January 19, 2018--Rx Trump: GirthGate

Donald Trump finally had a physical and the results are more or less known. More or less because there is already chatter that he and his doctor are not telling the truth about the results. 

Two things--

In spite of what the doctor said, his LDL, "bad cholesterol" numbers are sky high and suggest he has not insignificant heart disease.

And he is borderline obese, which is not good for the health of his heart, especially in combination with the LDL numbers and lack of exercise. Riding around in a golf cart doesn't qualify as exercise.

Take a look at this picture from two weeks ago. Does it suggest that Trump is only, as White House doctor Ronny Jackson claims, 10 to 15 pounds overweight? I'd say, it's more likely 50 pounds. Some are criticizing the doctor for fibbing about the president's actual weight. Skeptics are calling it Girthism or, I prefer my name for this--GirthGate.

In other words the president could be a ticking time bomb. Maybe in a bipartisan gesture presidential candidate Oprah Winfrey could help him out with a gift membership to Weight Watchers. 

In the meantime, what's one-heartbeat-away-from-the-presidency Mike Pence up to these days? In addition to standing behind Trump, nodding and smiling. That should tell us something about his boss's true medical condition. 

I hear he's staying away from carbs and working out.

Then there is the senility test. The Montreal Cognitive Assessment (MoCA) Trump took. It takes 15 minutes to administer, not the half hour they claimed. Unless Trump needed the extra time in pursuit of a perfect score--30 out of 30.

Speaking of mental tests, we had a wonderful Aunt Madeline who was a great character, but during the last years of her life was in and out of hospitals. Occasionally, to take a brief break from the rest of her life.

One time when helping her check into Beth Israel in New York City they gave her a cognitive test to see, at her age, if she was showing signs of dementia. Among other things they asked her to repeat "Car, cat, tree."

She was great at that and everything else. She more than had all her marbles.

"Car, cat, tree," she said over and over again. Not because she was senile and thus repeating herself, but to show them and Rona and me how good her mind still was.

They also asked her to reverse it--"Tree, cat, car." 

"No problem," she said before rattling it off. Again repeatedly, grinning proudly. 

That became a mantra. Whenever one of us would forget a name or an event from years ago, rather than being frustrated we'd chant, "Car, cat, tree" to show we were OK. Still do even though she's no longer with us.

This reminded me of the test Trump asked to take to counter the assertion in the Michael Wolff book, Fire and Fury, that Trump is losing it. Or, has already lost it.

They also asked Trump to repeat car, cat, tree as well as take a paper and pencil test. Below is a sample. It's self explanatory.

What do you think? Is this the kind of test to use to see if our commander-in-chief is fit for office? That he should be trusted with the nuclear codes?

Or is it more appropriate to see if a first grader is fit for promotion to the second grade?

On the other hand, I do want my president to know his hippos.

August 25, 2016--Down At the End of Mary's Lunch Counter

"Those are my parents," he said, nodding in the direction of the couple sitting at right angles to him down at the end of Mary's lunch counter. "My mother and father. I'm six-two but she's only four-nine and he's just an inch taller. I can't explain me. My two brother are both under five feet."

He didn't look at her but was sitting next to Rona with me on her other side. We were sharing a turkey salad sandwich.

"Genetics," she said. "There's no other explanation."

"'S'pose so," he said. "Makes for a lot of confusion. I thought they weren't my folks when I shot right by them. Made them feel good though. To have a normal son. Me? I was fully grown at 12 and was the tallest person in the school. Including the teachers. The kids thought I was a freak of nature. Not a lot of fun there. So I never did get much education. Or much luck for that matter."

"Sorry to hear that," Rona said. "You look fine to me."

"Bag-a-bones, that's me. Can't hardly eat no more." Mindlessly, he stirred his hash and eggs together, making a desultory mess of them.

He was painfully underweight but Rona said, "Better to be thin than the alternative."

"You got that right." For the first time he perked up and scooped a forkful of the mix he had made. "Haven't been able to eat a thing for more than a year now." Deflated again, he lowered his fork.

"Sorry to hear that," Rona repeated herself.

"Since my wife was diagnosed."

"Sorry to . . ."

"Was as rough as anything you could imagine. It was rapid spreading. Took her in less than six months. That was about half a year ago."

"You're so young. She must have been . . ."

"Thirty-six. Just getting started. One good thing, we didn't have kids. Must have been related to her condition. I was quite an eater before that. When the doctor told us what was going to happen, I stopped cold turkey. Pardon the pun. Juice and soup kept me going. Not that I wanted to. But for Sally . . ."

"Really rough," Rona said.

"You don't know the half of it. What it did to her. And me." He resumed staring at his food. His mother gestured for him to eat.

"Now they want me to eat. Twenty years earlier, I was living with them. I was just a kid. They hid food from me. Had a chain with a lock 'round the fridge. Some life. If you can call it that."

So his parents couldn't hear, Rona whispered, "A lock on the refrigerator? I never . . . " She caught herself now that what had been happening with him was becoming apparent.

"Yes, that's right." Rona hadn't said anything. "From the look of me now you'd never guess. Right?"

"I don't. I mean. It could be." Rona didn't know what to say.

"Six-fifty." For the first time he looked at her and smiled. "That was me. Six-two with parents who were almost midgets weighing six-fifty."

"Well, I . . . "

"Nothing to be upset about or feel badly about. That was me then and this is me now."

He picked up his T-shirt to let the hanging flaps of his now emaciated stomach come into view. "That's the last of that me," he said, pointing, "I may need surgery. But to tell you the truth, what with . . ."

He broke off and returned to playing with his food.

January 13, 2014--Ladies of Forest Trace: Chris Crispy

"Did you see him on TV?"

"Who?" I asked my nearly 106-year-old mother, who was calling from Forest Trace, the retirement community in South Florida where she has lived for almost 20 years.

"Chris Crispy."

"I missed him. I know he had a news conference to talk about--"

"The bridge."

"Yes, the George Washington."

"How his people closed it to get revenge against the mayor who didn't support him for election."

"Of Fort Lee."

"That's the place."

"What did you think of his press conference?" I asked, "Christie's, which, by-the-way, is his name."

"Christie, Crispy, who cares."

"I don't. In fact, I like your name better."

"My name? Ray?"

"Not your name, his. The one you have for him."

"I only have a minute before I have to go down for dinner so why are we talking about names?"

"I agree. So what did you think about his press conference?"

"You remember what I told you when I heard he had surgery, lap-dance surgery, so he could lose weight? That it meant he was running for president. You can't run for president if you weigh 500 pounds."

"I remember your mentioning his lap-band surgery. How--"

"If he's that heavy how people would think he's about to have a heart attack. Or has an eating problem that he can't control. And how could we trust someone to be president who can't stop himself from eating."

"I recall you're saying that. And I think you're right. But--"

"But, did you see what he looked like last week?"

"Looked like? I guess I did. And?"

"He was half his size."

"Thinner, yes, but not quite half his size. It takes time to--"

"So, I'm exaggerating a little to make a point."

"Which is fine."

"This is good for his health, but I'm not so sure for his politics."

"Say more because I'm not following what you mean about his politics."

"To become president. That is, if he is telling the truth about what happened and the public decides to ignore what went on on that bridge."

"I don't believe he didn't know what was happening."

"Neither do I. But up to now he's been very popular. That's why I'm thinking about his weight. Rather than being bad for him politically, how it helped him."

"Now I'm totally confused."

"When he was 500 pounds, he--"

"I think maybe he was only 350."

"You call that 'only'?"

"Sorry. I interrupted you again."

"What I'm trying to say," my mother persisted, "is that being so big was part of why people liked him." She paused to let that sink in.

"Why is that?"

"Like the Japanese Zoomos."

"The?"

"Zoomos. The wrestlers."

"Sumos."

"Like the Sumos. The people there love them. Not because they're such good wrestlers, but because they're so big. As you would say, bigger than life."

"You believe that part of Christie's appeal has been his size?"

"Yes. That's what I'm saying. Also how he talks. Not like a typical politician. How he brags that he tells it like he tells it."

"Like it is," I corrected her again. "And if he loses more weight and becomes normal size, people will be less attracted to him?"

"He won't be like a hero from the comics anymore."

"A super hero?"

"That's what I'm saying."

"You could be right. He has seemed larger than life, and for people who are fearful maybe that makes them feel secure."

"Unless they find more dirt about him, you watch--as his weight goes down so will his poll numbers."

"We'll see. But you've been right before."

June 17, 2013--Factoid

We are justifiably concerned about domestic terrorism and have spent hundreds of billions to prevent it.

Since 9/11, a total of "only" 18 Americans have been killed in the U.S. by terrorists. The last three at the Boston Marathon.

This may be evidence of money well spent.

On the other hand, since 9/11, more than 366,000 have died in the United States as the result of gun-related shootings, many more than that because of obesity, still more from smoking, and at least that many from driving cars.

To prevent these, proportionately, we have spent peanuts.