We All Need Health Care

When I decided to blog I meant to keep everything light and humorous. I hoped to polish my writing skills and my sense of irony and to count my blessings. The blog seems to have taken a negative turn. Today's post, however negative, is something that needs to be said.

I'm flying to Vegas tonight. Not to gamble or see shows. My sister lives there and it is only about two hours from St. George Utah. My childhood best friend lives in a suburb of St. George. We are going to visit her. (I will be back tomorrow night because we are leaving on vacation Friday morning.)

Sharon was downsized from her job at age 58. She wasn't old enough to retire but was too old to to interest prospective employers. She lived on her savings as long as she could and finally took minimum-wage part-time jobs. She sold her home in Mission Viejo and moved to Washington, Utah, where housing was much cheaper. She found that jobs were scarce there. Eventually she got a job in the State run liquor store. It was also part time and she had no health insurance. She had just over the limit to qualify for free care, but not enough to pay monthly premiums unless she stopped eating or something. She qualifies for Medicare February 1, 2009. Unfortunately, she couldn't hold out until then.

Last fall her back started bothering her (it wan't work-related, unfortunately) and she eventually quit even her part-time job. She tried a chiropractor, but refused to go to a doctor because "I can't afford it". Her pain got worse and worse. She cancelled a planned trip to visit us this summer.

Last week her friendly neighbor noticed that she hadn't seen Sharon in a couple of days. When her phone wasn't answered, Gina went to the house to check on her. She found the garage door open, car door open, and purse and one shoe in the car. After receiving no reponse to her knock, she called the police. When they threatened to break down the door, Sharon did open it. She was skeletal, jaundiced, and obviously could barely stand. Despite her objections, paramedics were called and she was taken to that hospital she can't afford.

She has pancreatitus, hepititis, infection throughout her body, and they aren't sure what else. She is in an ICU unit, stable but still very ill, with a feeding tube, drains in her body, and under heavy sedation. She has no immediate family and the doctors won't give information to Gina, to me, or to her cousin in California without patient consent -- and she is in no condition to give that consent.

If we had national health care, she would have gone to the doctor a year ago. He probably would have put her on antibiotics and changed her diet and drinking habits. Granted that she could have done part of that on her own, most of us don't change bad habits unless somebody makes us.

She wasn't in the position of having to choose between health care and the food/housing option because she was lazy, a welfare mom, an illegal alien, or any of the other types we think of as being in that position. She was an older lady who had worked hard and done moderately well most of her life. She was willing to take a job beneath her dignity to survive. She had better education, training, and job skills than many people in our age group. Most any of us could find ourselves in her position. In the current economy, even those of us who thought we planned well for our golden years could have problems. We need a better safety net.

The Future of the Press in America

Perhaps it's just the future of the press on the coasts.

I attended a conference for business women today. (No I haven't become a business woman. I'm perfectly happy being a useless and purposeless little old lady, thankyouverymuch. I volunteered to help out a friend and her daughter, business women both.) The conference featured motivational speakers who told me how to improve my customer base (more cats?), maximize my profitability, and improve my attitude (which could certainly use an upgrade). One of the speakers told us how to get more publicity.

According to her, in a decade or so both print and broadcast journalism will be dead. We will be getting all our information from the wordwide web -- and we are moving in that direction as I write. Readers are far more interested in hearing about celebrities than traditional news events. I was dismayed to hear that. Despite the fact that our Sacramento Bee had diminished in size recently, I remain a faithful reader. I also watch Channel three local news and NBC National news most evenings. I do check Yahoo news two or three times a day to see if anything I really care about has happened (and it usually has not) but I depend on the Incredible Shrinking Bee and KCRA's charming reporters to keep me abreast of what is happening in my own town. Without those sources how would I know that the Basketball-Player-Who-Would be Mayor is under Federal sanction for for a little hanky panky with the fed's funds or that our seemingingly incompetent head of the City/County Library System finally resigned.

I have an additional concern that only half of the people who live in our household actually use the internet. Without the newspaper and television, half of our household would have no idea of what is going on in the world. I actually know several people who are younger than I am who simply "don't do computers". Perhaps that's a good thing. Who needs those out-of-touch folks anyway. Maybe by the 2020 election the Republicans will dare to go one better than NRA Barbie and Sun City Ken with a ticket featuring Brad Pitt and Brittney Spears.

The Black Prince Has an Adventure

Edward, Earl of the Family Room, Master of the Royal Garden, faced the enemy with great courage today. He was forced into a carrier and taken to see Doctor Elliott, where he was punctured twice with the little swords the doctor hides in his folder, and mooshed and squooshed quite thoroughly. The doctor declared him handsome, healthy, and very brave. He only meowed once. Coming home, he shared tales of the adventure with his brother and sisters and the little guest (Amani is back for a week). He was encouraged that all shots are the three year variety and his next two visits to the enemy's lair will be purely social -- probably accompanied by tuna water and cat treats. He spent the afternoon sleeping on the sofa and recovering from his terrible experience.

Forty Years

We celebrated our fortieth wedding anniversary on Saturday. For seven years we spent our anniversay weekend moving our children to dorms or apartments on college campuses. Those years are long past, and it's just the old folks now. This year we went to dinner at one of our favorite restaurants -- and I have finally decided that I'm old.

First, I dress inappropriately. Alex wore freshly pressed khakis and a polo shirt. I wore longish gaucho pants with a matching top, a little jacket that goes with it, heels and panty hose. Other than one woman in a feather boa, the other diners seemed to be attired in their formal jeans and tee shirts. This isn't a casual restaurant. While not the priciest in town, it is a linen napkin establishment and dinner for two (including tax and tip) runs $80-100. We are also going to a rather special evening event in a month or so and have been informed that the dress is "business casual". Does that mean I'm supposed to wear twill pants and a tee shirt to that? I don't have to put on pantyhose and pumps anymore, but -- just once in a while -- it's nice to wear something pretty and feminine. I understand, now, the ladies in senior citizens clubs who get all gussied up for the annual holiday lunch.

Second, I have become a less important person. Actually, I have been noticing this for some time. I often get waited on after younger people in stores (even if I was there first) or simply ignored. The restaurant was less than half full while we were there. A young couple came in about ten minutes after we did and were seated at the next table. They had their drinks first, and their food first. Our waiter -- no spring chicken himself -- even forgot one of the dishes we ordered. We probably looked liked we didn't have somewhere important to go after. At our age, however, he should have assumed that we need to get home for our early bedtimes. I was reminded of Ruth Riechle's book where she found that going to a restaurant disguised as an older woman resulted in inferior service.

Third, I can't carry on a conversation when there is background music in a restaurant. Despite the fact that the room wasn't full, people were talking over the guitar player. We had to speak loudly to be heard, and simply ate mostly in silence. We can talk at home, I suppose.

Nancy and a friend were over yesterday and Karen commented that it seems to her that "older" people in their forties and fifties get the best service. I suppose it's all a matter of perspective. Forties and fifties seems young to me these days. Do we cease to exist once past our fifties? When does that happen? 60? 65? 72? Maybe at our age we should just stay home, or confine our fine dining experiences to Marie Callendar's and Denny's.

Alex felt that the evening was wonderful. The food was good and the ambience terrific. I'm feeling that I'm not looking forward to going back there. The food was fine and the candlelight certainly hides my wrinkles and sagging chin. Despite that, I'd rather eat somewhere else next time we have a special occasion. I don't like feeling that my best days are past, and I don't like feeling less important than a group of twenty-somethings in jeans. If white napkin restaurants don't make me feel special, I'd just as soon stick to casual dining. The food isn't that much better when you pay twice as much for it.

A Tale of Two Kitties

We have recently had two young, female foster cats. Both are about 8 months old, and both were found in very unfortunate circumstances.

Amani (top) had been dumped on the street and was pregnant. She was tame, so somebody had "owned" her at one time. We suppose they were fundamentalists who didn't believe in birth control but thought it was acceptable to toss a pregnant lady out on the street. She was starving when a kind person found her and called our dear Mary. Mary collected her and took her to the vet for an abortion (no pro-lifer is our Mary) and sterilization. She is a fierce little thing. Her name -- Peace in Swahili -- is certainly a misnomer. She growls when she plays and runs around like a wild woman. She also loves hard, wanting to rub her face against you and be as close as she can. She has yet to find a home, but somebody who needs lots of love will come along soon.

Isabella (bottom) is a very quiet little thing. She is a beautiful cat. She was discovered, on a 100 degree day, taped up in a box in an empty lot near the pound. She survived, but we are wondering if the experience may have affected her more than we immediately thought. She may be a little slow. She is also very affectionate, curls up and naps on or near us, and is a gorgeous torti dilute. Nancy is very taken with her and has been trying to justify adopting her as a pal for Elphie.

The bottom line -- neuter your pets unless you plan to breed them. Never dump an animal. Cats and dogs are people with four feet and fur -- only nicer.

Testing

This is just a test to see if I know how to add a new chapter.

Starting Point

This is definitely a learning experience. I keep eliminating what I have written and having to start over again. Technology 101 for the elderly and challenged. Maybe also something new to keep my mind alive.

My very first blog. Wow! Will I really have anything to say, anything to share? I'm not truly sure. Since my life doesn't follow maps and directions, I don't quite know where this is going. I will simply be talking about my home, friends, family, pets, and interests. If I'm lucky I may connect with other ladies of a certain age. In any case, I'm hoping it will give my friends and family a chance to catch up with me at their leisure. I'm also hoping it will get me back into the habit of writing, of putting my thoughts to screen, if not actually to paper.

Alex and I are planning to attend a celebration of the 60th anniversary of his fraternity chapter at San Diego State. The November event will be at the Holiday Inn On The Bay in San Diego. There is a website where you can make dinner reservations, hotel reservations and whatever. One little problem. The hotel link on the website takes you to Holiday Inn Bayside -- several blocks from the hotel where the event will take place. We called and E-mailed to tell them that the link is incorrect. "No, no." they replied "Holiday Inn Bayside and On the Bay are the same thing." We answered that they are not, and if they will check the address for the hotel the link takes you to, they will find that it is several miles from the event hotel. (We called the event hotel to make sure that it was, in fact, the correct one and that there are two hotels with similar names.) As far as we can tell, they think we are senile old geezers (true) and we don't know what we are talking about (we do, for a change). We figure they won't make the changes, and half of the out-of-town attendees will be staying 41 blocks from the dinner. In a case like this is it wrong to say "We tolja so?"