Learning About Lou Gehrig, his Diagnosis, Disability and Pride

I can’t resist mentioning that today I caught part of another old baseball flick in the gym. Pride of the Yankees, on TCM, features Gary Cooper as Lou Gehrig. Sam Wood directed this 1942 MGM classic in which Babe Ruth appears, briefly in cameo, as Babe Ruth. A Times reviewer, writing after its July 1942 release, complained that the film didn’t include enough baseball, nor sufficient drama until its end. That may be true. But your athletically-challenged author was moved by this film, and stopped by some of the scenes depicting how information was conveyed in that era, about the star’s declining health.

movie poster

movie poster, 1942 film “Pride of the Yankees”

I learned about Lou Gehrig in medical school. Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS, aka Lou Gehrig’s Disease) is a progressive and serious neurological disease that tends to affect a person’s voluntary (“motor”) muscles, such as those of the arms, legs and face. The CDC maintains a national registry for the condition, which is of unknown cause and, to the best of my knowledge today, remains on the shortening list of incurable conditions. The NIH estimates that 20-30,000 people are living with ALS, and that some 5,000 or so are found to have this condition each year in the United States. It typically affects, or “strikes” – as it’s almost universally metaphored, people in their forties or fifties.

(Forgive me the verb, this post is both serious and personal.)

A former colleague, whom I admire and will always remember for what he has taught me about immunology and even more by his working through illness, has ALS and has continued contributing for the long time, over 20 years, that I have known him. What enables some people with illness, i.e. patients, to keep contributing in their field of expertise is, first, their wanting to keep working. But it also requires a sensitive and encouraging environment – a workplace that allows people with knowledge, who become disabled or limited by health concerns, to work as best they can.

I learned that Lou Gehrig was a New Yorker. He was born to German immigrants in Yorkville, near where I live in Manhattan. According to his biography in the Baseball Hall of Fame, the left-hander was born in June 19, 1903 and died on June 2, 1941, a few weeks shy of what would have been his 38th birthday. He was called the Iron Horse and played first base for the Yankees. In the movie, it takes Gehrig a while to realize, or admit, that he can’t play baseball – that he’s stumbling and struggling to even hold a bat, or run or walk. Once the athlete acknowledges his limitations, he is treated kindly and generously by his manager, teammates and fans. At first, the doctor in the Scripps Clinic doesn’t want to tell him the truth about his condition. But Gehrig wants the numbers, the statistics, facts. Finally, after Cooper, playing Gehrig, asks him if it’s “three strikes.” The doctor answers that, yes it is. The patient understands his meaning. No one in the room can pronounce the words “amyotrophic lateral sclerosis,” but Gehrig gets the picture. The patient doesn’t want to tell his wife but, as these things usually go, she figures it out.

The Yankees and Gehrig’s manager try to keep his illness a secret, but after he gives up his spot on the roster, it becomes progressively evident that something is seriously wrong. One nugget in the film is an interaction with what might be considered a peer patient. Early on, Gehrig encounters a boy who can’t walk, and offers him encouragement. Later, once Gehrig’s condition has become evident, the young man comes to tell him thanks, and to show Gehrig he’s gotten better, by not giving up. But the boy becomes tearful and appears not to enter the stadium. It seems his hero’s deteriorating condition is too much to watch.

On July 4, 1939, Gehrig gave a speech before a packed Yankee stadium. He thanked his teammates, coach, sportscasters, athletes of other teams, fans, his parents and his wife, and concluded, famously, that he was “the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.”

Related Posts:

For MLK Day – On Giving Blood, and Maybe Being the Match

January is National Blood Donor Month. For those who can give, it’s never too late; the need is year-round.

A few years back, I wrote on the value of donating blood, as many will do today to honor the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. When I was practicing hematology I wasn’t aware of this practice, which now seems integrated with nationwide MLK National Day of Service events. The Orlando Sentinel published an article linking blood donation with MLK on January 14 1988.

Here are some resources for people who’d like to know more about giving blood:

Give Your Blood To Save a Life, Poster (American National Red Cross), U.S. National Archives

Give Your Blood To Save a Life, Poster (American National Red Cross), U.S. National Archives

The American Red Cross provides information on when and where to donate blood, as well as helpful instruction on the process of giving for first-time donors.

The AABB, formerly the American Association of Blood Banks, covers transfusions and related therapies.

America’s Blood Centers – a large network of non-profit community blood centers.

The New York Blood Center – a terrific local resource for my neighbors, a pioneer in blood banking and resources for patients worldwide.

For those who’d consider bone marrow donation, the National Marrow Donor Program helps patients with leukemia and other conditions find matching bone marrow donors.  The agency provides, also, financial assistance to some who can’t afford needed transplants.

Today, I learned that Robin Roberts, the GMA anchor who has been through breast cancer treatment and, subsequently, a bone marrow transplant for a rare blood disorder (MDS), has launched a public service campaign to encourage blood and marrow donors. Each of us can only do what we can. That she is alive and putting her name behind the drive, telling her audience what they can might to do to aid others, is heartening.

As someone who has benefited from the generosity of healthy donors, and the kindness of strangers among those, thank you!

Related Posts:

Reading Lisa

image, and link, to Lisa's blog

flower image, from Lisa Bonchek Adams

For this week, I refer my readers to the generous, telling blog of Lisa Bonchek Adams, a woman who is 44 years old and lives with Stage 4 breast cancer. She has spent the past week holding firm at the center of a media-storm, while hospitalized. 

I know Lisa and admire her for her candor. It takes courage to share what it’s like, as she does – good days and bad. Yes, her story is imperfect. But so is everyone’s.

I see beauty in her story, unedited.

Lisa’s blog and tweets are not filtered by a journalist, nor structured by a doctor to fit into an HPI or EHR. She writes directly to her readers. If you insist on literature, you might consider Lisa’s work as a splintered and intensely personal longform narrative.

The blog is kind of like a thick, old-style paper chart of a complex patient. A doctor, in trying to understand a person’s course, might read all of it, or flip through most, or just cut to the chase and scan a few recent lines and lab values. It takes time to pour through a detailed account, to appreciate what is really going on, to understand what the notes reflect.

It could be that there is no “answer,” that Lisa’s story is, plainly, what it is – about her life. Not everything needs be explained. Why peg a person’s condition? Except maybe if you’re a doctor and she’s asking you for treatment or advice. 

Lisa is not asking for a diagnosis. She has a team of doctors. She is just letting you know what it’s like to be in her circumstances, in case you’re interested, or care.

I learn a lot from Lisa. I am glad that she is alive and tweeting, as she chooses.

Related Posts:

Old and New Music, on Dying to Give Birth

Recently I saw Inside Llewyn Davis, the new Coen brothers’ film about a folksinger in Greenwich Village. The moving, fictional story takes place in the early 1960s. The protagonist, handsomely portrayed by Oscar Isaac, can’t quite make it as a musician. He roams from one friend’s apartment to another, never quite sure where he’ll go next. There’s a lot you might explore, intellectually, about his journey, a cat named Ulysses and a trip to a Chicago club called the Gate of Horn.

I liked this sad movie, a lot.

What I nearly missed, though, was the significance of one of the songs, “The Death of Queen Jane.” Fortunately an obstetrician-gynecologist and neighbor, Dr. Peggy Polaneczky, reminded me by her post on its relevance to women’s health. The English ballad tells of Jane Seymour, a wife of Henry VIII. She died in October 1537, at less than 30 years of age, days after delivering a male heir. Queen Jane’s labor was prolonged, her death attributed to complications of childbirth.

Image of the actress Carey Mulligan, Inside Llewin Davis

The actress Carey Mulligan, Inside Llewin Davis

Fast-forward 475 years and a bit more…

In 2012, the WHO reported that approximately 800 women die each day from preventable causes related to pregnancy. That figure translates to over 300,000 unnecessary deaths each year, worldwide. Pregnancy-related deaths declined sharply in the United States and most of the world in the 20th Century. The CDC indicates that U.S. maternal death rates have been on the up since 1987. The reasons for this trend are not established. That some are having children at an older age may be a factor. But most pregnancy-related deaths in occur in young women. The problem is particularly grave among African Americans. Likely contributing risks, from 1987 to 2009, include lacking of access to health care, and having chronic medical conditions like diabetes, hypertension and obesity.

Shifting notes –

The music Inside Llewyn Davis is lovely, haunting. Seeking details on the traditional English folksong, “The Death of Queen Jane,” led me through a different sort of journey. Here’s a link to some information on it from the Mainly Norfolk English Folk and Other Good Music ProjectOn YouTube you can find versions performed by Joan Baez, among others. Wouldn’t you know it, the music of her sometimes lover, Bob Dylan, plays toward the closing of the Coen brothers’ film? Dylan has a song, “Queen Jane Approximately,” that was picked up by the Grateful Dead. The consensus on Wikipedia, though, would suggest that Dylan’s lyrics have nothing to do with the Tudor Queen.

At that point I stopped searching for answers about Jane Seymour’s cut life, whether she was in labor for two or nine days, and the meaning of the song. And I’ll close with this sound clip of “The Death of Queen Jane” from Inside Llewyn Davis, performed by Oscar Isaac. You can catch a fragment of the desperate woman’s plea.

Related Posts:

newsletter software
Get Adobe Flash player