I'm sitting here watching NBC's tribute to Tim Russert tonight. Although he was famous for being the biggest political guru of his generation, he was also the author of two books, both about fatherhood.

He died today of a heart attack. He was only 58.

I would have liked to have asked my dad what to do to minimize the risk of heart attack. Being a doctor, he should know. But I can't. He died of a heart attack in 1994, age 51.

My dad was a doctor. Dad told me on several occasions that if I ever came home and said I wanted to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor too, he'd lock me in my room for seven years. One of the reasons for this was because he hated dealing with insurance companies. I vividly remember going out to the mailbox one day and finding a letter addressed to Dr. Farquhar, with a very angry note written on the front of the envelope: PLS LET THE DR READ THE LTR. I asked what this was about, and Dad said insurance was refusing to pay for a patient's treatment. He said it happened a lot.

Now I'm 33, and my insurance was refusing to pay for treatment my wife needed. The best-case scenario without her medication would have involved numerous hospitalizations. The worst-case scenario? Coma or stroke if a lot of things went wrong. If everything went wrong, death wasn't out of the question.

Here's what I did about it.

So Michael Moore has a new movie out, this time taking on the touchy topic of health care. I was a very outspoken opponent of Hillary Clinton's plan 15 years ago. I'm extremely disappointed that the alternative plans crafted by the Republicans dropped as soon as the Clinton plan died.

I won't argue that the U.S. health care system is terrible now. I will argue that some of the fault belongs to the person in our mirrors though. (And I don't want to be rude, but Michael Moore needs to take some personal responsibility too.)

So Emily wanted pancakes. I didn't mind cooking but I didn't want to go to the store for eggs. I don't think we set out to make a vegan recipe, but that's what we ended up with. This recipe is cheap, easy, and healthy, with no added sugar, no bad fats, and no cholesterol.

It's only six ingredients, so it's not much harder than pancakes from a mix, but much healthier.

You probably don't want to know what I was searching for on Ebay that matched this.

But, whatever people want to collect, I have no room to talk.

I caught cold again last week. Call my immune system low-end. The last time I got sick, I should have ordered some of this stuff for the next time I'd need it. It was what my grandfather, Dr. Ralph Collins Farquhar Jr., D.O., a family doctor in Doylestown, Pennsylvania, starting in the mid-1930s, used to use to treat a cough. My dad, Dr. Ralph C. III, D.O., used it to treat my sister and me when we were sick, and anyone else who seemed to be sick. Any time someone walked into the Dicus Drugstore in Farmington, Missouri looking for Numotizine Cataplasm, or, as Dad called it, "Pink Peanut Butter", they knew they'd been talking to Dr. Farquhar.

I've been slogging away in nostalgiaville, writing obscure stuff over at Wikipedia again (once an addict, always an addict, even if the addiction hurts you), and I started wondering about something. Why is 20 years ago easier for me to remember than last week?

Standard disclaimer: I'm not a doctor or a psychologist. I'm a systems administrator by trade and a journalist by training. I write this as a survivor of depression, not as an expert on its treatment. Combined with the experiences of others, I think it's worth listening to. But it's no substitute for seeing a specialist.

I'm sick. It kind of snuck up on me. Yesterday I was tired all day and it just got worse. By about 6 I had a full-bore sore throat and I felt ready for bed.

Do you have a weird pain in your lower arms? Do your wrists tingle? Are your wrists tight?