Credit where credit is due.

So, my hero this week is Dr. Barth Green.

Everyone this week is chattering about Kathy Griffin's comments at the Emmy awards in which she said, "Everyone comes up on this stage and thanks Jesus for this award. I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus." And she's taking a ton of heat for it, but hey, it's publicity. When blowhard Bill Donahoe says "What she did is worse than racism because less than half the country is black, but 85% of us our Christian," you just kinda have to giggle at the sight of this impotent talibani wetting himself.

On the other side of the country, Kevin Everrett, the Buffalo Bill's football player who suffered a life-threatening spinal-cord injury that, at first, appeared to leave him completely paralyzed. He is now on his way to a modest recovery, with strong signs of voluntary control over his arms and some control of his legs. The team's orthopedic physician, Andrew Cappucino, said, "It might be some kind of minor miracle," a quote that has been echoed just about everywhere you look.

But if you look at what the physician actually did, it tells a different story. Once he immediately recognized the scale of the injury, he injected iced saline into Everrett's body, dropping his body temperature and preventing the body's inflammation response from doing further damage.

Barth Green, chief neurosurgeon at the hospital where Everrett is being treated, said "I don't know if I would call it a miracle. I would call it a spectacular example of what people can do. To me, it's like putting the first man on the moon or splitting the atom. We've shown that if the right treatment is given to people who have a catastrophic injury that they could walk away from it."

That's exactly right. Everrett isn't special: angels didn't come down and bless him such that he might regain control over his arms and legs, while others with similar injuries will not. Everrett will be healed because two physicians knew what to do and were there fast enough to do it, and those are the human beings to whom Everrett owes his gratitude.

"A funny little cheese..."

Omaha and I had lunch together downtown after a business meeting. I left her at Westlake Center, the big shopping machine in the heart of Seattle's retail district.

Later this afternoon, I went for the second dental appointment to get the crown on my lower jaw completed. The replacement turned out to be sufficiently problematic that they needed to numb me up before doing the clean and insert, and by the time I'd left the dentist's office the entire right side of my mouth was numb.

I drove home, kissed my family hello, and then went into the kitchen to get myself a drink. My mouth is still mostly numb. On the counter, I see funny little blocks of cheese left out, and cookie cutters nearby. It looks like an unusual variety-- Omaha doesn't often buy the kind with a rind, but I shrug and figure she'd done something clever with the kids' lunch, as she is wont to do from time to time. I pick up one of the leftover pieces and pop it into my mouth, and before I bite down I notice it taste kinda funny. I can't really taste it, but there are some working buds on the front left corner of my tongue, so I roll it that way...

And I realize it's not cheese at all, it's soap. I recall that there's a Lush Soap Store in Westlake Center. Omaha had mentioned being low on handsoaps.

Grief.

I poured myself an Arnold Palmer^[?] (the non-alcoholic version), and am now trying to wash the flavor out of my mouth with it and a few small, cut blocks of real gruyere.