Low-sodium chili could be the key to turning Wyoming blue

On or about Jan. 2, 2013, I began considering sodium.

Didn't pay particular attention to it until my heart stopped functioning properly.

"Cut down on the salt," the cardiologists said.

"I don't put salt on my food," I replied.

They told me that salt is everywhere. In processed food -- all that stuff in the center aisles of your local grocery store. Frozen foods too.

"Frozen foods?" I asked. "Pizza and TV dinners and lasagna don't need salt."

"Check the labels," the docs advised.

Due to my wife's diabetes, I check labels for sugar and carbs. Sodium hadn't been a big concern. Until the widowmaker brought me to the ER and the attention of the cardio unit.

They halted my congestive heart failure and installed a stent. Put me on a cardiac diet. For a week, the nutritionist in the hospital kitchen told me what I couldn't have more often that she agreed with my dietary choices. Once I was out and about again, wandering the aisles of King Soopers, I read some amazing horror stories on food labels. Hormel Chili with beans, one of my faves, contained 990 mg. of sodium for one-cup serving. That meant that a can of chili, warmed up in the microwave and served during the Broncos game, gave me almost 500 mg of sodium more than the 1,500 mg. daily intake recommended by cardiologists. Throw in some "saltines" and cheese and beer and soon I was at the average of 3,400 mg. of sodium ingested daily by Americans.

That was a shocker. But prowling the frozen foods aisles was really enlightening. Those big pot pies are one of my guilty pleasures. I loved them as a kid. But they are loaded with sodium. Why? Freezing preserves the food, so salt and MSG are not necessary. One can only assume it's for the taste. We Americans love our salt! And what about the salt lobby? Is there some branch of The Illuminati that loads us with salt, making us compliant, water-logged, obese drones ready to do the bidding of this secret cabal? Get on this, Dan Brown!

Face it, our industrial food system is still stuck in mom's 1955 kitchen. Our families were so happy to be rid of the Depression and the world war, that we would do anything to have three squares a day. Salt was a celebrated part of the Great American Diet. Hell, the East Germans and the Chinese were starving. We got all Henry Ford on our food system. Mom and Dad showered us with mac and cheese and rump roasts and hot dogs and Wonder Bread and Hostess Twinkies.

Do I blame them? Hell no. All my mom got for Christmas during the 1930s was an orange and a handful of walnuts. Was she concerned with a little bit of salt? Hell no. She was happy to be feeding her kids -- all nine of them. They all grew up to be strapping lads and lassies, me included. I kept eating as if it was 1955 right up until my LAD artery got clogged and I went in for a Roto Rooter job.

So what is a 64-year-old American man supposed to do about food? Eat less. Eat right. Exercise more. Nothing I didn't already know. Then I didn't really, did I? I opted for the easy solution. Pizza and Big Macs and those big plates of food they serve you at every restaurant, especially here in Wyoming and my other home places in the South. I love all that barbecue and chicken-fried steak and burgers and ice cream. But I want to stick around for awhile. That doesn't mean that I, as a creative cook, can't come up with solutions.

Taste my chili -- please! I make a low-sodium chili that is not bad. I am not going to win any prizes at the chili cook-off. But I don't care about that. I just want it to taste good and get some appreciation from my friends and colleagues. You will not unduly tax your heart when eating my chili! I can make that boast.

I'm making a batch today in my slow cooker. I made some last week for the Broncos game and the chili was better than the game, especially when you consider the lackluster performance by Peyton Manning. I kept some as a starter dose for this weekend's chili/salsa/dessert fund-raiser put on by the Laramie County Democrats, which is Sunday, Oct. 25, from 6-8 p.m. Wyoming Democrats must pay attention to our longevity. There are so few of us that we can't stand to lose anyone to heart failure. I'm doing my part by cutting back on the sodium. A lowered heart rate might allow us to once again clinch a majority in both houses of the state legislature by 2050, the year I turn 100. Combine longevity with an influx of young immigrants eager to make their way in Wyoming's very creative atmosphere, and you have Democrats galore. You say that you can't move to Wyoming due to too many right-wing dingbats in the legislature? They can't live forever, especially when you consider the average Wyomingite's salt-laden diet. Be patient.

Today, low-sodium chili. Tomorrow, the world or, at least, WYO.

BTW, do I have a recipe? Not really. My only goal is to keep the sodium content below 350 mg. per one-cup serving, which is what nutritional guidelines recommend for all foods. That is approximately one-third of the Hormel Chili variety I referenced above. It's about one-half of the levels in Hormel low-sodium chili with beans.

That's progress!

Some final words about Mental Health Awareness Week

I could not let Mental Health Awareness Week go by without commenting.

The week, promoted by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), was a week filled with a flurry of social media posts, including a series of images (see one above). Thursday, Oct. 9, was National Depression Screening Day. I’ve already had mine – several in fact -- and depression was located in various regions of my body – my heart, my celebral cortex, my Islets of Langerhans. I take meds for it, see my psychiatrist every six months and my therapist every week. I work out at the YMCA every other day and eat right.

Last weekend I made chili for the Broncos game. This is not a recommended treatment for depression. Following the Broncos may even cause depression – the jury’s still out. I make my own chili because I love chili and the store-bought variety comes with tons of salt. Too much salt causes my heart to work harder to get rid of fluid build-up. An overworked heart negates the medication I take to keep it calm and reliable. An overworked heart may go into a fatal arrhythmia and would cause my ICD to kick in which, in turn, would cause me to flop around on the floor like a fish. Depression would follow, as would stares of passers-by.

Homemade chili, you see, can ease both heart disease and depression. Mine features lots of pepper slices and tomatoes, our planet’s super-food. No-salt-added tomato sauce. It’s meaty with the lowest-fat hamburger I can find. Flavoring is a problem that no amount of Mrs. Dash, cumin, and chili power can remedy. Our taste buds are primed for salt and lots of it. We need some salt as our body’s origins are in the briny deep. I’m still working on that part of the chili challenge.

It’s not that easy to get the same attention for mental illness as is given to heart disease. I’m pleased that heart disease gets lots of attention and much funding. I might not be alive if that were not the case. I am pleased that my local hospital has a spiffy new cancer center and that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Everyone wears pink, even NFL players and cowboys (at least they do every summer at the CFD Rodeo's "Tough enough to wear pink" day). As for the NFL -- those were some bitchin’ pink cleats that the Houston and Indy players were wearing on Thursday Night Football. Good game, too.

I didn’t spy many green ribbons or green shoes this week. As I said, social media lit up with references to depression and schizophrenia and bipolar. USA Today did a series on mental illness and suicide. Nice job – I read it all. Shocking stats revealed that 40,000 Americans killed themselves last year. It’s shocking enough that an average of 22 military veterans take their lives daily. But to really be shocked, you have to read their stories. Many don’t get any help at all, or the right kind of help. But many do and still kill themselves. Many civilians with mental illnesses don’t get any help at all, or can’t afford it, or don’t get the proper treatments. They jump off bridges or shoot themselves or OD on pills with alarming regularity. Does that mean it’s hopeless? No, but people who feel hopeless may not get help because of the stigma attached to mental illness or the “cowboy up” mentality that we have in Wyoming and other western states. “Cowboy up” is not a helpful response to someone who needs help. “Tough it out” or “lighten up” – also not helpful responses. But you can’t really blame people. If they haven’t experienced a mental health challenge themselves or with a friend or family members, they may be clueless.

I walk around with an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator in my chest. My wife Chris walks around with an insulin pump on her hip. We often get into lively discussions with people with heart disease and diabetes. We compare experiences and devices. Growing old, it seems, is filled with these types of conversations. Having a heart attack gives you carte blanche to bore everyone silly with your story.

Want to stop a lively conversation in its tracks? Bring up mental illness. Chris was at a community gathering this week and was having a good old time talking to old friends about her meter and my ICD. Lots of people have encounters with heart abnormalities and blood sugar levels. But when they asked about our daughter -- let's call her Margaret -- and Chris told them she was in a mental health treatment center, the conversation stopped. Crickets chirped. Tumbleweeds rolled through the room. The friends excused themselves and Chris was left standing there, an intriguing story hanging from her lips.

Too bad they didn’t stick around to hear the story. Margaret has received a variety of diagnoses. Bipolar. Borderline personal disorder, with and without bipolar. Severe depression. She’s a cutter too, you see, which usually freaks out the uninitiated. It freaked me out when I first found out about it. She’s used knives, box cutters, razors and even broken glass to carve a topo map of scars on her arms and legs and stomach. It’s a constant reminder of her traumas. It will always be a reminder to her as the challenges she faced as a teen and young woman. She may arrive at a place where she can live with her mental illness, maybe even outgrow the worst symptoms. But she’ll always have the scars. When she’s 63 as I am now, her grandchildren may ask, “Grandma, where did you get those scars?” She can tell any story she wants, as grandparents do. But I have a feeling she will share the truth. That may help them somewhere down the line. This mental illness runs in our family, you see, and DNA has a funny way of replicating itself. Science may come up with answers. Better, more targeted drugs with fewer side-effects. Better and more widely available therapy. Less stigma. Empathy breaking out all over.

Meanwhile, there are social media images to post and blogs to write. Chili warms on the stove. Life is a series of little treatments, tiny steps, unexpected laughter. Sorrow awaits you around every turn. Be aware.      

Diabetics in rural Wyoming on their own

From an AP story (via Billings Gazette):

The Wyoming Department of Health reports that the number of Wyoming adults with diabetes more than doubled in the past 13 years.

The department said Thursday that more than 7 percent of Wyoming adults have been diagnosed with diabetes, up from 3 percent in 1997.

Diabetes prevention and control manager Star Morrison said the disease is the sixth-leading cause of death in the state.

From July 2006 to June 2007, diabetes led to 615 Wyoming hospitalizations costing $7.5 million, according to the department.

Washakie County has the highest rate of adult diabetes at 9.3 percent. Teton County has the lowest rate at 2.4 percent.

Morrison said the prevalence of diabetes is expected to increase as the state's population ages.

Let's see. Wyoming's population is aging. The diabetes rate is climbing. Our family knows something about diabetes. Chris was diagnosed with Type II diabetes 17 years ago when she was pregnant with our daughter. She sees an endocrinologist in Fort Collins across the border in Colorado. Each month, she goes to her diabetes educators (also in Fort Collins). She is careful about what she eats. She monitors her blood sugar. Our local pharmacist knows her and her prescriptions. In short -- it takes a team to manage diabetes. Family physician, specialist, nurses, educators, pharmacists.

Last year, the Wyoming Office of Rural Health release a report that showed 13 of the state's 23 counties had a shortage of primary-care doctors.

I posted this on the blog Dec. 26:

Washakie County in the Big Horn Basin hasn't a single primary care practitioner for its 8,000-some residents. No OB/GYN docs for healthy baby checkups. No pediatricians for when Johnny pokes his eye with a stick. No nurse practitioner to find out whether you have the flu or just a bad cold.

Or diabetes.

Star Morrison at the Wyoming Department of Health has her job cut out for her. "Aging" is just one factor. Lack of proper medical care in rural areas is another.

Will national healthcare reform address these issues? Perhaps we should ask Senator and physician John Barrasso. He and his Republican cohorts have done their best to derail healthcare reform. Why? Don't he and Sen. Enzi and Rep. Lummis have any empathy for the rural residents of this state? They say they do. But saying and doing are two different things.

Barrasso practiced medicine and politics in Casper, Wyoming's second largest city. Enzi lived in Gillette, booming coal capital of the nation. Lummis is from Cheyenne, the largest city in the state and the capital.

All of these places have hospitals. All have family physicians and specialists. Sure, some of us with insurance still go out of state for better care. We have that option.

But what are rural residents to do?

Suffer, I guess. Live with the fact that if they get diabetes, they're on their own.