Medicine and Ranch Living
Moon Rising Over Barn
Wish to share our view of the Super Moon that appeared last evening in case you missed it. This is the largest appearing moon in 68 years and results from the moon being at its closest point to earth plus it being full with a cloudless sky. It was striking and huge!
These two photos provide a more literal meaning to “Views From Medicine Spirit Ranch.” Hope you enjoy them.
Super Moon Hovers Over Medicine Spirit Ranch
Not long ago I had the pleasure of hearing Col. R.E. Cole recount his experiences as Jimmy Doolittle’s copilot as depicted in the book and movie, Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo. This was my favorite early war film. I like many others of my generation grew up steeped in heroic films about World War II. The movie starred Van Johnson as Captain Ted W. Lawson, Phyllis Thaxter as his wife Ellen, Robert Walker as corporal David Thatcher, Robert Mitchum as Colonel Bob Gray, and the inimitable Spencer Tracy as Lt. Colonel Jimmy Doolittle. Heroism was on full display and made you proud to be an American.
Colonel Cole is now 101-years of age and, while frail, is still sharp. I must assume the events depicted in the movie and book proved to be the signal event of his life.
A recent article, My Flight With a Doolittle Raider, was published in Texas Coop Power. In it the author, Matt Jolley, describes a day in 2010 when he and Colonel R. E. Cole strapped themselves into a World War II-era B-25 bomber and roared off the runway for a spin. Once in the air the owner of the plane turned the controls over to Colonel Cole.
I believe Cole’s thoughts may have gone back to April 1942 when he and 79 other volunteers, only four months following Pearl Harbor, managed to take off from the swaying deck of the U.S.S. Hornet. They flew at the absolute outer fuel limits of their planes to drop a limited bomb load on Tokyo. While the physical damage was limited, the attack by Doolittle’s Raiders tremendously elevated American morale and diminished that of its enemy.
B-25 bombers awaiting takeoff from the deck of the Hornet
Imagine the satisfaction Colonel Cole must have experienced when he relived this event a few years ago. The author of the piece saw no boyish transformation in Cole, nor did he see a giant grin. What he witnessed was the quiet confidence of a man in full control of his airplane. I believe Cole must have felt a surge of satisfaction, reliving those seminal moments that has given his life such special meaning.
Colonel Cole is the last living Doolittle Raider. At his public speaking appearances, he is now attended closely by his daughter. He still loves to share his stories with others. With Veteran’s Day two days ago, it’s only fitting to remember and honor Colonel Cole and the other gallant men for their service and sacrifice to our nation.
But in another sense, what do events such as this one mean to the individual who experienced them. Wouldn’t it be marvelous if everyone who reaches old age could have the opportunity to re-experience their own signal life’s event. While this may not be possible, it suggests another option.
Why not allow an older person to reflect (tell their story). Our lives as story have such great importance for our own understanding. I only wish I had listened more closely to my grandparents’ stories. This inter-generational transfer of knowledge is good for both the listener and the speaker.
With the upcoming holidays, the opportunity exists to deepen understanding of the narrative of the older members of your family. I hope all will take advantage of this, not only to learn the stories, but to assist in the meaningful development of the aging process for your loved ones by allowing them to reflect deeply on what was important for their lives.
I would love to hear how this works for you.
To Be Continued
You are likely familiar with the verse written by Robert Browning:
Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.
When I first heard this verse, albeit at a much younger age, my thoughts were something like, “bunk, hogwash, senseless prattle, horse feathers!!!!”
Robert Browning 1888
Over the years though I’ve gained greater appreciation for what Robert Browning was getting at. In part, admittedly, this was due to my professional interests in Gerontology and Geriatrics. But this was largely book learning and short on personal experiences. Now that I’m living the aging process, I can better understand both the challenges and gifts that accompany it.
I hope in a series of blog posts to explore this topic further and relate the accepted features of aging and also the personal anecdotes. As always, I look forward to reader’s comments.
I suppose what made me think about this topic was an eightieth birthday party I attended several weeks ago. My son’s father-in-law was turning eighty. Alissa, his daughter threw him a no-presents birthday party, and instead requested everyone submit a letter describing what her Dad had meant to their lives. An astounding 88 letters arrived! These were carefully cataloged by Alissa and presented to her Dad.
Now the really good part: Roger on seeing all this and better understanding the impact his life had on others- teared up and became quite emotional (well for a Norwegian anyway). Now this is a stoic man who was a very successful businessman, a real numbers cruncher type who had played athletics at a very high level. He is a stoic Scandinavian-American not prone to public displays of emotion. But a public display of emotion he showed. Why was that?
I began thinking about this and melding my inner thoughts with what I knew about developmental psychology. While I have taught a college course on this topic, I’m really not an expert, but I wish to share my musings.
On entering “the third act” of our lives, most folks begin summing up of their accomplishments and coming to grips with areas in which they were less successful. This phase of life often includes the deepening of relationships, dousing the inner fires, reducing the drive for accomplishments, and the sharing wisdom with others. This is a phase when mentoring of younger people often takes place along with the passing on of meaningful experiences to others .
The testimonials offered about Roger impacted his personal developmental journey, as it did mine. The birthday party affirmed his life’s worth and informed him of long forgotten kindnesses and other positive impacts on others. This timely theme for the party blended perfectly with the very developmental process he was undergoing. What a stroke of genius by Alissa for organizing the event in this way.
If we are fortunate, we all will age to a ripe and healthy old age.
Health and vibrant aging can be such a gift
The more of life I experience, the greater I recognize that Robert Browning’s wisdom, “the best is yet to be.” Let’s hope so.
To Be Continued
Editor’s Note: Earlier this year, I published serial blog pieces on a controversial historical aspect of Greenville, Texas entitled: The Blackest Land and the Whitest People. These pieces aroused great interest and passions, eliciting thousands of hits and many comments.
Many of us lived through the tumultuous civil rights crusade of the 1960s. Those convulsive changes in the U.S.A. are better understood by learning the personal experiences of those involved. Toward this end, Dutch Bouwman now offers his searing experience of when he first confronted racism. As a product of the upper Midwest and naive to segregation, he and his fellow Air Force African-American friend experienced first hand the overt racism of Mississippi in 1964.
Following his time at the Greenville, Mississippi Air Force Base, Dutch Bouwman served as a medic in Vietnam in a helicopter evacuation unit and later went on to become a Naval officer, attending the Naval Fighter Weapons School, Top Gun. Following his many years of service in the military, Dutch became a successful regional manager for a large investment firm. His story provides insight into those difficult times. I am pleased to share Dutch’s guest blog piece.
-Tom Hutton
1964: My First Racist Experience
by Dutch Bouwman
I graduated high school in May, 1964. I was as green as grass. Three days after graduation my father dropped me off at the Air Force recruiting station in Watertown, S.D. That same afternoon the recruiter drove me to Sioux Falls where I spent my first night as an independent adult, at the ripe old age of 17.
The next day I took my first airplane ride from Sioux Falls to San Antonio. When I stepped off the plane, the first black man I had ever seen greeted me. I was to be in his care for 6 weeks of basic training. He was big, very black, gruff and profane. In fact he seemed particularly proud of his profane language and practiced it with gusto on the new recruits.
Even at 71-years of age I can still recall his face clearly. He carried a large cauliflower nose and the biggest, most porous looking lips I had ever seen on a man, which earned him the nickname of “liver lips” from the other black NCOs. He was my Momma and Daddy for the next 6 weeks. I never thought to consider why only the other black NCOs called him “liver lips.”
In the next few hours, I was to meet more young black men who were part of my training flight. We all lived in open bay barracks and slept in bunk beds. I don’t recall any specific issues that arose in the group other than 2 bunk mates, one from Ohio and the other from Tennessee who became immediate close friends, and fought like brothers, often referring to each other as “you damn yankee” or “you damned rebel.” Being all in the same boat and under the leadership of black NCOs who often referred to each other with derogatory racial language, the subject of race or racism never the less remained obscure.
I finished basic training in August and on a Friday afternoon arrived at my next duty station- Greenville AFB, Greenville, Mississippi where I was to attend basic medical training school. Early the next morning the first of my classmates arrived. Since we were the first of the class to arrive, we shared a semiprivate room on the lower deck of the barracks. He was from a small town in New England and was just 2 months past his 18th birthday. Since all our belongings fit into our duffel bags, getting settled was not a difficult chore. We were both alone and lonely, far from home, and found ourselves with free time for the first time in several months.
After we became acquainted, we went to the mess hall for lunch and saw a poster that advertised a free Air Force bus ride from the base to downtown Greenville, MS. There also happened to be a tantalizing advertisement for a movie house. Thinking a movie and maybe some ice cream sounded good, we caught the next bus leaving from the base. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention my roommate was black.
On reaching town We stepped off the bus and set out to find an ice cream parlor or soda fountain, as we had some time to waste before the movie started. No one could have prepared me for the events that followed in the next several hours.
We found a soda fountain and stepped inside. Everyone turned and looked disapprovingly at us. Before either of us could say a word, the man behind the counter poked his head over the counter and barked at me, “you get him out of here!” Shocked and not understanding what had happened, we left and walked on down the street until we came to a drugstore and again went inside, this time admittedly with some trepidation. The man behind the counter asked us what we wanted, using an accusatory tone.
“We want to buy a coke.” I said. I don’t remember the proprietor’s specific reply but he informed me that my black friend could go to the “black store” at the end of the street if he wanted a drink, but I could buy my coke there, so long as I didn’t cause any trouble. Completely confused and deeply embarrassed for my companion I bought two bottles of soda, went outside, handed one to my friend and we very quietly headed down the street toward the movie house.
I wish I could recall my new friend’s name, but it was too long ago. I recall asking him if he knew what we did wrong. All I remember is that he told me his mother and father had warned him about the challenges of being black in the south but he added that he really hadn’t believed them when they had said it.
Still naïve to our situation we arrived at the movie house. Again we were met by an angry stare by the male ticket seller and had to twice request tickets before we received a response. The man said, “$1” and then stuck out his hand. We each paid and started for the lobby when the ticker seller stuck his head out the booth door and said to me, “You sit downstairs, he goes up stairs.” By then three times the people we had encountered had spoken only to me and each time it had been apparent that I was expected to pass on their directions to my companion.
“Can I sit upstairs with my friend?” I asked the ticket seller.
“I don’t care where the hell you sit,” he responded, “but he goes up in the balcony.”
Not having any idea what to say, I followed my friend up into the balcony and sat down.
There were perhaps only 5 or 6 other black people in the balcony and me. Several minutes passed, some low muttering could be heard among the balcony’s movie goers and then several of them got up and left before the movie started. I didn’t have a clue then but now, I presume, they were avoiding the potential for trouble.
The movie was a rerun of a western. When it was over, we walked down the staircase and out of the movie house and into the street. It was hot outside and it took several moments for our eyes to adjust to the brightness. We gradually became aware of a small crowd of men gathered in front of the theater. We sensed something was wrong and turned to walk away in the opposite way. Several of the men followed us, caught us, and grabbed at our arms. They forcibly turned us around and demanded, “What do you think your doing?” In this instance, I noticed the men were addressing not just me but both of us.
I sensed we were likely in real trouble and in spite of being scared out of my wits told them we were in the Air Force and just wanted to see the movie. That gave them momentary pause and they then asked where we were from. I explained I was from the Midwest and had only the day before arrived in town for training with the Air Force. I followed that information up by telling them we would only be around for 8 weeks and then move on to new duty assignments. My companion wisely said nothing.
I could sense their indecision, and I thought we might get out of there without a physical confrontation. But soon after several of the men shoved my friend by pushing on his shoulders. Just how it had escalated so quickly and how we got out of it, I don’t recall. What I do know is feeling grateful that we both were fast runners.
It was perhaps 5 or 6 blocks to the Air Force bus stop. Our timing proved incredibly fortunate, because as we closed in on the bus stop, the bus was waiting with its door open. By the time we had darted into the bus, the angry townsmen were no more than 15 to 20 steps behind, and I might add proudly, losing ground to us. The bus driver realized what was happening, because he slammed the door immediately and sped off toward the base. I could see the angry townsmen standing on the curb, yelling obscenities at both the Air Force and us, and throwing rocks at the bus for good measure.
While catching our breath, I remember my black friend’s comment between gasps for air, “Man, those guys don’t like black people!” Neither of us left the base again during the 8 weeks we were stationed at the base in Greenville, Mississippi.
Neither of us had heard of Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman or James Chaney, civil rights workers that had been killed by the Ku Klux Klan several months earlier in Philadelphia, Mississippi, a mere 2-hour drive from Greenville. We were completely naïve concerning the local expectations for a black man accompanied by a white man in Greenville, MS in 1964. After all we had simply wanted to buy some ice cream and attend a movie together. We had no idea that we were making a political and cultural statement.
What is especially sad for me is that even though we were roommates, our relationship changed. It became tainted by that unfortunate racist experience. I tried to speak with my roommate about our shared scary confrontation but both of us felt awkward speaking about it. As a result we never were able to clear the air.
I don’t think it was necessarily his fault or mine that we were not able to overcome that awful experience. What is clear to me is that when people are touched by evil it leaves its mark. Perhaps that is why racism proves so difficult to deal with as a nation. Whether or not we as individuals are guilty of racism, the mark is still upon us so long as racism exists.
Looking down Live Oak Valley at dawn
A benefit of being an early riser is watching the sunrise. Recently a thick blanket of fog filled the valley beneath us just at sunrise. The pictures above were shot from our back porch. Hope you enjoy.
What a lovely time of year. I hope everyone stops and enjoys the beauty of nature and enjoy the moment. I know Trudy and I do.
The questionable county road sign on our ranch
The road sign above stands on the corner of our ranch. When first she spotted it, Trudy, my wife, became bothered, maintaining the county was demeaning the morals of our cattle. Now grant you, our bull is hardly monogamous nor will our cows necessarily shun the attention of an interloping bull, but Trudy claimed no reason existed to impugn the morals of the Hutton’s cattle. Whether or not this was tongue-in-cheek or not, I’m not completely certain. She’s like that sometimes.
Quite possibly the sign referred to the unfenced ranch on the other side of the gate where, at times, drivers encounter livestock standing in the middle of the road. Just sayin’ this is a possibility, dear wife. The county commissioners might not be demeaning the morals of our herd at all.
What do you think?
My two Border collies, Buddy and Bella, love to race up the hill to our front yard. Buddy jumps out of the pickup and takes off at full stride while Bella instead lags far behind. Given Buddy is the alpha male, this behavior may spring from her respect for his dominance.
Bella on the left. Jack, our so-called “Texas Brown Dog” on the right always refuses to get out the pickup. “Those silly Border collies, jumping out of a perfectly good pickup.”
About halfway to the finish line during this quarter mile sprint, in a fashion reminiscent of the thoroughbred racehorse, Silky Sullivan, Bella will lay back her ears, arch her back, hasten her pace, and rocket ahead like a low flying missile. At the last cattle guard that requires Buddy to tiptoe over it, young Bella will launch herself airborne, flying by or over a creeping Buddy. She then lands first at their seemingly agreed upon finish line, our front yard.
Many reading this post, may not recall Silky Sullivan- and for very good reason. He was a large red stallion whose racing feats occurred in the late 1950s. It will take someone from my generation or older to recall him. Silky Sullivan was known to have fallen behind as many as 41 lengths, only to come on like gangbusters and win by three lengths. His running style became synonymous with victory despite incredibly long odds. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Vh8vyCQRV4
Perhaps Silky Sullivan is best known for his appearance at the 1958 Santa Anita Derby where he fell behind over 30 lengths only to overtake the other horses and win the event. He became known as the “California Comet” and likely caused many instances of heartburn among the bettors.
Bella, our female Border collie, implements this unusual running style. She seems unwilling to race head-to-head with Buddy early in their races, but Bella dearly loves overtaking him and flying across the finish line first.
I suppose some people also eschew head-to-head competition but still harbor the never-to-be-denied desire to win. This Silky Sullivan approach to life may not be limited to racehorses and dogs, but may include humans as well. Of course this behavior in humans may be more nuanced than it is in animals. Instead of an overt competitive edge, the desire to get ahead may be more subtle. What do you think? Do you know anyone who may demonstrate this “Silky Sullivan” approach to life? Do you ever show this type of behavior? Food for thought.
As I trundle around my ranch, my gaze is often drawn to unusually shaped trees. For example, the tree below while fully developed, is missing its middle portion. It looks strange. The main branch likely broke off many years ago in a wind storm or lightning strike but has compensated by growing from its outer branches. Such adversity, such perseverance from this Live Oak tree. This tree has managed to overcome and become an attractive, if unusually appearing, tree once again.
The strong Texas winds during storms have blown down a number of other trees around the ranch. Most died soon after being toppled but surprisingly some have survived. The trees downed by wind had shallow roots with the root ball surfacing completely or partially. Several trees with some remaining root structure have survived. They eventually redirected some of their limbs skyward and, if not exactly thriving, at least continue to live.These trees are all Live Oaks, the name coming from always having leaves. As compared to the usual deciduous trees that lose their leaves in the winter, the Live Oak always appears to be alive and pushes off its old leaves in the Spring to make room for new ones. The strong life force of the Live Oak conjures up for me the verb “to live” as much as it does the adjective “live.”
Oddly shaped tree that likely lost its main trunk to wind or lightning many years ago
A toppled tree that has survived.
This felled tree not only has its trunk bent toward the sky but also has vertical shoots springing from near its base.
Looking at these challenged trees causes me to lean in and listen closely for their stories. It seems to me their botanical grit has frustrated the destructive forces of nature and offers a a metaphor for our human condition.
All of us are faced by life’s challenges. Fortunately most of our challenges are not serious but some are. A few of us have endured great challenges including death of a loved one, divorce, or loss of a job. Like the tree story, some people, despite such huge losses following their necessary grieving response, are able to re-establish their emotional grounding and get on with their lives. Others faced with similar or even lesser stresses sometimes just don’t bounce back as well. In my professional life as a neurologist, I was always surprised by how different people responded to bad news about their health. These responses varied widely. (if interested many examples are shared in my recently published book, Carrying The Black Bag: A Neurologist’s Bedside Tales) Which factors lead to these differences?
To continue the metaphor further, while external forces such as windstorms and lightning damage trees, an even greater menace to our oak studded ranch results from a tree disease known as Oak Wilt. This fungal disease spreads via a beetle through wounds to the tree or via its root system. It chokes off the channels that take up vital, life sustaining nutrition and hydration. In very short order, an affected tree loses its leaves and dies. A Red Oak tree will die within a day or two. Live Oaks take longer to die and despite being very ill, some will survive.
A tree killed by Oak wilt
The kill rate for oaks is 80-90%, yet some Live Oaks will maintain leaves on a limb or two and fight valiantly to survive.
An Oak tree severely affected by Oak wilt but will likely survive with a drastically altered shape
Without hopefully torturing the metaphor too greatly, It seems to me several points can be made. First, this serious tree fungal disease can be overcome by a few determined Live Oak trees. While damaged, the surviving trees, given enough time, will live and may even eventually become handsome trees once again. This is, i believe, an example of the strong life force of the Live Oak trees along with some good luck.
A second point relates to the higher death rate of those trees affected by the internal disease, Oak Wilt, as compared to the trees that sustain major damage by external forces. The internal forces of Oak wilt are more often fatal to the tree than are the external forces.
Might this also be true for people? We often face external adversity with greater determination especially if our own spirits are not sapped. Self-doubt, discouragement, depression, and hopelessness diminish the quality of our survival more so than do grievous external forces such as job loss, financial reversals, loss of a limb, or geographic relocations.
Oak trees are not humans. I get that. Yet, the apparent desire of Live Oak trees to persevere despite injury or illness provides a ready comparison for the human condition. Given that all of us will likely face a serious loss or illness, perhaps it is worth pausing to contemplate how we might nurture our fortitude and prepare ourselves for the inevitable.
Perhaps the tree story will help to nourish the hope that maintains our human existence during turbulent times.
I usually avoid writing about political matters. In recent days though, I’ve been asked by multiple friends, both lay people and physicians alike, to share my views on a video put out by Dr. Ted Noel, suggesting Hillary Clinton suffers from Parkinson’s disease (PD). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zr1IDQ2V1eM
The implications of a potential President of the United States having a progressive neurological disease tends to focus our attention and require careful consideration. For that reason, I’ve decided to share my thoughts on Dr. Noel’s assertions that Hillary Clinton has PD.
My professional background is that of a practicing clinical and research neurologist. I treated patients with PD for decades and also directed a Parkinson’s Disease Center of Excellence for the National Parkinson’s Disease Foundation. My background qualifies me to comment on the assertions made by Dr. Noel. He trained as an anesthesiologist and admits to strong political views on his video blog. As for me, I am neither a registered Democrat nor Republican and possess the strong belief that medical and scientific facts must not be viewed through a convenient political lens. Politically driven science leads to bad science.
I have a great interest in the impact of medical disorders on the decision-making of public figures. Toward this end I’ve appeared on History and National Geographic channels discussing the likelihood that Adolf Hitler suffered from PD. I’ve also written on the topic; most extensively in my recently published book entitled, Carrying The Black Bag: A Neurologist’s Bedside Tales. I refer those interested to Chapter 13 and my argument that Adolf Hitler, in addition to his other medical disorders, also suffered from PD and this disorder affected, not only his movements, but also his memory and cognitive function. Hitler’s PD may have impacted his conduct during the latter phases of World War II and influenced the outcome of the war. The evidence that Adolf Hitler had PD is in my view substantially stronger than that purported by Dr. Noel for Hillary Clinton.
I support Dr. Noel’s contention that, in the absence of a hands on examination, observing videos of someone with Parkinson’s disease can lead to a strong conclusion that the person had PD. This is possible because the disorder demonstrates easily recognizable tremor, slowness of movement, stooped posture, lack of arm swing, gait abnormalities, and blank facial expression. The neurological examination allows the examiner to feel the particular type of muscular rigidity in PD (so-called cogwheel rigidity) which cannot be observed from a video.
Sketch of a man with PD with the typical features
What is missing from Dr. Noel’s “facts” is a discussion of how PD develops over time and its typical order of presentation. The medical field refers to this as the natural history of the disease. It is here that Dr. Noel makes several errors, no doubt because his training and experience are in Anesthesiology, not Neurology, nor does he likely have extensive experience in the diagnosis and treatment of people with Parkinson’s disease.
For example, he claims the onset of Hillary Clinton’s alleged PD dates to a fall she suffered eleven years ago, the fall resulting from her PD-related loss of balance. While loss of balance (referred to as loss of postural righting reflexes) is a well known feature of PD, this is NOT an early feature, nor it is a first sign of the disease. Rather balance problems are a late finding in the natural history of the disorder and follow the onset of the more major features, such as tremor, rigidity, slow movements, blank facial expression, and lack of arm swing while walking.
Hand tremor (not head tremor) is the most common presenting sign of PD. This is a slow rhythmic tremor of the fingers, a so-called “pill rolling tremor” named after the apothecaries of old. 
To my knowledge, Clinton has never shown this type of tremor. As Dr. Noel points out, the hand tremor can be suppressed by holding the hand against the body or by manipulating an object. Nevertheless, the hand tremor returns periodically, especially when under emotional pressure, and is the most obvious feature of the disorder. Given the many public appearances of Hillary Clinton, this type of tremor, if it existed, should already have been observed many, many times.
Dr. Noel instead refers to the head-bobbing Clinton demonstrates in several videos as her purported tremor. While some people with PD have head tremor, this is unusual and not seen in my experience without tremor elsewhere in the arms or legs. In addition, the tremor of PD is rhythmic and of a certain, predictable rate. Her head bobbing is non-rhythmic and does not appear at all typical in rate or form for the head tremor of PD.
Slow movements, so-called bradykinesia, are another major sign of PD. I have not viewed any video that shows Hillary Clinton demonstrating slow movements beyond what would be expected of a 68-year old person. While treatment can mask the signs of PD, they can still be detected by experienced examiners, at least after the so-called “levodopa holiday” passes which typically lasts no more than a year or two.
Stooped posture, lack of arm swing and leading with the back of the hands while walking (simian posture) with forearms flexed, along with shuffling feet with short steps are convincing features for PD. Again, I am unaware of Clinton demonstrating any of these diagnostic features.
What Dr. Noel points to is a “bug-eyed” facial expression occurred only when Clinton was startled or overwhelmed by reporters shouting questions at her. A person with PD typically has wide-eyes, blank facial expression, and reduced frequency of blinking which Clinton does not demonstrate. A person with PD demonstrates these facial features all of the time, not episodically.
The blank staring facial expression of PD- Muhammad Ali
Likewise his contention that her recently diagnosed pneumonia resulted from a swallowing abnormality associated with PD fails to be adequately supported. While swallowing problems exist in many persons with advanced PD and may lead to aspiration and pneumonia, they are present in association with the cardinal features of PD, such as tremor, slow movements, and muscular rigidity. The swallowing abnormalities do not occur in the absence of the cardinal features of PD.
We have no evidence these cardinal features of PD exist in the video, nor do we see the minor signs of PD, such as a blank facial expression, lack of arm swing, stooped posture, shuffling gait, soft and muffled voice, simian posturing of the hands, oily skin, dandruff and acne. Clinton’s speech patterns are readily available to anyone who follows the campaign. She does not demonstrate soft and muffled speech as is seen with more advanced PD.
In summary, the evidence presented by Dr. Noel is far from convincing that Hillary Clinton has PD. Dr. Noel has cherry picked various signs without fitting them into a logical context or natural history of PD. I do not believe Hillary Clinton suffers from PD based on current evidence.
Whether she has another neurological disorder cannot be discerned from the limited medical information available. Medical records and examinations are needed.
Dr. Lisa R. Bardack, Hillary Clinton’s Internal Medicine physician, has released limited information on Hillary Clinton. Clinton has treated hypothyroidism, seasonal allergies, and we know of her recently diagnosed bout of pneumonia for which she was placed on antibiotics.
More concerning was the episode of closed head injury that took her a full five months from which to recover. She apparently developed a blood clot within her head in 2012 believed to have been a transverse sinus thrombosis- a very serious brain disorder. Almost certainly Clinton would have been attended by a neurologist or a neurosurgeon or both; however no neurological records have been released of this major medical event. We do not know whether she suffered any permanent brain damage or other complications from this episode.
She also has suffered episodes in 1998 and 2009 of deep vein thrombosis (DVTs) in her legs and takes an anticoagulant, Coumadin for prevention of future blood clots.
As an aside, Hillary Clinton’s falls or risk for falls while on Coumadin, demands caution, especially when climbing stairs or at risk for falls or cuts.
Very little medical information has been released for either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump despite the rhetoric streaming from their campaigns claiming the opposite. As compared to the medical records released by John McCain and George W. Bush when running for President, the currently released medical information is meager by comparison. This is, in my opinion, very unfortunate.
Whether a candidate is healthy enough to become president and perform the duties of the office should be a condition for running. The people who vote would benefit from health information just as they benefit from policy statements and fiscal plans. Since both major candidates, Clinton and Trump, respectively are 68 and 70-years of age, the need for this information takes on even greater importance.
The candidates in my opinion should release their full health records and not just politically sanitized versions or the results of their most recent physical examinations. A list of their medications should also be released and would likely be revealing. Lacking a willingness by the candidates for full medical disclosures, a non-partisan panel of medical experts should review all available medical records and attest to the candidate’s health status and their ability health-wise to meet the demands of the office of President of the United States. Such a course of action would be in the best interest of the American people.
Several days ago I spotted a parade of animals in the Texas Hill Country that caused me a classic double-take. I was so shocked I stopped the pickup and took a picture. The parade of animals consisted of a lead Llama and a long string of Boer goats (some of which are seen in the picture). Marching along in the line and among the goats was also a large gray goose. A goose? Look closely at the picture and you will see a Llama leading Boer goats. In between the goats just to the right of the small tree waddles a gray goose. I wish I could have gotten closer picture but look closely, it is really there.
I am at a loss to explain why this lone goose decided to join the goat herd. Was it displaced from its own flock and suffering extreme loneliness? Did the goose have problems with its own identity? Or perhaps since the Llama protects the goats from coyotes and other predators, did the goose simply feel more secure in this goat herd than off on its own.
Animals never fail to surprise me. Would love to hear your speculations for this strange, mixed herd. Perhaps at times it is simply better to just go with the flow and join the herd, any herd.
Views From Medicine Spirit Ranch 