Healthcare

I think there is something wicked and twisted about a type of fascism that would argue against real healthcare reform as being "communist". And honestly, if this is what Americans wants for itslef in the year 2009, I see nothing to hope for in terms of a respectful future for this country.

I just visited my friend Bobbie's blog Almost There where she talks about trying to find an insurance company to pay for her medications. Whenever I read the posts Bobbie writes on her experiences as a senior navigating the American healthcare nightmare, I think about my 79 year-old mother, who has now been living back in her country of Portugal for twenty-two years.

Having previously lived in the U.S. for twenty years, my parents sold their home a couple of years after my father's company closed its doors. Literally. My father, a welder, showed with his co-workers one morning for the first shift and the gate was chained and bolted. My father was fifty-eight years old. Not entitled to his full pension. Depressed and disillusioned, he and my mother decided to move back to Portugal to salvage some of what they'd missed most about their country and to retire more harmoniously with their environment. But it was also a move that allow my parents to live more comfortably. They never endured the burden of healthcare costs because a national health program was in its early stages in Portugal in 1987. It's expensive for them, I'm sure. They're the poorest member of the EU. My parents lived much more cheaply on the amounts they were able to salvage from their pensions. My mother worked in U.S. manufacturing, too. In a small factory that made parts for electronics. Her company has long since moved South where cheap labor was plentiful. Now the cheapest labor is children in far-away countries that nobody thinks a lot about.

The real deal is that over the past five years my mother has had three major surgeries: lumpectomy, open-heart surgery and gastric cancer surgery to remove her stomach. She's doing fairly well, too. Her care has been good when she's needed the treatment or if the national doctor even knew she had a problem. Prevention is not as highly emphasized as it should be. But I have lots of family over there and they're all pretty happy with their healthcare. What it takes there is to be very vigilant about your own health care. What a lot of elders like my mother do in Portugal, is to just accept what the doctor says as the way it is and not seek more opinions or press the issue more heavily to get the care you need. With that said, I wish that type of system for my country, the U.S. and it boggles my brain that the system won't allow it. The healthcare industry is out of control. All the corporations are out of control and Americans are allowing it to happen. At least enough of us are buying the lies and propaganda that something as basic as healthcare is being denied us in the interest of profits. I'll tell ya, it ain't freakin' fair. It's wrong.

Large numbers of people having to declare bankruptcy over out-of-control health costs. Not to mention people without insurance being denied care or not accepted by insurance companies for pre-existing conditions. It's criminal.

And while I'm on a rant I'll just mention how disappointed I am in President Obama for not having the guts to stand up to the good 'ol boys and get the troops home from Iraq like he promised. Hats off to Russ Feingold for recently taking some leadership on Iraq. I should give you a link, shouldn't I? It's easy enough for you to search. Come on, humor me. It's not often I go on political rants. Not on the blog but lots of live action at home! Some activist...

And if you've made it this far, it's the rainbow after the storm (lalalalala). The Nova Scotia slidehow that is. It's going up as soon as I can make it happen.

Ta ta for now!
Pagan Sphinx

Alive From New York

But just barely.

It's not like me to whine and complain; at least not on the blog. But damn it, it's not been the best trip I've ever taken. I started out with an industrial strength headache just before we left, followed by....ta da...a UTI. And if you read this post from a few weeks back, you'll know that I struggle with these; have since I was nineteen and they aren't going away.

So here I am in New York and I need to put in a call to my doctor (whom I've not yet replaced), whose office never called me back. I called twice, in fact, and was told that The Doctor was busy with patients and had not yet found time to "review" my situation.

I then call the answering service and leave a message for the on-call doctor who promptly got back to me and was very helpful; calling in the prescription immediately to the Rite Aid around the corner on West 50th Street. Problem solved. Well, sort of. The headache came back and I'm now taking a load of Exedrin so we can take the subway to Brooklyn for my first visit to The Brooklyn Art Museum. I'd be more excited about that but every time I express enthusiasm, my head pounds ferociously. Ugh.

To top it all off, WP isn't in the best of moods either. He's perhaps fed up with my complaining which I do profusely under these circumstances. I mean, every chance I get, I'm mumbling under my breath "my freakin' head hurts". It's really selfish of me and not fair because he's done all he can to help me with this; including running to the pharmacy to get my pills.

We went to MoMA yesterday; mostly for WP's benefit, since I was there last summer but that was a business trip for him so he missed out on it. He loved it, so that was a bright spot. I also saw and photographed some things I'd either missed last time or they weren't there last time.

Being very emotional this time of the month, I cried when I looked at the two Frida Khalo paintings the MoMA has. The look of pain on her face was just too much for me to bear. One of those paintings was featured in the movie Frida with the stunning Selma Hayek as Frida. It's the self-portrait where Frida is sitting in a chair, wearing a man's suit, with her hair all chopped off. Cutting my hair very short has long been something that I've wanted to do. By short I mean...shaved...like a monk; like Sinead O'Connor; like Grace Jones. I don't want to scare The Adorables (my students) so I think I'll have to wait until I retire. But it's in my future.

Now that I've ranted on about illnesses and shaving my head...I'll leave you scratching yours. I'm revealing random things about myself that perhaps don't make much sense unless you are inside my head. But in some ways, you are. Because honestly, I tell you all more than I tell anyone except perhaps my daughters, who know me better than anyone. I'd be lost without them and it's becoming clear, lost without you, too.

Time to go. I'm looking forward to feeling better tonight for Indian food. Wish I hadn't forgotten the cord that connects the camera to the computer so that I could show you pictures. That will have to wait until I retern home on Saturday.

Stay strong and alert and safe and good. And because I feel naked unless I post a picture. Here is the one that made me cry. From 1940.

Love,

Pagan Sphinx

Warning: Rant Ahead

But it's not about politics. Well, sort of. It's about the politics of being a victim of the American medical system. I'm healthy, so I know it could be worse, but I'm livid over my first physical with my new doctor.

First a little background. As I said I've enjoyed very good over-all health all of my life. My visits to a doctor have been mostly limited to annual physicals and one pesky ailment: chronic UTIs (urinary tract infections), which are not unusual in women because our urethra is so close to the vaginal opening, causing bacteria to creep into our sweet spot and make us miserable. If you've had a UTI, you will understand how exasperating it can be - it's not only pain but a type of discomfort that makes me, anyway, feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I will take a toothache any day over a bladder infection.

My gynecologist, Dr. P, and her entire staff are absolutely wonderful. But because UTIs are not considered a gynecologic issue, they cannot treat them. The primary care physician is charge of my urethra and bladder.

I had the same primary care physician for over 15 years - Dr. L. , who was a really, really good guy. He listened and he partnered well with me when I pushed an issue. He retired two years ago and I was assigned to one Dr. Smith, a very young doctor who could multi-task like nobody's business and always seem to hear what I said even if he had his nose in his tiny computer and was tap, tap, tapping away on it. This young doctor, for the first time in my medical history, prescribed for me an antibiotic that I could fill ahead of time in anticipation of a future UTI. It was a quick run - six pills in all, and after the first day of treatment, the symptoms were gone. And, I could refill it several times before seeking another prescription. So no more having to wait until morning to call the doctor, missing work to go in for a urine sample, getting the prescription filled and waiting for it to kick in. Beautiful. I loved Dr. Smith. Well, Dr. Smith beat feet back to Ohio where he came from.

I am now assigned to a certain Dr. R, another very young doctor with the bedside manner of an icicle. They didn't teach herhow to smile in medical school, apparently. She asked all the right questions but didn't want to hear any elaborations. Sensing this immediately and disliking it, I turned a bit passive-aggressive and gave her longer answers than she wanted. This caused her to cut me off and tell me that "I need to talk now", rather rudely, I might add (for which she apologized later). I may have deserved it, I'll admit it but even though I admit to doing it, it is my nature to be detailed when discussing most things. In fact, I'm very articulate when speaking, particularly on issues that I know and understand well: in this case, my body and my health. Well, Dr. R would have none of this.

Now what I'm really fired up about is this: you know that great preventative UTI treatment that the wonderful Dr. Smith prescribed for me? I told her about it and she refused to continue it! That is what I'm so pissed off about. She told me the following: "I cannot do for you what I will not do for my other patients." To which I replied politely: "But every patient is different, with different needs and this has worked extremely well for me. Due to this treatment, I have not suffered for hours or missed work because of a UTI." She would not budge.

I'm now back to the dark ages again with the UTI situation. When I have symptoms, she expects me to call her office, come in for a urine test and get a prescription.

Dr. Smith had explained to me how archaic this was and why, while he tap-tapped on his tiny laptop, with the toes of his polished wingtips peeking out from behind his very neatly pressed rayon trousers. He said that a urine test will almost always reveal one of two possible types of bacteria that cause such infections and that the antibiotic he prescribed took care of either. So why put a woman through the agonizing postponement of treatment? Dr. Smith, why did you have go away???

I've been really angry over this. Firstly, Dr. R's manner and condescension. Her message was clear - you're the patient and you don't know anything and I'm the doctor who will lord over your body because I know best.

Needless to say, I'm going shopping for another doctor. Wish me luck.