Are we living in dystopian times?
Why do I feel so dismal during this disastrous pandemic?
“Don’t diss me, man.”
I first heard the slang diss in the 1980s, probably from a film or on TV. I’d always assumed it began in the raucous hip-hop music movement. An abbreviation of disrespect, the shorter diss made for easier rhyming and—at first—insider language for the hip-hop world. But lexicographer Jonathon Green found a reference for diss in a 1906 Australian newspaper. Was the slang term actually born in the land “down under?”
Because of my hospice work, I hear similar-sounding prefixes. Instead of diss, I have learned other uses of the prefix dys on a regular basis. I recall a patient care meeting where a nurse explained—clinically and efficiently—the long list of comorbidities for a new hospice admission. The patient also had, the nurse said, dystonia.
Dystonia . . . dys-what?
My first thought was predictable: I’d never heard of it before. A second thought quickly crowded into my mind: whatever “dystonia” described, it wasn’t gonna be a good thing. Read More →by