“It moved,” muttered George Costanza, the contemptible yet lovable Seinfeld character, in terror. He had been receiving a full-body massage from an objectively attractive male masseuse, and, well, “it” moved.

I suspect I don’t have to spell this one out. If you grew up with “it” between your legs, you know it has a mind of its own. It does what it wants when it wants and, for the most part, we are passengers on the “please no one notice” train.

The Seinfeld episode in question first aired in 1991. I would’ve been around 11 or so. This is a prime age for uncontrollable and inexplicable, ummmm, swellings. Around that time, I would’ve been begging dear sweet baby Jesus to protect me from the Devil’s hormones raging in my body. The all-too-tight khakis I had been forced to wear at church offered no protection. I was exposed. I could do my best Ron Burgundy “It’s the pleats” defense, but I had no pleats. Only a snug, flat fabric stretched across my crotch, waiting to advertise an untimely pitched tent.

Self-care or snake oil?

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been awkward about being touched, and since this Seinfeld episode, I have genuinely had a fear of massages. I feel compelled to report it had nothing to do with men or my sexuality, but it heightened my fear of accidental bulges – regardless of who or what may have been the cause. Now you understand why “it moved” has been a terrifying mantra bouncing in my brain for 30-plus years.

And so, at the age of 44, I finally had my first massage.

I tend to reject what’s new and popular. The self-care industry has become so full of snake oil and nonsensical claims, I barely pay attention. There’s an infinite supply of influencers and hucksters eager to prey upon our desperate desire to feel better. Through smiling, beautiful faces, they claim to care about us, when it mostly seems they only care about separating us from our money. Sadly, the preponderance of profit-obsessed businesses and products has made it hard to find the real people, the genuine healers, who truly devote themselves to helping others. This cacophony of profiteering has made it hard for me to believe there’s any value in taking care of myself. I’m a stay-at-home dad. My full-time job is caring for three (sometimes four) kids. Taking care of myself is low on my list of priorities.

After my hour-long massage, I’m questioning the ranking of my priorities.

Feeling bad normally is not normal

Let’s address the first fear: Did it move?

Yep. Sure did.

A man didn’t give me my massage, but that was never my fear. I was worried about making things awkward and weird because I’m awkward and weird – which is exhausting, by the way. But, although blood was certainly flowing, and I did feel pretty dang good, nothing untoward happened. In the words of Costanza, “I think it moved. I don’t know. … It was imperceptible, but I felt it. … It wasn’t a shift. I’ve shifted. This was a move!”

My face was covered by a towel. In the background, there was meditative music. I was doing guided breathwork. Periodically a deep breath would be filled with some exotic aroma. All the hippy woo-woo shit the old me would mock.

The new me? I’m weary of being afraid of everything. I’m tired of being the frowning skeptic closed off from everything and everyone. “No one touch me. No one hug me. Respect my giant, ‘Merica-sized bubble, dammit!” I’ve always confused intimacy and sensuality with sexuality, and it’s a shame our society seeks to continue this confusion. Feeling good isn’t bad, but we’ve all felt so bad for so long that we’ve convinced ourselves it’s normal.

As fathers, how has all that impacted our children?

Massage your parenting message

I don’t know about you fellow dads, but I don’t want my kids to feel bad. Ever. About anything. OK, maybe sometimes, like when I recently found tiny particles of “window crayons,” all over the house, but in general, I want my kids to feel great. Great about themselves. About their bodies. About feeling great. Why would I want anything else?

How can I make them feel great if my body is falling apart? How can I create a happy home if I’m tense, grumpy and in pain from being tense and grumpy? I want to be a better human so I can be the best dad I can be. I’m no longer going to reject some of the tools in the cosmic toolbox. [*Giggles* — tool!]

I’m not saying we all need to put on our tinfoil hats and stop getting measles vaccines. We should absolutely trust doctors and experts when appropriate, but they don’t deserve our blind allegiance – no ideology does. There’s a whole world of possibilities, and the only way to know what works, sometimes, is to give it a try. Imagine our hypocrisy when we frustratingly stare at a plate full of uneaten food we encouraged our kids to try while knowing we’ve rejected alternate solutions to our own problems because we didn’t have the courage to try.

While on the massage table, I felt transported into another realm. My recently departed mother and brother were there. They were laughing at me. It was ludicrous some silly episode of a 30-year-old show had isolated me from my fellow humans. They told me the only person standing between me and everything I ever wanted was me, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” They were right. And I think I realized I’m also standing between my kids and everything they may want, and I desperately don’t want to be that guy.

Be better today than you were yesterday

Did I REALLY travel to alternate dimensions? I hope so, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether I’m willing to be better today than I was yesterday. While I can’t pretend I’ll always be willing to make my physical and mental health a priority, viewing self-care as a service to my wife and kids puts a whole new spin on it.

So get a massage.

Go for a run.

Lift some weights.

Sprinkle some rosewater on your pillowcase.

Mediate and get a little dizzy trying to figure out some complex breathing technique.

Go stretch in a hot room and try not to fart.

Give it a try. It just might work.

If it doesn’t work, that’s OK too. At least you tried, and it’s probably your kid’s fault, anyway. It’s always the kid’s fault.              

Author’s note: During the writing of this piece, “it” did NOT move.

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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.

Massage photo by Pixabay via Pexels.

I reclined on the bed of the CT machine, ready for a close-up of my heart. I’d been waiting for this moment since August when an ultrasound failed to determine if I had inherited my family’s history of heart defects. A better picture was needed.

As the machine spun around my chest, I hoped the resulting image would show nothing faulty with my ticker. After all, just three days prior, I had completed a 5K race, and last year, a half-marathon. If something was amiss with my heart, wouldn’t I have known by now, after nearly half a century of living?

The path to this moment began in June when my uncle was hospitalized. My mother started talking about our family history of heart disease and defects. I knew the stories of disease (mostly the result of lifestyle), but tales of abnormalities present at birth were news to me. She even casually mentioned she had an extra heart cusp, a disclosure that triggered my decision to get checked out.

It’s about your heart

I needed to know if I’d been born with a congenital heart defect known as a bicuspid aortic valve (BAV). As the Mayo Clinic explains, “The aortic valve is the main ‘door’ out of the heart. Blood flows through the aortic valve to exit the heart, and supplies oxygen and nutrients to the rest of the body.”

A normal valve has three leaflets or cusps. Some people are born with one, two or even four cusps (like my mother) on their aortic valve. But the most common abnormality is an aortic valve with two cusps—a bicuspid aortic valve. This condition occurs in about 1 percent of the general population and accounts for more premature deaths than all other congenital heart diseases combined.

For better or worse, we receive a multitude of inheritances from our family. Some take the form of heirlooms like an antique pocket watch, a well-worn family Bible, or vintage family photographs. Others are intangible yet no less real. Think cherished family traditions, oral histories, or the cultural rituals that tether us to our ancestors.

But there’s also the messiness of our genetic inheritance. This legacy passed down through generations includes physical traits such as eye color or height, as well as health conditions, like a congenital heart defect. This inheritance is a reminder that our bodies are not merely reflections of our own choices; they are also the result of a genetic lottery in which we have little say.

Searching for congenital heart defect

During the CT scan, a cool sensation enveloped my arm as a contrast dye coursed through the IV port in it. This technique would enhance the visibility of organs in the images. Soon after, a wave of warmth swept through my body, signaling the end of the procedure. That evening, I received the results.

My aortic valve was healthy, devoid of any signs of coronary artery disease. But there was a twist.

The genetic lottery had struck again; my valve was also bicuspid.

No one wants to hear there’s something defective about their body, especially when it involves a vital organ. My first reaction was a mix of emotions, from gratitude to having lived this long with no heart issues to a sense of concern about the implications of this diagnosis. Would I have to make any lifestyle changes? What’s my likelihood of requiring surgical intervention in the future? How soon should I have my daughter screened?

Thanks to a cardiologist (and the privilege of having access to medical care), I have answers to these questions.

Inherited condition not a destiny

In the meantime, it’s just a matter of wait and see. As I age, my defective valve could begin to degenerate sooner than expected. It may eventually leak and/or narrow causing my heart to work harder to pump blood to my body. If left untreated, this extra work could increase my risk for heart failure. But with regular check-ups and proper care, I can expect to have a normal life expectancy, as most people with this condition do. Genetic inheritance is not neccesarily one’s destiny.

At 49, I’m acutely aware of my own mortality. I’ve likely seen more days now than I may see later. I’ve witnessed friends fall ill, some recovering, others passing away. I’m watching my mother age gracefully and have shouldered the responsibility of caring for my father, who died in July. I take my recent diagnosis as another reminder to live fully in the moment, to not delay dreams and passions, to seize the present.

As fathers, we often reflect on the legacy we’re passing down to our children through our choices and actions. While we can’t change the genetic traits we’ve inherited, we can choose how we manage and navigate them. By staying on top of our health, we enrich our lives and set a profound example for our children, modeling the importance of self-care, resilience, and the determination to live to the fullest.

That’s an inheritance any child would be proud to receive.

Operating on congential heart defect photo by Olga Guryanova on Unsplash

Parents of young children have carried an especially difficult burden since the COVID-19 pandemic started. Remote learning, daycare closings and other limitations on daily life because of worry about disease spread, especially among the unvaccinated, has made raising a child more difficult and stressful. The availability of a pediatric COVID vaccine for all children age 5 and older can now help change that.

Everyone in the United States ages 5 and older is now eligible to get vaccinated. In fact, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the American Academy of Pediatrics both recommend all children 5 and older get a COVID vaccine as soon as possible.

The vaccines are free to all, regardless of health insurance or immigration status. More than 30,000 trusted and convenient locations, such as drugstores or community health centers, offer the pediatric COVID vaccine. You can find a nearby site in one of three ways:

• visiting vaccines.gov
• texting your ZIP code to 438829 (GETVAX)
• calling 1-800-232-0233.

We understand you may have concerns about the pediatric COVID vaccine, so let’s address some using facts provided by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

I thought kids weren’t as vulnerable to coronavirus?

Children rarely die or get severely ill from COVID — true. However, scientific study has found they are just as likely to get and spread the disease as adults. This puts everyone an unvaccinated child comes in contact with — their friends, parents, grandparents, teachers, etc. — at greater risk, regardless of that person’s vaccination status.

Need more statistics? One recent study found children are four times more likely to be hospitalized from COVID if they live in a state with low vaccination rates compared to states with high vaccination rates.

I keep hearing about vaccinated people still getting COVID. Why should I even bother getting my kids vaccinated?

“Breakthrough” cases of COVID do occur because no vaccine for any disease is a 100% effective. However, COVID vaccines are more than 90% effective at preventing severe illness, hospitalization and death. The pediatric COVID vaccine helps protect your child from getting coronavirus but, in the event of a breakthrough case, it also helps keep your child from getting seriously ill. It also helps protect those your child comes in contact with, especially those most at risk such as the elderly or those with compromised autoimmune systems.

Could my child get coronavirus from a pediatric COVID vaccine?

No. None of the authorized and recommended COVID vaccines contain the live virus that causes coronavirus. No live virus, no way to contract COVID via the vaccine.

Some temporary side effects, in children just as in adults, are possible after receiving the vaccine. These are signs the vaccine is working and your child’s body is building protection against the virus. Common side effects include:

• Pain, redness or swelling at the injection site on the body
• Tiredness
• Headache
• Muscle pain
• Chills
• Fever
• Nausea

Will a pediatric COVID vaccine alter my child’s DNA?

No. COVID vaccines do not change or interact with your child’s DNA in any way. It is biologically impossible.

Do COVID vaccines affect fertility?

Currently, no evidence indicates that any vaccines, including COVID vaccines, cause fertility problems, in women or men. A recent study showed people who had gotten the COVID vaccine had the same pregnancy success rate as people who had not been vaccinated. The CDC recommends that women trying to become pregnant now or want to get pregnant in the future, get a COVID vaccine. Vaccines are carefully studied and monitored, and it is clear they are safe for people who are pregnant or who want to become pregnant.

Aren’t there some heart issues related to the COVID vaccine in children?

A very small number of cases of myocarditis (inflammation of the heart muscle) and pericarditis (inflammation of the outer lining of the heart) have been reported following COVID vaccination. Most cases in children have been in adolescent males and most occur after the second vaccine dose.

While these conditions are rare, the available evidence suggests a link with mRNA COVID vaccination. In general, however, the few persons who develop these conditions respond well to medical treatment and rest and recover.

I’m worried because these vaccines are just too new and unproven.

Millions of people have already safely received COVID vaccines since first becoming available in early 2021. These vaccines are the most closely and rigorously monitored vaccines for safety ever in our country and are being monitored just as closely in children.

But I have more concerns …

If you have more questions or concerns, speak with your doctor, pharmacist or health care provider. Note that The American Medical Association reports over 96% of doctors have been fully vaccinated against COVID.

Disclosure: City Dads Group has partnered with the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services to provide parents with accurate information about pediatric COVID vaccines for those ages 5 to 17. Photo: © angellodeco / Adobe Stock.

As Thanksgiving approaches, the COVID-19 pandemic has changed the calculus of what families might be thankful for this year. Those of us lucky enough to remain healthy and employed can focus on those two facts during this year’s feasts. But for many, it’s easy to feel there is little to be thankful for this year, given all that continues to be infected, affected or simply canceled — including many of those traditional feasts. In other words, cultivating a grateful mindset during this traditional season of thanks requires many us to dig deeper this year. For me, digging deep into the history of today’s pediatric vaccines helps illuminate paths to gratitude.

The lack of a cure for the coronavirus has been humbling. It reminds us that even though modern medicine has achieved amazing feats, it is not able to solve all mysteries. Despite the pandemic, however, parents can feel thankful we live in this era by remembering how much child mortality has been impacted over the past few centuries by modern science — especially by global vaccines.

Pediatric vaccines vastly improve child mortality rates

In The Importance of Being Little, researcher Erika Christakis spells out the astounding numbers: “Child survival is one of humanity’s surprisingly recent success stories. Historically, many people didn’t experience something called childhood because … they were already dead. Today, in the industrialized world, mortality of children under age 5 hovers around five per 1,000. By contrast, in nineteenth-century Sweden, one third of young children died before age 5; in Germany, the child mortality rate was 500 per 1,000 children. And early childhood mortality among modern hunter-gatherers is 100 times more than in the United States today.”

Granted, additional factors like higher safety standards and better sanitation practices helped pediatric vaccines achieve such improvements. But Christakis stresses “we need to wrap our heads around this: the crushing of child death in the developed world over the last one hundred years is something truly radical and unique in the history of our species.” In short, “the victory over childhood mortality … has not only changed childhood but even, fundamentally, enabled it.”

Thanks for a children’s book about chickenpox

I experienced the world-changing nature of pediatric vaccines while reading a bedtime story to my younger daughter when she was little. One of her favorite books was Itchy, Itchy Chicken Pox, written by Grace Maccarone and illustrated by Betsy Lewin. Originally published in 1992, the story features a little boy who wriggles around in his pajamas due to red spots all over his body: “Under my shirt. Under my socks. Itchy, itchy chicken pox.” My daughter’s favorite line was “itchy, itchy, I feel twitchy,” which always amused my wife and me because at that age my daughter mispronounced the “tw” sound as a “b” sound.

In the story, the boy gradually recovers from chickenpox on his own: “I rest. I read. I eat. I play. I feel better every day.” Usually, my daughter would just finish the book after that page, but one day she asked if I had chickenpox when I was a child. After I said “yes,” she asked if she and her sister would ever get it. “No,” I said, “because you were both vaccinated against it when you were babies.”

That’s when it hit me. As I tried to explain “vaccine” to my daughter in an age-appropriate way, I realized that because my daughters were born in the 2000s, they had benefited from the chickenpox vaccine, which became widely available in the late 1990s. Hence, the plot of Maccarone’s children’s book, published a few years before the vaccine became available, had in some ways become obsolete.

In that moment, I felt intense gratitude for all those shots my daughters received at the pediatrician’s office when they were babies. By extension, I was thankful for all the immunizations I had received when I was a child.

The race for COVID-19 vaccines will no doubt contain false starts, research detours and distribution challenges. But because vaccines have helped eradicate diseases and lengthen life expectancy in our era, we can all be thankful for the hope that medical research provides. May the coronavirus one day become associated with just another shot for babies alongside those for measles, diphtheria, and yes, chickenpox.

Pediatric vaccines photo: © angellodeco / Adobe Stock.

To Whom It May Concern At My Son’s Middle School:

If you do not find my son’s name on your sixth-grade class list, it’s not for lack of trying. I attempted to register him at least two and a half times. And in two languages.

When the forms arrived in our mail this spring, I diligently verified the home address and phone numbers printed on them as instructed. They were correct. According to the phone book. That’s where I needed to check since I received the forms for someone else’s boy at a different school.

In all fairness, the school also sent me a form with the right information for my son. It was in Spanish. But that’s why we have Google Translate.

In May, I brought the requisite multiple forms of proof of residency and my sworn allegiance to the Common Core Standards to school registration day. However, I was turned away because I didn’t have his doctor-approved physical exam and immunization records yet.

“But the insurance company wouldn’t let me schedule his checkup until August,” I told the school nurse, who quickly gave me a copy of August dates when I could register him at city hall. Only two dates listed weren’t when our family was on vacation.

Months passed. The physical came and went well, outside of the pediatrician’s reminder to my son that “you don’t have to like vegetables, you just have to eat them.” On the appointed day I drove to city hall with his medical records, bilingual contact form and necessary DNA cheek swabs.

But not my driver’s license. I realized this halfway there.

After a vaguely legal U-turn and another 20 minutes, I arrived at a school registration traffic jam inside the government center lobby. It contained one set of frustrated people waiting to register their incoming kindergartners and a second, unaffiliated set of frustrated people wanting to get upstairs to testify before the zoning board against a local development plan. The air felt thick with enough negative energy to resurrect the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from “Ghostbusters.”

At risk of strangulation from those vacantly staring parents waiting for the number on their index cards to be called, I sidled up to a table and asked what I should do.

“Oh, middle school? Just give me your child’s medical information and someone will call you tomorrow,” the worker said.

“You don’t need my driver’s license? Property tax bill? I can quickly acquire blood samples, too.”

Nope, just the medical forms, she said.

I left, confused but relieved. A day passed, and then most of another before my cell phone rang.

Could I bring all the necessary ID forms to city hall tomorrow? “But we’re leaving for vacation early tomorrow. We’re not back until the day before school starts,” I said.

After nixing other options (“No, my wife can’t bring them. She is going on vacation with us, too. So is our dog.”), the official said my sister could submit the paperwork provided she brought a copy of my driver’s license. I felt confident about this because my sister is reliable. She also took enough college Spanish to translate my son’s forms.

Not to my surprise, while partaking in a late afternoon gimlet upon the beach house deck, my sister called my cell phone to say the person she turned the school registration forms into now couldn’t find any of my son’s medical information. At least the burning acid sensation rising up my gullet had a nice limey edge.

So, dear middle school officials, that’s why my son may not be on your list. However, if you don’t find him on the premises at all, he probably just took the wrong bus and instead ended up at one of the local high schools. His sister already set that precedent a few years ago.

A version of this first appeared on Always Home and Uncool.

No one enjoys taking a needle to the arm, but getting an annual flu shot has health benefits for you, your children and those around you. Let’s look at how you can improve the chances of you and your loved ones being free of influenza this year.

Flu hits children hardest

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control notes that child under age 5 who contract the flu often require medical care with an average of 20,000 kids a year needing hospitalization. Children under age 2 most commonly suffer the most complications, ranging for ear and sinus infections to pneumonia or worse. Children and adults with chronic health issues (diabetes, asthma, autoimmune disorders) are at the highest risk of the most severe complications.

That’s why the CDC recommends everyone older than 6 months of age receive an annual flu shot with only a few exceptions.

Herd immunity

Why should you get an annual flu shot if you are in generally good health? Here’s why, using my own family as an example.

When my daughter was 2, she was diagnosed with a juvenile dermatomyositis, a rare autoimmune disease, and put on medication to lower her immune system in hope of resetting it to normal. Our doctor recommended all of our family, including our nanny at the time, receive a flu shot not only to help us lower our risk of catching influenza but also to help limit her potential exposure to the virus. That’s the same reason many daycares and schools require their employees to get the vaccine — to help prevent the kids they care for from getting the virus.

Flu shot, not the nasal FluMist

If needles make you squeamish or you just wanted to save your child the pain of a shot in the arm, the nasal flu vaccine (marketed as FluMist) has been a great option in recent years. Just a quick squirt of vaccine up the nose and … uh, oh.

While the nasal vaccine was recommended for most small children in recent years, new studies have shown FluMist ineffective. In fact, last year it may have only provided protection to just 3 percent of the children under age 17 who received it. By contrast, the overall effectiveness of the traditional flu shot was around 60 percent in 2015.

If you have a major issue with needles, seek out the intradermal flu vaccine. It’s a shot injected into the skin instead of the muscle, is just as effective as the traditional vaccine and — best of all — uses a needle that’s 90 percent shorter than the regular vaccine needle. Bad news for your wee ones — it’s only approved for adults ages 18 to 64.

Flu shot effectiveness

OK, 60 percent effective doesn’t sound all that great but it’s pretty good given several factors.

To start with, no vaccine is 100 percent effective because of how individual bodies react to it and mutations of the virus. Influenza is particularly tricky because so many different strains of it exist, changing from year to year.

According to the CDC, “Experts must pick which viruses to include in the vaccine many months in advance in order for vaccine to be produced and delivered on time. … Because of these factors, there is always the possibility of a less than optimal match between circulating viruses and the viruses in the vaccine.”

Where to get the flu shot

Finding a place to receive the flu shot vaccine is not limited to your doctor’s or pediatrician’s office these days. Most major drugstore chains, such as CVS and Walgreen’s, offer walk-in clinics. Many urgent care facilities and even local government health centers offer shots. Many offer low-cost and even free vaccines with proper medical insurance.

* Read the CDC key facts on the flu vaccine *

Photo: CDC Global Health via photopin (license)

When was the last time you had a meaningful, constructive conversation with a physician about your health? When was the last time you had a meaningful conversation with ANYONE about your health?

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I want to live a long, healthy, happy life. Don’t you?

I want to stick around as long as I can for my family. I’m guessing you do, too.

So, hey, here’s an idea: Let’s take care of ourselves.

It really is that simple. And, it really is more complicated than that.

Here’s why it’s simple: You already know how to take care of yourself.

If not, look no further than the Movember Foundation, the worldwide men’s health initiative that turns every November into a mustache-fest. Here are five pieces of advice from Movember to help you take control of your physical and mental health and look after yourself:

• Check-in regularly with family and friends.
• Get moving.
• Talk about your health.
• Know your family medical history.
• If you notice something out of the ordinary, do something about it.

Simple, right? Common sense stuff.

Here’s why it can be more complicated to take control of your health than that: Failing to act on this common sense advice is how so many men fall short of being effective advocates for their own health.

We know what to do, but we don’t always do it.

“Men don’t talk, they don’t take action, and they die too young,” said Mark Hedstrom, director of Movember in the United States. “That’s really important to get out there. You have to be proactive, guys. You can’t sit back and wait for something bad to happen.”

You know this. You know that complacency kills. You know that when it comes to the leading causes of death among men – heart disease and cancer – steps for prevention and early detection could mean the difference between extended life and imminent death.

Yet, when was the last time you had a meaningful, constructive conversation with a physician about your health? When was the last time you had a meaningful conversation with ANYONE about your health?

This isn’t about marching off to your physician for a physical and blood work. In fact, recent studies have actually begun to call into question the need for an annual physical if you’re asymptomatic. This remains controversial, so if you are looking for a way to start a health-related conversation with a physician, here’s one hell of an ice-breaker.

That aside, being your own healthcare advocate is also about common sense. It’s about paying attention to your body and mind so you know how to recognize if something is not quite right, and about knowing what questions to ask when do go to the doctor.

It’s about speaking up on your own behalf – and not just with your doctors. Talk about your health with friends and family members. You might think they’d rather not hear about it, that you’d be perceived as a complainer. Or you might be one of those guys who thinks the quiet, stoic approach is the path to manliness.

Well, forget that nonsense. Your friends and family members want a healthy you. When you talk about your physical, mental and emotional well-being, you take control of your health.

This is particularly true in the examination room.

While your doctors might ask surface questions about symptoms and recent medical history, they usually don’t spend time trying to drag potentially vital information out of you. They have other patients to see in a limited amount of time.

That’s why you should use the time wisely. Pleasantries about last night’s game or the latest episode of that TV show can break the ice. But after that? Get down to business.

“It’s a little bit of a challenge because there’s a preconceived notion among physicians that men don’t ask those questions,” Hedstrom said. “You really need to start asking that question: What does that test result mean? Do I need a colonoscopy? That sort of thing. Men taking action and having a conversation about their health is going to change that.”

You don’t need a medical degree to know what questions to ask. The Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality suggests, among others:

• What is this test for?
• What is my diagnosis?
• Why do I need this treatment?
• Are there any alternative treatments?
• What are the possible complications?
• Do I need to change my daily routine?

The answers will not always be definitive. Cancer, heart disease and other physical conditions don’t always lend themselves to certainty.

But you want to live a long, healthy, happy life, don’t you? I know I do.

So, take control of your health, men. Let’s figure out what we need to do to make sure we’re around for families as long as possible.

“That’s the most important thing,” said Movember’s Hedstrom. “It’s quite frankly why I show up to work every day.”

Photo: FreeImages.com/Adam Ciesielski

My 4-year-old son has a bit of a cough, and it’s starting to interfere with his sleeping a little bit.  I don’t think it’s more than a cough (not running a fever, he doesn’t have a sore throat, he’s eating normally, peeing and pooping normally, and overall seems in a good mood. He’s just coughing a lot.

Yesterday morning he woke up extra early at 5 a.m. and was coughing quite a bit.  Dr. Dad (and by the way, this is an honorific title bestowed upon me by myself, with absolutely no training to back it up) prescribes a little Chestal, a kid’s confectionary cough medicine designed exactly for these purposes.  My wife, also not an MD, concurred with my diagnosis.

Only one problem.  Complete refusal of the drug.  My son is channeling Nancy Reagan, and is just saying No To Drugs.  He is running, kicking and screaming, saying “NO, NO, NO” in a tone usually reserved for nightmares about people who live on Elm Street

I wheedled.  I cajoled. I even yelled.  I promised chocolate treats and extra TV. I threatened the removal of privileges, including said TV.  I gave him a timeout so that he would listen better.  I threatened to throw out his bow and arrow and his cardboard box rocketship that he made in school.  I was getting ready to take away playdates with his best friend Miles.  I even went so far as to make a list of the things he would not be allowed to do in the future, including a  ride in his beloved Barbie car that resides at my wife’s aunt’s farm in Indiana, and is the highlight of his summer.  Nothing moves this kid.

Several times he agrees to try the medicine, and I get hopeful, and out came the spoon of honey-filled medicine, only for him to refuse and run away.  And now I have to put down the spoon, get him, and bring him back, and start the cajoling process all over again.  At least once I got so far as to smear the medicine all over his face in a vain attempt that the medicine will work by skin contact alone.  (a lot of it also landed on the floor, and my shoe has been sticky for a day now as a result)

After about 40 minutes of all this, I manage to get him to ingest a teaspoon (along with complaints that this stuff tasted worse than the worst stuff ever, that he prefers his mom, and that I was no longer a shoo-in for dad of the year )

And we are off to school.

By the time we are at school, he is once again a happy kid. The bad taste in his mouth (literally) is forgotten.

I, however, am dreading my next encounter as a drug-pushing dad.

Any helpful tips or best practices on how you lure your child into taking meds, I would highly appreciate (and I don’t mean HIGHly). Please post them in the comments.

As a parent and public school teacher (on hiatus), I frequently use hand sanitizer multiple times per day to ward off germs. I even use it on my son’s (20-month-old) hands a couple of times per day, especially if we are on the go – can’t trust those subway railings! Yup, I am sure the alcohol being absorbed into his skin is probably worse than the benefit of the sanitizer killing germs.

What am I really trying to prevent? Fewer colds, the flu, and peace of mind. Thanks to Josh K. for sending me this sobering article on hand sanitizers. How To Sell Germ Warfare, written by Darshak Sanghavi on Slate, provides background as well as research on this focus question: Can hand sanitizers like Purell really stop people from getting the flu?

The article will be enjoyed by most parents, especially the germ-o-phobes. It was a learning experience for me, including this bit – “But we need to be realistic about what Purell can do to fight flu in the home and in public. To begin, the influenza virus mostly spreads via tiny droplets in the air (for example, from sneezes)—not by dirty hands or surfaces—which limits the role of Purell. It probably wouldn’t matter even if flu transferred through hand contact, which is how most cold viruses spread. Though Purell kills them in the lab, hand sanitizers don’t stop their spread in the real world. The average child touches his or her mouth and nose every three minutes, and both adults and children come in contact with as many as 30 different objects every minute. Even hospitals can’t get staff to use Purell before seeing patients; it’s impossible for daycare staff, parents, or teachers to wash a child’s hands 20 times each hour.