I thought this week would pass without me doing my Sunday blog post. I felt like any of the issues I wanted to focus on were far overshadowed by the events in Ferguson. It went beyond the events in Ferguson to racism that I saw in response to this tragedy that showed our collective racism. It just made me sad, angry and filled me with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. I decided to go ahead and try and address it in my own very subjective way, however imperfect, because being silent is not an option.
I have seen this racism all around me, and yes, I acknowledge that I am racist. I cannot get away from it. I grew up in a town where the overwhelming majority of people were white. I grew up in a family where I heard racist jokes, and knew they were wrong, but did not know how to stand up against them. Although I went to college in a place far from my small town in Wyoming, it was still overwhelmingly white. I ended up in a city, which was one(and may still be) of the whitest cities in America. Then, I chose to raise my kids in another very white town, maybe not quite as white as the one I grew up in, but nonetheless very white. I can honestly say that I have had only one black friend in my entire life. Although, I may strive not to be racist, I know that it is nearly impossible for me to escape the insidious and subtle racism that permeates our culture.
As a young child, from the time I learned about slavery,the genocide of Native Americans, and the Holocaust, I was ashamed that I was a white skinned girl of European ancestry. This shame went deep and contributed to my life long depression. I somehow could not separate myself from my ancestors. The violence and hatred was in my bones and it filled me with an overwhelming sense of despair. Although, this may make me sound like a whiny white girl, it is the truth of my experience.
Later, I was still a whiny white girl with a big sense of sadness about being a white girl, but I learned a small bit about oppression being bisexual, a person with mental health issues and a physical disability which caused some fairly significant limitations. This small bit of oppression is nothing though in the scheme of things. I cannot know what it is like to send my girls out in a world where I fear for their lives if they are pulled over by police. I cannot know what it is like to be targeted while shopping because of the color of my skin. I cannot know what it is like to be passed over for employment because of my name or the color of my skin. I cannot know what it's like. I just can't.
But, what I do know is that I feel despair when I see how much deep racism still exists in our country. I am sometimes startled by it, as if waking from a dream, or waking from a false reality only to come into the reality of the nightmare that exists. Anyone that denies that the lack of an indictment in the Ferguson case does not display our racism as a country is in very deep denial. I honestly don't know how one can look at the facts of the case and not be dumbfounded at the fact that there was not an indictment. Seriously.
I don't know what else to say except we need to wake up. We need to have conversations and dialogue about race in this country. We need to act to make changes together. Something is very wrong and I don't see it getting better. We see it in our prison system, in disparities in our education system, and in black people getting murdered by police on a weekly basis. Yes, murdered. I am angry and as with all 'big' wrongs in our country, it fills me with a sense of hopelessness as I don't know what the answer is. There doesn't seem to be anyway to change the deep racism; where people dig in their heels and turn a blind eye to it. As a whiny sad white girl in my white town, what can I do to be an ally? Arguing over social media doesn't seem to do anything to help as all I see are people stuck in their positions and not opening their minds, even a little.
I guess all I can do is try and articulate it and speak out. I have learned from various psychological traditions that anger is something to be avoided, that it can only lead to personal destruction. I think I need to question this because there is a lot to be angry at. I still believe that anger can lead to change and I cannot deny I am angry. I cannot deny that this anger can be funneled into something constructive and help facilitate change. Maybe we all need to get a little angry and let the force of it bring us into greater understanding and dialogue. Sometimes I wonder if the mostly white forces that decry anger use it as a tool to suppress real dialogue. I feel sick that black people in urban areas and white men with mental health issues in rural areas are disproportionately murdered by police. There is something wrong. We need to get angry. We need to get sad. We need to step out of our little self imposed boxes and be willing to be uncomfortable with our own racism. We need to open our minds and our hearts to listen to and learn from each other. We need to feel all that is screwed up in this world and most importantly, we need to act, to speak out and make real changes.
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Sunday, November 23, 2014
Dances with the Devil
My experiences with the medical profession, while annoying, have not been deadly. This post is dedicated to all those who have died due to inept practitioners who don't take the time to listen to the person as a whole; practitioners who may not be completely to blame in a for profit healthcare system that is failing miserably. The title of this post may seem extreme, but I want it to be clear that the 'devil' in this case is not the doctors, but, a very broken healthcare system.
When I was a teenager, I was hospitalized for anorexia. I remember, as if in a fog, the 6 weeks of so-called 'treatment'. My treatment mostly consisted of a psychiatrist who could not seem to get it out of his head that I was abused by someone I wasn't abused by. Mostly, it consisted of being watched while eating and threatened if I didn't. I remember being watched continually, strange group therapy sessions, and being moved down to 'level 1' because I would not participate in a movie discussion. When I knew my insurance was done paying, I told the nurse the night before that I would rather die than end up in another mental hospital. She reported me as being suicidal. I called my parents and told them what happened. The psychiatrists could use this so-called suicidal ideation to get an extension through my parent's insurance company. But, my parents knew this place was not helping me. They actually listened. After the hospital, I did not get better right away but was able to find some alternative types of therapy that actually started to help a little. These mental hospital experiences gave me a lifetime mistrust of doctors and helping professionals in general. At 16, I could see that the so-called treatment I was getting was really not based on who I was and offered me little in healing my underlying issues.
When I was 19, my foot was ruined by a podiatrist who insisted I needed bunion surgery when I had little pain, just some bunion deformity. For many years after the surgery, I struggled with pain. I could no longer run and it was difficult to cross country ski.(2 things that I had loved for years) As the years went on, I became unable to dance, another love of mine. Finally, I was told that the initial surgeon set the bone wrong. 20 years later, I had another bunion surgery to re-set the bone with the promise it would take away my chronic pain. It didn't work. I was told recently that having 2 surgeries on that joint have actually exacerbated pain in my other toe joints. When my other big toe gradually became extremely painful, I was told by a doctor to wear Birkenstocks for a year and it would cure the pain. Two years later, I was told the joint was so deteriorated by arthritis that the only option was joint fusion.(apparently, Birkenstocks didn't work-surprise!) The interesting part about my foot story is the first doctor was most likely motivated by the money he would get for an unnecessary surgery and did not look at trying non-surgical options first; whereas, the second doctor did not listen at all to how much pain I was in but instead gave me cursory advice in his quick visit before moving on to his next patient.
Perhaps the most frustrating recent experience with doctors has been my experience with medical advocacy with a close loved one and my dad. In my dads case, I repeatedly told his doctor that his medication was causing agitation and the doctor basically ignored my concerns. This medication was known to have this type of side effect in the elderly, but she dismissed me repeatedly. In my loved one's case, I see doctor's leap to crazy conclusions about her condition based on tiny parts of things she says. (I won't go into detail, but I will say it is laughably ludicrous) They continue to look at symptoms instead of taking a careful and thoughtful history to determine the best course of action. Perhaps most importantly, I see them continue to throw meds at her with often less than 15 minutes spent talking with her. These medications have had devastating effects on her life and may have done more harm than good. There are still no answers for this loved one and the last visit with a so-called specialist was one of the most demeaning and patronizing appointments I have ever witnessed. In both cases, I have seen doctors baffled by conditions that are not easily 'fit' in a box with no quick fix in sight. This bafflement, I believe, creates a bit of hostility towards a patient that does not respond well to traditional interventions. Instead of being open to non-medication interventions in both cases, doctors just throw up their hands and keep falling back on the same old prescription playbook that clearly is not working.
And finally, my experience working with people with disabilities punctuates my experiences with the medical system with heart wrenching tragedy. Countless clients have struggled with chronic conditions, with very little compassion and great frustration when quick fix treatments don't work. With certain insurance, like Medicaid, clients were not even able to get second opinions because of the lack of providers that take Medicaid. I can think of at least 2 clients who are dead because the symptoms they reported to doctors were not taken seriously and they died of aggressive terminal illnesses. Clients fought for years with a healthcare system just to be heard, just to get some kind of treatment that was meaningful. Some died, some deteriorated and some walked around with an extreme sense of grief and hopelessness feeling like there were no answers. These experiences are not unique and many with disabling conditions are left feeling powerless in a system that is supposed to be designed to help them.
Our fee for service health care system has made health care a business where doctors are paid by treatment, not outcome. Doctors are conditioned by insurance companies to throw people into simple 'boxes' so they can be paid. Prescription drug companies have become like car salesman, creating pretty ads, aggressively courting doctors to promote and prescribe their drugs and passing advertising costs on to the patient by increasing prices for medication. With the costs associated with dealing with health insurance, primary doctors and specialists are often forced to book short appointments. There is little time to look at the 'whole' picture in this system. We fail people with chronic conditions in a world that is centered around billing, symptom treatment, and prescription drugs. Instead of looking at a person as someone with a complex health history who needs equally complex and thoughtful treatment, doctors are forced to look at separate symptoms, throw some meds at the person, and move on to the next patient. As referenced before, the results of all these things leave patients feeling completely powerless and often, sicker.
Incredibly, in this system there are still 'good' doctors that thoroughly examine and take careful histories of clients. In the past year, I was blessed to have one of those doctors for my youngest daughter. This experience surprised me, and it shouldn't have. This type of doctor should be the 'norm' not the exception in the medical field. In my personal experience as a care provider for loved ones and my own personal experience, I know the devastating feeling of waiting months for a doctor only to have them completely dismiss your issues. For some, this dismissal could be deadly as some get tired of fighting and give up. As patients and caregivers, we complain about these issues. We complain and complain, but then we run from the idea of 'socialized' medicine as if it is a demon. I honestly cannot a imagine a bigger devil than the fiasco that is our current healthcare model. We need to open our minds and demand better.
When I was a teenager, I was hospitalized for anorexia. I remember, as if in a fog, the 6 weeks of so-called 'treatment'. My treatment mostly consisted of a psychiatrist who could not seem to get it out of his head that I was abused by someone I wasn't abused by. Mostly, it consisted of being watched while eating and threatened if I didn't. I remember being watched continually, strange group therapy sessions, and being moved down to 'level 1' because I would not participate in a movie discussion. When I knew my insurance was done paying, I told the nurse the night before that I would rather die than end up in another mental hospital. She reported me as being suicidal. I called my parents and told them what happened. The psychiatrists could use this so-called suicidal ideation to get an extension through my parent's insurance company. But, my parents knew this place was not helping me. They actually listened. After the hospital, I did not get better right away but was able to find some alternative types of therapy that actually started to help a little. These mental hospital experiences gave me a lifetime mistrust of doctors and helping professionals in general. At 16, I could see that the so-called treatment I was getting was really not based on who I was and offered me little in healing my underlying issues.
When I was 19, my foot was ruined by a podiatrist who insisted I needed bunion surgery when I had little pain, just some bunion deformity. For many years after the surgery, I struggled with pain. I could no longer run and it was difficult to cross country ski.(2 things that I had loved for years) As the years went on, I became unable to dance, another love of mine. Finally, I was told that the initial surgeon set the bone wrong. 20 years later, I had another bunion surgery to re-set the bone with the promise it would take away my chronic pain. It didn't work. I was told recently that having 2 surgeries on that joint have actually exacerbated pain in my other toe joints. When my other big toe gradually became extremely painful, I was told by a doctor to wear Birkenstocks for a year and it would cure the pain. Two years later, I was told the joint was so deteriorated by arthritis that the only option was joint fusion.(apparently, Birkenstocks didn't work-surprise!) The interesting part about my foot story is the first doctor was most likely motivated by the money he would get for an unnecessary surgery and did not look at trying non-surgical options first; whereas, the second doctor did not listen at all to how much pain I was in but instead gave me cursory advice in his quick visit before moving on to his next patient.
Perhaps the most frustrating recent experience with doctors has been my experience with medical advocacy with a close loved one and my dad. In my dads case, I repeatedly told his doctor that his medication was causing agitation and the doctor basically ignored my concerns. This medication was known to have this type of side effect in the elderly, but she dismissed me repeatedly. In my loved one's case, I see doctor's leap to crazy conclusions about her condition based on tiny parts of things she says. (I won't go into detail, but I will say it is laughably ludicrous) They continue to look at symptoms instead of taking a careful and thoughtful history to determine the best course of action. Perhaps most importantly, I see them continue to throw meds at her with often less than 15 minutes spent talking with her. These medications have had devastating effects on her life and may have done more harm than good. There are still no answers for this loved one and the last visit with a so-called specialist was one of the most demeaning and patronizing appointments I have ever witnessed. In both cases, I have seen doctors baffled by conditions that are not easily 'fit' in a box with no quick fix in sight. This bafflement, I believe, creates a bit of hostility towards a patient that does not respond well to traditional interventions. Instead of being open to non-medication interventions in both cases, doctors just throw up their hands and keep falling back on the same old prescription playbook that clearly is not working.
And finally, my experience working with people with disabilities punctuates my experiences with the medical system with heart wrenching tragedy. Countless clients have struggled with chronic conditions, with very little compassion and great frustration when quick fix treatments don't work. With certain insurance, like Medicaid, clients were not even able to get second opinions because of the lack of providers that take Medicaid. I can think of at least 2 clients who are dead because the symptoms they reported to doctors were not taken seriously and they died of aggressive terminal illnesses. Clients fought for years with a healthcare system just to be heard, just to get some kind of treatment that was meaningful. Some died, some deteriorated and some walked around with an extreme sense of grief and hopelessness feeling like there were no answers. These experiences are not unique and many with disabling conditions are left feeling powerless in a system that is supposed to be designed to help them.
Our fee for service health care system has made health care a business where doctors are paid by treatment, not outcome. Doctors are conditioned by insurance companies to throw people into simple 'boxes' so they can be paid. Prescription drug companies have become like car salesman, creating pretty ads, aggressively courting doctors to promote and prescribe their drugs and passing advertising costs on to the patient by increasing prices for medication. With the costs associated with dealing with health insurance, primary doctors and specialists are often forced to book short appointments. There is little time to look at the 'whole' picture in this system. We fail people with chronic conditions in a world that is centered around billing, symptom treatment, and prescription drugs. Instead of looking at a person as someone with a complex health history who needs equally complex and thoughtful treatment, doctors are forced to look at separate symptoms, throw some meds at the person, and move on to the next patient. As referenced before, the results of all these things leave patients feeling completely powerless and often, sicker.
Incredibly, in this system there are still 'good' doctors that thoroughly examine and take careful histories of clients. In the past year, I was blessed to have one of those doctors for my youngest daughter. This experience surprised me, and it shouldn't have. This type of doctor should be the 'norm' not the exception in the medical field. In my personal experience as a care provider for loved ones and my own personal experience, I know the devastating feeling of waiting months for a doctor only to have them completely dismiss your issues. For some, this dismissal could be deadly as some get tired of fighting and give up. As patients and caregivers, we complain about these issues. We complain and complain, but then we run from the idea of 'socialized' medicine as if it is a demon. I honestly cannot a imagine a bigger devil than the fiasco that is our current healthcare model. We need to open our minds and demand better.
Sunday, November 16, 2014
Grief Lives
There are days like this, where grief wraps around me like a blanket of deep sorrow.
Where I get tired of being strong and slogging through life without my best friend. I get tired of finding the blessing in her loss, in appreciating what she gave me when she was here. I want her here now. I want to call her and pour my heart out to her and have her pour her heart out to me. I want my friend, my Heidi, and no-one else will do.
There are days likes this when grief lives, when I am tired of seeing loved one's descend into horrible progressive illnesses with seemingly no cure.
I am filled with rage that a horrible illness took away my dad's mind, before it finally took his body. I get so angry at a health care system that cannot cure my loved one. It kills me that every day for her is a struggle with no hope in sight. My rage at seeing a beautiful person robbed of hope and a future just fills me up with an abiding sense of hopelessness.
Sometimes the flip side of grief is rage. Rage at all that has been taken from me and my loved ones.
And it may sound like self pity, but sometimes I just have to sit with it. Because it comes unbidden and it seems there is nothing to do but wallow through it.
There are days like this when being strong seems exhausting. Where hiding in a hole seems like the best thing to do. But, somehow I just keep living; knowing that I am not alone. There are millions are out there dealing with similar feelings. But, somehow, this thought also fills my heart with sadness.
And in our culture, we rarely make space for grief. We go to a funeral, we move on. Someone has an illness that robs them of things, mentally or physically, and they are expected to just keep moving on, hiding the grief of all they are losing. Often, especially for the latter, there is no community supporting them. They suffer alone. People are frightened of reaching out and often, don't know what to say. So, they don't reach out and the grieving person is left to suffer alone. Little do people know, that sometimes all grieving people need is a listening ear, a hand to hold, or even practical support, like meals.
We learn to be stoic and not ask for help; to hide with our pain and put on a brave face. Then, we learn to numb out, knowing that it's not acceptable to express our pain. There are no circles of support and many flounder, adrift, and sometimes turn to substances to relieve that pain. We have few rituals to celebrate and suffer through our grief together. There is little acknowledgment that grief is a spiral and there is NEVER closure.
But, some days, things turn around. The rage abates. The grief lies there in the background, but not as prominent. And even on the hard days, there is beauty. There are small blessings, like the beauty of snow. The laughter of a suffering loved one. Even when the grief feels like it will swallow me whole, there is a small light that keeps me making small steps to honor those I have lost, or make change for those that are still alive and suffering. My grief will never die, but I do my best to feel it, while learning and growing from it.
I will not deny my heart the strong grief that sometimes engulfs it with sadness. My grief teaches me how strong I love. It teaches me how strong I can be, even when I don't want to be. I refuse to find 'closure' because, for those of us who have lost someone we love deeply, that grief never goes away, we just learn to live with it and appreciate what we have lost.
Knowing what I know about grief, I try my best to reach out to those who are grieving, even if when it's uncomfortable. Life is impermanent, unpredictable and sometimes tragic; which really sucks. But, sometimes I have to just find a little sweetness, a little light to grab on to and keep moving. Some days, there is no sweetness and little hope and all there is to do is feel it, knowing that the feeling may pass, even when the tragic loss does not change and the pain comes back without warning. The human heart is strong and sometimes all we can expect of any given day is to just keep living, embracing all the pain, the grief, the laughter, and the joy as they come,without expectation.
Where I get tired of being strong and slogging through life without my best friend. I get tired of finding the blessing in her loss, in appreciating what she gave me when she was here. I want her here now. I want to call her and pour my heart out to her and have her pour her heart out to me. I want my friend, my Heidi, and no-one else will do.
There are days likes this when grief lives, when I am tired of seeing loved one's descend into horrible progressive illnesses with seemingly no cure.
I am filled with rage that a horrible illness took away my dad's mind, before it finally took his body. I get so angry at a health care system that cannot cure my loved one. It kills me that every day for her is a struggle with no hope in sight. My rage at seeing a beautiful person robbed of hope and a future just fills me up with an abiding sense of hopelessness.
Sometimes the flip side of grief is rage. Rage at all that has been taken from me and my loved ones.
And it may sound like self pity, but sometimes I just have to sit with it. Because it comes unbidden and it seems there is nothing to do but wallow through it.
There are days like this when being strong seems exhausting. Where hiding in a hole seems like the best thing to do. But, somehow I just keep living; knowing that I am not alone. There are millions are out there dealing with similar feelings. But, somehow, this thought also fills my heart with sadness.
And in our culture, we rarely make space for grief. We go to a funeral, we move on. Someone has an illness that robs them of things, mentally or physically, and they are expected to just keep moving on, hiding the grief of all they are losing. Often, especially for the latter, there is no community supporting them. They suffer alone. People are frightened of reaching out and often, don't know what to say. So, they don't reach out and the grieving person is left to suffer alone. Little do people know, that sometimes all grieving people need is a listening ear, a hand to hold, or even practical support, like meals.
We learn to be stoic and not ask for help; to hide with our pain and put on a brave face. Then, we learn to numb out, knowing that it's not acceptable to express our pain. There are no circles of support and many flounder, adrift, and sometimes turn to substances to relieve that pain. We have few rituals to celebrate and suffer through our grief together. There is little acknowledgment that grief is a spiral and there is NEVER closure.
But, some days, things turn around. The rage abates. The grief lies there in the background, but not as prominent. And even on the hard days, there is beauty. There are small blessings, like the beauty of snow. The laughter of a suffering loved one. Even when the grief feels like it will swallow me whole, there is a small light that keeps me making small steps to honor those I have lost, or make change for those that are still alive and suffering. My grief will never die, but I do my best to feel it, while learning and growing from it.
I will not deny my heart the strong grief that sometimes engulfs it with sadness. My grief teaches me how strong I love. It teaches me how strong I can be, even when I don't want to be. I refuse to find 'closure' because, for those of us who have lost someone we love deeply, that grief never goes away, we just learn to live with it and appreciate what we have lost.
Knowing what I know about grief, I try my best to reach out to those who are grieving, even if when it's uncomfortable. Life is impermanent, unpredictable and sometimes tragic; which really sucks. But, sometimes I have to just find a little sweetness, a little light to grab on to and keep moving. Some days, there is no sweetness and little hope and all there is to do is feel it, knowing that the feeling may pass, even when the tragic loss does not change and the pain comes back without warning. The human heart is strong and sometimes all we can expect of any given day is to just keep living, embracing all the pain, the grief, the laughter, and the joy as they come,without expectation.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Let's Break Out of Our Collective Angst
It has been a few days since the Republicans took control of the Senate. Here in my home state of Colorado, a Democrat incumbent was unseated in a Senate race that was negative, focused on little of substance and left us all wishing for an end to it. As any good left wing liberal would, I felt very tortured and sad when I woke up yesterday morning. Additionally, I was a little confused.
My confusion comes with wondering why this country would choose to vote Republican when our economy is clearly turning around. My confusion comes with wondering why our country would vote for a party that wants to destroy woman's rights. My confusion comes with wondering why some think it's bad that scores of people now have insurance thanks to the Affordable Care Act, myself and my daughter included. I wonder why some would choose to a vote for a party with no clear agenda except to block whatever the President wants. The next day, the Republicans proved me right in coming out to talk about what they would 'repeal' instead of talking about their ideas for action to move our country forward instead of focusing on the past.
However, I cannot escape these unsettling feelings that I have had throughout the past 6 years. I wonder if these feelings are shared by others and perhaps played a part in low turnout among younger people and liberals on Election Day.
When the Affordable Care Act passed, I was actually quite upset. I posted a video of Dennis Kucinich railing against it. My feelings of upset were due to my own research on our health care system and health care systems in other countries. Our private health insurance model is the root of many of our health care problems in this country. Many other industrialized nations have found models that work well, while we have lagged far behind. The Affordable Care Act is still based on marketplace private insurance. Contrary to conservatives beliefs, it was far from a 'government' takeover of health care. It has yet to be seen how well it will work. But, I know that my belief is that it didn't go far enough and that Obama backed down from his previous stance that a single payer system was the right way to go. Other countries have done it with great success, but we still collude with private insurers who care more about money than the health of the American people.
Another key reason I walk around feeling disillusioned and angry at our President and his administration is the issue of drone strikes. We are literally terrorizing civilians in other countries who walk around anxious and afraid of what may be in the sky and potentially kill them at any moment. Drone strikes have increased dramatically during the Obama presidency. In his first 5 years of office, he authorized 390 drone strikes which may have reached some intended targets while also killing civilian men, women and children. As of January 2014, the death total reached 2400 with at least 273 reported civilian deaths and countless gravely injured. This covert warfare is unacceptable and leaves me feeling sick about our country. Further, no-one seems to talk about it or really care.
I think about our children. For years, we have seen the poor get poorer and the rich get richer. The middle class is shrinking. Middle class children struggle to afford higher education and sometimes forego it due to the prospect of massive debt. Our young adults struggle to pay rent and often end up at home because they can't afford to live on their own. We have a large population of young adults who see no hope of things turning around, who wander through life in quiet apathy and despair. No wonder marijuana has become even more popular. Anything to numb the pain of seeing your promising future vanish in front of your eyes.
Did any of these things prevent me from voting? No. However, these and other issues could have stopped other people who felt that both parties had regressive policies. Our current political climate isn't just about Obama.. Many of us, regardless of age or party affiliation walk around in an apathetic fog. We vote for the 'lesser of 2 evils'. Big money has far too much influence on our our political process and we complain, but nothing changes. I notice that many people don't think their vote matters any more. We see gridlock and fighting that cannot be blamed on either party. We see politicians that pander to big money donors on both sides of the aisle. We wonder if our vote matters because maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's all about the lobbyists and the corporations who control our Congress and our Presidents.
We are scared to speak out against the policies of people in our party like Obama. We see awful problems like drone strikes and turn a blind eye because 'the alternative', in our eyes, is worse. It almost reminds me of an abusive relationship where we stay with our abuser because we are controlled and don't believe we deserve better. Of course, we can't all get what we want politically, but why can't we stand up and change things that are just wrong in every sense of the word?? Do we care that we are tormenting civilians in other countries and killing children? Do we care that our health care system is run by big money private insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies who just look at their bottom line instead of the health of the people? Do we care that middle class young people can no longer afford college and often graduate in massive debt? Maybe we do care, but feel powerless to do anything about it and then become scared to speak out because we don't want to attack someone who is supposed to be on 'our' side.
The big puzzle is how to come together as people from whatever political persuasion and truly address the issues. Possibly, the vision starts at home. Perhaps we need to start with progressive politicians coming out in droves at the local and state levels to effect change and push the issues at home until this vision spreads to national levels. This vision needs to include affordable housing, living wages, affordable college education, affordable health care, and more. There are a few progressive state legislators in my county that care about these issues, listen to people, speak out for what is right and still manage to get re-elected. We need more like them and importantly, more like them running for national office.
We need to light a fire in our young people and inspire them to be active politically. We can only inspire them by stepping out of our own comfort zone and speaking out about issues that need to be talked about. Somehow, we need to figure out a way to see each other's common humanity and come together, regardless of party, to find real solutions for our future. At times, I walk around with low grade anger, feeling so overwhelmed and frustrated with the state of so many things in this country that I just want to go hide in a cave somewhere. All of us,on both sides of the aisle, need to step out of our collective angst. We need to stop accepting 'the lesser of the 2 evils' and demand more. We need to demand more than politicians whose actions are based on the influence of corporate America. Let's stand up and fight; if not for ourselves, for our children.
My confusion comes with wondering why this country would choose to vote Republican when our economy is clearly turning around. My confusion comes with wondering why our country would vote for a party that wants to destroy woman's rights. My confusion comes with wondering why some think it's bad that scores of people now have insurance thanks to the Affordable Care Act, myself and my daughter included. I wonder why some would choose to a vote for a party with no clear agenda except to block whatever the President wants. The next day, the Republicans proved me right in coming out to talk about what they would 'repeal' instead of talking about their ideas for action to move our country forward instead of focusing on the past.
However, I cannot escape these unsettling feelings that I have had throughout the past 6 years. I wonder if these feelings are shared by others and perhaps played a part in low turnout among younger people and liberals on Election Day.
When the Affordable Care Act passed, I was actually quite upset. I posted a video of Dennis Kucinich railing against it. My feelings of upset were due to my own research on our health care system and health care systems in other countries. Our private health insurance model is the root of many of our health care problems in this country. Many other industrialized nations have found models that work well, while we have lagged far behind. The Affordable Care Act is still based on marketplace private insurance. Contrary to conservatives beliefs, it was far from a 'government' takeover of health care. It has yet to be seen how well it will work. But, I know that my belief is that it didn't go far enough and that Obama backed down from his previous stance that a single payer system was the right way to go. Other countries have done it with great success, but we still collude with private insurers who care more about money than the health of the American people.
Another key reason I walk around feeling disillusioned and angry at our President and his administration is the issue of drone strikes. We are literally terrorizing civilians in other countries who walk around anxious and afraid of what may be in the sky and potentially kill them at any moment. Drone strikes have increased dramatically during the Obama presidency. In his first 5 years of office, he authorized 390 drone strikes which may have reached some intended targets while also killing civilian men, women and children. As of January 2014, the death total reached 2400 with at least 273 reported civilian deaths and countless gravely injured. This covert warfare is unacceptable and leaves me feeling sick about our country. Further, no-one seems to talk about it or really care.
I think about our children. For years, we have seen the poor get poorer and the rich get richer. The middle class is shrinking. Middle class children struggle to afford higher education and sometimes forego it due to the prospect of massive debt. Our young adults struggle to pay rent and often end up at home because they can't afford to live on their own. We have a large population of young adults who see no hope of things turning around, who wander through life in quiet apathy and despair. No wonder marijuana has become even more popular. Anything to numb the pain of seeing your promising future vanish in front of your eyes.
Did any of these things prevent me from voting? No. However, these and other issues could have stopped other people who felt that both parties had regressive policies. Our current political climate isn't just about Obama.. Many of us, regardless of age or party affiliation walk around in an apathetic fog. We vote for the 'lesser of 2 evils'. Big money has far too much influence on our our political process and we complain, but nothing changes. I notice that many people don't think their vote matters any more. We see gridlock and fighting that cannot be blamed on either party. We see politicians that pander to big money donors on both sides of the aisle. We wonder if our vote matters because maybe it doesn't. Maybe it's all about the lobbyists and the corporations who control our Congress and our Presidents.
We are scared to speak out against the policies of people in our party like Obama. We see awful problems like drone strikes and turn a blind eye because 'the alternative', in our eyes, is worse. It almost reminds me of an abusive relationship where we stay with our abuser because we are controlled and don't believe we deserve better. Of course, we can't all get what we want politically, but why can't we stand up and change things that are just wrong in every sense of the word?? Do we care that we are tormenting civilians in other countries and killing children? Do we care that our health care system is run by big money private insurance companies and pharmaceutical companies who just look at their bottom line instead of the health of the people? Do we care that middle class young people can no longer afford college and often graduate in massive debt? Maybe we do care, but feel powerless to do anything about it and then become scared to speak out because we don't want to attack someone who is supposed to be on 'our' side.
The big puzzle is how to come together as people from whatever political persuasion and truly address the issues. Possibly, the vision starts at home. Perhaps we need to start with progressive politicians coming out in droves at the local and state levels to effect change and push the issues at home until this vision spreads to national levels. This vision needs to include affordable housing, living wages, affordable college education, affordable health care, and more. There are a few progressive state legislators in my county that care about these issues, listen to people, speak out for what is right and still manage to get re-elected. We need more like them and importantly, more like them running for national office.
We need to light a fire in our young people and inspire them to be active politically. We can only inspire them by stepping out of our own comfort zone and speaking out about issues that need to be talked about. Somehow, we need to figure out a way to see each other's common humanity and come together, regardless of party, to find real solutions for our future. At times, I walk around with low grade anger, feeling so overwhelmed and frustrated with the state of so many things in this country that I just want to go hide in a cave somewhere. All of us,on both sides of the aisle, need to step out of our collective angst. We need to stop accepting 'the lesser of the 2 evils' and demand more. We need to demand more than politicians whose actions are based on the influence of corporate America. Let's stand up and fight; if not for ourselves, for our children.
Monday, November 3, 2014
For My Dad, It's Been Almost Two Years Since You Left Us
Two years ago today, I sat by your bedside daily as you lay dying. Due, in part to large doses of morphine, you were finally at peace. I reflected on the past 2 years of suffering. I reflected on your life. I reflected on all you gave me. Even though you were beyond verbal communication, I could still feel your love.
Two years later, I reflect back on those two years when your suffering was severe. I fought and fought with the doctor about a medication that I knew was making you more agitated. No-one would listen to me. In the last month before you died, they listened to me. And finally, you were calmer, less aggressive. No-one would listen to us about behavioral interventions that we thought would be helpful. It was the most helpless, hopeless feeling.
When you told me over and over to 'just shoot you', I grieved. I grieved for you as I watched your sharp mind deteriorate and your level of discomfort increase. I grieved that I could not end your suffering. On our way to a doctor's appointment, several months before you died, you came out of your dementia, as if you were waking from a bad dream. You asked me about your condition. You asked me about where you were living. And we talked. By the time we got to the doctor's office, you begged me to please just end your life. Back at your 'home', your dementia took over again. It ripped my heart apart. Perhaps it hurt even worse that I knew that your type of dementia gave you these moments of clarity that caused you even more torture.
And months later, when the end was near, I felt some relief that your suffering was almost over. Your grueling journey through the horrors of dementia was finally ending. Even though you were not the same 'dad' I knew before, it tore me apart to know that I was losing you. Because, even in your dementia, your humor and love were still there. You were not gone. Those few years were grueling, but, I am so grateful that I got to spend them with you and get a little more 'dad' time before you left this world.
Your life was not about your death. Your life was about the legacy you left thousands of the students that you touched throughout your career, especially those students who desperately needed someone to believe in them and respect them. Your life was about mentoring many teachers and coaches. Your life was about the gifts you gave your three children and your seven grandchildren. Your life was about time spent hunting and fishing. Your life was about your love of sports. Your life was about loyal friendships. Your life was about your politics, your humor, your mind, your love.
I am sorry that I did not live in a state where it was legal to end your suffering. I am sorry that I could not honor your wishes. I am sorry you had to go through something you railed against: the loss of your precious mind,the loss of your precious memory.
The last 6 years has given me a PhD on grief. First, the loss of my beloved Heidi A., so suddenly and unexpectedly, and then you, my beloved dad. With you, it was a long slow process of seeing you fade away in front of my eyes. I cherish the time we spent together during this process and yet, I grieve that you had to go through it. I grieve that we live in a country ill equipped to deal with dementia; that relies on pharmaceutical interventions that often harm people. I grieve that I could not keep you here at home with me. I grieve the fact that this horrible ravaging illness exists. I grieve the fact that we live in a culture that does not embrace grief. Where we are supposed to be 'done' with it after the funeral.
What I learned as a result of these losses is that life is impermanent and sometimes, tragic. That it can throw some of the most heartless horrible heartwrenching things our way. I learned that I have to keep trudging forward even when my heart feels ripped to shreds. I learned to cherish those that are still here, while honoring the memory of those I lost. And, Dad, what I learned most, is to be filled with gratitude for what my 'lost ones' gave me. You gave me life, you gave me love, you gave me ongoing support on every level. Even in your death, you are not gone. You live on in my heart and in the lives of all you touched. I love you and miss you all the time.
Two years later, I reflect back on those two years when your suffering was severe. I fought and fought with the doctor about a medication that I knew was making you more agitated. No-one would listen to me. In the last month before you died, they listened to me. And finally, you were calmer, less aggressive. No-one would listen to us about behavioral interventions that we thought would be helpful. It was the most helpless, hopeless feeling.
When you told me over and over to 'just shoot you', I grieved. I grieved for you as I watched your sharp mind deteriorate and your level of discomfort increase. I grieved that I could not end your suffering. On our way to a doctor's appointment, several months before you died, you came out of your dementia, as if you were waking from a bad dream. You asked me about your condition. You asked me about where you were living. And we talked. By the time we got to the doctor's office, you begged me to please just end your life. Back at your 'home', your dementia took over again. It ripped my heart apart. Perhaps it hurt even worse that I knew that your type of dementia gave you these moments of clarity that caused you even more torture.
And months later, when the end was near, I felt some relief that your suffering was almost over. Your grueling journey through the horrors of dementia was finally ending. Even though you were not the same 'dad' I knew before, it tore me apart to know that I was losing you. Because, even in your dementia, your humor and love were still there. You were not gone. Those few years were grueling, but, I am so grateful that I got to spend them with you and get a little more 'dad' time before you left this world.
Your life was not about your death. Your life was about the legacy you left thousands of the students that you touched throughout your career, especially those students who desperately needed someone to believe in them and respect them. Your life was about mentoring many teachers and coaches. Your life was about the gifts you gave your three children and your seven grandchildren. Your life was about time spent hunting and fishing. Your life was about your love of sports. Your life was about loyal friendships. Your life was about your politics, your humor, your mind, your love.
I am sorry that I did not live in a state where it was legal to end your suffering. I am sorry that I could not honor your wishes. I am sorry you had to go through something you railed against: the loss of your precious mind,the loss of your precious memory.
The last 6 years has given me a PhD on grief. First, the loss of my beloved Heidi A., so suddenly and unexpectedly, and then you, my beloved dad. With you, it was a long slow process of seeing you fade away in front of my eyes. I cherish the time we spent together during this process and yet, I grieve that you had to go through it. I grieve that we live in a country ill equipped to deal with dementia; that relies on pharmaceutical interventions that often harm people. I grieve that I could not keep you here at home with me. I grieve the fact that this horrible ravaging illness exists. I grieve the fact that we live in a culture that does not embrace grief. Where we are supposed to be 'done' with it after the funeral.
What I learned as a result of these losses is that life is impermanent and sometimes, tragic. That it can throw some of the most heartless horrible heartwrenching things our way. I learned that I have to keep trudging forward even when my heart feels ripped to shreds. I learned to cherish those that are still here, while honoring the memory of those I lost. And, Dad, what I learned most, is to be filled with gratitude for what my 'lost ones' gave me. You gave me life, you gave me love, you gave me ongoing support on every level. Even in your death, you are not gone. You live on in my heart and in the lives of all you touched. I love you and miss you all the time.
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