In February 2024 this website crashed for no apparent reason. Despite using professionals at GoDaddy.com it was impossible to restore anything after October 2021 (over 100 posts). I do have many of those post in draft form (no final edit or photos) and I have decided to repost them in that manner. I apologize for typos and other errors. How do I feel about losing all of my original work? Life goes on.

It started in London, but I was unaware.  It became obvious in Paris, and it was impossible to avoid.  I love to walk, but Julie has always been the athlete in the family.  If fact, she requested and got a Pelaton for her last birthday. 

We were walking the streets of Paris, and she was lagging behind me.  Often, she would signal me to stop as she needed a break.  Naturally, I inquired why. Julie was experiencing sciatic-like pain.  However, if she rested for a bit, it would subside. I had had sciatica in the past.  It is miserable but temporary. I didn’t think much about it.  Despite her physical limitations, we had a fantastic trip.  Soon it was time to return to Naperville.

Back home and I gave Julie some standard doctor recommendations.  She found some exercises on YouTube and tried to do them, but they seemed to make her symptoms worse.  It was clear that her sciatic pain wasn’t going away.

At that time, our daughter, Grace, was applying to PA school and was having great success.  She was accepted to and considered attending a prestigious school in Washington, D.C., and wanted to visit the campus and the surroundings. Julie was born in D.C. (her father was in the CIA at the time) and went to tag along; however, her sciatica was worsening, and she wasn’t sure she could do all the walking. 

She set up an appointment with an ortho doc, who did a cursory exam and prescribed a course of oral steroids.  With pills in her purse, she went on the trip. Unfortunately, they did little to help her ever-worsening symptoms. 

Julie and I felt that her symptoms were no longer consistent with typical sciatica, and she pressed the doctor for an MRI.  However, he insisted that she complete a course of physical therapy first, which she did in December.  Her symptoms only worsened. She returned to the doctor and once again asked for an MRI. This time he agreed and ordered an MRI without contrast.

I had wanted to go the RTR (Rubber Tramp Rendevous) in Arizona for years, and I had tried to convince everyone from Julie, to Nancy and Mike, and even my friend, Tom, to accompany me.  All to no avail. It was clear that if I ever were going to do it, I would have to do it solo. I loaded Violet into the campervan, plugged in the coordinates for Quartzite, Arizona, and started the long journey.  

I wrote about that experience in a previous post.  I absolutely loved being among fellow van dwellers, many of whom are on the oddball side, but in the best way possible. If you have read my previous post, you know I’m also an oddball.  Oddballs don’t fit into any category; they are a category of exclusion. I ignored my shyness and met all sorts of folks on my adventure.  The RTR attracts individuals without a lot of resources.  However, they are amazingly clever and make the most of what they have.  Everyone that I met was incredibly nice.  The RTR isn’t about competition; it is about cooperation.  I loved camping in the desert and meeting these folks.  

The RTR runs for about a week.  I was planning on staying for six days of the meet-up. However, around day four, I got a text from Julie.  “Can you call me?”  I did.

Julie wanted to read me the results of her MRI.  There were quite a few anomalies, but most were minor—bulged discs and a small descending aneurysm.  I translated my medical knowledge into non-medical lingo as she read them off.  Then, she read the last impression. “A large solid mass in the right pelvic region in proximity of the L5 nerve root.”  “What?” I said.  Can you read that back to me again?”  She did. “Take a screenshot and send it to me.” She did. We discussed the implication of this finding, and our conversation ended with me saying, “I’m leaving for home.”  I drove back to Arizona to Naperville in two days.  

Oddly, the ortho doc never called us with the findings.  We eventually called him.  By then; we were both on high alert.  Being a doctor for decades, I know how the system works, what buzzwords to use, and how to get past the red tape.  The ortho doctor never had a follow-up visit; he just left a message that Julie needed to see a gynecologist. I wasn’t impressed.

She was able to make an appointment with a gynecologist fairly rapidly and reported that the doctor was kind. He looked at the MRI and advised that Julie see a gyne oncologist. Julie had to go to our groups to the website, make random phone calls, and plead her case to be seen sooner rather than later.  It was all very stressful for her and for me too. I think we should have contacted our PCP to assist us, but no one suggested that, and our mutual state of mind was in crisis mode, not logical thinking mode.

The gyne/onc appointment was three weeks out, and I suggested that Julie call to see if they could order any additional tests in the interim, as this could save time in a process that already seemed to be taking too long. She did, and an MRI with contrast was ordered.  The results came back, and they weren’t good. This wasn’t a gynecological finding; it clearly involved the important L5 nerve root, which offers sensory and motor activity to much of the leg. Once again, we didn’t hear from the doctor, and we wound up contacting him.  In fairness, it is possible that he would have called on his own if we had given him enough time.

I already knew the answer, but he confirmed that Julie needed to see a neurosurgeon.  Our group did not have a neurosurgeon, and once again, we were left to fend for ourselves. I could coach Julie, but she had to do the legwork.  She was working full-time, and only she knew her schedule and symptoms. Hours on the computer, endless phone calls.  This was one of the most stressful times as we didn’t have the familiarity of our medical group; Julie was just calling phone numbers with the hope that someone could see her quickly. It was really terrible. By then, it was clear that this was a tumor, and there was a strong likelihood that it was cancerous based on its size and strange location.  Beyond that, I could glean no further information from the limited data available. We felt like we were blowing in the wind. Yes, I’m a physician, and Julie is a psychologist.  We understand the medical system, but we were a family in crisis, not clinicians. We didn’t have a logical separation between treatment needs and personal boundaries.

Through her persistence, she set up two appointments with neurosurgeons.  One doctor was at our local Edward Hospital, and the other was downtown at my alma mater, Northwestern. She sent them both a copy of the MRI with contrast, and both places quickly shifted her to different neurosurgeons based on the unusual qualities of those finding.  We felt a sense of relief when she had finally secured the appointments.  

We first met with the Edward neurosurgeon.  He was incredibly nice and had recently relocated from Northwestern to build the neurosurgery program at Edward.  He informed us that the tumor was extremely rare and that surgery would be incredibly complex.  He had the expertise to do the surgery, but his team at Edward was still being developed and was not yet ready for such a difficult operation. He knew our Northwestern doctor and thought highly of him.  He also suggested the head of the department at Northwestern; both doctors were experts in tumors of the spine. He would call them with his impression. Now more waiting, but we had a sense that there was communication and a plan of some sort was developing.  We were relieved.

I honestly don’t remember how long we waited for the Northwestern appointment; I’m guessing weeks.  I’m not a big fan of driving downtown; I’m a bit phobic about it. However, it had to be done, and I was going to do it.  By then, Julie was having escalating symptoms, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to do the most basic things like standing or walking a short distance. She was incapable of driving all the way downtown, so I had to figure out a way to do it.

For me, knowledge is power, and I spent an afternoon studying maps, looking at satellite images, and plotting various routes using Google Map’s ability to predict traffic patterns based on the time of day.  I also have a thing about being late, as I think that it is both selfish and rude to think that my time is more important than someone else’s.  Julie gets this about me, so she was willing to leave generously early for the appointment. We set out for our appointment and got about halfway there when the doctor called to say that he had been exposed to COVID and had to reschedule the appointment.  Gasp!  More delays. 

Finally, we drove downtown.  I concentrated on the road, breathing, and I tried not to grind my teeth. Yes, driving downtown is not easy for me, but everything in life doesn’t have to be easy.  Recognizing a weakness and then figuring out a solution is more important.  Knowledge of the route and ample transit time was what I came up with.  Hardly a perfect solution, but good enough.  We made it to Northwestern.

The neurosurgeon there was also incredibly nice and spent a lot of time with us.  Like the Edward Hospital doctor, he informed us that surgical removal of the tumor would be extremely complicated and difficult.  It would involve multiple teams from various disciplines. It would be a big deal. Northwestern operates on a team model, where cases are presented to a committee of doctors from various disciplines.  He would discuss the case at the next appropriate tumor board and inform us of their recommendations. More waiting.  He also wanted us to see a neuro-oncologist at NMH, another doctor, but luckily the appointment wasn’t weeks away. 

That doctor was also really caring.  He said Julie needed a biopsy, which would be difficult to obtain due to the tumor’s location.  We voiced our concern that everything has taken so long that it was now months since we started our journey.  The doctor picked up the phone and called in a favor.  The biopsy would be the following week.

Another trip to NMH, a biopsy, and then waiting for results. The results were unusual, to say the least.  This tumor was a sarcoma, which are rare tumors.  However, it was also a rare type of sarcoma. Further, parts of the tumor appeared benign and other parts were cancerous. It was possible that it could respond to a novel monoclonal chemotherapy used for blood cancers, and we were sent to a heme-oncologist doctor—more waiting.

That doctor concurred that chemotherapy MIGHT work, but there wasn’t a lot of research data on using that agent with this cancer.  This somewhat experimental use would require additional permission from our insurance company.  He would work on getting that permission and bringing the case to another tumor board at the hospital. More waiting

He did get approval for the novel chemotherapy, but we found out that its impact, if any, would take 6 months or more to work. The chairman of the Department of Neurosurgery was at that tumor board meeting and wanted to meet with us.  He thought the tumor should be removed, and peeling it from the nerve may be possible.  Otherwise, they would have to remove not only L5 but the L4-S3 nerve roots with devastating consequences.

During these months, Julie’s pain did not remain static.  It was significantly worsening every few days. Work was becoming impossible.  She couldn’t stand for more than a minute or two; she couldn’t sit in hard chairs, then any chair. Sleeping became difficult, with her waking up in pain every few hours.  She had trouble walking very short distances.  She was seeing a pain doctor and was up to the maximum dose of a nerve pain medication, and she was also taking the maximum dose of an NSAID as well as a powerful opiate at bedtime.  All of this wasn’t touching her pain, but it was making her mentally cloudy-a no go for someone who makes their living with their brain. A steroid epidural was recommended, with the hope that it would provide a few months of relief.  It helped for less than a week.

We met with neurosurgeon #3, the chairman of the department.  He said he would work with neurosurgeon #2 and the chief resident of neurosurgery in the surgery.  In addition, the head of plastic surgery would be there as additional reconstruction work needed to be done. There would also be a general surgery team present, plus a variety of anesthesiologists. They would book the operating suite for 8 hours, and the minimum time in the hospital would be 5 days. When you have no options, the best is the only one given.  We took it.

We also needed to get a PET scan, a test that looks at metabolic activity and is very sensitive at locating additional tumors.  This was another struggle, but this time we had the foresight of contacting our PCP and asking him for help.  Although he was far removed from the case by that point, he got us an appointment.  Thank you, Dr. Lee-you are a peach. However, in the end, we had to go back to Northwestern for the PET scan, but it felt good that we had a doctor who was not only concerned but also willing to extend himself when he technically didn’t have to. 

Now all we had to do was to schedule the operation.  That meant scheduling the head of neurosurgery, his second in command, the chief resident of neurosurgery, the head of plastics, a general surgeon, and several anesthesiologists for the same 8-hour block. That should be easy-not.

Finally, all was scheduled for June 8th.  Remember that our first doctor’s appointment was in early November.  

For some reason, I thought I should go to the surgery solo.  I didn’t want to disturb the kids’ lives.  Crazy, I know-and they thought likewise. They would hear none of it; they were all going. 

In the wee hours on January 8th, we assembled.  In my compulsive way, I told the kids to bring things to occupy themselves.  This was a silly thing to do as they are all competent people who had already planned for the day. I believe that I also reminded them to bring their phone chargers… as if they would forget such things.

Each of us brought stuff, from schoolwork to novels.  The hours ticked on with an automatic text message every two hours to say, “The operating is proceeding as expected.”

First, I got a call from Dr. Wolinsky (head of neurosurgery) saying that his portion of the operation was complete.  He was able to peel off the tumor, which was the size of a peach. However, it was unclear how L5 would respond.  Hours later, I got a call from the head of plastics saying that his portion of the operation had been completed and that they were closing Julie up.  The operation took 7 hours, and she was in recovery for over 3 hours.  Julie lost so much blood that her hemoglobin dropped to 7, with the normal range for women being between 12-16.  The 7 was after getting blood transfusions.

Julie spent 4 days in the ICU, then a number of days on a med/surg floor before being transferred to Marianjoy Rehab Hospital.  Her total time in the hospital was nearly a month. Naturally, we visited her every day.  She has worked hard, but at present, she has very limited use of her right leg.  She is learning ways to ambulate with a walker and is using assistive devices now that she is home.  We are hopeful that L5 might wake up or at least return in some partial form, but that is uncertain.

Although she still has pain, it seems to be more from the recruitment of new muscles.  The horrific debilitating pain in her lower back and leg seems absent.  Her numbness continues.  Every day I see improvement in her ability to adapt.  I encourage this but don’t want to push her too far.  She is working hard.

Many have told us how surprised they were to see the way that we coped with the diagnosis. Their observations have truth.

However, the journey has been horrific, and some of that could have been avoided.  Yes, the very long wait (8 months between first contact and surgery) was terrible as Julie continued to suffer.  However, we used that time to learn more about her diagnosis and how to prepare for the future.  The biggest trauma was feeling like we had to do so much of the work on our own.  We are medical professionals, but that only goes so far. We were in crisis and just trying to function. I believe that we should have contacted our PCP earlier on.  He is a great guy, but no one told us to do this; the specialist doctors just gave random commands like, “You need to see a gynecologist,” or “You should find a neurosurgeon, but we don’t have one on staff.”  Often we never even heard from the doctors; we reviewed the test results and called them. We would then get a message back or possibly a call from one of their underlings. No one said, “Come in and let’s talk about it,” or “Our office will arrange for you to see Dr. … ASAP.”  We were just left to blow in the wind as we were dealing with terrifying news. For me, the worst time was when we were told to find a neurosurgeon but given no additional information.  Where should we go?  What kinds of neurosurgeons were we looking for?  What should we tell them?  How quickly did we have to see them?  None of this information was provided.  It was by the grace of God that Julie was not only able to make appointments but that we got the doctors that we did.  

The first neurosurgeon (Dr. Jones) couldn’t do the operation but gave us information and called Northwestern to inform the doctors there.  The second neurosurgeon (Dr. Swong) was nice, respectful, and encouraging, as was the third neurosurgeon (Dr. Wolinsky). In fact, all of the NMH docs were wonderful, except the pain doc.  He was OK but treated Julie like she was a drug addict because his methods weren’t working. Even so, he did his job and wasn’t too bad. However, it does bug me when a doctor blames a patient because he can’t remedy their problem.

There is likely more to come, radiation, possible proton therapy, and who knows what else. We have been cared for since we plugged into the Northwestern system.  There was a plan, although it changed from week to week.  However, we knew it was changing because the team was getting more information and opinions and thinking about more options.  You can’t fault them for that.

We also had excellent care at both hospitals.  I was proud that I went to Northwestern for med school and my residency.  Marianjoy was… well, a joy.  

You may ask why our family will stay with the extremely large medical group that we currently use.  Honestly, it is because of our PCP, Dr. John Lee.  He is smart, respectful, compassionate, responds to inquiries, and is a good guy.  I like to think of him as an Asian Dr. Welby. Most of our medical needs are typical, and Julie is already plugged into the Northwestern system for her cancer treatment.  However, she will continue with Dr. Lee for her regular medical stuff.

We have a long way to go—Julie as an individual and our family.  But we are on our way. In the next post, I’ll talk a bit about our emotional journey.  In that post, I’ll emphasize my feelings.  I don’t think they are any more important than Julie or the kids.  Rather, I know what is going on with me more than I know what is going on with the others.

Peace

In February 2024 this website crashed for no apparent reason. Despite using professionals at GoDaddy.com it was impossible to restore anything after October 2021 (over 100 posts). I do have many of those post in draft form (no final edit or photos) and I have decided to repost them in that manner. I apologize for typos and other errors. How do I feel about losing all of my original work? Life goes on.

My cousin, Ken, kindly commented on my last post and mentioned that I should write about my mom, Annie.  I thought about it, and it sounded like a good idea.  This post will also give me the opportunity to write a more balanced remembrance of my dad.

I write these posts for my kids and try to be as honest and transparent as possible. When I mention my dad, it is often in a less-than-positive light.  However, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t have positive qualities. Additionally, he was a product of his environment.  Roles for men and women were rigid for someone born in 1910.  This was compounded by his 1st generation status, which dictated its own behavioral compliance. In addition, my dad was raised in a large family that in itself was controlled by rigid rules of conduct.  

I can’t say I knew my dad’s dad, although I saw him a hundred times.  My grandparents only spoke Slovak, a language that I didn’t speak. Interestingly,  I eventually learned that my grandfather was fluent in English. His pride demanded that everyone address him in Slovak; there was no flexibility.  I remember my grandpa as a frail old man who spent most of his time in bed. However, when I see photographs of him from his younger days, he appeared very differently.  In those images, he is tall, strong, and very good-looking. Apparently, he was also very strong-willed. My father would tell stories where my grandfather would remember some transgression that my father committed weeks earlier.  He would then wake up my father and beat him.  My dad said he frequently didn’t even know the reason why.

My dad left school after the 8th grade.  He was a bright guy, and it was common for students to continue on to high school, but he had to support his brother, who was attending college.  His matriculation into the workforce was at his parent’s insistence; my father said he was happy to do it for the family.  My uncle was on track to become a priest, and in the Slovak circles of the day, there was no higher honor that a family could obtain. No family sacrifice was too great.  Eventually, my uncle decided that religious life was not for him and married my Aunt Rose.  I am grateful for this; that union produced some of my wonderful cousins. My grandparent’s disappointment became my blessing.

My dad was also a product of the Great Depression and the deprivation and stress that era created. As an interesting aside, he had a secret weapon; apparently, he was so good-looking in his youth that girls would swoon over him (reported by multiple sources). 

Despite his difficulties, he eventually became the Chief Operating Engineer of one of the largest high schools in Chicago. He consistently worked and supported his family.  He was a handy guy who could fix many things.  He took care of my mother when her health failed.  He supported my educational efforts.   

I recognize the traumas that he overcame, and I respect his efforts to succeed.  As I said in previous posts, he was not an evil person.  The two of us just didn’t gel.  He needed a standard issue, son, and that wasn’t me.  Yet, his disappointment paradoxically impacted me and played a key role in my development. I became self-reliant, an excellent problem solver, responsible, and independent.  Those qualities have served me well throughout my life.  Every coin has two sides. 

My dad was just half of my parental equation; the other half was my mom, Annie. Just like my dad, she had her flaws.  However, that is not the purpose of today’s writing.

My mom was also raised in a very large Slovak family, where the last three children were girls.  She was sandwiched between my Aunt Mary and my Aunt Lill. My mother admitted that her father was an alcoholic, something shocking to say in the day.  She noted that he was nicest when he was drunk and meanest when sober.  He worked as a maintenance man for a book binding company. My mom’s mom was very gentle and loving. Both were deceased long before I was born.

Despite being born in Europe or 1st generation here, her siblings became very successful.  One started profitable savings and loan; another owned a factory, one was a professional baseball player, and several others became engineers. I remember going to the home of one uncle.  I lived in a run-down Chicago bungalow.  His family lived in an actual mansion in Riverside—a giant house with a book-lined library and an elevator. I recall going to other relatives on my mom’s side; that was also impressive.

Cultural limitations bound her life. Women were regarded as second-class citizens.  If her brothers saw her on the street, they would ignore her as she wasn’t worth their time.  In those days, there were two types of high school certificates, a 2-year and a 4-year diploma. She graduated from the two-year program, which completed her education. She was then expected to work, which she did in a variety of menial jobs.  This was not unusual, except for one thing.  My mother was one of the most intelligent people that I ever knew. I know a lot of very smart people, but her intelligence was global.  

My sister has a diary that my mom wrote that recalls her graduation.  In attendance was her family.  The principal stood at the podium and announced that a new award would be given to the most outstanding student the school had ever had.  The principal talked about all of the student’s academic talents and amazing creative abilities. That student was a superstar with a bright future. My mother was curious to discover which boy won the award.  Then the principal announced the name “Ann Skriba” (my mom).  Her brothers were shocked that their stupid sister wasn’t stupid after all.

Did my mother build a space shuttle or write a best-selling novel?  No, she married my father and raised a family.  I believe that few people who met her knew how intelligent she was; she was hampered by low self-confidence, anxiety, and the locked-in role women of the day were expected to conform to. 

I mentioned that my mother also had her flaws, and that was undoubtedly true.  However, I felt that she loved me unconditionally.  Some may say she was co-dependent.  However, she was generous to a fault and constantly worked to keep the family together.

Here are a couple of simple examples from my experiences with her.

When I was in primary school, I had a project to create a castle. This was one of those assignments where the kid was supposed to do it, but the parents completed 90% of the build.  With my sister Carol’s assistance, my mom gathered junk from around the house. Some empty oatmeal containers, a broker mirror, a bit of old house paint, some cardboard boxes, etc.  In one evening, they build me a castle that could have been used as a prop on a TV set.  It was fabulous. 

My mom did typical mending jobs, but I didn’t realize how talented a seamstress she was until one Halloween.  My sister Nancy asked her to make cat costumes for her and her boyfriend for a party the same evening.  My mom was not a hobbyist sewer; she sewed because she had to repair clothes.  She thought about it for a moment and reached into her bag of scrap material and found a beat-up pair of black pants.  She disassembled the pants and pulled out her sewing machine, a gadget that never worked well.  In short order, she made both of them cat costumes, complete with ears and tails.  They looked great, despite the fact that she made their costumes with only scraps and imagination. 

My mom was an excellent writer,  something my procrastinating brother, Dave, took advantage of.  Like most college students, Dave would be given 20-30 page term paper assignments at the beginning of a class. However, he didn’t start the paper until the night before the paper was due. That evening, he would appear with a stack of books in his hand.  Dave didn’t type and asked my mother to do this task for him. Their efforts started after dinner, usually around 6 or 7 PM.  Dave would start by describing what he wanted to say and pulled some references from the books he brought. My mom would start typing on our old Royal upright.  This would continue through the night, and I remember waking up at 2 and 3 AM to the sound of her typing. At some point, my mother would take over the composition.  By 7 the next morning, the paper would be complete.  I’m sure that my mom deserved the first author title on these endeavors. 

My friends always wanted to eat at my house, and I couldn’t understand why, as I assumed that all moms were great cooks.  However, I learned differently.  My mother was an effortless cook who made most foods from memory.  She would bake something every single day. She did this in our crappy kitchen with a broken stove and mismatched pots and pans.  She had a Sunbeam Mixmaster from the 1950s that was so used that my father would have to change out the motor’s brushes every year or two. Her bakery was fantastic. She didn’t teach me how to cook, but I often observed her cooking.  She had such confidence in her cooking that it gave me confidence when I started to cook.  One of her favorite TV shows was “The French Chief.”  I watched so many episodes with her that I joke that Julie Childs taught me how to cook.  

My mom had a broad understanding of alternative medicine at a time when such things were uncommon.  She had a strong interest in the paranormal.  She and my dad had an actual close encounter, but that is a story for another time.

She was very gifted psychologically and had an intuitive understanding of others. Friends and family sought her advice which was both compassionate and logical.

Lastly, she had genuine psychic abilities.  I’ll give you two examples.

When I was 5, my aunt and uncle generously took me with their family to Rainbow Beach, which was a large beach/park on Lake Michigan. Those were different times, and kids weren’t tightly managed. My uncle and aunt set up a blanket, and I went off into the waves with my cousin Bob and (I think) my cousin Kris. After splashing about for a bit, I looked up and couldn’t find either of them.  I was in a panic. I decided to go back to the family blanket, but it had disappeared.  My uncle had moved the blanket to a better site.  It seemed like there were a million people, but I recognized none of them.  I decided the best way to find my relatives was to break the beach into quadrants and methodically search each one.  I did this twice but to no avail.  By now, my anxiety and fear were out of control.

At home, my mother sensed something.  She told my dad, “We must go to the beach right now; something is wrong with Michael.”  My father tried to dismiss her concerns, but she was beyond insistent. In fact, she dragged along my sister, Carol. As they pulled into the parking lot, they heard an announcement on a loudspeaker, “Still missing 5-year-old Michael Kuna.”  My mother almost fainted.  Of course, my relatives were also looking for me, but we didn’t connect. I knew my strategy wasn’t working, so I devised a plan B.  I returned to the parking lot and found my uncle’s old Packard car. There I sat and started to cry. A kind man saw this, asked me what was wrong, and took me to the beach’s office.  My mother knew that I help from miles away.

I was 7 or 8 at the time and frequently played with Mike Z, a boy 1 year older than me but light years more street-smart. One day my mother said she was going to take me to the local theater.  This was extremely unusual; it was the only time she did this. Not only did she take me to the movies, but she also bought me ice cream afterward.  I was over the moon.  We walked back from 59th and Kedzie to our home at 55th and Francisco.  On the way home, I thank her for the wonderful adventure. She looked at me and said, “I had a strong feeling that if you stayed home today, something terrible would happen to you.”  We turned the corner to our block and saw an ambulance in front of Mike Z’s house. He was spraying lighter fluid into an open flame that traveled up the can and exploded.  He was street-smart enough to roll himself in a blanket, but despite that, he had significant burns over most of his body and spent weeks in the hospital. He would likely have had me do the “experiment,” and I would have been the burn victim.  However, it is less likely that I would have had the common sense to roll myself in a carpet.  It is more likely that I would have been disfigured or dead.

We are all products of our genes and our environment.  We all have positives and negatives.  We all have strengths and weaknesses.  Today, I wanted to give you additional insight into my family of origin. There are two sides to every coin.

Peace

In February 2024 this website crashed for no apparent reason. Despite using professionals at GoDaddy.com it was impossible to restore anything after October 2021 (over 100 posts). I do have many of those post in draft form (no final edit or photos) and I have decided to repost them in that manner. I apologize for typos and other errors. How do I feel about losing all of my original work? Life goes on.

Years ago, I watched a reality TV show where the mom of a big family made her own laundry soap, I was fascinated, but the chemist in me was suspicious.  Yet, she said that her DIY product worked as well as the commercial stuff.  Since then, there have been countless variations of that same recipe, consisting of three ingredients: Super Washing Powder, Borax, and bar soap (usually Fells Naptha, Zote, or Dr. Bronners). The ratios of these three ingredients vary dramatically, with no clear winner among the recipes.  

During the pandemic, many stores in my area had empty selves that went beyond toilet paper. Cleaning agents like all-purpose cleaners and hygiene products like hand sanitizer and liquid hand soap became impossible to buy. Because of this, I started to create my own products with reasonable success.  The thought of making DIY laundry soap re-emerged, but again, the chemist in me rejected this idea. Recent searches of users of these concoctions confirm what my thoughts were long ago.  Because of this, I decided to do a deeper dive into the topic of homemade laundry soap.  if you are making your own laundry soap and are happy with the results, I am happy for you.  I don’t want to rain on your parade.  You do you.

Many of the current recipes are based on traditional laundry washing. I remember my mom doing laundry in the 1960s and the 1970s.  I also have some historical information on how my grandmother did laundry in the 1940s.  Their methods radically differed, reflecting how modern advances made the dreaded laundry day palatable.

In the 1940s, it was common to use traditional laundry soap.  The laundry was sorted and scrubbed with soap on a washboard until clean.  At some point, my grandmother would boil her items, likely to aid the cleaning/sanitizing process and to add blueing agents (which made whites look whiter).  During those years, people sometimes mixed in chemicals like washing soda or Borax to make their tasks easier. Let’s look at these three basic cleaning agents.

Super Washing Soda (a common brand of washing soda) is the chemical sodium carbonate.  It changes the pH of the water to be more alkaline.  In addition, it binds with minerals, like calcium, in the water to soften it—high pH and softer water clean more efficiently. Sodium carbonate is still widely used in commercial laundry detergents.

Borax is the common name for the chemical disodium tetraborate.  It also has a high pH and makes the wash water more alkaline.  In addition, borax can react with water to create hydrogen peroxide so that borax can act as a whitening agent. Borax was added in some early commercial detergent formulations (I remember it being in a laundry detergent in the 1960s) but eventually lost favor as borax can irritate the skin.  Also, borax has toxic qualities, which can cause illness if ingested or inhaled.

Laundry Bar Soap (Fells Naptha, Zote) is a harsh soap used for tasks like doing the laundry, but it can also be used for other cleanings, like dishwashing. I have read blogs where the writer claimed soap washes out of clothes easier than detergent; that is completely false. Laundry soap needs hot water to dissolve and doesn’t work well in cold water.  In addition, all soaps bind with minerals in the water to form soap scum.  This can mess up modern washing machines.  More importantly, soap scum is hard to rinse from clothing and traps oils and dirt, making clothes look dingy.  Bacteria thrive in this goop, causing them to smell bad.

The above problem was less of an issue for Grandma as she was using only natural fabrics, lots of water, and labor-intensive techniques (like boiling her clothes).

I recall my mom doing laundry, first with a wringer/washer and then with an automatic machine. She would use traditional laundry soap and a washboard only for stain treatment.  This was most commonly done to remove “ring around the collar.” As an adult, I have never seen a ring around my collar.  Are we just cleaner nowadays?

Mom saw the benefits of laundry detergent, which works better in modern washing machines and with modern fabrics than traditional bar soap.  Let’s take a look at detergents.

Detergents, just like soap, are surfactants.  Surfactants have unique properties where they are both hydrophilic (water-loving) and hydrophobic (water-hating). Fats and water don’t mix well. Surfactants act as a bridge allowing water to interact with fats so that the water can wash the body oils/grime off your clothes. 

Detergents require a multistep manufacturing process using a substrate which is often petroleum-based but can be other things, like plant oils. Detergents can be manufactured with different properties, such as high foaming (suds) or low foaming.  Unlike soap, detergents don’t form soap scum and can be formulated to rise well.  Detergents can be designed to dissolve in cold water and to work more effectively in that environment. Modern detergents are biodegradable, like soap.  

You can see the advantages of detergents in many cleaning/hygiene products. Detergents are the principal cleaning agents in laundry detergent, dish and dishwasher detergent, and hygiene products such as shampoo, body wash, and liquid hand soap. Detergent formulas can be very strong or extremely mild.  If you have a skin condition like eczema, your dermatologist will likely recommend using a “soap” like Dove unscented, Aveeno, or Vanacreme.  None of these are really soap; these bars are made from mild detergents.

Commercial laundry detergent products contain a lot more than detergent. In addition, they may have water-softening agents, color-fast bleaches, color-brighteners, and various ingredients to remove specific stains.  Stain removal agents may include oxidizing agents (like Oxiclean) and enzymes designed to dissolve specific stains. Detergents may also have preservatives to increase their shelf life.  Detergents can be customized for a particular region based on the type of water present. 

All of the above ingredients add to the cost of the product, which is why better-rated detergents like Tide or Persil cost more.  Bargain detergent products may omit some of the expensive additions, like stain-removing enzymes.

Eco-friendly cleaners like Dr. Bronner’s Sal Suds and Tru-Earth laundry sheets also use detergents as their main cleaning agent.  They may have a shorter list of additives (and clean less effectively).  These brands will proudly proclaim things like they are “phosphate free.”  However, all laundry detergents have been phosphate-free for decades. Laundry sheets are manufactured with a dissolvable plastic that binds the cleaning agents together. In addition, cardboard boxes/jugs are often plasticized, making them difficult to recycle or compost. Are these products better for the environment or just greenwashed to make the consumer feel better?  I’ll leave that to you to decide.

When my kids were in grade school, we submitted a project to their school’s science fair, where we compared less expensive laundry detergents to more expensive ones. We stained white tee shirts with various things (catsup, chocolate syrup, etc.) and then washed them.  We did one wash with no detergent as a control. The more expensive Tide cleaned stains better than the cheaper brands.  However, we also discovered that water by itself lightened stains. Our observations showed that water alone was about 60% as effective as washing with Tide.  This makes sense, as water is the universal solvent. However, this can cloud a laundry soap maker’s judgment as you can toss almost anything into the washer and get a cleaner product.  However, much of that cleaning may be due to water, plus the agitating action of the machine.

This latter point also deserves mention.  Adding energy increases cleaning ability.  Washing clothes on a washboard, adding hot water, or using an agitator all add energy to cleaning reactions and generally result in a cleaner wash.  

There is logic in the formulation of homemade laundry detergents. Still, they can’t compete with modern commercial products based on the information I have provided above.  To combat the soap scum issue, many home products use very little soap, but inadequate soap means less cleaning.  Still, many reports from DIYers say that over time their clothes look duller, smell worse, and are less absorbent.  I have seen some DIY formulas that have become incredibly complex in an attempt to combat these issues.  One recipe used Super Washing Soda, Borax, Fells Naptha bars, Zote bars, powdered Gain laundry detergent, Oxyclean, and scent crystals. Gain is a detergent, and Ocyclean contains detergent, so the lady’s improvements can be traced to the detergent in those products.  

Several videos and blogs describe how you can “strip” your clothes to eliminate all the residue and gunk from DIY soaps.  Lastly, some DIY soap users add vinegar to their rinse cycle in an attempt to wash away some of the soap scum and to make their items softer. The fact that DIY laundry soaps don’t work as well as commercial laundry detergent seems to be a secret everyone knows.

The most effective DIY laundry soap recipes use detergent, often Dawn dish detergent, as their surfactant instead of laundry soap. Dish detergent is designed for suds, so you must use less in machines requiring low suds. Despite being more effective than laundry soap, these concoctions are less effective than commercial laundry detergent. It should be noted that these recipes are homemade diluted laundry detergents, not laundry soaps.

Beyond the perceived idea that DIY laundry soaps are more natural, most cite cost as the reason they mix up their batches. Remember, there is a difference between cost and value. Can you still save money if you decide to forgo DIY laundry soap?  The answer is yes.

The most expensive laundry detergents clean the widest range of stains.  That may be great if you have a bunch of toddlers who are constantly spilling on themselves.  However, many of us are adults, fairly sedentary, and neat. Our clothes may get clean using a cheaper laundry detergent with fewer ingredients. This price difference can be significant.  For instance, a 40-ounce bottle of Persil at my local grocery store sells for $8.99 and does around 25 loads at a cost of 36 cents per load.  While a 32-load bottle of LA Totally Awesome laundry detergent at Dollar Tree costs only 4 cents a load ($1.25/32 = 0.039). Naturally, there are many brands between these price points, plus buying on sale or in larger quantities can offer additional savings. 

The cost for most mid-level laundry detergents is about 7-13 cents a load. If you assume 10 cents a load and are a single person or couple, it is reasonable to think that you will do four or fewer loads of laundry per week.  4 loads x 52 weeks = 208 loads per year.  Two hundred eight loads times 10 cents is only $21 for a year’s worth of washing. I don’t think a DIY laundry product would cost you much less.

People frequently use too much detergent, which can be easy as manufacturers design confusing measuring caps.  The amount of needed detergent may be as little as 1/8th to 1/4th the volume of the measuring cap, so read the instructions on the bottle. The excessive detergent will not wash out of your clothes and give you the same problems as laundry soap.  

Can you use less detergent than recommended?  Some say yes, but most manufacturers base their recommendations on what works.  Use less, but return to the recommended amount if you are unhappy with the results.

You may ask, what is better, pods, powder, liquid, or sheets?  Pods are convenient but much more expensive.  Powders may be more eco-friendly as they don’t come in a huge plastic jug. They also may be less expensive to buy than liquids.  Newer powder formulations dissolve better in cold water but not as well as liquid detergents.  Liquid detergents dissolve well in cold water, are effective, and you can use them directly on a stain as a pretreatment, but you have to contend with their huge and eco-unfriendly jugs. Detergent sheets use less packaging but may not be as eco-friendly as their advertising would want you to believe. I have read reports from several consumers who felt that sheets did not work as well as more traditional agents. It can all be a bit confusing. 

For occasional stains, a simple pretreatment may do the job. American’s Test Kitchen found that soaking overnight with Oxyclean was better at removing stains than spray stain removers. There are also enzymatic soaks that you can purchase; the product Biz comes to mind. Soaking overnight works better than adding these same agents to the wash load.

Sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and go with the top brands.  If you or your spouse is an auto mechanic, it may be worth spending the extra money. Most would wash greasy uniforms separately, so you could still use a less expensive brand for the rest of your laundry loads. I knew someone who worked a very dirty/greasy job and bought a used second washer for his work clothes.  I also read a post about a family using an old ringer/washer for such items.  They could use lots of very hot water and long agitator times to dissolve away the grime without contaminating their fancy newer machine.

Godspeed if you are happy with your DIY laundry soap.  However, if you aren’t happy or don’t want to be your own chemist, try some of my suggestions.

Peace

In February 2024 this website crashed for no apparent reason. Despite using professionals at GoDaddy.com it was impossible to restore anything after October 2021 (over 100 posts). I do have many of those post in draft form (no final edit or photos) and I have decided to repost them in that manner. I apologize for typos and other errors. How do I feel about losing all of my original work? Life goes on.

As a scientist and a Christian, I have never had difficulty reconciling the two.  However, many others feel differently.  This has been confusing to me and also troubling.  Troubling as some feel that these two areas are mutually exclusive of each other. In other words, if you believe in one, you must denigrate the other.  

For many, a belief in a Higher Power is integrated with a particular faith system or religion.  I grew up when mainstream religions were dominant. In those days, science and religion were neither integrated nor mutually rejected.  You didn’t have to pick sides.

This attitude changed as evangelical and fundamental denominations grew in popularity and power.  Evangelical and fundamental denominations believe in the inerrant interpretation of the Bible, with fundamentalists emphasizing the accuracy of Biblical timelines.  For instance, the belief that all life on earth was created in six days and that the earth was formed 6,000-10,000 years ago.  This contrasts the scientific understanding that life evolved over 3.7 billion years, and the earth is 4.5 billion years old. 

The rejection of science is not only a Christian fundamentalist phenomenon but can be seen in non-Christian religions.  The middle east was the progressive seat of learning well ahead of Europe until around 1500 AD when scientific ideas became blasphemous.  

Recently, certain groups have been hostile toward basic and applied science.  Gurus rallied their charges against vaccines using pseudo-science, and individuals violently rejected community health orders to wear masks during the COVID pandemic. Some religious individuals’ reactions may be due to science types who wholly and vocally reject any belief in God and ridicule those who do believe.  Lines in the sand are being drawn to the detriment of all.

There are multiple examples of conflicts when literally interpreting the Bible and then comparing that interpretation with scientific knowledge.  Natural selection vs. intelligent design is one prominent controversy. Some religious argue that evolution is “just a theory,” but this shows a lack of understanding.  It is a theory in scientific terms rather than common language terms.  It is not a hunch but broadly accepted and well-supported by available data.  

Elly, of the Ex-Fundie Diaries YouTube channel, remembers her fundamentalist education via home and church schools.  Science is a state-required part of any educational curriculum, but her science experience was anything but scientific.  For instance, If a science unit was on weather, she was instructed to find passages in the Bible about storms and floods. Why wasn’t she taught science? If you keep people ignorant about science, it is easy to convince them that it is wrong and evil. 

During the pandemic, I talked to an intelligent Amish man, and the topic turned to COVID.  I dreaded this turn as I had some idea where the conversation would go.  Amish are educated until the 8th grade, but that was not the problem.  His only source of current information was his church bishop and deacon. His knowledge of infectious diseases and COVID, in particular, was extremely limited. Any attempt on my part to offer insight (as a physician and microbiologist) was rejected and viewed with suspicion.  I changed the topic.

As humans, it is easy to silo ourselves with other like-minded individuals. Information is passed down from leaders to followers.  If a follower hears only one line of thinking, it becomes their truth, even if that truth is completely false.  It is easier to fall into one of these traps than you think.  Groups can be formed in many different ways beyond religions.  Those who exclusively watch CNN or Fox News would be just one example, but groups with shared erroneous beliefs can happen anywhere.  

Religious groups may cite the many times that science has been wrong.  They are completely correct, but their assumption misses the point of what science is. Science attempts to understand observations.  Why does an apple fall from a tree?  How fast does it fall? Does it accelerate or slow down when falling? A hypothesis is formed to explain an observation, which is then tested.  If the explanation pans out, the information is shared with others, who test it to see if their findings concur. If the answer is yes, then the hypothesis is accepted. However, the hypothesis may be modified or corrected as new information or observations become available.  The goal is to come up with the truth. That is how science works.

Most are more interested in using their cell phone (a scientific marvel) than understanding string theory (a scientific theory).  It is much easier to accept science when it is giving you something. 

Very conservative religious groups accept scientific advancements when those advancements benefit them. The Amish man I mentioned above owns a furniture factory.  Amish believers profess to disconnect from society to be closer to God. They don’t attach to the electric grid, drive automobiles, or use other common conveniences.  However, in today’s era rejecting practical science make business competition difficult.  The Amish man’s factory was full of modern equipment powered with electricity, but his workaround was to use his generator instead of connecting to the power grid.  In addition, many homes I saw in his area had solar panels on their roofs. By being a little flexible, these Amish folks found a way to hold onto their traditional values while benefiting from modern technology. 

That is an extreme example, but it illustrates that it is almost impossible to reject science and live in a modern world.  Electric power, antibiotics, computers, the Internet, and so much more are available because of science. I find it amusing to watch a YouTube video that rails against science while recording sound and video using devices that only exist because of science.

However, science can not answer every aspect of existence.  There is plenty of room in the universe for believers of a Higher Power. There is an order of things on every level, from subatomic particles to the way that galaxies group together.  The chances of all of this randomly occurring are astronomical. In a universe as huge as ours, there are likely beings far superior to us and would therefore be godlike to us.  Lastly, there is no reason to refute the idea that some larger force had a hand in creating the universe. Being unable to test something doesn’t make the idea false. We all accept that gravity waves exist, but it took us until 2015 to be able to measure them.

Beyond believing, having a spiritual life is important. Individuals with a spiritual life have a sense of purpose, security,  and well-being. Who doesn’t want that? Faith doesn’t have to be proven; it just needs to be believed.

When religious leaders demand that a follower believe something that seems contrary to the world around them, it weakens faith, not strengthens it.  Such expectations are likely a reason why people leave religions.  By demanding robot-like compliance, the real message of most religions is lost. Is it necessary to believe that God is some old white dude with a flowing beard?  It is more likely that God exists in a form that is incomprehensible to us. 

In the Old Testament, Abraham was 100 years old, and Sarah was 90 when Issac was born. The average person lived 35 years when Jesus was alive and likely less during Abraham’s life, who lived 18 centuries earlier. Does the above story make literal sense?  I think it is more of a metaphor that God keeps his promises.  However, just stating that is pretty boring, it is much more memorable when attached to a lesson. 

Science has its dark side, and I see how some would want to reject aspects of it based on that.  My view is to embrace the good that science gives us.  Basic research provides us with the knowledge that turns into practical advancements.  I am also comfortable with the concept of God, a supreme being who has an active interest in our individual lives.  However, this belief is based on faith, not fact. I’m fine with that uncertainty.  The idea of being forced to say that I believe in the Bible verbatim is completely unnecessary.  I don’t need to believe that all life was created in 6 days or that barren Sarah was 90 years old when she gave birth to Issac.  Instead, I can look past concrete concepts and explore their real embedded message.   

In February 2024 this website crashed for no apparent reason. Despite using professionals at GoDaddy.com it was impossible to restore anything after October 2021 (over 100 posts). I do have many of those post in draft form (no final edit or photos) and I have decided to repost them in that manner. I apologize for typos and other errors. How do I feel about losing all of my original work? Life goes on.

When I was a little boy I was enthralled by the space program and every aspect of it.  I can’t say that I wanted to be an astronaut, but I did want to be part of those who discovered the unknown.  In the 1960s there was a feeling that we could do anything, and that feeling was ignited in me by the Sci-Fi movies that I watched on late-night TV, and it was amplified by Mr. Wizard, a kid’s science show that I viewed with religious abandon.

I wanted to be the person who understood the science, the one who ran the experiments, and the individual who made the discoveries.  It seemed so impossible, yet so possible.  An early dichotomy in my life to become one of many.

I projected myself into a science vocation, but then took a wide turn into medicine, and then sidestepped into a psychiatric career.  I have no regrets about these detours.  I realize that a child’s fantasies are different than an adult’s reality.

I thought science would give me all of the answers.  A consistent and cohesive set of rules would allow me to find the right path in life. At best, that assumption was only partially true.  Yes, I did want order to calm my chaotic childhood.  I did feel that knowledge would allow me to gain control of my life.  But order is a superficial construct, in reality, there is no true order instead there is a never-ending move to entropy and the resultant disorder. I realized this early, yet I continued to pursue a line of study.  I understood that my excitement came from the process of planning, testing, observing, and learning.  I came to understand that the smallest discovery was as important as the grandest. All knowledge is important.  Every idea has merit. Each new thought is significant.

I think that is why I have found retirement so engaging.  I can now absorb myself in the most trivial study, and when I get tired of a topic there is no obligation to complete it, be tested on it, or even become proficient in it.  The things that I study would sound odd to most, but that no longer matters. One month I did an in-depth analysis of blood pressure cuffs.  Then I explored numerous ways to cook the same thing.  Currently, I’m completing a project where I’m comparing 58 different double-edge razor blades, not only on their physical properties but also on their country of manufacture.  Most of what I do holds significance only for me and would have little interest to a wider audience.  However, that is what makes such projects so intriguing. It is knowledge gained for the sake of knowledge.

Violet, the camper van is one of my ongoing research projects.  What would I need to create a totally self-sufficient travel vehicle? What necessities are required for her basic functioning?  What additional items are needed to enhance the overall camping experience? You may be asking why I have personified my home-on-wheels. As I invest in something it tends to gain a personality of its own and it seems fitting that said personality should be attached to a name.

There is more to Violet than nuts, bolts, and solar panels.  Violet is also a social experiment for me as she forces me to do things that are beyond my comfort zone. What is it like to be completely alone?  How can I find my own space when traveling with others? How resourceful can I be when I’m not an expert at something?  How brave can I be when I’m afraid? Questions and answers present themselves on every trip that I take. 

Then there is “Fort Violet” who feeds my inner child.  A place of no rules, only ideas.  A location where I can hide in plain sight. A zone that holds secrets that I only know. 

Violet follows the rules of science.  Her solar-powered systems are testimony to that. But she also embodies whimsy.  She feeds my need to feel secure through planning and problem-solving.  She pushes me beyond my limits.

As a family, we Kunas are watching a series on the space race. In so many ways Violet is my space capsule that I’m now readying for her next great journey, a trip to Arizona.  Checklists have been created.  Scenarios have been evaluated.  Maintenance has been done.  Today I have started the process of loading grocery cargo into her “shuttle bay.”  Next, I’ll pack my gear, then load her water tanks… and so it goes.  In a few days, I’ll anxiously plug into her navigation system the coordinates of my destination, press her accelerator, and start my next journey of discovery. 

Everything in life has importance…Everything has merit.

Mike