Barton U News

Victor was raised by his mom and two older sisters- oh yeah, his Dad pitched in too.  Dad schooled him in the fine art of spitting, cussing and other related guy stuff.  But by being the only boy and the youngest, he was kind of fussed over.  Well, some might call it “fussed” over, but I think he’d call it being nagged.  He was “instructed” on the importance of many life skills by his mom, sisters and female grade school teachers.  These requisite proper attributes included: to not fight, to be polite, to have manners, to bathe regularly, to cut his finger nails, comb his hair, not to wear stripes with plaids, to not wear wrinkled clothes, to eat his vegetables, to excuse himself, to not burp, to wait in line and not push, to pay attention, to not tease, to wash his hands, to be civil and obey authority.

Well, some of the stuff stuck, but some behaviors are woven too deep into his uncouth male fiber.  But without women, I believe men would still be living in caves, picking their nose and eating raw meat.  The main reason man invented the wheel and fire was to impress women; and we only learned to cook meat because women told us that it tastes better that way.  So there you have it, women have been positively influencing men since prehistoric times.  Thank goodness for our daughters, sisters, girlfriends, wives and mothers.

To Daughters, Sisters, Girlfriends, Wives and Mothers
With Love, from Victor and Boys Everywhere

Daughters make guys better people.  I am not quite sure what it is, but I suspect that we secretly want to give our daughters a better reference point regarding male behavior than the actual base traits we know lie bottled up deep inside us.  We offer them a sanitized and proper yard stick to measure their future boyfriends and husbands by.  So for our daughters, we do our best to demonstrate the behaviors of chivalry and gentlemanliness.  We work hard at concealing our goofy guy side, the rude, the aggressive and the foolhardiness of the male psyche.  These are the parts of the male brain that have dawdled behind on the evolutionary path.

On Saturday February 29th, a room full of dads, moms and some young girls attended a presentation at Dr. Bannar’s office.  The presentation provided insight into why a young female’s anatomy is more susceptible to ACL (anterior cruciate ligament) injuries than males when playing sports.  Dr. Bannar spoke first about the anatomical and physiological aspects that cause young female athletes to injure their ACL.  Following this, Rene Hoogendijk (Barton’s Director of Physical Therapy and soccer coach) gave information regarding training methods that have been developed to reduce such injuries.

Dr. Bannar spoke with patience and passion regarding the inner workings of the knee.  The knee is one amazing hinge.  It is called upon to do all sorts of intricate maneuvers while keeping us upright, balanced and in harmony with the oppressive forces of gravity—aging and gravity are the archenemies!  For all that the knee is asked to do it is strangely Zen-like in its design and simplicity.  Dr. Bannar showed photos, MRIs and operated a plastic skeletal knee with a rubbery ACL to explain how all the parts and pieces come together to make this eloquent part of the anatomy function.  There are several factors that cause a female athlete to be more susceptible to ACL injuries than males, but like most things regarding the female anatomy, even after a detailed discussion, I was still left scratching my head. Females are complex!!!

Rene spoke with authority, giving examples of training techniques that will prevent ACL injuries.  His assistant modeled appropriate warm up and training methods.  He also showed photos of inappropriate training methods and how they could lead to ACL injuries.  The handouts and Powerpoint presentation illustrated ways to integrate effective training habits and techniques into a regular workout.

All the fellas in the room listened to the PEP presentation with a serious look of concern worn on their collective faces.   It was just a bunch of goofy guys taking time on a Saturday afternoon to find one more way to look out for their daughters.   It was down right heart warming.

Good job and a big thank you to Dr. Bannar and Rene for their time, expertise and direction- oh yeah, the pinky goes out on the hand holding the tea cup, and always, and I mean always remember to say please and thank you!

For more details regarding the PEP program and to order an instructional DVD please visit this website:
http://www.aclprevent.com/aclprevention.htm

Comments may be emailed to Victor Uriz at vuriz@bartonhealth.org.

What the heck is he doing back there behind the podium muttering to himself in a disgruntled tone? He’s unplugging and plugging-in cords, switching switches, turning dials, moving knobs and pressing buttons. He has the mussed and unkempt hair of a madman. Is he an escape from some locked facility or an idiosyncratic college professor? Nope, it’s Victor the inept and bumbling A/V guy. He’s doing his best to get the power point equipment up and running as the room hums with the sound of participants waiting to hear Dr. Crenshaw’s presentation regarding the heart; its health and wellness. He wipes the sweat from his furrowed brow and in a moment of complete frustration bangs his hand down hard on the console. Something beeps, clicks and then there is a blinding flash from the projector——-it’s come to life and the first power point slide rests majestically on the screen! Victor shyly grins to the audience and scurry’s off to bring down the house lights and then retreats to a remote dark corner to mope. The Heart of the Matter Size: About as big as your fist. Weight: Approximately 11 ounces. Responsibility: Pump fluid through more than 60,000 miles of piping. Amount of fluid pumped during its life span: One hundred million gallons. Number of thumbs in 70 years: Over 2.5 Billion; in one year 35 million; in one day 100,000. Reputed attributes: The seat of human emotion; the receptor and transmitter of love, sadness and joy. Favorite month: February. Favorite things: Flowers and chocolates (in moderation). Disposition: Fragile, easily broken. To be handled with extreme care

Dr. Crenshaw knows hearts. She is an internist with a passion for healing the sick and explaining the mysteries of health and wellness to anyone and everyone who is willing to listen.  On February 4th in honor of the “Go Red for Women, Love Your Heart Month”, she gave a very informative presentation entitled “Evaluate & Reduce Your Risk for Heart Disease.”   Let’s get something straight before I go any further, Dr. Crenshaw is not all “doctory”; she can take all the medical complexities and break it down into laymen terms.  It’s like talking to your hairdresser except she’s really smart and has valuable information to share rather than idle gossip (“Have you noticed that so and so has blah, blah, blah?”  “What a shame, tell me more!”)

She also has a great sense of humor.  The presentation started about five minutes late due to me fumbling around trying to get the AV gear working.  Dr. Crenshaw comically commented to the participants, “Well if he can’t get the A/V working I’ll have to give my other presentation on “sex and aging”.  The comment broke the ice and erased any intimidation the participants might have had about asking future questions.

The average age of the participants I would say was around sixty years old.  I suppose the maladies afflicting a younger person’s heart is more apt to be in the realm of romance rather than failed plumbing.  When we are young we are invincible and careless; age makes us wise and grateful (no, I didn’t say feeble and forgetful!). The audience of twenty-plus individuals appeared very grateful for the information Dr. Crenshaw conveyed.

There was information shared regarding blood pressure, triglycerides, cholesterol and medications.  Questions arose regarding what is medically normal and what might require a more in-depth examination.  There was discussion on what medical tests should be run and for what purposes.  A considerable amount of time was spent discussing prevention and how to make healthy lifestyle choices.

There are a lot of factors affecting the wellness of a heart and the body it works so hard to keep alive.  There is genetics, disease, nutrition, exercise, stress and lifestyle choice.  The recipe for good health is not that complex; exercise, eat fresh non-processed foods (lots of fruits and veggies), and find ways to integrate joy rather than stress into your day- into your life.  Dr. Crenshaw stated that sometimes by making appropriate lifestyle changes individuals may be able to reduce or even stop the use of some medications.

One of the points that Dr. Crenshaw made that stuck with me was that studies performed on primitive tribes revealed that they do not suffer from high blood pressure and many of the other prevailing cardiovascular ailments found in our modern society.  The doctor indicated that this was due to their eating closer to the earth (fresh non-processed foods) non-sedentary life style (exercise) and absence of stress (not trapped in a cubicle eight hours a day doing something meaningless).  Primitive tribes are close knit social groups that support each other emotionally.   I imagine that such an environment would foster positive mental health as well as physiological wellness.  On my next vacation, I am going to travel to the rainforest to see if a primitive family will adopt me!

So, I’m sitting here thinking about this righteous muscle and how efficient and mighty it is.  It’s almost childlike in its simplicity, yet unimaginably complex in design and function.  It’s the workhorse of the body and if given love and attention it will serve you twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.  Regular exercise, good nutrition and exercise will make your heart happy and healthy.

Now being the smarmy romantic that I am, I can’t end this blurb without mentioning the hearts primary prerequisite—–yep you guessed it——— LOVE.    Give it, receive it and spread it around like an uncontrolled love pandemic.  That’s right people, Get on board the Luv Train. Expose yourself to the Luv-Fluenza, the Luuuuuuvvvvvvv buuuuuuug, and that crazy Luuuuvvvv Viruuuuusssss!

Happy Valentine’s!
Insert Heart here ________

Thanks Dr. Crenshaw… Great job!

Comments may be emailed to Victor Uriz at vuriz@bartonhealth.org.

I’m something of a bouncer security guard and a maître d’ all rolled up in one.  I’m the guy at the door who quietly attends to the behind the scenes issues.  I am not sure why I have been selected, chosen or relegated to this special detail. Could it be my cat-like reflexes, my commanding presence or maybe it’s the stealthy coolness that I exude.  I think it’s probably the latter.  I am there, but not there, like the chicken broth in the spicy Gumbo or the hint of orange rind in your hefeweizen.  I am the consummate chameleon, as innocuous as a placebo.  My alias code name is Q-T (The Q and T spoken in quick secession, pronounced cutie).

My most recent assignment was a pretty sweet gig.  I was the steward for the New Grad Dinner/Ceremony at the Riva Grill——Nice!  Nancy Ressler was my handler and she made the major arrangements for the event, but I would be the on the scene point person to thwart any mishaps or “deal” with any “subversive events”.  I worked the door and quietly slinked around making sure that things went as scheduled.  I was given the unenviable task of pinning corsages on the New Grads.  This is a tricky ordeal for someone who lacks the steady hands of a surgeon and does not possess the pin point accuracy of a phlebotomist.  I steadied myself, bit my lip as I held my breath and deftly threaded the needle through the clothing and flower stem; a trickle of sweat tickled as it rolled down my rib cage.

There were magnificent speeches and presentations by the mangers.  Mary Bittner spoke with passion about the sacrifices and rewards of being a Registered Nurse. There were words of congratulations for their “stick to it-ness”, words of appreciation for contributing to the team, words of acknowledgment for their refreshing enthusiasm.  I could see the pride reflected in the managers and Mary’s eyes.  They have those “nurse eyes”.  Eyes that listen, are attentive, sharp and observant; kind.  These individuals have been nurses for many decades (ah-hum, as they all started when they were really, really young) and although much of the practices and procedures have evolved over the years, the things that make a nurse a “nurse” still remains the same.   The core values of caring, giving, respecting, serving and healing still prevail.

Nursing is different than most professions.  Nursing is not a career choice so much as a calling.  You can’t fake nursing.  You can’t call it in, or show up and be half way into it or just-sort-of be there for the patient.  Everyone will know it; most importantly the patient will sense it immediately.  The history and traditions of nursing is rich with stories of individuals who gave of themselves to aid and comfort others in need.  This involves everything from performing intricate life saving procedures to helping someone fluff their pillow.

Somewhere along the way we are all are touched by nurses.  From the cradle to the grave they are there helping us through the transitions in our lives.  If life is one big circle or a wheel, then nurses are the spokes that help make the ride a little softer, a wee bit smoother.

The dinner was great and the conversation stimulating.  Everyone received their certificates and for posterity photos were taken.  An old photograph can suddenly throw you back in time and capture the emotion of that exact moment.  I wondered if any of the managers have old black and white or kodachrome photos of their graduating class.   A yellowed photo of a tightly bunched group of students decked out in starched white outfits, topped off with those old school nursing hats.  I could imagine those “nursing eyes” peering out at the world with idealistic wonder.  As I said earlier, some things in nursing never change.  I finished up with my final responsibilities and like a specter slipped out the back door and into the cover of night.  Mission accomplished.    (More jazz sax riffs spill out into the darkness as a blue neon sign flickers into the foggy night).  Boo-ba dee-bah doo-be doooooo!

Comments may be directed to Victor Uriz at vuriz@bartonhealth.org.

So recently I had this grand idea to do something in the medical field.  I envisioned myself in a set of pressed mint green scrubs, a stethoscope slung nobly around my neck, as I confidently swagger down the hospital corridors with a self assured grimace of concern on my compassionate face.  With this glamorous picture in mind I set my sights on the EMT program held at the college.  What the heck, two nights a week, 4 hrs a pop.  I could handle some dry lectures, a few perfunctory skills labs, throw in a test here and there- shucks I’d be curing diseases and saving lives within three months.  It sounded so exciting, so easy.

Yea; easy like playing golf!  Just whack the little white ball into the hole.  The hole is clearly designated on the map; each hole is numbered chronologically and marked by a flag in the middle of a well manicured clearing.  A proverbial stroll in the park.  Easy?  Yea right!

The arduous task ahead of me began to sink in as I started reading the assigned chapters.  There was a plethora of things to memorize such as medical terms, symptoms, heart rates, blood pressure, respiration, vital signs and anatomy.  Who’d of thunk it, 206 bones in our body, each having its own unique name, and usually in Latin and impossible to spell!  Even being a complete rookie, I began to look at the human body with a whole new sense of ah and appreciation.  It’s freaking amazing, all the muscles, veins organs and nerves, each hardwired to the brain, a mini self contained factory producing consciousness, awareness, life!

Once I became so fixated and conscious of the sound of my heart beating in my chest that I became self conscious and paranoid; what if I stopped concentrating on that pulsing thump, thump? Would it stop? I know- I’m weird.  But you have to understand, the chapter on the autonomic nervous system had not yet been covered, i.e. how things work without conscious awareness.

Towards the end of the class, students are required to do one shift with an ambulance crew and one shift in the ER.  Hmmm, I thought to myself, I’ll do my shift 4pm to midnight on a weeknight and be done with it.  How many emergencies could possibly happen in a small town like SLT during these hours?  Sure, there might be the pedestrian ailments; the over protective parent with their runny nose kid, maybe a sprained ankle from a slip on the ice, a rash or tummy ache.  Even I, with my nominal skills could be of some help.

I took a deep breath, adjusted my stethoscope, straightened my badge that read “EMT Trainee” and was buzzed back into the bowels of the ER (I know, bad choice of words).  To my naive eyes it appeared to be pandemonium, a cacophony of groans and beeping machines, phones ringing, and the sound of staff members conferring in cryptic medical speak. The air was tainted by the ubiquitous odor of hospital coffee and industrial Lysol.  Gradually it occurred to me that there was a rhythm to this choreographed system of chaos and mayhem.  Patients were being seen timely and receiving excellent personal care.   A bank of computers tracked where each patient was located, when triaged, their current status and when vitals were last taken.

I fretfully plodded behind an EMT tech as he calmly and methodically attended to each patient.  I was struck by how personable and reassuring he was to each patient.   He called each patient by their first name.  In the process of taking vitals, bandaging and changing bed sheets, he made time to find out small details about each persons life and their family.  This was the type of person I’d trust to look after my mom or someone I love.

The cavalcade of the injured, sick and infirm continued to arrive throughout the night.  The ER crew kept their rhythm and groove going as they provided their professional care with kindness and compassion.  I watched as they cared for the array of people, some young, some very old, but most were frightened and in pain.  The ER tech that I had shadowed stayed a bit beyond his scheduled shift to finish up with a couple of the patients he had initially cared for.  Now that’s true dedication and great personal care.

Toward the end of my ER stint I began to feel tired and drained.   I was assigned to another ER tech that calmly went about his rounds.  He sported a clean shaven head and wore an infectious grin (no pun intended).  With only a couple minutes left before I was to leave I asked how he liked his job.  While punching some notes into a computerized chart he simply replied, “it’s great- I get paid for helping people”.  Huh, this never occurred to me.  So simple and true; yet profound!

I walked outside into the cold clear Tahoe night and I let his words sink in.  Above, the Milky Way streaked across the sky from one snow peaked horizon to the other.  I glanced up to catch the moon yawn, wink and then give me a reassuring smile. I thought to myself, what a most divine night.  It took me a while, but I finally got it.  It’s pretty cool to work with a group of professionals whose main focus is to help and comfort people in need.  Everybody who comes through the door is treated with dignity and given respect.  That’s really amazing and inspiring!  So, this is a big thank you for letting me tag along.   And a huge salute to those in the ER and all the other Barton Team members.  Good job, you guys got a great heart and soul!!!

Comments may be directed to Victor Uriz at vuriz@bartonhealth.org.

Victor is at it again. This time he is wandering through cyber coffee houses and trudging down the streets of Old Calcutta. He is seeking balance. He is an unwitting witness to the sacred and profane and everything in-between.

How do we make the most of this intangible thing called time? We try and manage it, balance it, and all the while it pushes us along; one irretrievable moment at a time. Victor learns that time never takes a day off and rust never sleeps. So he’s doing his best to wraps his greasy little hands around each slippery moment———-tick tock, tick tock.  Comments may be directed to Victor at vuriz@bartonhealth.org.

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