Elder Care

When Dad wasn’t feeling well he called me.  I dropped what I was doing and travelled out to his house which is about thirty miles out of town in the suburbs.  When I arrived I knew something wasn’t right when I saw him still in his pajamas and bathrobe. That’s very unlike him.  It was very difficult to discern what might be going on, though. Dad is the last one to admit he isn’t feeling well.  He is in relatively good health for age 92.  Nurses always comment when he fills out the health surveys because he has never had any of the usual ailments listed and takes no regular prescription drugs.  Except for his Macular Degeneration, he is in good health.  He has been fortunate.  But this day was different.  He had no energy, could barely lift his feet, and did something more like falling forward than his usual slow shuffle when he tried to walk.  I stayed with him that night.

The next day he reported feeling no better.  He had been taking an antibiotic as a precautionary measure after having had a minor procedure done the week before.  He was now almost completely limp and could barely pick his head up.  I called his GP and was advised to take him to the emergency room so that they could figure out what was going on.  There, they determined that he had an infection and wanted to keep him overnight so they could administer antibiotics intravenously.  I stayed with Dad the entire time and only left when he was safely admitted and in a room.  It was after midnight.  Rather than go home, I stayed at his house so that I could get some things for him and return early the next morning.  He stayed in the hospital three days and nights and was released on the fourth day.  During that time, I stayed with him when visiting hours permitted and stayed at his house in the evenings.

Once home, he took several more days to recuperate before he was able to dress himself and reported feeling more like his old self again.  On the eleventh day after getting his call I felt he was well enough for me to leave him and go home.  Dad lives by himself since my mother died in 2002.  We talk about what the next steps might be when there comes a time that he can no longer live alone.  This little episode was a wake up call.  That time is nearly at hand.

Good News Disposable Razor Blades

In 1974, Good News Disposable Razors were introduced by Gillette. “Disposable” was a new concept; one which was not familiar to many people. At that time, I was studying Industrial Design in graduate school. Not comfortable with the concept, I decided to do an experiment to see what kind of impact this idea might have on the environment.  I asked the question “How much waste would one household produce were it to use GNDR’s?”  From that moment on, Good News Disposable Razors were the only brand I’d use.

When the razors dulled, instead of throwing them away, they were thrown into a large ceramic pot.  Like any scientific experiment, I was very diligent about this; making sure nobody else in the house accidentally discarded a GNDR by mistake. In fact, at one point our friend Jo Gene was staying with us and was using the feminine equivalent.  The only difference was that her disposable razors were pink.  We had a family round (kitchen) table discussion.  Topic: should we keep Jo Gene’s razors or not?  Decision: of course, they are part of the household’s razor blade production.

In 1999, a quarter century later, I decided the experiment was over.  We had been collecting razors for the last twenty-five years.  We outgrew the ceramic pot years earlier.  Conclusion: one household, using disposable razors would produce a large shopping bag full of razor blades in twenty-five years.  To make the point, I used an oven to melt the razor blades down into what became a nine-inch cube (.42 cubic feet).

There were an estimated 114,825,428 households in the U.S. by the end of 2010.  If they all used disposable razor blades they would produce 48,441,984 cubic feet of waste every twenty-five years.  Not a good idea; really bad news.

TV Viewer for Macular Degeneration (AMD) Update

Dad still uses the TV viewer he invented when he watches television.  It has been a month or more.  That’s proof enough for me that they are helping.  As he says, the viewer doesn’t improve the image but it makes it easier to see.  He says it cuts down on glare from the surroundings.  These were fashioned from a piece of black plastic; the kind you buy in a stationery supply as a report folder.

Chocolate Easter Legs™

 

The Peachtree Hotel

1978

I was scheduled to visit Atlanta and a colleague suggested that I stay at the new Peachtree hotel.  I had heard about this new hotel in Atlanta that boasted an interior lobby that traversed the entire core of the building to the roof. It had glass elevators which added great excitement to this all new concept in architectural space.  Why not, I thought, it sounds like fun.  I called information and asked for the Peachtree Hotel in Atlanta and booked myself a room.

From the airport in Atlanta I took a taxi to Peachtree Center, downtown.  Much to my surprise, when I got to what was obviously the new hotel, my taxi pulled into the driveway across the street. “What gives?” I asked the driver, looking back at the hotel through the rear window.  ”This is the Peachtree Plaza Hotel,” he said.  ”Didn’t you ask for the Peachtree?”  I realized my mistake.  There are two hotels, The Westin Peachtree Plaza Hotel, and the Marriott Marquis on Peachtree.  ”Yes, I did.”

Sure enough, when I made my way to reception and checked reservations, there was my name.  I, indeed, booked the wrong hotel.  No problem, I thought.  I’ll just walk across the street to the right hotel and I did.

After settling in, I called the Peachtree to cancel my reservation.  But to my surprise, the operator wouldn’t do it.  ”I can’t,” she said, “You must cancel by 12:00 noon or there will be a charge to your credit card.”  ”But, I was standing in the lobby of the hotel not ten minutes ago.  There was no one there. I’m sure you have many available rooms.  Why are you charging my credit card?” “Those are the rules, sir.”

I thought for a moment.

“OK.  Let’s just keep that reservation now, would you?” I told her.  ”But I will be arriving late.”

“That’s no problem at all,” she replied.

I waited about fifteen minutes and called the hotel again.  ”Hello.  I have a reservation for tonight which I would like change to tomorrow night.”

“That’s no problem at all,” she replied.

I waited about fifteen minutes and called the hotel again.  ”Hello.  I have a reservation for tomorrow night which I would like to cancel.”

“That’s no problem at all,” she replied.

1 Hanson Place – The Tooth Building

At what used to be the most important hub of Brooklyn commerce, Flatbush and Atlantic Avenues, and the Brooklyn terminus of the Long Island Railroad, sits the Williamsburg Savings Bank Tower. This 1929 architectural gem is 37 stories and 512 feet tall; until recent years, the tallest building in Brooklyn.  The ground floor housed the landmarked branch offices of the Williamsburg Savings Bank, although the bank itself moved out years ago.  The building has been converted to a mixed use, residential/commercial cooperative.

At one point, the building must have been home to half the dentists in Brooklyn, at least it seems that way.  My children’s pediatric dentist, my periodontist who took over his father’s practice which was also located here, my regular dentist, and my daughter’s orthodontist who also took over her father’s practice, the largest in the building – six chairs, no waiting –  all had offices here.

I believe the building’s owners missed a great opportunity.  How often does a building gain a reputation as THE place for a certain profession?  How cool would it be to have a building called The Tooth Building?

Not that the Landmark’s Commission would have gone along with the idea without a fight, but it would have been worth it, if the building’s owners could have gotten permission to erect a giant molar atop the dome.

The Bells of Tenth Street

“Alternate side of the street parking” is the city’s attempt to make curbside parking fair and available to all while keep the streets swept and a garbage removal schedule.  One day a week, say Tuesday, one side of the street would be off limits to parking for a couple of hours.  Likewise, on Fridays, parking on the other side of the street would be off limits.  It forces people to move their cars often enough that they don’t deposit their cars in the neighborhood for the winter. On the residential street where we had our offices, alternate side parking proved very costly for me and my employees.

It never failed, that on Tuesday at 11:30 when I had to move the car, I was either on the phone or in a meeting, preoccupied with other things.  Boom.  Parking tickets in NYC were $55. Moreover, not wanting my employees to waste half the morning worrying about their cars, I made it company policy that if anyone ever got a parking ticket, the company would pay for it.  Tickets were costing the company hundreds of dollars every year.

I had one of the programmers write a program which would turn the computer into an alarm clock that would go off Tuesdays and Fridays at 11:15 and again at 12:45.  When it did, it would play a recording of the Bells of St. Mary’s from a speaker on the roof.  Bong! Bong! Bong!  When we heard the church bells, we would know it was time to move the cars.  Since there were no churches anywhere nearby, the sound was odd enough that it would always draw our attention, yet was pleasant enough not to raise objections from the neighbors.  My plan worked like a charm. We never received a parking ticket after the system was installed.

A neighbor who also happened to be a traffic court judge remarked that the scheme would fall below the radar unless parking ticket revenues fell off.  I’d better not pass along the idea to neighboring blocks.

The Pizza-gram

Mary and I were going upstate to visit our friend, Richie, who was living in a small farmhouse, not far from the center of town.  It was late on a Friday night.  Our start had been delayed and we realized as night fell that we weren’t going to arrive until well after midnight. Wanting to let Richie know we’d be late, we pulled off the highway and found a pharmacy, hopefully with a phone, on Main Street of that small village.  In 1971, there were no cellphones. In fact, we realized Richie didn’t have a phone at all.  What to do?

As luck would have it, the pharmacy was also the Western Union office and I suggested we send a telegram.  The pharmacist/Western Union rep said the cost would be $14.50 and the message would be sent first thing the next morning.  That wouldn’t do, at all, I thought. Tomorrow would be too late and $14.50 was a huge amount of money in 1971. Now what?

aha!

I took out the phone book and found Joe’s Pizzeria in Richie’s town.  I called Joe.  ”I’d like a large pizza with extra cheese, please,” I said.  ”Address?” asked Joe.  ”123 Maple Street.” I replied.  ”And Joe, could you do me a favor? Would you write on the box ‘Richie, we won’t get there until after midnight and sign it, Allen & Mary?’” “Sure,” replied Joe.  I could hear his smile over the phone.

Problem solved.  For $7.00 Richie would get the message in the next twenty minutes which would come with a hot, cheese pizza. And Richie pays the bill.

Satan:Google::Pitchfork:Google’s Chrome Browser

I recently switched to using Google’s Chrome browser from Safari.  Chrome just seemed to work smarter and faster.  Now, some strange things have started happening. I didn’t attribute these odd things to Google or Chrome until I started investigating.

 

Lately, ads by a company that sells home alert systems to seniors have started to appear on pages I visit. Did I say pages?  I meant EVERY page! It doesn’t matter if it is the NY Times, the blog of a teen rapper in Des Moines or a gift shop in the Bavarian Alps.  These alert system ads appear there, without fail.  I imagine that the company marketing director requested that their ads be on every potential A-List client pageview Google could deliver.  I’m pleased to report, if he or she is reading this, that his wish has been fulfilled.

My Twitter username is also MacularD, like this blog.  Since Macular Degeneration is largely associated with seniors and aging, my followers, 275+ at present count, are ophthalmologists, MD’s, senior caregivers, baby boomers and such folk.  Twitter followers (friends) are, if they are businesses, are following as a matter of tracking down sales leads; I’m not that hugely popular. Most followers are trying to sell me something and have tracked me down by my username. My Twitter account is set to forward via Gmail email, updates.  What I believe has happened is this: Google, by reading my email and Twitter feed has determined that I am a senior (I’m not) and I belong to the A-List group of customers identified by the alert system company.

It has gotten so pervasive, that I find myself being annoyed at the lack of variety on the Internet. More to the point, having Google blatantly following my every move and reading my email is invasive and irritating, to say the least.  I know they do this type of marketing as a matter of course.  No surprise there.  But, come on already.  I literally cannot go to a page where this company’s ad does not appear unless the page is ad free.  Enough already.  Safari, I’m sorry.  Will you forgive me?

What Does a 91 Year Old Tweet About?

FollowYouFollowMe

We’ve been working on a Twitter app for Dad who is 91 years old and suffers from Adult Macular Degeneration (AMD). His poor eyesight has made his use of the computer increasingly more difficult over time.  Don’t let his age fool you, though.  He’s not afraid to try new things and poke around on the computer.  But things have gotten so bad that some applications are now out of reach.  While he would greatly benefit from things like Facebook, YouTube and email, they are all now beyond his ability to navigate.

Twitter could be the answer for some very good reasons:

1) Twitter messages are 140 characters.  That sounds like a limitation but actually for the low vision community, that has its benefits.  When font sizes are made as large as they need to be, 140 characters just about fills the screen.  Any longer, and the message would be too difficult to read simply for all the scrolling that would be necessary.

2) Attachments (in tweets they are links) are opened with a single click.  I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to explain to someone over the telephone why the attachment to their email must be downloaded and opened with another program when the person you’re talking to can’t even see the screen that well.

3) No spam.  Since direct messages to/from other persons on Twitter are to Following/Followers only, there is no unwanted advertisements, spam, or pornography.

We decided to design a Twitter app for Dad.  Our working title is FollowYouFollowMe.

This morning, Dad took FollowYouFollowMe for its first test run and it looks promising. He was able to send his grandson, who is living in Bali with his great-grandson the direct message “where are you plesae send me a message.”  It was very thrilling to get as a reply “Hi Grandpa.  I’m here in Bali.  I’m in an air-conditioned office.  Moving up in the world.  Hope all is well.  Love, Isaac. ” I was delighted when Dad was able to open his attachment and see a picture of the grandkids.

The program looks like it just might work and we’ll know in the next few sessions.

FollowYouFollowMe still needs much work to get it to the point where Dad can use it without me looking over his shoulder.  For one thing, it will have to be installed on one of his computers and Dad will have to get instructions on how to access the application.  Moreover, before anyone else could use it, the application, which is for Macintosh or Windows, must be installed and the interface between it and Twitter established.  We’re going to need some daring souls to help test and review the setup instructions.  If interested, please tweet @MacularD and let me hear from you.