Adventures in Health Care-Part 3

The door opened and a young man in a white smock entered the room.  He had a folder of papers in his right hand.  Papers that contained the results of Steven’s biopsies.

We started this odyssey in September when son Steven went for a general physical from his newly assigned primary care doc.  “I’ve got this thing on my back.  It gets irritated by my guitar strap.  And sometimes it bleeds.”  Off to the dermatologist.  “Hmmm, we should remove that mole and have it biopsied.”  It came back “melanoma.”  An advanced one, stage 4.  The internet screamed the dire possibilities.

Steven gets his health care through the Healthy San Francisco  program.  A program for the uninsured.  Only for those who live in San Francisco.  All services to be provided in San Francisco through an array of clinics.  Get sick in Oakland and you’re out of  luck. The bulk of hospital services are provided by San Francisco General Hospital, a county facility.  Visions of Martin Luther King Hospital flashed through my head.  An ER without compassion.  Patients left for dead.  Or worse.

Sweetie and I accompanied Steven to the hospital in mid-October to meet the surgeon who would, we hoped, remove all trace of the invader melanoma.  We found the last space at the top of a six-story parking structure, stowed the car and crossed 23rd street to the main hospital building.  Maybe forty people in line at the first floor pharmacy window.  Waiting for their free meds.  Not a good sign.  We wandered about the third floor searching for the registration desk.  Found it and took our seats in the waiting room.  The walls were lined with notices in multiple languages.  The only one I could read offered the services of a wide array of interpreters.  A good sign.

“Steven Rothenberg” the voice shouted from somewhere down the hall.  Afraid of immediate loss of our appointment if we didn’t respond instantly, we all leaped to our feet and were greeted by a small, friendly faced female.  “Come with me.”  We obeyed.  And we waited in one of those small, windowless examining rooms that after ten minutes makes you believe that you have been forgotten…forever.  But we weren’t.

Dr. Horn became our new, best friend.  A surgeon with a terrific bedside manner.  An oxymoron, but true.  He patiently explained what needed to be done.  Not displaying the pressure of a large patient load, he slowly answered my questions about his background and experience.  A salaried physician on the teaching staff at UCSF.  “I seem to get all the melanoma patients.”  A very good sign.  “You’re lucky”, a nurse told us after Dr. Horn left the room.  “He’s a wonderful surgeon.”  A very good sign.

The surgery wouldn’t be performed for several weeks.  Discomforting because of the popular understanding of the rapid spreading nature of the evil melanoma.  Discomforting because of the time we would have to wait, the uncertainty and the fears.

We returned in early November for the surgery.  Arrived at SF General at 7am.  No parking problems.  Steven checked in and had his body autographed with Sharpie pens delineating the surgery sites.  More suspicious moles were to be removed in addition to the original offender.  Then off on the shuttle bus to UCSF hospital for a nuclear tracer that would identify the lymph nodes that were also to be removed and inspected.  We caught the shuttle back to SF General.  Steven was ushered into the ambulatory surgery suite at noon for the procedures, including general anesthesia, that were scheduled for 1:30.

Five hours had passed since our early morning arrival.  We took our seats in the windowless waiting area.  A TV set hoisted out of reach of adjustment played an array of stuff that I would normally have not watched other than under the threat of bodily harm.  By 4pm I had read all of the magazines we had shlepped with us and half of a 400 page, small print book.  A friendly nurse appeared.  “Would you like to come into the ambulatory suite to see your son?”  Well can you beat that, I thought.  Not bad.  Only 4pm and they’re done.

Only one person at a time is allowed in the surgery suite.  I elected myself as the first visitor while Sweetie waited her turn.  As we walked to the door I asked “How is he doing?”  Nurse Ratched responded oddly.  “He’s not a happy man.”  I entered and found Steven, blue hair bonnet in place, lying on a gurney in the hallway.  “Well you look pretty good after a bout of general anesthesia and multiple stab wounds.”  He was, indeed, not happy.  “I’ve been laying on this gurney for four hours.  I haven’t seen a knife yet.”   I left and relinquished the pole position to his mother.

Five hours later he was recovering from the stab wounds inflicted by Dr. Horn and the twenty-four metal staples that now held his wounds in place.  The good doctor had removed a large chunk of flesh surrounding the melanoma, an assortment of lymph nodes and two more suspicious moles.  Fresh as a daisy at 9pm, Dr. Horn displayed a positive attitude and announced that things had gone well.  “We should get the biopsy results in about five days.”  Following an hour in recovery, we bundled Steven into the car and got home around midnight.  It was a long day.  Longer days and weeks were around the corner.

Three days later, after the usual two-hour wait, we watched Dr. Horn remove the dressing that covered the staples.  “No results yet.”  Five days passed.  Then two weeks.  Then four weeks.  An assortment of horror stories passed through our heads.  We spoke almost daily with Steven.  His disposition was a lot better than ours.  Last Wednesday we loaded ourselves into the car, drove to San Francisco and anxiously awaited the scheduled Thursday visit with Dr. Horn.

Usual routine.  Drive to SF General, find one of the last parking spaces, enter the main hospital building, and wave to our new druggie friends in line at the meds window.  Plunk ourselves down in the waiting room three minutes before our 10:45 appointment.  At 1pm we were still on the wait list.  Kindly nurse Ratched appeared.  “Follow me.”  You bet.

Ila took the little wheeled backless stool normally reserved for a doctor.  After 15 minutes of sitting stoically, she began to wheel about the room.  After 20 minutes she wheeled to the open door of the exam room, stuck her cute head into the hall, and spotted Dr. Horn as he moved from room to room.  ”Yoo hoo, we’re here Dr. Horn.”  This movie replayed itself every five minutes.  Until the young man in the white smock with a sheaf of papers entered the room.  The papers announcing the biopsy results.

What seemed like an hour passed while Doctor-To-Be Alekko, a fine-looking boy, told us that he was a third year medical student at UCSF.  Finishing his resume and displaying a yet to be developed bedside manner, he mechanically intoned,  “Steven is fine.  The old melanoma is gone and the margins are clear.”  He went on.  “No evidence of any cancer in the lymph nodes.”  And, blessedly, “The other moles were non-cancerous.”  We showered our relief and gratitude on him.  Somewhat embarrassed, Doctor-To-Be Alekko said “Dr. Horn will be here soon.”  Alekko left and Ila resumed her imitation of a roller derby queen.

Dr. Horn arrived and repeated the biopsy results, but in a way that made you feel that he really believed them, that they weren’t just words on a piece of paper.  “By the way”, he said.   ”The reason they took so long was that one of the moles was a bit of an enigma.  We had to send it to the University for another opinion.”  I thought “they must have turned it into a case study for the entire medical school, written a book, and made it into a movie.”

We thanked Dr. Horn for his work and, I hope, made his day.  A funny feeling was shared by the three of us as we left the hospital, crossed to the parking lot, found the car and drove home.  No elation.  Just sort of like air exiting a balloon.  It reminded me of when I watched the election results and the moment that Obama was declared the winner.  After what seemed like years of hoping, we had been rewarded.  Thankful for a wonderful result but no excitement.  Happy that things had turned out as we hoped they would, but no dancing in the streets.  A feeling of comfort after a long journey.

War is hell!

A week ago Sweetie and I shlepped downtown for the 4:30 movie at the Ojai Playhouse.  I love going to the Playhouse.  Since its extensive renovation, my only complaint is that some guy usually opens the men’s room door into my back as I stand in front of the urinal.  Progress sometimes occurs in small steps.

The movie, Afghan Star, chronicled the adventures of five everyday Afghans as they competed for the title “best new singer in Afghanistan.”  Three young men and two young, vibrant women made it to the finals, having been winnowed from hundreds of sometimes comical, sometimes pathetic contestants.  A home-grown TV station sponsored the contest. Votes were cast at each stage of the competition by anyone with a cellphone and a desire to be counted.

The entire country seemed to be caught up in the excitement.  Befitting the political mess in Afghanistan, there was ample opportunity to cajole, threaten and cheat in order to make your favorite singer a winner.  People were glued to TV sets, placards were everywhere, handouts extolling your favorite singer’s virtues littered the landscape.  It was exciting, meaningful, happy.

The camera also captured the sorry state of the country, focusing on bullet holes in what once were attractive buildings, dirty street urchins making a living by recharging car batteries used to power TV sets equipped with home-made antennas and, sadly, the continuing less-than-second-class status of women.  Death seemed to be lurking around every corner.

Yet there was a certain hope that permeated the film.  A hope that things could be different, better.  Flashing back to 1980, a video of an Afghan dance hall highlighted men and women in daring western dress, swinging to rock music, smoking, drinking and looking as happy as our kids did.  Much has changed since then.

I watched and found myself thinking about the war and our part in it.  I thought back to my tirades about the war in Iraq.  How we should have never been there.  How we needed to get out now.  How our then-president had cheated us, let us down, been out of touch with reality.  How I was elated when Obama took over.  How I hoped that we’d all come home.  How it wasn’t our war.  How I hadn’t given much thought to his belief that it was Afghanistan where we were really needed.

Now it’s Obama’s turn in the box and I’m torn.  Why do we need to be there?  The place is a hell hole.  The government is run by crooks.  The country is divided among egotistical warlords.  Religion is taking its toll on human freedoms.  The Taliban are everywhere.  Money needed here at home is being pissed away without meaningful improvement in Afghan lives.  And, worst of all, our kids are being killed along with the poor, unfortunate Afghans.

But then there’s the hope, the possibility of an Afghan Star.

Health care reform imperils gun ownership!

It wasn’t enough that I had to deal with the Snow Queen, Joe the Plumber, Rush Limbaugh and other assorted microminds.  Now the gun owners have stepped up to the plate.

The Gun Owners of America  published a letter to its 300,000 members warning them that they stand to lose the right to bear arms if Harry Reid has his way with health care reform.  The organization, a sort of Three Stooges version of the NRA, is located in Virginia and boasts as its president, former California state senator H.L. (Bill) Richardson.  Here’s Bill’s website photo demonstrating the proper technique for suffocating pets…

 

Bill, writing on the president’s page, voices his infatuation with South Carolina Senator Jim DeMint.  You remember Jim.  He’s the guy who said…If we’re able to stop Obama on [health care reform], it will be his Waterloo. It will break him…

The Gun Guys, as noted in a Washington Examiner article, warn their members that the legislation will…most likely dump your gun-related health data into a government database. … This includes any firearms-related information your doctor has gleaned or any determination of post traumatic stress disorder or something similar, that can preclude you from owning firearms.

Going on, the Examiner reports that the group warns…that new “wellness and prevention” programs that would permit employers to offer employees lower premiums for healthier lifestyles do  not include anything that would prohibit “rabidly anti-gun Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius from decreeing that ‘no guns’ is somehow healthier.”

The Gunners’ website also provides a sample letter that it asks members to send to the thirty-nine Republicans who voted against the bill.   One paragraph offers the following…the Senate legislation would mandate that doctors provide ‘gun-related health data’ to a government database…

But hope is eternal.  The website offers it to their besieged members by announcing…Can you spell R-E-C-A-L-L?  GOA is looking into which states are the best targets for recalls — and you can be sure that we will be pursuing this option aggressively, exposing the Senators who sold their vote.

I realize that truth is an unnecessary, to be avoided at all costs, component of the Gunner’s website.  But a few things should be mentioned.

First, although it probably would be an excellent idea, there is no provision for a government-run, unified medical records database in the current legislation.

Second, there are no guidelines for what constitutes a healthy lifestyle.  But, if I were king, I’d give extra credit to those homes without guns.

Finally, you can’t recall a U.S. Senator.  It would violate the Constitution.  But then, unless we’re talking about gun ownership, who reads the Constitution?

Other than that the Gun Guys had it pretty straight, including President Bill’s demo of pet suffocation, proving once again that we can get along quite nicely without guns.

It’s time.

OK, surprise, I didn’t read the Snow Queen’s book.  But I did pass it on the sale table at Costco last week while I was grazing on the food kiosk freebies.  So I guess I can call myself an expert.  Everyone else does.  But enough about the Wasilla Killa.  More important things are competing for my attention.

Like watching Meet the Press Sunday when Joe Lieberman answered David Gregory’s question “Tell me Joe, why don’t you support the public option?”  Without hesitation, Joe responded “It will add to the deficit, increase taxes and lead to a government takeover of health care.”  The camera panned to Republican Senator Kay Bailey Hutchison who smiled broadly,  just like I did years ago when my son Steven hit a home run in Little League.  Sitting next to Kay, Senator Dianne Feinstein looked like my mother did when I nearly burned down the house next door.  That Joe, what a kick.

I clicked to Face the Nation just in time to see Mitch McConnell, the Republican minority leader,  point to a stool supporting the two foot high, fifteen pound health care reform bill and announce with a straight face “this will increase the deficit and put an end to free choice in health care.”  Omitting any mention of dead grandmothers or the hernia he developed lifting the bill, he mercifully left the stage.

Ignoring the non-partisan Congressional Budget Office’s finding that the bill would actually reduce the deficit, Mitch chose to take the opposite point of view.  That’s why our kids tell fibs, grow up to tell even bigger fibs and think it’s just the American way.  When Uncle Mitch, sworn to uphold the Constitution, can do it why can’t they?

But, again, there are more important things in life.  The Music Festival ran its annual Holiday Home Look-in last weekend.  Lots of women paid good bucks to walk through houses, browse through the owners’ most intimate possessions, and ooh and ahh.  I say “women” because of my intimate knowledge of the visitors.  I drove one of the shuttle busses that ferried folks to the homes.  My scientific survey found that 90% of the riders were females.  The only males on the bus looked like they’d rather be somewhere else, like a dark, smelly bar.  I fully sympathized.  But it was for a good cause.  The income supports the festival, the local economy, and public school music programs.  Plus it gives me something to do.

Driving home was a joy.  Beautiful, sunny and warm.  A reminder of why people live in California, even if it’s a financial basket case.  With the radio tuned to NPR, I wound up the Dennison Grade, passed the bucolic Black Mountain Ranch and wondered why all the cows seemed to be facing south.  Then I heard a cut from a Larry King show.

Joe the Plumber (who really isn’t a plumber) offered his insightful analysis of the Snow Queen’s masterpiece.  “So Joe, you liked the book?”  Joe, who didn’t read the book either, thought it was another good reason why the queen would make an excellent president.   ”We’ve had enough smart experts in Washington trying to solve our problems.  It’s time we tried something different.”  Having failed the short-term memory test, I figured he also wouldn’t know why all the cows were facing south.

Yes, sure.  The reform bill is a mess.  We ought to fix the way we deliver care before we add 40 million more people to it.  We shouldn’t add a dime to the federal deficit.  We shouldn’t raise taxes when folks are out of work and the economy is on life support.  We shouldn’t restrict a person’s right to receive the care they want when they want it.  We shouldn’t take away any Medicare benefits from those who are used to getting them.  We shouldn’t…

But we should.  To wait is unacceptable.  To do nothing is unconscionable.

David goes to Ahjumawi

Son David is wealthy enough to shlep to a world class fishing experience, but not rich enough to have his own weblog.  So, here’s the story about his trip to Ahjumawi.

Ahjumawi

With love,

Dad

Health care reform…where are you?

I haven’t felt much like writing lately.  Some loved ones have been suffering and my attention has been focused on them.  I stare at my Samsung monitor, try to get up the energy to post a new blog, and then retreat to e-mail, a few worn out websites and solitaire.  Oh, and a glass or two of wine helps to pass the time.

My exercise routine has suffered too.  Half-heartedly I row and sometimes hop onto the treadmill.  Rowing requires two hands.  Treadmilling two feet.  The choices on early morning TV are limited and repetitive.  I often wonder how many times Direct TV can repeat a boring Sandra Bullock movie without a general public uprising.  But treadmilling leaves my hands free to click in the hope of finding something new and interesting.  Alas, my fingers tire before I can locate the holy grail.

CNN is no better.  Every positive event is qualified with a “but”.  Every negative event is highlighted, dissected and accompanied by predictions of more gloomy days to come.  Now I know how Dubya felt.  Hey, but that’s show biz.  This morning was no exception.

The perfectly coiffed Heidi Collins was doing her best to put a negative spin on the better-than-expected first-time jobless claims report.  Repeating the usual “yes, but can it continue?” caveat, she scanned the horizon for some depressing health care reform news.  Brianna Keilar appeared on the screen, standing outside the Capitol where left-over Tea Partyers were protesting the looming destruction of our perfect health care system.  “There are folks here who want to be heard.  They’re not happy.”   No kidding.   Brianna looked like a windblown high school cheerleader as she tried her best to top Heidi’s negativism.  But her heart wasn’t in it.  The Partyers were also uncharacteristically muted as evidenced by their tepid rants of “your granny is dead meat” and other debunked urban myths.

Moving to the current meat of the matter, Heidi asked Brianna “but do the Democrats have enough votes?” Obviously without a clue, Brianna focused on whether taxpayer dollars would pay for abortions.  This, the latest straw man standing between us and a revamped health care system.  I turned to Sandra Bullock for revitalization.

Apparently there are not yet enough good reasons to push this thing through Congress.  Alabama’s Senator Shelby, who looks suspiciously like Shelley Berman, had this warning for those who dare to tinker with the status quo.  President Obama’s plans amount to “the first step in destroying the best health care system the world has ever known.”  Really?

Putting aside the fact that 40 or 50 million of us can’t even participate in our current perfect system, the good Senator chooses to forget the essentials.  Forgets that we spend lots more for care that produces lots less.  But don’t just take my word for it.  Wade through an August Robert Wood Johnson report  entitled How Does the Quality of U.S. Health Care Compare Internationally.  Knowing full well that you won’t, here are the parts I liked.

—Among 19 countries included in a recent study of amenable mortality, the United States had the highest rate of deaths from conditions that could have been prevented or treated successfully. 

 —In the light of the fact that the United States spends twice as much per person on health care as its peers, those who question the value for money obtained in U.S. health expenditures are on a firm footing. 

 —In short, health reform can be seen as an opportunity to systematically improve quality of care, rather than as a threat to existing levels of quality.

So what’s the hold-up?  There are more Democrats in Congress than fleas on Paul’s dog, Chumba.  We threw the other guys out because they lacked any constructive ideas other than stopping Bill and Jim from getting married, and executing first-time flag burners.  We took the country back.   We said “We can do it.”

Where’s Sandra Bullock when you need her?

Olympia, you’re my hero

Olympia Snowe is my new hero.  Even if she is a Republican.  What a lady.  Looks like a normal human being.  Unpretentious, might even be a great Peace Corps candidate.  Or run a coffee shop like Java and Joe.  Bet she drives other Senate Finance Committee Republicans like Chuck Grassley and Jon Kyl up the wall.

You remember Senator Kyl, the second highest ranking Republican in the Senate.  A paragon of equal rights, his Phoenix office was besieged on October 6 by hordes of women who highlighted his sexist attitudes.  Like the comment he made about maternity coverage during a Finance Committee discussion. “I don’t need maternity care.”  To which Senator Debbie Stabenow responded “Maybe not, but your mother probably did.”

And you know Chuck Grassley.  He’s the guy who warned folks attending one of his August town hall meetings that the government would “pull the plug on grandma.”

On Monday Chuck and Olympia were sharing a bagel in the Senate dining room and talking about the upcoming vote on the Committee’s health care reform proposal. It was a serious discussion as evidenced by Chuck’s picking up the tab for the bagel…including double cream cheese.

Chuck:  Ya know, Oly, you gotta stick with us on this one.  We’re depending on you.  We’re all gonna blow it off and sink the Obama ship of state.

Oly:  But Chuck, we gotta do something to fix this health care mess.  How long can we ignore the public?

Chuck:  Ignore?  Why, after I told them granny was dead on arrival, and Jon promised them a million Mexicans crossing the border for liposuction, that bill is a goner.

Oly:  But Chuck, you know none of that is true.

Chuck:  That’s politics.

Oly:  But Chuck, how long can we keep being in hock to the insurance companies and the druggies?  Surely, we’ve milked that one for all it’s worth.

Chuck:  Wait til you see the report that the insurance guys bought from Price Waterhouse.  It says that everyone’s premiums will double because they have to cover those deadbeats who don’t have their overpriced insurance.

Oly:  But, Chuck, what does Price Waterhouse know about health care?  And didn’t the Congressional Budget Office say the bill would actually reduce the cost of care?

Chuck:  Everyone trusts Price Waterhouse.  They do that Oscars crap.  Nobody knows or trusts the CBO guys.  They all look like Mr. Peepers.

Oly:  But Chuck, won’t everybody realize that if the insurance guys say they can’t hack it without doubling everyone’s premiums, that we might as well jump right into a single payor system that really can control costs?

Chuck:  Are you kidding?  If they’ll believe the story about granny and the Mexicans, they’ll never figure this one out.  At least not until I’m on full pension with terrific health benefits.

Oly:  But Chuck, I was always taught to be honest and do what’s in the best interests of the country and my constituents.

Chuck:  Seems pretty restrictive.

Oly:  Well Chuck.  This has been really informative.  I think I know what to do.

Chuck:  Atta girl, Oly.  We knew we could count on you.

Oly:  Thanks for the bagel.  By the way, you shoulda let me pay for my half.

And the Advantage goes to…

Yesterday was Yom Kippur.  The day of atonement.  Most of it was spent in our local Ojai synagogue, enumerating my sins, asking forgiveness, fasting, and thinking about food.  My pledge to be less critical, think before I speak, and to remember the guy without feet before I complain about my tight shoes lasted about twenty minutes following the close of services at sundown.

My resolutions were further tested this afternoon when I visited the Times website and saw this screaming banner…Senate Panel Rejects Pair of Public Options in Health Plan.

The article made a special note that the Finance Committee had just completed a three day weekend because of Yom Kippur.  With the exception of Chuck Shumer and Ron Wyden, my presumption is that 21 of the 23 committee members were somewhere else on Monday, other than in shul.

Those 21 folks were spared nine hours of exposure to sin talk, making the world a better place and being my brother’s keeper.  All without the benefit of food and water.  Please, no offense to my Christian brethren is intended.

So, perhaps they should be excused for trampling the only thing that will keep insurance moguls from making an even bigger fortune at taxpayer expense…while simultaneously failing to control the ever-spiraling cost of health care.

Not to be left out of the party, our congressman, Elton Gallegly, posted an article in today’s Ventura Star.  Headlined Pelosi’s Healthcare Plan Cuts Medicare ,  Elton devotes a quarter page to extolling the benefits of the Medicare Advantage program and the crisis that will befall the elderly if the subsidies provided to it by us taxpayers are reduced.  A pretty interesting position for a guy who voted against the expansion of the State Childrens Health Program, protected pharmaceutical companies by rejecting the government’s request to negotiate Medicare drug prices, and voted against repealing the restrictions on stem cell research.

What is Medicare Advantage?  And to whose advantage is it?

—It’s a program designed by Congress to help reduce the cost of care to the elderly.  It provides benefits, like reduced co-pays, not offered under the standard Medicare program.  Other benefits vary by plan and can include things like dental care and drug benefits.

—All Advantage plans are run by private companies, e.g. Aetna, Humana, Cigna.  They are generally paid a fixed monthly payment for each Medicare enrollee.

—Services under these plans are usually offered through a limited panel of providers, ala PPOs and HMOs but can also include Private Fee for Service.

—About 20% of Medicare enrollees are in Advantage plans.

—There is evidence that the plans have fewer hospital admissions and shorter lengths of stay.

—Currently, Advantage costs us taxpayers 14% more than standard Medicare.  About $10 billion per year.  So much for cost savings.

So to whose advantage are such plans?  Well, they provide better benefits than standard Medicare, so they can be of advantage to us old folks.  And they are profitable for the insurance companies, so they like ‘em too.

So who’s to complain?  For one thing, me.  I pay for those sweetened benefits and insurance company profits through my contributions to the Medicare Trust Fund.  A fund that is about to go belly up without some kind of action.  Any kind of special treatment given to one class of beneficiaries eats into what’s available to me.  Me, one of the other 80% of old folks not enrolled in Advantage programs.

Now I don’t begrudge folks from picking one of those Advantage plans.  What I do object to is paying more for their choice.  And that’s what the argument is all about.  Max and his Finance Committee cronies, along with Nancy and her minions, want to reduce the special treatment given to Advantage folks in order to level the playing field and help pay for enrolling the other 50 million folks in this country who have zero health care coverage.

So why does Elton write these dumb, misleading articles?  Why does he predict that a holocaust will befall Advantage members and then conveniently ignore the other 80% of us…not to speak of the other 50 million have-nots.   First, he didn’t fast yesterday.  But more importantly, it’s another way of raising the hackles of old folks.  Folks who can go to tea parties and help defeat any kind of meaningful health care reform.  Folks who can help maintain the status quo and enrich the insurance companies.  Folks who care more about what they’ve got instead of what others don’t.

Ok, so I complained.  I promise to do better next year.

Come to my Tea Party

‘But I don’t want to go among mad people,’ said Alice. ‘Oh, you can’t help that,’ said the cat. ‘We’re all mad here.’

Sean, Bill, and Rush continue to ply their trade, hoping to grow their fan bases and their bank accounts, with only a passing interest in tearing down the Obama administration.  On the other hand, Fox’s Glenn Beck seems religiously intent on rallying the masses on a crusade to take back the country from that black guy and his Democratic supporters.

On Friday I was clicking through the NY Times website and stumbled on David Herszenhorn’s article  recapping the more than 500 amendments submitted to the Baucus health care reform bill.  I scrolled down to the readers’ comments and found this as the very first…

Health care is fine.  Leave it alone.  I hate all Democrats.  They should all die.

And the maniac even signed it.  A star is born.

The President of the United States lies.  The country is controlled by Socialists and Communists.  White people are a disadvantaged majority.  Bring your guns to Tea Parties and political forums.  Children shouldn’t be exposed to the President’s politically biased call to stay in school and study hard.  Obama is a Fascist.  Obama is a Communist.  Obama is an Indonesian Muslim.  Obama is an illegal alien from Hawaii.

I admit to sharing the angst of those who suffer.  I share their need to lash out and express themselves from street corners and dark alleys.  After all, I’ve been there too.

I was there when their President cut $1.3 trillion in taxes — and gave nearly all of it to people who didn’t need it.  Then turned an inherited surplus into a deficit.

I was there when Wall Street was de-regulated,  when former Senator Phil Gramm of Texas rewrote the securities laws, created unintelligible financing fantasies, and gave home loans to people who didn’t have a pot to piss in. Then rewarded us with Bernie Madoff, a zillion foreclosures, and banks begging for bailouts.

I was there when their President said let’s go to Iraq.  That’s where the weapons of mass destruction are.  And don’t worry about the cost in lives and dollars.  It’s worth it.

I was there when their President violated our rights of privacy and penciled out those laws that he didn’t feel like following.

I was there when their President appointed Justices Alito and Roberts.  Two men who, like Thomas and Scalia, are constitutionally insulated from caring about the little guy and overly-protective of corporations.

I was there when their President shackled stem cell research and let Granny die.

Yes, I was there.  And I’m sure that the folks who are Tea Partying today were there too when their President was in charge.  Surely, they must have been ranting about spending too much, giving Wall Street hell, and chastising their elected representatives for ignoring the will of the people.  Weren’t they?

I’m sure their elected representatives got up in Congress and called their President a liar.  Didn’t they?

My President.  Their President.  Our President.

Tea anyone?

Clever guy, that Baucus

I was rowing this morning and watching CNN.  No, not at Lake Casitas.  On my Concept-2 machine while the sun was coming up.  Been doing that for a couple of years and I can see definite improvement in the callus development on my palms.

There was Max Baucus walking down the aisle in the Senate office building being pursued by reporters looking for blood.  CNN’s Briana Keilar, who looks much too young to be out alone, collared Max and asked “What do you think about the lack of Republican support?”  Max smiled and while continuing his happy-go-lucky stroll down the corridor said “I’m sure by the time all is said and done, we’ll get some of them to come on board.”

Come on board?  They should be hanging from the Capitol chandeliers yelling whoopie.  What a bill that Max has produced for us.  And it only took a millennium or so to get it off his desk.  Something for everybody.  Especially the insurance companies.

Everybody has to have insurance under Max’s plan.  From the same guys that brought us double digit health care inflation rates, cancellations of insureds who actually needed care and rejections of folks whose only crime was to have had acne as a fifteen-year-old.  Oh, and under the Max plan, if you lose your coverage you have to wait six months before getting new coverage.  Meanwhile you can hold your breath and hope that you don’t get swine flu.  As my sainted mother-in-law would say “I was shocked.”

I finished my row, showered, and donned my only-mildly-stained Upper Ojai Search and Rescue t-shirt.  I proceeded to analyze the situation without emotion.  Was Max really in the pocket of the druggies and insurance moguls?  Or is this some kind of clever ploy?  Was Max only baiting the Republicans hoping they would show their true colors for all the world to see?  Did Max know that no Republican would support any bill?  Of course.  That was it.  No other rational explanation is possible.

I can hear Max now, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, lathering up…

Let me think about my options…

I can give them a bill that has what we really need.  A public option with teeth.  Open enrollment anytime, for any reason.  A new reimbursement system that isn’t based on fee-for-service.  Reasonable tort reform that even the trial lawyers would be embarrassed to oppose.  Pay for it all by bringing everyone home from Iraq and Afghanistan, now.  And a three percent increase in taxes on those making more than $500,000.

Oh, but the wailing and moaning from every Republican, the want-my-cake-and-eat-it Blue Dog Democrats, and a bunch of conflicted Independents.  Woe is us, they’ll say.  A Socialist takeover.  My grandmother will be dead in a week.  My deficit-burdened grandchildren will be put in the workhouse and have only gruel three times a day.

Or, I can give them the opposite.  Give them something that they would have thought of themselves.  A plan to promote the current morass, to drag millions more into it, unwillingly.  Bigger profits.  Less accountability.

Wait for them to call out their tea-party’ers.  Wait for Rush, Bill and Sean to raise their minions.  Produce some moronic signs.  Wait for the rest of the world to see who the naysayers really are.  Then hoist them with their own petard.

I’m brilliant!

Sure.