Medical Mondays make for diagnoses with "Angels on Call"

We have entered the next generation of psychic medicine, a practice of reaching into the great beyond in order to make medical determinations --- via radio call-in show. Tale as old as time, right? But the crazy part isn't in the practice itself, it's the fact that very often this tea-leaves approach takes a much more cautious and conservative tack for its so-called patients than the medical community does.

Mary Occhino has a daily satellite radio program that broadcasts to a large audience on the SIRIUS XM Stars channel.  She's also a psychic-medium / intuitive explorer of consciousness (description according to her own Celestial Whispers site). Whatever you may think about her work, talent, spirituality, ability, soul, shenanigans, etc., the fact is I've often heard people call up in a state of utter confusion after garnering multiple medical opinions about a condition.

Mary is quick and frequent in pointing out that her qualifications are not as a physician, but as a medical intuitive. Sounds nice, doesn't it? 

And minimally invasive ... I think. 

Either way, from a patient perspective I have heard her give wonderful advice and urge callers to question surgical necessity on an applaudingly consistent basis. 

My purpose here is to muse, after all, and I offer you Mary's show purely as information. There are those in my social circle who would argue vehemently on both sides of the question of validity, and I think most of their points would be salient. On the flip side, there's as much hokum in today's modern health care system as you'll find in any jar of medicinal leeches, and I'll bet a pint there's a crew o' them critters at a health center near you. Nothing wrong with going back to what works.

Personally, it may not be my favorite radio show on the planet, but it sure gives me something to think about first thing on Medical Mondays. 

Here's a link to Mary's Web site and blog.  Her radio show "Angels on Call" offers these daily themed programs along with a toll-free number to call with questions.  

• Medical Mondays: The intuitive approach to listeners’ current and future health  
• Tumultuous Tuesdays: Get a grip on personal crises  
• Wondrous Wednesdays: A celebration of miracles  
• Beyond Thursdays: Connect with relatives and friends from the “beyond”  
• Forever Fridays: Life and all eternity  

Mtv's "True Life" implicity asks: Would you give your kidney to an ingrate?

The ep was titled "I Need a Transplant." Sounds tragic enough, two young twentysomethings are each fighting life-or-death battles during which a family member swoops in to save the day by offering up a body part.

The wrinkle lies in the fact that Morgan, a lovely young girl of 22, has already gotten one kidney ... from her father.

However, in trying to live the normal life of a college kid, she leaves home only to end up neglecting her daily medication regimen (about 20 pills per day) while partaking in the sort of kidney-stressing recreational substances and dietary habits that college kids often do. The required routine care was a burden on her personal and social life, explains Morgan. But what's the alternative?

She had to return home not only contrite, but sick enough to have to ask her mom for a kidney. After eight and a half years her first kidney transplant is now failing in the doctor's opinion because of a "lack of good adherence to taking your medications."

"I think this time I actually have, like, my priorities straight," says Morgan. But after a lifetime of illness and a short respite of pretending to be normal, she's faced with some pretty high stakes.

Diagnosed with chronic kidney disease at four years old, Morgan endured long nights of dialysis until the time she was 13 when it stopped working and she accepted the kidney donation from her dad. Of course he was more than happy to do it.

But what about now? What about mom? Not only is this a huge physical sacrifice (and ongoing health risk), it's also mom's first surgery. And it's a major one. Thankfully, all went relatively smoothly and both mother and daughter emerged as well as could be expected. But if Iwere in that mother's shoes, in the deepest and darkest corners of my soul, I would have to question the validity of my decision; that's because I judge people on actions, not words. And past actions spoke far louder and clearer than I would like.

Of course, maturity plays a role in this, and I don't think any of Morgan's neglect was done with malice. Still, if anyone, this child should understand the risks and general malaise that comes with surgery and serious illness.

Morgan does take on some personal accountability regarding the future by telling her sister --- who's actually her best donor match --- that no matter what happens, she won't ever accept a kidney from her.

Whether playing to the cameras or planning for reality, at least it's a step in the right direction.

Check out the episode online.

Gladiator to fight The Big C; "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" delayed

I freqently joke that the salad I had for dinner will probably give me lymphoma. That's because it's a side effect of nearly every medication, fertilizer, virus, toilet seat contact, pencils, shark eyes, rubber tires turned inside out ... Well, you get the drift.

On the TV show "House" the two most frequent diagnoses you're likely to hear are lupus and lymphoma. Even the writers joke about this, but facts are facts: seems almost everything can lead to lymphoma. And almost everything can behave like lymphoma.

When I first had to describe this condition, my exact words were "leukemia's kinder cousin." It's a type of blood cancer so it's systemic, therefore its treatments are harsh. But these days they're mightily effective.

Get some legitimate information here.

This oft-occurring cancer seems to be making special rounds in real-life pop culture recently (not just the usual scads of movies and books). First, production on our favorite serial killer "Dexter" was suspended while Michael C. Hall underwent treatments for Hodgkin's Lymphoma. This week, it was announced that Andy Whitfield from "Spartacus: Blood and Sand" is being treated for non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

I'd like to take a moment and pay homage to Larry David who really brought the fun in on cancer commentary during "Curb Your Enthusiasm." He kept saying his friend's dad --- diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's --- was lucky because he got "the good kind."

Clearly, no cancer should be characterized as "good," and Larry's friends were appalled as usual. But for the rest of us, it's best if we keep the record straight. Although seemingly non-intuitive, it is non-Hodgkin's that's the tougher of the two. (Note mnemonic device included there free of charge.)

And while there's absolutely no way to avoid all things probably lymphoma inducing, it should be an easy proposition to at least avoid eating the rubber tires.

Bob Flanagan should be dead

If you've never heard of him, Bob Flanagan is a performance artist, writer and self-proclaimed supermasochist. Well, he was. He was also one of the longest lived cystic fibrosis patients on record in his time, living well into his forties with a disease that had historically taken the lives of nearly all sufferers as children.

But his was an unpleasant life, to say the least.

I first heard of Bob Flanagan back in the mid-1990s, a period I now think of as "before" in my own patient brain. I watched the documentary titled "Sick" with shock and awe (warning: this film is unsuitable for most humans). I won't go into detail here except to say that my interest then was more from a filmmaking perspective.

Today, having recently passed the 10-year mark of my own medical odyssey, I watched it again. Admittedly, I blew through a few of the most graphic images, but my mindset was much more philosophical.

In essence, Flanagan's goal was to battle the pain of his illness by becoming a supermasochist. His reason for inflicting unspeakable pain upon himself was simple: He wanted to be able to control his body for a change.

As a prognosis he was promised an early death. He lived with that knowledge for decades. And during that time he committed such acts of violence against himself --- although it was surely comparable to anything the doctors did --- that he has become a quiet legend, especially among cystic fibrosis patients.

One 17-year-old girl featured in the filmed documentary met Mr. Flanagan as part of the Make a Wish Foundation's activities. Accompanied by her mother, she confessed to him that his book was her bible. Trust me, it resembles the actual Bible in no way shape or form. She thanked him for laying himself so bare for those who come behind him. Mom was clearly out of her element here given the living environment Flanagan and his partner, and dominatrix, had created for themselves. But parents with dying children tend to fall more on the liberal side when it comes to doling out rules.

But it made me ask myself: are we stronger as patients if we bond together? Or are we better off to go about our lives trying not think about it? I know the latter isn't totally realistic, especially with illnesses of such a chronic and deadly nature.

I have a close friend, we'll call him "BTK," who explained to me that he'd become a practiced needle, scalpel and rigger-type dungeon dweller (literally) who focused much of his time "playing with" a young woman with multiple sclerosis. He worked to help ease her pain by inflicting it upon her with disciplined application and sterilization.

As I tried to wrap my head around this concept, it occurred to me over and over while I revisited the documentary. I understand the desperation and the desire to control your body, rather than having it control you. And although this isn't the type of therapeutic regimen I myself would want to pursue, I think to some degree I comprehend it in a way that's slightly terrifying.

I should also note that, blissfully, Bob Flanagan is dead.

Read his obit in the NY Times.

Just because they say jump ...

I want to start off by saying that I truly value the role of medicine in society. I'd like to proactively deflect any perception of malice toward doctors by adding that one of my best friends is a hospital-based physician who's been in practice for many years.

But also please note the word "practice" in the previous paragraph, and as you move forward in your life, begin to note just how often you see or hear this term when reading about medical matters.

When I began writing a medical narrative in the summer of 2008, my doctor friend and I began to engage in even livelier intellectual discussions about the "practice of medicine" and the reasons why it's so ubiquitously referred to as the "art of medicine." Sure, there's plenty of science to it; no question about that. But so many things are not exact and our knowledge base increases exponentially on a daily basis thanks to medical research and, frankly, mistakes.

There are so many variables that go into formulating an opinion or diagnosis about a patient that the opportunities for error are truly endless. Consider these obvious few:

• Patient omission of facts or history
• Lack of patient knowledge about facts or history
• Mistakes in the lab
• Lack of or unusual variation of symptoms
• Incompetent doctoring

And those are the easy ones. A factor most patients never consider are what type of doctor they're seeing. For instance, if you're seeing a surgeon, chances are they're gonna want to cut. If you're seeing an allergist, everything is allergies. I speak from experience on both counts.

There's nothing wrong with seeing the board certified men and women who have achieved specialist status. They're a necessary part of the machine that struggles to keep all our manifold parts in working order. Just keep in mind that if you're a hammer, all the world looks like a nail.

Which brings me back round to the subject, which is simply this: Before you agree to any procedure or treatment that will forever alter your body and/or any of its unique chemistries, do your research. Get a second opinion. Ask questions and question everything. Check credentials. Check risks. Check the bleeping success rate!

Just because one doctor says jump, doesn't mean we must immediately dive headlong into the infinity pool of contingencies.