Good Medicine with Andy Kessler

Yesterday I underwent an exploration of my nether realms to make sure the docs got all the cancer that was growing in me last year. My doctor and I agreed that now would be a prudent time to follow up my radical prostatectomy with a little recreational photography session inside my bowels.

So I now have undergone the dreaded tailpipe inspection so many men and women my age have experienced. I felt like I needed a sticker to paste on my upper left forehead, signed by the DOT, and good for two years.

At least I know my catalytic converter is in good working order.

I probably should not even be alive today, if not for the advances in medical science. The most life-threatening diagnosis the docs have come up with me so far is acute sleep apnea, for which I nightly don a face mask that forces pressurized air into my nose and throat to keep my air passageways open, my breathing steady, and my heart rate level.

People have died from this one, and at a young age, too. That scared me worse than the cancer--at least it was operable. The apnea steals your breath when you least expect it.
Like the Grim Reaper with a vacuum.

Modern Medicine is helping us to all live longer. The actuarial tables are all out of whack because people who are now 65 will probably survive to 85. “Kids” in their 30’s now have every expectation of making it into their 90’s, if they don’t get hit by a drunk driver walking through the parking lot, or have their car boosted at gun point.

I’ve been reading a book by Andy Kessler called “The End of Medicine,” (Harper-Collins) about how the advances in medical research from Silicon Valley are literally rebooting the way things are done…to us and for us. Medicine is morphing from the art of chronic care to the early detection and cure of disease. My story in a nutshell (about the size of a walnut, to be exact.)

Andy’s on the show Tuesday morning at 7:20a CDT to discuss.
See you on the Radio.

Monday Morning Story

In the pre-sunrise stillness of my neighborhood, the pond behind the house is calm as an obsidian mirror, dark, tranquil and still. The houses around the pond are bathed in a violet light that mutes their earth-toned trims, and softens the bricks and stones.

There are two families of ducks just stirring on the opposite shore, the ducklings honking like tiny, feathered foreign cars during rush hour.
There’s no hurry here.
I never get to see this much, because I am usually feverishly working against a deadline each weekday morning at this time.
5:45am.

Today, I am watering the dog…or more accurately, the dog is watering its personal space on the lawn. We’re getting ready to make a rush-hour trek to the Texas Medical Center where I will undergo yet another indignity in the quest for medical knowledge, seeking answers for questions we dare not ask. Curtain call is 7:00am, and we live on the opposite side of the county.

In my seat this morning is a colleague, Vince Rowe, for whom I have filled-in in past weeks, and who has eagerly accepted my invitation to sit-in for me this morning. It’s strange to hear the sign-on sequence of the show from outside the booth.

6:00am network news feed…6:03am local news feed…6:05 The National Anthem as performed by Faith Hill at The Superbowl a few years back…into promo…into Vince making cracks about being me doing my best impression of him. It's all Theatre of the Mind, and I'm a spectator instead of a performer today.

We head towards town before the sun has broken through the clouds to the east. Traffic is still not too bad this time of the morning, and I can enjoy the changing landscape as we hurtle southward into the city from the exburbs, speeding along a ribbon of concrete with toll gated sentinels at the the on-ramps. The downtown skyline rises purple in the distance, majestic above a forest green base of trees. To my left an angry, red-orange orb struggles to rise through banded layers of clouds and morning fog.

Buddy Cantu, my Producer, and I used to work on the top floor of a building in which we had a wonderful view of the eastern horizon each day. It was a treat to greet the sunrise, like a sneak peek at the day ahead. Our present facilities are buried in the middle of a one-story industrial park, ringed by an impressive urban forest of live oaks, whose branches form a gentle canopy overhead.

While Buddy guides Vince through the morning show, a team of nurses guides me through a maze of passages and wards, separated by curtains clanking across suspended rods of chrome and aluminum. The squeeze of a pressure cuff, the prick of a needle in the top of my hand, and for a half-hour I am unaware of anything at all, and then the gentle nudge of my bride on my arm brings me back to wakefulness. Surrounded by a curtain in a cold room ablaze with harsh neon lighting, I dress in a post-op fog. We walk to the garage and drive out into the blazing sunlight of noon for the return trip home.

I will doze the entire journey, and sleep through the afternoon.
Thanks to Vince for standing in the gap, and to Buddy for keeping it all running smoothly.

I’ll see you tomorrow on the Radio.

Spectacular Speculations

All bets are off on the price of oil this morning.
Here’s why: Israel and Lebanon are now going at it over Hezbollah rocket launches into Israel, the Israeli Air Force has retaliated by whacking Beirut International Airport (please double-check your flight connections today), and there is now an Israeli air and sea blockade being enforced against Lebanon.

Add this to the volatile mix already in the blender in Iraq, Iran, and Syria… Despite the best optimisms of learned men like yesterday’s esteemed guest, Fouad Ajami, who believes that ultimately, democracy and freedom will overcome centuries of oppressive regimes, for the near term it appears things will become a bit more dicey in the region.

Remember the variables in the price of oil…supply, demand, and risks from natural disasters and war. There’s about a $25/bbl speculation-premium on oil…part of the speculation is on how spectacularly the people in the Middle East continue to behave.

Place your bets?