Saturday, March 22, 2008

Won't you be my neighbor?

In a comment to How Dinah Thinks, I noted "I'm starting to think that everyone is Dinah's neighbor," to which Dinah queried, "Who else is my neighbor?" Here's my count just from a quick search of our blogs for "Neighbor" (34 hits).

How Dinah Thinks

I liked that he starts by discussing the work of Debra Roter who studies doctor-patient communication patterns. Why? Because Debra is my friend and neighbor and it's always fun to stumble across someone I know on the pages of a book.

My Assorted Thoughts on Tara Parker-Pope's Wellness Blog Today
Not long ago she wrote about headaches and referenced my neighbor, the Johns Hopkins migraine king-- a man with beautiful gardens, a lovely wife, who run circles around our neighborhood for exercise, but my conversation with him has been limited to mutual nods.

The Shrink Next Door
That being said, I can't say that I've ever gone to my mechanic neighbor for car advice or to my hair stylist neighbor for coloring advice (although Dinah probably thinks I should) but that's not because I don't think they'd help me if I asked for it.

Is It Worth It?
She talks about the recommendations of David Bucholz, the Hopkins migraine Guru (and my neighbor...) -- avoidance of medications that can lead to rebound headaches and a diet devoid (--I'm kidding of course, but apparently caffeine, pizza, beer, and chocolate--the foods Shrink Rappers love-- are out).

20 Random Facts (X 3 Co-Bloggers)
18. My husband is not a transvestite, which was called into question by our neighbors  [okay, not so specific with this one] when I published a novel that opened with a social worker stumbling upon her husband cross dressed.

Risky Business
I didn't know Dr. Fenton, I don't think I even knew of him, but I learned of his death at a Labor Day barbeque I hosted, from one of my neighbors who is also a schizophrenia researcher and who did know him.
Even if I don't wrestle with crocs for a living, the reality remains that people with psychosis can behave in unpredictable ways. As a child, I lived across the street from a neurologist. His office was across the hall from a psychiatrist and one day, a patient walked in and shot and killed the psychiatrist. Needless to say, my mother thought I should consider another career.

I can't believe that I must be so bored to be blogging about Dinah's neighbors. Maybe I'll do one on that new PTSD & genetics study, instead. Or maybe about the recent passing of one of Psychiatry's giants, Frank Ayd.  I know, I've also got the Ray DePaulo podcast to do, and work on "the book" (thank you for all your comments, thoughts, and ideas about our book, btw... we really appreciate the feedback). Dinah is always more than willing to help me keep my to do list filled (just think if we were married).