One Sick Mother

Autism and Doctor or ER Visits

Yanub asked an intelligent question in the comments of my last post. She does that a lot actually. This was no exception. She asked how Joe does with doctors visits?

The answer is a simple one:

It depends.

Now comes the less simple qualification of that answer.

A LOT of the dependency is on my attitude and how I handle myself, him, Grace,  the staff etc.  If I am calm and upbeat, things go a lot better. If I am stressed and snappy, well... that sets the tone for everyone else. 

Of course, how he is feeling is the other big factor in this. If he is in pain and anxious... well, he requires pretty delicate handling. But he is generally pretty good at doctor visits. He knows the drill and he will usually co-operate after a fashion: even if he refuses to speak to someone directly, he will allow them to take his blood pressure and listen to his chest.

When he was younger, I spent many unhappy minutes (that felt like hours) coaxing him out from under waiting-room chairs. And of course, there was that memorable occasion in a hospital in New Jersey when a 6-year-old Joe tried his Ninja moves on a stupid radiology tech (and they sent this HUMONGOUS bodybuilder guy to restrain my 48lb little boy -that story ended well, thank goodness).

So yeah, over the years, I have learned a few things that keep my (our) stress levels down.

The single biggest factor in this is to be prepared as much as possible.

I carry a letter in my purse for the ER and similar occasions (dentist, radiologist, new specialists... etc).  Here is what it says.

This is Joe. He is High Functioning Autistic.

Here are some tips for how best to approach him:

1. He may not look at you. He may even turn his back to you, but he will answer questions. Please don’t force him to face you or to look at you. 
   
   
2. Sometimes if you address questions to him, he will address the answer to his trusted adult. This is normal behavior for him and don’t take it personally.
   

3. He may try to hide at first. Just keep talking normally, tell him what you need him to do, and he will come out. If there is any problem with him, let his trusted adult handle the situation.
   

4. It is better to explain what you plan to do before you do it. He likes to be prepared for things like touching.
   

5. He is very interested in science. If you wish to engage him, explain what you are doing is scientific and how it works.  This usually works.
   

6. He also like Pokemon and video games (Star Wars)
   

7. He hates to have his head or hair touched.
   

8. If touching him, please try to use a firm relaxed hand, rather than a very light touch. This works better for him.
   

9. Joe stutters. Please don’t complete his sentences. Be patient and it the answer will come out.

 

If we are in the ER or a new doctor's office, I simply hand this letter over to the triage nurse or receptionist, ask her to read it and to be sure everyone dealing with him reads it.  This works a treat for MANY reasons:

• I don't have to explain all about Autism over the decibel level of a panicked child
• It keeps Joe's business private
• It allows me to concentrate on him while the staff come up to speed.
• It really, REALLY changes people's attitude towards him. If they decide he is just a brat, they are much less likely to treat him kindly or to listen to me (because they have already pre-judged me as having spawned and raised a brat)

Other elements of being prepared are simple, but can be the difference between maintaining and losing your sanity in a public place.

1. Know the way to the children's ER. If on vacation, you can be forgiven for not knowing the way to the hospital or or for going in the wrong door or parking in the wrong lot. However, take the time to learn this stuff in your own town BEFORE YOU NEED IT. You will be very glad if you ever do.

2. Have snacks, drinks, and/or small bills to hand. I can guarantee time spent in the ER waiting room will mean a missed meal or snack (and therefore a grumpy kid). Have food and drinks on-hand if at all possible -especially if your kid is on a special diet. Keep some stuff in the car at all times. If you don't have snacks, at least have some change and small bills for the vending machine.

3. Have entertainment if possible; a book, game boy or similar can really help if there is a lot of waiting. It distracts them and calms them if it is something familiar and gives them something to do.  Cellphones are useful for this in a pinch. Grace has sat happily in the ER playing Tetris on my cellphone. She nearly had a heart attack when it rang, mind you. Thankfully it was Daddy...

<click>

"Hello?  Oh! Hi Dad!  We're in the ER!..."  (now whose turn was it for a heart attack?)

 

Time Buys Credence

Joe had his well checkup this week.  His birthday was in July, so it was very late. Oh well. Better late than never.

You know, I remember fighting with the doc for a blood test for Joe several years ago. It was for Fragile X, and the doc didn't want to do it.  Well, I pushed and we eventually did it (eight months later). It was negative. Over the years there have been a few battles for tests for both kids. Each time is less of a the battle. In fact, this week, I asked for the full vitamin panel, and got it without a squeak from the doc (-but plenty of squeaking from Joe. The poor kid has his mother's veins).

Then the doc said she heard a murmur. "You know, normally I wouldn't even think twice about it, but given the fact that I haven't heard it before, and knowing he has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, I am going to refer you to a cardiologist".

That's the first time their doctor has openly accepted the EDS diagnosis.  It took me years to persuade them to refer us for testing for it. And then the results came back "probable EDS". That was well over a year ago.  They always pussyfooted around it. Until this week. Now, I guess the repetition has finally sunk in. They have accepted it.

It feels strange not to have to fight.

And an update on some other stuff: I finally spoke to #25 today. Remember I asked him about the Serotonin and he said he would "think about it"? Well he did actually do it! He came up blank, though.  Thinks it is an incidental finding and totally unrelated (I don't). 

Now #25 has been talking about this epilepsy guy that he may want me to see. He raised it again today. I said I didn't see the point. If I do have epilepsy or anything neurological, it is secondary to this metabolic thing I have, so there is no point in treating it. You need to treat the primary issue. #25 agreed.  Rather too readily, I thought. I think he is giving up on me.

Oh well. I had already faxed all the latest documentation to me Endo, who I won't see until December (he is booked about three months in advance). Maybe he will know about the serotonin thing. I know he had tested me for this before, so I think (hope) it will ring a bell.

Also #25 had a pretty novel idea. Maybe I should see me PCP?  Hmmmm. There's a thought! I haven't seen him in quite some time. I have been too busy stumping specialists.  My annual physical is way overdue.

My birthday was in July.

Homeostasless

My Rheumatologist said something very insightful several months ago.

"we have to get you back into homeostasis"

I nodded, trying to frantically remember what Homeostasis is. I thought it had to do with equilibrium within a closed system, but I was educated by nuns in Ireland. Science was not exactly stressed in our school.  I learned to knit and sew, and they even let us loose with a hot plate (big mistake), but I guess back then, the nuns thought girls did not need to be too smart. But my Da was an engineer, and I was his defacto helper, so I did learn some useful stuff -despite the nuns' best efforts. It turns out that I  do know a thing or two. This is how Webster's  defines the word:

Homeostasis
a relatively stable state of equilibrium or a tendency toward such a state between the different but interdependent elements or groups of elements of an organism, population, or group

A stable state of equilibrium I do not have. I could fake it by not eating. But then today that did not work out for me, and I ended up passed out on the couch. Now I have a residual headache and right-side weakness.

I don't know what to do. 

The not-eating during the day thing had been working out mostly OK. But lately I have been having stomach problems; nausea and pain. So I have been eating even less because I don't feel like it.  I have been losing weight and feeling cold, which I know is because I am not getting enough calories (Duh!).  And the scurvy/B12 mouth ulcers are back (I take my vitamins with food -no food. fewer vitamins).

But if I do eat, I get seizurey and nauseous.

Some choice, eh: Headachy and cold, or seizurey and nauseous?

I am going with the former for now. If I am only headachy and cold, I can still be a mom, seizurey and nauseous does interfere with my Mom abilities, and we can't have that.  But either way, I can't drive. My kids have wanted to go swimming this week and I can't take them. Grace sulked and Joe is his usual forgiving self "That's OK if you don't feel well, Mom. We are not angry with you. You can't help getting old". He's a sweetheart, isn't he?

But I am angry with myself. Or rather, angry with the "whatever-it-is" that is causing these symptoms.  I can't help feel that it is progressing.  That -although I found a way to avoid it for awhile, by not eating during the day. That little trick is fast losing it's effectiveness.

I think by unbalancing my eating, I  did return some kind of equilibrium, but the Whatever-it is, grew and unbalanced me again.  it undid the rather fragile false homeostasis that I had temporarily established.

So now I am homeostasless.  And pretty pissed about it. The downside of feeling better for awhile is the sense of entitlement it imparts. I start to feel like I like feeling better and that I want and deserve to.

But now I am feeling worse than ever and I don't know how to fix it. 

Well, I have had my little moan for today. Tomorrow is another day. Maybe an answer will present itself then. 

(Yes I know. There goes Hope again)

The Benefits Of Blogging, Part II

Typical me: I wrote part 1: of this piece based on an idea and I left that idea out of the finished piece. That's what comes of having Swiss cheese for brains. Sometimes thoughts and ideas wind up in the holes temporarily and then reappear in the cheese section a few days later.  It makes keeping promises difficult sometimes because I forget I made them until they reappear in an accessible section later on.

…usually too late to do anything except look stupid.

So yeah, I had been talking about the benefits of blogging.  I left a few out.

Like how writing about stuff and planning to write about stuff helps to organize your thoughts around that stuff. And to give you ideas. When I was writing about serotonin recently, I was planning the piece in my head,   and it occurred to me that my Endocrinologist might have a lot of great insight into this, -not just the neurologist. I probably would not have thought of that had I not been planning towrite about it. Well, I probably would have, but not so soon.

It is nice to know that although not many people may read my Internet “voice”; at least I have one –for as long as I keep the account paid up, anyway.

And I don’t think I really have stressed enough how important the blogging and Internet communities are to me and to many people with illnesses and disabilities. It helps a lot with the isolation to know that -although you may be homebound for this day/week/forever, at least you are not alone.

I sometimes see these blogs -including mine- as little boats acattered out across a dark moonless sea. We cannot get to each other in the dark, but we see each other's light and can call to one another sometimes, making sure the others are OK and drawing comfort from their light and presence.

 

And even that bitch Hope has a place here. Because although I hate having her around for myself, I will dare to actively and fervently hope on behalf of others, and they on my behalf, so –while we don’t pour our Hope on ourselves- we kind of pitch it overboard, and toss it at each other. By doing this, we raise the overall level of the water with this Hope and -almost imperceptably, but very definitely- all of our little blog boats float somewhat higher for it.

Rock on, Grace!

I don't have too much to say for myself this week, but Grace seems to be on a roll lately, and is much funnier that I am at the moment, It is totally unintentional on her part, of course. She delivers the funniest lines perfectly earnestly. So here is another post from the wit and wisdom of Grace. People sometimes wonder how I keep my sense of humor? Well, my kids are two huge reasons for this.

Grace went on a field trip yesterday to learn about rocks and minerals as part of her third-grade curriculum.  Great! We could have a conversation about this over dinner (so I thought). I remember a little about rocks from my distant past.  Like don't throw any if you live in a glass house and they may break your bones more than names. And something about "sedimentary" "igneous" and "mica". 

Or is it "pica"?  No. it is mica. Pica is when you try to eat the rocks... Joe had that when he was a lot younger. He used to eat dirt. Thank Goodness those days are over!

So Grace came back from the field trip buzzing about the crystals and rocks she had seen. She was talking about some kind of crystals that were in a Big Rock.  I think she meant a geode, and was trying to ask her this without prompting:  "Do the big rocks have a special name?" 
"Oh yes", said she, nodding emphatically and sending little bits of dinner flying. "They are called Big Rocks".  She said it fast: BigRocks.

She continued to prattle on as I put my head in my hands...

Later, when I was putting her to bed, she started to tell me about the rocks that glowed in the dark; how they soak up the light and then you turn off the light and they glow.   Now I am pretty sure this is called phosphorescence. So I asked her again: "Is there a special name for this?"

"Oh yes. They are called GlowingRocks"

<sigh> I really should have known better than to ask...

How To Find A Wife

About three years ago, I was tucking Joe in and we were having a conversation about... I think it was friendship. One of the girls in his class had been held back in first grade, but he had moved on to second. He was quite discombobulated by this. I thought we had talked it through, and he had been reassured. I told him how they could still be friends, they would see each other at recess or lunch and we could arrange playdat...  when he burst out. "But I am seven years old and I don't know who I will marry!"

*blink*

"What?"

He repeated it. I hadn't misheard. The kid was stressed out because he didn't know who his wife is going to be. I guess the girl who was held back had been the (oblivious) frontrunner for the position. I suppose being held back a year somehow invalidated her as a candidate.

I explained and explained to him that one does not need to know one's spouse from childhood and one can meet one's partner anytime, anywhere. Then I explained it again. With examples.  And again.

Three years later, I am STILL explaining it. And he is still stressed that he has not found his wife! it is not an everyday thing, but it is always there. It is not exactly the elephant in the room, more like a spider in the corner.

I don't know how the whole "wife" conversation came up at dinner a week or so ago, but Joe's loving sister Grace decided to take the matter into her spindly little eight-year-old hands:

"OK Joe: Here's how you get a wife.  I will tell you exactly what to do: First, you need to go to High School. Then, when you find a girl you like, you ask her to the Prom.  You know what a prom is... Well, it's a big thing where they get dressed all fancy in High School and meet their wives. Then, when you go to the Prom you will kiss her.  And that means she will be your wife!"

I think there was some more details, descriptions and explanations, but I transcribed it as best I could.  I don't have to tell you I was very studiously clearing up the table, keeping my face covered by my hair while this conversation was going on. Joe was practically taking notes!

The really funny thing is this: He has not been stressing about the wife thing since. He is going to wait until High School, I guess. So the whole business has been deferred a few years, at least. I am perfectly confident that in high school it will be back tenfold, but for now,  I am glad of the reprieve.

And while Grace has no idea how to really find a wife, she is the one who stopped Joe from worrying about it, after three years of stressing, by telling him he has to go to High School FIRST.

Pure genius.

I wish I had thought of it.  But it probably wouldn't have been as effective, coming from me.

To Cure The Incurable?

That would be some feat, right?  And yet, I see that stated as an objective for many lifelong conditions such as (the ones nearest my heart) Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and Autism.

Now I don't wish to sound negative here, but I just don't logically see how a person can be cured of a genetic condition with which they were born.  Will there be some new fancy gene technology that will "fix" the dodgy gene and make it suddenly function like everyone else's? And in the case of EDS, would the collagen produced suddenly become "normal"?

And if that did happen, what would be the impact on an adult EDS-er?  Would the joint pain and exhaustion go away? What would be the impact of slow tightening of the joints in a person used to being loose?  If the joints are knit more tightly, will they grind more? Will the pain lessen or actually increase? Will children with congenital skeletal abnormalities, such as pectus ...anything or missing hip sockets start to grow/lose  bone in the appropriate places? Will such a person be more prone to injury from doing things which they used to consider "normal", like hyperextending the shoulder to reach behind?   Will simple movements such as this cause the new, non-stretchy ligaments to tear?  

But that situation is entirely hypothetical.  Because there is no cure, and I don't think the gene thing -if anyone is even going there- will be available in most of our lifetimes, even if we wanted it.

And by the same token, I wonder what would happen if there was suddenly a "cure" for Autism?  I don't mean the quack stuff like Jenny McCarthyism or chelation which has interesting potential side effects such as death.  I mean a real, FDA approved, medical cure. 

What if an adult Autie or Aspie were suddenly cured? What if they suddenly developed Theory of Mind -i.e. the ability to put themselves in another's shoes and see the other's point of view?  What would be the psychological effects of looking back on a lifetime of misunderstandings?  Could you imagine the sorrow and guilt!?!  Or would the super memory fade, so they suddenly don't remember every single disagreement going back to Kindergarten? (and how would the loss of such a skill impact their job or everyday function?)  And what if an adult Autie suddenly found he had the ability to speak? Would he use it?  What would he say?  And what if he said "take your cure back. I don't want it?"  Sorry newly-verbal one, you are stuck in the land of the Normies.  40 years old and no-where to go.

I guess, thinking about it, my point boils down to this:  With a genetic condition there are both advantages and disadvantages. EDs-ers are bendy. I can put sunscreen on my entire back without any assistance. I don't use that skill very much. But I do a hundred little things everyday that others just cannot do in the same way, and I am OK with that. I know I am one of the very lucky ones, in that I am not in constant pain at multiple locations, and that probably colors my thinking. But I do have pain and subluxations, which is the downside of EDS. I don't know if I would trade my pain to lose my talents. I feel they are part of who I am at this point, and I don't want to lose me. I know a lot of Adult Autistics feel the same way. They don't WANT to be "cured". They like themselves just fine, thank you very much. But they do wish that "normies" could accept and understand them a little better...

The same goes for Autism and Asperger's (and PDD-NOS and everything except CDD). Many people with these conditions do have gifts, such as an excellent memory and the ability to think outside the box. How would a person, who probably structured their life and career around these gifts, cope if they were lost?  Look at it this way: Einstein and Bill Gates are both suspected Aspies. What if they had been "cured"? Would the world be a better place?  I don't think so. I know these are rare and extreme examples, (but are they? Hello Nicola Tesla and Michelangelo!). But one never knows when and whither the next Einstein is coming along.

I think the argument is different for children. Children can adapt. But I don't know where the cutoff  would be for a "cure" to apply to children.  And the Einstein argument still holds true.  There are good arguments to cure devastating degenerative genetic conditions such as Muscular Dystrophy, Childhood Degenerative Disorder, Cystic fibrosis and a bunch of others. I am not addressing these here.

But all this is moot, really.

Because there is no cure for these conditions. There is no real treatment, either. There are some things that help some EDS-ers, but nothing recognized. No FDA approved... anything.  There isn't even prevention, because the only prevention for something like this is not to be born in the first place, and I don't want to even think about going there! There is only management and therapies.

The management and therapies need to improve. Both for Autism and EDS. These are life-long conditions. They don't go away. In the case of Autism, great strides can be made, especially if therapies are started at an early age, but these interventions teach communication, coping skills, physical co-ordination and academics. They don't make the Autism go away.

And the world needs to adapt, too. 1 in 150 kids have Autism. In a few years, that will be 1 in 150 college-age students and then 1 in 150 adults. Is anyone planning for that?  Other that their parents, I mean.  Seriously. Think about it.  In 20 years time, 1 in 150 adults will have Autism (and God-knows-how-many kids)!  How will the school system and workplaces cope?  And cope they must, because there is no room for these people in the social security or welfare system. And no actual need to put most of them there.

I don't really know where I am going with this, except I think people should -not stop looking for a cure- but while they look, they should be looking at other things, such as effective treatments, therapies and adaptations to accommodate people with disabilities.

Because what if there IS no cure? That is the truth right now. There is NO CURE. That may continue to be the truth for a very long time.

Time to adapt, Normies. 

On Invisibility

In Douglas Adams' Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy series, the fastest way to make something (like a spaceship) invisible is to make everyone believe that it is Somebody Else's Problem. That way, no-one will see it, even if it is right in front of them. However, they may catch a glimpse of it it out of the corner of their eye. It might just catch them unawares. But this is rare. Most people just don't see it.

I have a faster way. I don't know if it will work for spaceships (although I don't see why not) but it is highly effective for people.  Give them a cane, wheelchair, walker, CTO vest or some other device of disability. Instant invisibility!  The chair, cane... whatever remains visible, but the person ceases to exist in the mind of most AB people.

The funny thing is, most AB people don't think this is a problem. An overdone, underfed middle-aged  mother who was trailing a teenage daughter breezed past myself and Joe in Starbucks. We were standing right there, on line, and the mom just walked by and went straight to the front of the line, narrowly missing me. I was quite literally speechless!  Luckily the daughter, probably having inherited some vision from her father's side, came to my rescue (or maybe her mom's rescue, as while speechless, I am sure I looked murderous) and told her ignorant, over-made-up, enormous-sunglasses and inapprorporiate skinny-jeans wearing mother that we were first on line.

And then Overdone Mom turned around and said

"Oh. I didn't see you".  (with exaggerated hand gesture up to her chest, like I scared her. I wanted to!)
"Yes." I said. "That's the problem"
And so she got angry and defensive. 
"But I didn't SEE you".
"Yes. that's exactly my point."
And then whingingly, she said the same thing AGAIN, looking to Joe for some kind of quarter. Joe didn't have a cane, so he wasn't disabled, right?  Well no quarter there, sweetie. Joe is Autistic. (although I didn't say that in Starbucks). And no way is he ever going to take anyone's side against me, anyway. Especially in a matter of Da Rules.

And I said to her. "You know why you didn't see me?  Because you didn't look."

She still didn't get it. She never will. But I think her daughter might have.  Maybe there is hope yet.

Maybe.

When I'm In Charge...

Why does a doctor always have to be Surgeon General?  That's just elitist, if you ask me. And how is that working out for us, anyway?  Health-care is costing a fortune, millions of Americans are uninsured, obesity, heart disease, cancer, diabetes and asthma are still all big problems. And on the SG's website, there is absolutely nothing about disability awareness, rights, help or prevention, yet disabilities are a medical issue too, right?  And one in 150 children are being diagnosed with Autism.  What is the SG doing about that?  NOTHING.

So to answer my own question. It's not working out too well...

Maybe it's time for a patient to take over.

So I am putting myself forward for the job. I think I would be a fabulous SG. I know patients and disability rights from the inside. I am a mom -an Autism mom to boot, and I am a big believer in good nutrition and getting all your vitamins. In fact, I am a bit of a nut on that front.

And oh boy, would I have fun with the cigarette pack warnings! They would have to make the packs much bigger to accommodate my warnings, which would be more in line with the European ones like

SMOKING KILLS!

But less succinct.  And less nice.

How's about this one:
(the Surgeon General says)
You just paid money to poison yourself. How big a knucklehead are you?

Or this:
Welcome To Your Death!

One for the guys:
Smoking Causes Early-Onset Erectile Dysfunction.

So what if it isn't true?  (and I don't know if it is or not) If I could save one life...

And my personal favorite:
Smoking can make a hole in your throat and all your stomach acid will leak into the abdominal cavity and painfully digest your own organs.

It happened to me Da! (i.e. esophageal cancer -way nastier than lung cancer.)  OK I don't know actually if the whole organ digesting thing is fact. That was my personal twist, but again; if I could save one life...

And I would mandate that "CANCER" is printed lengthwise in big letters along the paper of every cigarette -in really horrible foul-tasting ink!

Can you tell that I am a tad anti-smoking?  You lose your only parent to it, you become a bit ...em ...passionate.

And reviewing some of my warnings, I do see the need to make the boxes bigger. I think cigarettes should come in a box about the size of a small pizza box, which I think is about 12"x12".  Nice and inconvenient to put in a pocket or purse, with my warnings all over it in 72 point boldface...

As SG I wouldn't just concentrate on patient education either, which is one stated goal of the office. I would be big on doctor education about patient rights. I would award Dr. Jerome Groopman the Distinguished Service medal and make his book mandatory in every doctor's office. OK I don't think I could do that last part. Well, I would strongly encourage every doctor to have a copy of that book.

I would put Disability issues on the agenda, both seen and unseen disabilities. And I would get my finger out on Autism and other developmental disabilities of children.

And I would change policy on a number of things -starting with the CDC... Oh.  ...wait.  The SG has no authority to change policy.

That won't do.  OK. I don't want to be Surgeon General anymore.  I am going higher. I want to be Health Secretary!   ...And I don't think you even have to be a doctor for that one. 

Senator Obama; You in?

The Benefits of Blogging

I initially started this blog as an outlet for my frustration and as a way to write that was not too taxing on me poor suffering brain. I also thought it would be a useful way to keep my friends and family reasonably up-to-date on my news and progress (or lack thereof). Instead of having me repeat myself 30 times, they could read this and then come and talk to me, rather than have me recite the same litany of doctors' visits.  Of course, I forgot that my family wouldn't dream of going to the Internet for updates. They have to hear them from *me*. Oh well. At least many of my friends read it, so blogging has cut down on some repetition.

And at the back of my mind, I hoped some people would be helped or encouraged by reading my story and hearing my message, which boils down to this: If you think something is wrong, never stop looking for answers.

So yes. I hoped to help other people in some way. I didn't expect that anyone would reach out to help me. So strong and independent have I been for so many years, that I never expect unsolicited help. But many people have reached out to me through this blog, offered suggestions, areas of research, friends' names or blogs, e-mail addresses, support and friendship.  These people have by far been the biggest unexpected benefit of blogging.

Another benefit is the journaling aspect. Because I now keep my records (fairly) neatly typed in one place, instead of scattered between three notebooks and the back of an envelope in an unintelligible scrawl, I can go back and check on stuff. It is all nicely timestamped and organized for me. And it is searchable! So I can go back and see when I started taking Nortriptyline, when I was diagnosed with scurvy or when I had that really humongous seizure. And I can do it using Google (Hurray)!

The last benefit is the blogosphere itself. Not only the limitless information out there, but the people. I "hang" in a tiny space of the disability world. Every day I read about people who are suffering much more than I do on a daily basis. I see the grace with which they deal with their lot and it helps to give me grace. It also helps me to put my own issues in perspective. Sorry if that sounds selfish, but it does.

I'm sure there are more benefits. This is probably a "Part I" post, but my brain just decided it has had enough cooperating for one morning. TYVM. I need to go and give it a rest (poor baby).