There have been many a blog posts floating in my head lately. You know, for my readers. My plethora of readers. Seriously, though, I write for myself. My present self and my future self. And the Bean. But if anyone wants to pay me in the process, I'm game. I'll start the bidding at $100.
#1) Toilet seat covers:
In an informal poll, 80% of people surveyed regularly skip the protection a toilet seat cover may or may not provide. In other words, 4 of my 5 college girlfriends sit right down on that toilet seat, bare-assed, public bathrooms and all. Of note, 80% of the surveyed population works in healthcare.
Some very brief research (thanks again, Wiki) revealed that toilet seat covers first entered our bathrooms in the 1930s. They were designed, obvi, to separate the germs on the seat from the germs on our ass cheeks. But apparently, they're not doing their job as well as we might all like to believe.
Infectious disease experts have repeatedly renounced the use of toilet seat covers, deeming them pointless. It was once thought that STD's could be transmitted via toilet seats, which I would guess was part of the anti-AIDS sentiment in the 1990s. It was also thought GI diseases could be transmitted via toilet seats. Apparently that's not true. But I'm someone who is phobic enough of barfing that if I know that someone who recently had norovirus used the bathroom right before me, I'm damn well using a cover and also not sitting on the seat. I will cover AND hover. Or just hold it until I get a kidney infection.
Speaking of "hover versus cover," I appreciate this cartoonish-but-informative YouTube video.
I once read that the filthiest place in a public restroom is the pad/tampon receptacle. Gross. Didn't follow up on that stat in this post. But still, pee particles + poop particles + period particles = don't touch that box (pun intended).
I found a Slate piece from 2000 by pop science writer, Mary Roach, author of Stiff and Gulp, among others. She quoted Chuck Gerba, a microbiologist at the University of Arizona as saying: "Even if there were bugs on the seat, you're not going to catch them. You don't catch things off your butt. You catch things off your hands."
This entirely validates my mission to never let Alex touch my bare ass unless I'm fresh from the shower. The reason being, I don't mind if my cheeks are gross with toilet matter, as they are tucked safely inside my undies inside my pants. But if his hands touch my bare cheeks, they are now contaminated with Toilet Seat Poison Germs, and it's likely his hands will at some point come in contact with his face or my face or the baby's face, and then it's all over. Toilet Seat Poison Germ Warfare.
Moral of the story, wash your hands, people. For reals, wash them good. Like, water + soap + scrubbing + singing the ABC's + drying them well + not touching the faucet handle or the door handle on your way out. And wash your butt cheeks when you shower, in case your loved one likes to touch them once in awhile.
#2) Ferguson:
I haven't paid as much attention to the racial tensions and political scene in Ferguson, MO as I should, or want to. I usually have Alex catch me up, in layman's terms, and then have a bunch of opinions about what bullshit the whole thing is. Seriously, it's 2014 and we STILL can't seem to treat people like equals, and not just in subtle ways, but in overt LETHAL ways. Just awful.
#3) Antidepressants and pregnancy:
A few weeks ago I read a first-person piece about taking vs. not taking antidepressants during pregnancy, called "The Dilemma of the Depressed Mother-To-Be." The crux of the story is that there is conflicting research about the use of SSRIs during pregnancy. Some data assert that the benefits outweigh the risks, while others assure you will damage your unborn child. There is evidence to support that significant stress, anxiety and depression can cause more harm on the womb than an antidepressant is thought to. Add in the impact of pregnancy and child-rearing on a person who is already prone to anxiety and depression - now unmedicated - and this is likely a risky situation, for mother and maybe for baby. The author reports that while she was once open and honest about her depression and anxiety, she learned that it was actually easier to keep these things to herself.
“There is a double whammy of shame when you take antidepressants when pregnant,” says Alderson. “First, there is the ‘You have mental health issues and you are taking an antidepressant’ judgment, and then there is the ‘How dare you risk your fetus’ judgment.”
I very much appreciated this article, and could have spent more time and thought writing about it. But alas, I have a few things on my plate - and on my mind - this week. The story felt personal to me, as I have been on Zoloft for nearly five years, related to a long history of moderate anxiety/panic. While I wouldn't attribute the drug to "saving my life," it has certainly provided me with a vastly more enjoyable one. Granted, I started the medication at the same time I started a year of weekly therapy, so who is to say which truly made the difference. I got pregnant with the Bean while taking Zoloft, and I chose to continue with the SSRI, despite some of the reports citing risk. I consulted a neonatologist and was advised that Zoloft is one of the "safest" of the bunch. There were no complications, and so far nothing to implicate the drug as a bad one. My rationale is that I'd probably be doing more harm to a fetus by sitting all day for work, eating too many cured meats, and drinking water regularly from plastic cups.
#4) Global parenting:
I saw an interesting piece yesterday about international parenting styles. Read it for yourself, if you haven't already. I sure wish that, as a society, we would take on some of these more laid-back approaches with our kids - leave babies in the cold? Unsupervised?? Let kids go out on their own?!? Never! I really think they, and we as parents, would be better for it.
#5) New federal regulations about hydrocodone:
In an effort to curtail new opiate addictions, hydrocodone (generic for Vicodin and Norco), will face more stringent regulations. Terrifyingly and sadly, it is said that more than 20,000 people die from prescription drug abuse each year. That's a lot. No need to worry about "bad guys" or even ebola, when your neighbor is statistically more likely to face death by doctor-issued medication. Starting in September, medical providers will no longer be able to call hydrocodone prescriptions in by phone, and patients will have to go back to the prescribing doctor whenever they need a refill. Also, the drugs will be kept in locked compartments in the pharmacy.
As someone who dabbles in narcotic misuse, I'm a bit bummed about the stricter rules. But only from a selfish standpoint, that it will be even more difficult for me to get a legit Rx for my favorite little buzz. It's not that I have a problem with pills or anything, but while some women like their wine, others like their weed, I'm not real interested in either, and I prefer a dash of opiate now and again. Thanks a lot, Pill-heads, you're ruining the fun for the rest of us. Seriously, though, I do worry a bit about the effect it might have on Black Market sales of the drug, as well as on people who "have" to turn to heroin to satisfy their addiction instead.
#6) Lena Dunham
I'm a big big fan of Ms. Dunham, only recently. I binge-watched all three seasons of "Girls" on HBO Go this summer, and am anxiously awaiting Season 4, when supposedly Hannah won't even be in NYC anymore?!? So not only do I like the show, I'm just so damned impressed with Dunham herself, that a 20-something has the connections and the skillz to write, direct, produce, and act in her own HBO show. That's impressive and enviable.
I loved her look at the Emmy's the other day. I think she is totally rocking the bleach-blond 'do. Not that I watched the actual Emmy's, but just glanced through photos to scope out the celebrity styles. Turns out she's coming out with a memoir this Fall about growing up with anxiety and OCD. I think maybe she stole my life - I want to be a writer, I want to direct my own TV show, I want to write a memoir. I don't want to live in NYC, though. Or LA. There's an excerpt from the memoir in next month's The New Yorker about being a "difficult girl," if you want a sneak peak like I did.
#7) #bloggingchallenge?
One of my dearest friends, Dee, has been inspiring me via Instagram the last couple weeks with her #yogachallenge, which I think was started by this chick, Yoga Girl. I wish I had known about it beforehand, and made the time/motivation to get myself back to regular meditation and stretching, along with social media-accountable challenges such as "cleaning up," "random acts of kindness," "being grateful," etc. It seems like such a focused, mindful way to emphasize some of the seemingly small things we can do to change our lives, and the world around us, for the better.
This also planted a seed of me wanting to do some sort of a writing or blogging challenge. I was thinking I need to spend less time writing about myself, my day, my kid - inane details of my otherwise boring-ish life - and I need to spend more time observing my environment and practicing using adjectives. I'm sure if I Googled "writing challenge" or "30 days of writing prompts" several things would come up to inspire me. Maybe I'll try to tackle that in October ...
#8) My work attire
At recent count, a total of five veterans have now commented on my "pretty dress" that I wore the other day. Clearly, I overestimated its length. In general, I am of the opinion that my patients should not notice my looks - not my hair, not my face, not my clothes. That said, I suppose I am someone who dresses decently nice, gets my hair cut and highlighted (sometimes, if we have the money and I remember to make an appointment, or when my roots get downright offensive and no one would mistake me for a blond), so one might think I am flattered to hear nice things about my appearance. Au contraire, in the context of work, I am downright uncomfortable. That teal dress is now relegated to my "non-work summer clothes" section of the closet.
Today's addition:
#9) Domestic violence
I'm no sports fan, and have no idea who Ray Rice is, but did you see that video of him punching his fiancee?!? Holy shit, that was violent. The worst, though, was the way he treated her once she was out. Out cold. He just dragged her body out of the elevator, no physical signs of shame, remorse, or concern. In the silent video clip, it didn't seem like anyone was too worried about her health. I mean, as someone who works with people with brain injuries, it was terrible to see her seemingly unconscious for at least a minute. And I don't just think this is terrible because it's a man hitting a woman - yes, domestic violence is terrible and horrible, but so is violence like this of any origin. I saw on the Today Show this morning that Robin Givens, who was married to and abused by Mike Tyson, wrote an interesting op-ed for Time, about the influence of social media on domestic violence.
I'm a big big fan of Ms. Dunham, only recently. I binge-watched all three seasons of "Girls" on HBO Go this summer, and am anxiously awaiting Season 4, when supposedly Hannah won't even be in NYC anymore?!? So not only do I like the show, I'm just so damned impressed with Dunham herself, that a 20-something has the connections and the skillz to write, direct, produce, and act in her own HBO show. That's impressive and enviable.
I loved her look at the Emmy's the other day. I think she is totally rocking the bleach-blond 'do. Not that I watched the actual Emmy's, but just glanced through photos to scope out the celebrity styles. Turns out she's coming out with a memoir this Fall about growing up with anxiety and OCD. I think maybe she stole my life - I want to be a writer, I want to direct my own TV show, I want to write a memoir. I don't want to live in NYC, though. Or LA. There's an excerpt from the memoir in next month's The New Yorker about being a "difficult girl," if you want a sneak peak like I did.
#7) #bloggingchallenge?
One of my dearest friends, Dee, has been inspiring me via Instagram the last couple weeks with her #yogachallenge, which I think was started by this chick, Yoga Girl. I wish I had known about it beforehand, and made the time/motivation to get myself back to regular meditation and stretching, along with social media-accountable challenges such as "cleaning up," "random acts of kindness," "being grateful," etc. It seems like such a focused, mindful way to emphasize some of the seemingly small things we can do to change our lives, and the world around us, for the better.
This also planted a seed of me wanting to do some sort of a writing or blogging challenge. I was thinking I need to spend less time writing about myself, my day, my kid - inane details of my otherwise boring-ish life - and I need to spend more time observing my environment and practicing using adjectives. I'm sure if I Googled "writing challenge" or "30 days of writing prompts" several things would come up to inspire me. Maybe I'll try to tackle that in October ...
#8) My work attire
At recent count, a total of five veterans have now commented on my "pretty dress" that I wore the other day. Clearly, I overestimated its length. In general, I am of the opinion that my patients should not notice my looks - not my hair, not my face, not my clothes. That said, I suppose I am someone who dresses decently nice, gets my hair cut and highlighted (sometimes, if we have the money and I remember to make an appointment, or when my roots get downright offensive and no one would mistake me for a blond), so one might think I am flattered to hear nice things about my appearance. Au contraire, in the context of work, I am downright uncomfortable. That teal dress is now relegated to my "non-work summer clothes" section of the closet.
Today's addition:
#9) Domestic violence
I'm no sports fan, and have no idea who Ray Rice is, but did you see that video of him punching his fiancee?!? Holy shit, that was violent. The worst, though, was the way he treated her once she was out. Out cold. He just dragged her body out of the elevator, no physical signs of shame, remorse, or concern. In the silent video clip, it didn't seem like anyone was too worried about her health. I mean, as someone who works with people with brain injuries, it was terrible to see her seemingly unconscious for at least a minute. And I don't just think this is terrible because it's a man hitting a woman - yes, domestic violence is terrible and horrible, but so is violence like this of any origin. I saw on the Today Show this morning that Robin Givens, who was married to and abused by Mike Tyson, wrote an interesting op-ed for Time, about the influence of social media on domestic violence.
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