The Shame of Blame

 When I turn in to the latest on the virus news, the first thing I hear is blaming. There is blame attached where there can't possibly be blame. This morning's news interview, I heard, included a slam against the long-suffering doctor in this province who has never faltered in spite of constant criticism for not being able to see into the future. The questions asked by the experienced journalist amazed me. He asked why Dr. Henry didn't  tell us what would happen, before this or that, because it could have been prevented. But the truth is that no one, not anyone, knew. The doctor explained this but the interviewer seemed unable to grasp the facts. The world is trying to keep up with the changes that take place daily in our coping with the implications of this virus that we are all fighting. It will stop only if we do certain necessary things. And yes, it has dire effects on many people but there is only one way to stop it. It seems that there is a thick layer of blame by many that, to me, doesn't make sense. How is it the fault of those doing their best to keep up helping us and giving us advice that is ignored and they are constantly hammered at by the media with questions whose answers have been given over and over again. Media seems bent on trying to find the negatives to make a big name for themselves. Is that good journalism? Anyone who is out there blaming other people for the virus and its changes is simply not thinking clearly. It's a virus. Blame it. There is desperation in trying to keep up with the changes and it is an action/reaction situation of course. Desperation is to stop this creeping virus as quickly as possible while at the same time trying to save lives. There is no time to spend months and years of testing, finding out what will save lives. Why don't the critics use their heads? They behave like impetuous children sometimes when actual children are wise enough to sit still and learn  in their sphere. Not only has blame become the byword in all sorts of ways in the media, it resides in our very own social circles. Instead of "how are you doing", the question seems to be "who can we blame for our problems".  Not "how can we work together to solve this". The virus is the enemy, not those trying to quell it. Those at the top are exposed to what I feel is horrendous chopping away at them while at the same time they are trying to cope with constant criticism and public doubt. Their energy is needed to help us, not to defend themselves, and yes, even their personal lives sometimes with this never-ending present day need to blame everyone and everything else for every wrong that has ever occurred. Blame doesn't fix anything. Blame is the nerf ball that holds a dart or the snowball that has a rock in it. All blame does is hurt another human being just like us, one trying to do the best they can and still live on building their daily lives. Flinging blame rocks around randomly to hope for a target is pointless.  There is no one to blame. It's a virus and it doesn't hear you. The solution to the virus situation is patience and kindness with and toward each other.  Top officials also need our kindness. What I want is a "vaccine" against the latest disease of blaming. Like you, I am sickened by blame that is currently flung about randomly on everything and furthered by so-called self-interested journalists. Good reporters report. 

Pills and Pain

 Okay, when you are old, you have pain. If someone is over eighty and says they don't, it makes me wonder if they need further checking. Pain is not the enemy. It is something to deal with. Far too many people watch ads that show elders showing off how they do the tango or jog or hike up mountains. Those sorts are either ad actors or among the lucky one percent or they take the pills they advertise. Why we need to be hopping or running or walking swiftly is a myth that many elders aspire to without thinking how unproductive it is. They hate their old age when it is actually a badge of good fortune for living so long. When you are an elder, you have picked up some helpful and interesting experience they call wisdom. There's nothing magical about wisdom, it just happens and the longer you live, the more you have of it. Apparently. What I like most about my old age is the memories. Wow, they are way better than Netflix or any other flix you can sign up for. You can tune in to them and re-live all the best parts of your life. Sadly, some dial up the worst ones and they become cranks. Back to pills. Pills are okay if you really need them. Your doctor is good at writing prescriptions but I would be careful about jumping into a program without some on-line  research. You trust your doctor but you are the boss. He or she does the best they can based on tests and your reporting. The rest is up to you. If the pills are not feeling right, go back to the doc. If the pills are for pain, after looking into how it got there in the first place by using the journalistic "W" method, it could be that you were trying to be superman or woman in your younger, sillier days instead of listening to your body. Pain is never gain and it just might return years later with a vengeance. I know folks who say, "I go for my three kilometer trot every day but I take a pain killer pill first". This scares me. Those pills can become harmful and overdoing exercise doesn't work even for athletes. But good athletes and their advisors are very knowledgeable about their performing bodies. They know to how to push it to the limit but they also know that it may affect them later on in life. For you and I, average elders, we wise up to taking it easy on the "look at me, I'm so young" ego kick. We wiser elders move around in what ever way works best for us without pills. We walk and if so, take time to enjoy what's around us. We do whatever our bodies say is okay. If we can't do what the other guy our age is up to, we don't attempt to ape it. We strive to be happy, and happiness is being comfortable and keeping  that sincere smile on our faces. At the same time we try to move about and stretch our muscles in whatever way works best for our individual needs and wants. It might mean merely walking down a hallway or doing a small routine every morning or simply reaching and bending or merely swaying to music. But your muscles need movement because that's what they know and all they know. If they don't get it they complain. It's called pain. They don't need special denial diets that make you sad or ones that are full of sugars and salts and other chemical names. Read labels. The fresher, the better without being a fanatic. Good food does not come pre-cooked or pre-packaged. If all you have is a toaster oven or a hot plate or a microwave oven, you can still cook your own meals consisting of fresh produce and meats. The wee bit of time it takes can be fun if you let it. If you're cutting back, make it the pills you don't really need. 

A Nice Walk

 What happened to going for a pleasant walk? It appears that "going for a walk" these days, must have a purpose. I hear such drivel as "I need to lose weight", "I am doing my 15,000 steps", "my doctor says I am too fat" and "it keeps me young". When I go for a walk, it's either to go somewhere specific or to simply look at gardens or woods or listen to birds singing as I stroll along. When I see some poor soul grinding down the pavement, arms aswing, ear buds in place, noses pointed dead ahead and puffing through a sweaty nose, I feel sad for them. No, it isn't going to make you lose weight necessarily, it isn't going to make you live longer and it isn't allowing you to have any fun being outside in what's left of Nature just to be there and love it. All of those reasons are not proveable. Listening to your doctor is mostly like talking to a treadmill. They are almost always on the thin side for one thing and have no idea what it's like to lose a mere ten pounds without some kind of agony. Sorry doctors. They keep their weight down because they are among the most busy and stressed out professions around, notwithstanding weekly or more golf dates. Also being male is a leg-up in the weight loss department.  My dear doctor is a slender man whose dietician has a body like a venetian blind slat. She was born to be slim albeit she is at the gym a good part of the week and is vegan, poor woman. Most of my friends, other than those who have suffered chemo therapy, I kid you not, are carrying around more weight than their doctors recommend. I am sure that at the top of every patient file, Number One piece of advice listed is: "you have to lose weight". I am so tired of hearing that line that I sleep through the first two minutes of my allotted fifteen when the doctor finally arrives in my cubicle with its two chairs, one computer and a large thing to lie on covered in paper towel. The rest is a meeting with the blood pressure gizmo and the usual prescription fill. Oh yes, a few polite questions about how I am meant to be answered with the word "fine". A sign tells patients that they are permitted only one complaint and that is baffling because a lot of aches and pains are associated with more than one cause or reason. But it's okay because I can try to make another appointment with the lady at the desk who, when I call, asks me without waiting for an answer, "can you hold please". I usually get out an "uh" before the music comes on and I wait for some time listening to it on a phone speaker that makes everything sound like the dishwasher on full. Back to going for a walk. The people who seem to enjoy their walks most are the dog walkers. At least they have to stand and wait while Spot or Fifi dirties up the boulevard and they perhaps listen to the bird song in the pretty, trimmed gardens along the way. Few of them are encumbered by the required plastic bag and if they are, it mostly ends up behind someone's hedge before it gets back home to the condo dumpster. It's a fact. I like a walk that is a walk. I want to smell the air untainted by dog urine or car exhaust or some idiot smoking a cigarette. I do not favour sidewalk as a place to plant foot or having to ply a crosswalk that is ignored by a good many drivers too busy with the handless cell phone speaker or the kids romping around in the back in their car seats and belts. Going for a real walk is becoming a rare and wonderful thing. That's why I like sitting in my swing on the deck, looking up at the eagles soaring, the gulls wheeling and the song birds flitting amonst the cedar trees.