If not, how do we change it?

I think of it as being able to see monsters. Other people’s monsters. My crisis childhood wiring is to pay attention to the non-verbal communication: what people do not what people say. The body language, the tone of voice, what the person is not saying in words, when someone is being polite but the body language is a shut down, a rejection, a dismissal, posturing, aggressive, they don’t like me no matter what the words are, belittling. But if I or my high ACE score patients respond to the body language and emotional feeling, we have named the monster. And the person is being “polite” and will not admit to the monstrous feelings. Those feelings are unconscious or at least the person does not want to admit if they are at all conscious.

In clinic I have learned to dance with the monstrous feelings. I don’t always succeed, but I keep leveling up. It’s a matter of delicacy, inviting the person to admit the monstrous. Some do, some don’t, some don’t the first time or second or third, but the fourth time the monsters are brought out. And they aren’t monstrous feelings after all. They are normal. All I do then is listen and say that the feeling sounds normal for what is happening. It’s like letting off a steam valve.

So how do I and my high ACE score folks learn to do this in social settings as well? When someone is talking to me with a monstrous feeling, meanly, I challenge it. Because I am not afraid of that monstrous feeling. But I have then broken a social contract and the person will like me even less then they already did. And maybe that monstrous feeling is not really about me at all. It’s about their own current life events and the feelings that they try not to feel, are ashamed of, are afraid of. It’s not polite of me to challenge that feeling in a social setting, I am not this person’s doctor or therapist and they didn’t ask me. It’s hard because I feel so sorry for the monstrous feeling and for the person feeling it. I am moving to compassion and love for that feeling rather than taking it as directed at me, taking it personally.

That is my intention. We will see how well it goes.

A naturopath told me to have the intention to release old grief. It’s not old grief though. It’s ongoing grief. Grief for all of the monstrous feelings that swirl around daily and the monsters that are not loved. Most people try to ignore them. I don’t. I love them, because someone has to and because they are so lonely and sad. They are crying. Don’t you hear them? That’s what love is, when you can love your own monstrous feelings and other people’s too.

And our own are the hardest.

ACE study: https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/childabuseandneglect/acestudy/index.html

I took the photograph in the Ape Caves, the lava tube at Mount St. Helen’s.

cracks

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: fault.

I realized last night that I had not put up the prompt, and got back up to do it. My daughter called while I was thinking and told me about segmentation faults. I wrote the poem this morning.

cracks

people talk about me

whisper gossip
social skills aren’t right

they only see now

I had to grow in cracks
hold on tightly
find nourishment where I could
not fall
survive

if they could see my roots
if they could see
where I had to grow
no choice

maybe they would be kinder