I've been on the road for a few weeks, traveling around the country to meet with doctors, patients, advocacy groups and community centers.  My travels have taken me to Denver, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento and, later this week, Orlando.

It wasn't easy packing for two-and-a-half weeks, especially since I only own (apparently) 12 pairs of underwear (I recently over-purged that drawer).  So now I'm left looking for a laundro-mat in Nobb Hill, San Francisco.  Weird, but true.

What's weirder is that, despite all the travel, I'm not in any great discomfort.  Usually when I sleep away or travel for more than three days I begin to feel the wear-and-tear in my body (from the bad pillows to the nasty spring mattresses).  I've done a decent job eating (sort of) healthy food, working out (on occasion ... yeah, right) and getting as much sleep as possible.

So while we're "holding hands with America," I am conscious to put my health first, wash my hands often, stretch at every opportunity, and not eat crap.  Sounds like the making of a travel book ...

To send Seth your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

Last week I traveled to Italy to see what all the hype was about (mainly around the food!).  I got a "pass" from the family Thanksgiving (definitely cleared it first with the senior officers) and traveled abroad to take in the history (about which I am a giant dork) and the pasta (about which I have a borderline eating disorder).

There's something fascinating about Europe and I notice it right away every time I visit.  There is a suspicious lack of people limping around or in wheelchairs.  I can't understand why and I always find it a little unsettling.  Where is everyone with arthritis?  Or with other mobility issues for that matter?!

To prepare for my trip, I conditioned myself with a little bit of extra stretching in the days leading up and sprung for a new pair of comfortable walking sneakers.  Apparently, as an aside, Americans are the only people into the super-white sneakers -- so needless to say I stuck out in my shiny brand new Nike Kicks.  But it didn't bother me a bit because at least I was comfortable.  (And no, I didn't wear a fanny pack.)

The walking was definitely a challenge at times, especially because the roads and sidewalks are so uneven and require a lot more diligence to manage.  In their defense, these roads -- in Rome at least -- are thousands of years old, so I'll cut them a break.

I also talked with some locals about the state of care there and the way they perceived medicine and health care.  It simply confirmed my suspicion that the U.S. is great at a lot of things, but taking care of our sick hasn't been on that list lately -- either here within our system or abroad from a foreigner's perspective.

To send Seth your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

This weekend I did something I dread:  I went shoe shopping.  It's different for a guy (like me) because I don't really buy a lot of shoes.  When I do, I stick with them, take care of them, and wear them for years.  So the anxiety hit when I was faced with a decision at Foot Locker about which sneaker pair to buy.

I guess I have a fear of commitment.  For sneakers.  I need to account for a lot of things -- perhaps most importantly, the question of "are these really comfortable?"  Good sneakers go a long way, especially when you're walking miles from the arrival gate to the luggage carousel.  And when you have arthritis in your knees and back, a comfortable pair of sneakers is critical.

But when they're all supposed to be comfortable, and are manufactured in 52,000 colors and styles, that decision is made a little more difficult.

And since Foot Locker employs Ph.D.'s or Ph.D. candidates, their professional advice is based primarily on which basketball star is most popular (today's answer: LeBron James).  As much as I loved Michael Jordan, I am not a fan of the footwear that don his name and emblem.

Now I live with the anxiety of wondering whether or not I made the right decision.  Until I think about the saying that my dad would tell me as a kid:  "I cried when I had no shoes, until I met a man with no feet."

To send Seth your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

This weekend I caught up with a friend who happens to have moderate-to-pretty-bad anklyosing spondylitis.  I've known him for a while (he's actually the father of some friends), and I've seen his ups and downs over the years -- trying new meds, desperately clinging to old meds, searching every which way for answers.  And some days have been better than others.

This weekend he was doing great, and we chatted over light snacks and club soda (what one does at such gatherings) about how well he was feeling.  I must have knocked-on-wood a dozen times (I'm That Guy), but was really happy to hear that things were going well.

Feeling great didn't deter him one bit from charging ahead and searching for answers and the pursuit of feeling even better -- and I think that's what impressed me so much.

Needless to say, he is on a roll and I wish him well.  I told him to go celebrate.

To send Seth your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here
  
  

There's ordinary wear and tear of the body -- and there's Disney wear and tear.

The latter is much more painful.

I know this because I spent last week in Florida with my family on a trip to Disney World with the little ones (seeing Disney through children's eyes is so much more fun than as a grown up!).  We wore our pedometers and clocked an average of five (FIVE!) miles a day walking through the various theme parks.

We all remember the commercials about winning the Super Bowl -- and "going to Disney World!" -- but frankly, playing in a football game would hurt a lot less than trekking through a theme park on a steamy August day.

Nevertheless, despite an aggravated back, sore knees, and a light head, the trip was well worth it.  I just wish I had trained ("conditioned?") better before the trip because it definitely was no easy task.

To send Seth your thoughts:

• add a comment below
• or e-mail him by clicking here