I feel like I’m drowning in clinical work. The number of messages, faxes, letters, visits, notes, and general stuff which must be dealt with seems to be accelerating at warp speed over the last week or so. The creeping of the Boom generation into the geriatric age group is leading to more and more people expecting rapid solutions to complex problems and I’ve noted a new trend that I had not predicted. As the oldest Boomers are beginning to enter the dementia belt and are beginning to develop age related Alzheimer’s and related disorders, those with relatively intact physiologies and functional ability are developing a state of defiant denial as to their lack of skills. They have little insight into their deficits, think of themselves as young and vital, and are hitting the warpath when things like refraining from driving for safety are on the table. That’s always been a tough one but it’s leading to more and more battles that take up my time and emotional energy. Let me make it clear. Driving is not a right, it is a privilege. It is a privilege granted by the state and only the state can revoke that privilege. If the state revokes it, you have to deal with the state. I do not grant or remove drivers licenses. All I do is tell the truth about your medical condition should the state inquire. Rant over.
I’ve been keeping a running tally of the number of communications I do through my UAB practice this month. I want some hard data to present on the amount of work outside of clinic hours I put in. Those responsible for scheduling and staffing the clinical enterprise, not being clinicians themselves, seem to greatly underestimate the actual workload and I’m getting a bit tired of it. They do seem to understand numbers and spreadsheets, however, so I’m going to give them a few. At one point, I thought about going back for a masters in Health Administration to be able to argue with the powers that be better on their turf, but then I decided I’d rather use that time to do things that were more nurturing for me personally.
I finished editing the proof pages of Volume III of The Accidental Plague Diaries and they have been returned to the publisher. The next step is the production of some proof copies to make sure that the book looks correct and one last chance to catch stray typos. At that point, I can announce a publication date, throw the switch and the dozen or so of you who read my stuff can buy a copy. Actually, as the whole project will finally be complete, I’ll start figuring out some ways of trying to promote them all and see if I can get some PR going and some sales. That would make my publisher happy. If any of you have connections in the book world, I’d be happy to set up some readings, signings, lectures on elder care topics etc. Just ask. It’s a matter of scheduling it around the other two careers…
Having covered two of the three careers in the above paragraphs, I suppose I can turn to the third one. I had a callback for Into The Woods at The Virginia Samford Theatre this week. Little birds told me that they had an enormous number of submissions for the show so I am grateful that I even made the callback stage. I have no idea if I will be cast or not. I’ll take it if it’s offered. I love the show. I love that venue. And, if the people I saw at callbacks are any indication of the final cast list, I’ll love the people I’ll be playing with in the sandbox. Things are still a bit up in the air about whether I’ll have a holiday gig or not. Watch this space.
This past weekend, a number of us who were involved in my A Midsummer Night’s Dream earlier in the summer schlepped down to Montgomery together to see the Alabama Shakespeare Festival’s production of the play. The ASF is the only LORT house in the state and has a significant budget and brings in actors from all over the country. After watching their Midsummer, I turned to my cast and said something along the lines of you should be really proud of what you did as there were moments in ours that were as good, if not better, and you don’t have the training and we didn’t have the budget. I really liked some things about the ASF show but there was much that was just unclear – the set, a metaphorical clock tower attic did not clarify any of the themes. A framing device involving a child and a book went nowhere. The fairy music was all live bluegrass, which was great, but rather than Shakespeare’s lyrics we got modern songs which clashed with the rest of the language and made little sense. The costumes were pretty, though.
I get on an airplane a week from tomorrow and my goal is to not have to think about any of my three careers for two weeks and to decompress amidst the sights, sounds, and tastes of Europe. This means I’ll be going into travel diary mode again shortly. Some of you have told me that this is your favorite part of my writings. I’m happy to oblige. If you can find anyone who will fund my traveling in exchange for literary output, send them my way. I’d be happy to become the next Paul Theroux or Bruce Chatwin. But for now, though, to bed.
Life, The Universe, and Everything 