Good grief! Where do we begin? So much has happened since I last blogged--Kentucky went big for Clinton; Obama won handily in Oregon; Clinton stuck her foot in her mouth with the RFK assassination comment; the media blew the comment out of all proportion. But, all this is small potatoes next to Bush's reprehensible speech to the Israeli Parliament's damaging and hypocritical enthusiastic response to our President's comments. What the hell was he thinking? Then the Israelis went and gave him rousing ovation. Besides the fact that Bush should have learned from the Dixie Chicks, that you don't disparage domestic political figures abroad, you also don't just throw around mentions of Adolf Hitler willy-nilly--in of all places Israel or imply that people who would use diplomacy with other Middle Eastern players are equivalent to those who would have "appeased" the leader of the Nazis. You especially don't do this when members of your own cabinet, including Secretary Gates advocate the same policy. Can we please move this guy out of the White House now?
What else? Then Edward Kennedy was diagnosed with a brain tumor; another crazy pastor embarrassed Obama by sounded off at Trinity in Chicago; and President Bush's former press secretary decided to hang all his former boss' dirty laundry out to dry in a scathing new tell-all. Yesterday, the Democratic Party's Rule Committee showed the country just how messy democracy can get--live on CNN, deciding to seat the delegates of Michigan and Florida with half a vote each, and re-allocating the Michigan delegates, sending Ickes into a tirade that makes us wonder if Clinton will take this all the way to the Convention. Of course, she did sweep Puerto Rico--which won't get a say in the Fall, but so what? Meanwhile, Obama quit his church--praise Jesus! We await the final two primaries on Tuesday with bated breath. Will she ever just bow out gracefully--or at all?
I don't even know where to begin.
At the end of the week, I will be heading downtown to the State Democratic Convention. Due to my illness, which still, a month and a half later has me a bit tired, I missed a lot of the meeting and schmoozing and shouting and whining that has been going on in the lead up to choosing out National Delegates and State Committee members. I made it to the last shout-fest at the Georgetown Library in Georgetown, TX, where the Williamson County Delegation attempted to organize and united behind a ticket of candidates (and where I almost suffered permanent hearing loss thanks to the old fart who kept yelling things like "Bullshit" and "Enough already" in it). Judging from the constant stream of babbling email threads I've gotten since then, it was just a lead up to the real showdown at our pre-convention caucus on Friday. I'm thinking the National Rules Committee's got nothing on Williamson County Texas. I'll let you all know how it turns out.
Meanwhile, I'm still holding on to a glimmer of hope that Obama will tap Biden for VP.
Just touching base. Talk to y'all soon.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Obama--a map to a higher plain of government
Well, looks like Democrats have looked past Reverend Wrong, I mean Wright and positioned Barack Obama to capture the Democratic nomination for President. Of course, Hillary will not go easily. Immediately after the week's two contests, she was off to West Virginia for a campaign rally in my grandmother's home town of Shepherdstown, West Virginia. Her remarks later in the week saying that her base included whites and, specifically hard-working whites, were not helpful. Does that mean that more educated whites don't work hard? Does that mean blacks don't work hard? What does that mean?
I'm not going to go crazy and call Hillary a racist or accuse her of class warfare, but Obama has been very restrained after what Hillary did with the "bitter" remark. We need to unite the Party. But, you know what, after this week, I think we have every reason to be optimistic about the Party coming together in the Fall. And Barack is on the right track--focusing on McCain, not pandering, not playing tit for tat and irritating the Clinton base.
Just as interesting and just as promising, the Democrats have won special Congressional elections this week in traditionally Republican districts, and may even win an upcoming election in a Mississippi district that has been redder than red for decades. This bodes well for Democrats, who need wider Democratic margins in Congress if either a President Obama or a President Clinton, will need support to get either of their platforms implemented.
What we, as Democrats, must do is resist the urge to arrogantly grind this win in the Republicans' faces and follow Obama's lead of just getting about the business of the country. If we can do that, we will stay in power and change the face of American government well into the 21st century. If we can't, we could become drunk with power and end up eating crow, just like the Republicans look to be doing right now.
I'm not going to go crazy and call Hillary a racist or accuse her of class warfare, but Obama has been very restrained after what Hillary did with the "bitter" remark. We need to unite the Party. But, you know what, after this week, I think we have every reason to be optimistic about the Party coming together in the Fall. And Barack is on the right track--focusing on McCain, not pandering, not playing tit for tat and irritating the Clinton base.
Just as interesting and just as promising, the Democrats have won special Congressional elections this week in traditionally Republican districts, and may even win an upcoming election in a Mississippi district that has been redder than red for decades. This bodes well for Democrats, who need wider Democratic margins in Congress if either a President Obama or a President Clinton, will need support to get either of their platforms implemented.
What we, as Democrats, must do is resist the urge to arrogantly grind this win in the Republicans' faces and follow Obama's lead of just getting about the business of the country. If we can do that, we will stay in power and change the face of American government well into the 21st century. If we can't, we could become drunk with power and end up eating crow, just like the Republicans look to be doing right now.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
Jeremiah Wright: If he's right, we're wrong.
While I have been sick for the last couple of weeks, I was not so down and out that I missed the Jeremiah Wright debacle. My father thinks he's a megalomaniac. A lot of Americans--particularly white Americans think he is scary and, sadly for some, by association, so is Barack Obama.
Me, what's my take? I think he is a fossil. A fossil with a big spot-light. A scared fossil. What's a fossil? A dinosaur bone? No, not in this case. It is a person whose thoughts, views and attitude has frozen in time. Often times people of great intellect, who are used to being one of the smartest in the room, can get so wrapped up in their own view of the World, that they come to the conclusion, not consciously, but they come to the conclusion that they have got things figured out. Sometimes, people who are not so bright, come to the same conclusion, but these people are just sad. It is the smart, charismatic fossils, like Wright, who are dangerous. Why? Because people get used to listening to them. They weave a good argument--and you know what for a time--they were right--or at least on to something.
Then what happens? They surround themselves with people who want to hear them. They continue to seek out material to support their views. They think they're right, so why go out and read opposing views?--Obviously those who disagree must be wrong-headed or, perhaps, in Jeremiah Wright's case racist or revisionist--someone who would deny history or its relevance to the modern day society.
But the thing about modern day society is this--every day it is more modern and it some point if you don't continue to evolve with it, you fossilize and you become a characterization of yourself. To bolster your beliefs, and in order to not lose your relevancy, you may start grasping at even more desperate and divisive self-justifying theories or rhetoric. You might become a Jeremiah Wright. Evolve or die.
What happens if Barack Obama becomes the first ever black President of the United States? Wright's fossil will get buried under so many layers of bedrock that no light will ever reach it. If Barack Obama becomes the first ever black President, Wright's call for fight and self-reliance in the face of the racist, dominant society will be rendered far less relevant, because a black man will be the numero uno, top banana, Commander in Chief, first citizen, head dog of our society.
But if Wright can scare the shit out of us white folk--If he can prove that we paint all black folk with the same tainted brush, if he can prove we are all racists who will be unable to tell the difference between Barack Obama and his raving pastor--if he Jeremiah Wright can destroy Barack Obama's bid for the Democratic nomination--then he, Jeremiah Wright is not a fossil. In his own mind, at least, he is a prophet.
My dad is right. This guy is a megalomaniac. Let me be right, too. Help bury this fossil. If you were for Obama before Jeremiah Wright, you need to stick with him. You need to be for Obama now, because if you bestow relevance on this ranting, self-righteous hate-monger, you prove him right. Bury him. Bury him. Vote Obama, people. Because if Jeremiah Wright is right--we're the ones who are wrong.
Me, what's my take? I think he is a fossil. A fossil with a big spot-light. A scared fossil. What's a fossil? A dinosaur bone? No, not in this case. It is a person whose thoughts, views and attitude has frozen in time. Often times people of great intellect, who are used to being one of the smartest in the room, can get so wrapped up in their own view of the World, that they come to the conclusion, not consciously, but they come to the conclusion that they have got things figured out. Sometimes, people who are not so bright, come to the same conclusion, but these people are just sad. It is the smart, charismatic fossils, like Wright, who are dangerous. Why? Because people get used to listening to them. They weave a good argument--and you know what for a time--they were right--or at least on to something.
Then what happens? They surround themselves with people who want to hear them. They continue to seek out material to support their views. They think they're right, so why go out and read opposing views?--Obviously those who disagree must be wrong-headed or, perhaps, in Jeremiah Wright's case racist or revisionist--someone who would deny history or its relevance to the modern day society.
But the thing about modern day society is this--every day it is more modern and it some point if you don't continue to evolve with it, you fossilize and you become a characterization of yourself. To bolster your beliefs, and in order to not lose your relevancy, you may start grasping at even more desperate and divisive self-justifying theories or rhetoric. You might become a Jeremiah Wright. Evolve or die.
What happens if Barack Obama becomes the first ever black President of the United States? Wright's fossil will get buried under so many layers of bedrock that no light will ever reach it. If Barack Obama becomes the first ever black President, Wright's call for fight and self-reliance in the face of the racist, dominant society will be rendered far less relevant, because a black man will be the numero uno, top banana, Commander in Chief, first citizen, head dog of our society.
But if Wright can scare the shit out of us white folk--If he can prove that we paint all black folk with the same tainted brush, if he can prove we are all racists who will be unable to tell the difference between Barack Obama and his raving pastor--if he Jeremiah Wright can destroy Barack Obama's bid for the Democratic nomination--then he, Jeremiah Wright is not a fossil. In his own mind, at least, he is a prophet.
My dad is right. This guy is a megalomaniac. Let me be right, too. Help bury this fossil. If you were for Obama before Jeremiah Wright, you need to stick with him. You need to be for Obama now, because if you bestow relevance on this ranting, self-righteous hate-monger, you prove him right. Bury him. Bury him. Vote Obama, people. Because if Jeremiah Wright is right--we're the ones who are wrong.
I long for food poisening in Peru--My little view of health care Stateside
Where have I been of late? Sick. Not the sniffles, mind you--sick. The real deal. Actually, as I write this, a full 17 days since the initial onset of the headache, a full 16 days since I left school early, because I couldn't push myself to finish the day, I am still running low fevers at night and I am still weak and dizzy when I stand. Monday, come Hell or high water, I will go back to work for a couple of reasons. Firstly, Monday is Cinco de Mayo, and my folklorico dancers will be performing four shows--two of which will require me to drive them to the venue in a nearby town. Secondly, my students have been without a real teacher for too long and I hate the thought of them falling behind because of me. Thirdly, I am going insane. For more than two weeks my main function in life has been keeping my bed from levitating. At least, though I can finally sit up for long periods of time and look at the computer screen without getting a debilitating headache, so I'm back to the blog!
Now, the last time I was really, really completely unable to function sick, I was in Peru and got some sort of viral food poisoning while visiting Machu Picchu. I won't share all the details of what was running out of me from both ends, but let's just say--you don't want to know the details.
Once it was clear that I was not going to be shaking this thing, a doctor was summoned to our hotel. She actually made two trips to see me at the hotel and then I was put into a wheelchair and taken by the doctor, her assistant and one of my traveling companions down the steep, winding pedestrian streets to a little two-bed hospital. I was hooked up to IVs, tested and analyzed and monitored the whole day by the actual doctor. I was only left "alone" with the assistant while the doctor went on another hotel visit for another patient.
There was nothing fancy at this hospital, let me tell you. But I was cared for and monitored. My vitals were taken many times throughout the day. No one was rushing me out. At the end of the day, all the travelers in my group (including my students, because I was "leading" a tour), were heading back to Cusco by train. I was given the option of going back with them or staying the night in the hospital and going back the next morning. By then, I was much better, though my body ached from so much retching earlier in the process. I was still very weak. If I wanted to go back to Cusco, how could I even get to the train? There weren't even any cars--much less an ambulance. No problem. I was wheeled/carried in the chair all the way to the train. The bill--including my Gatorades to go? $138.
The next day, I missed the white water rafting. I needed to rest. And I got a massage to get rid of the aches. And I was fine.
Let's contrast that with my current situation. I knew I had been burning the candle at both ends--teaching, the ballet folklorico and its Spring Show, political involvement, not enough sleep--so when I woke up on Thursday, the 16th with a headache, I figured, I had it coming. I took some Ibuprofen and headed into school. The headache improved, but never went away and whenever I leaned down to pick something up, the pressure was incredible. I dragged myself back in on Friday, but soon it was clear, I was not going to make it. Along with the headache were pains in my neck, joints and leg muscles. I went home early. By Sunday, I was in really bad shape. The pain was worse; I was covered in a rash and my fever was up. The urgent care center sent me to the Emergency Room at the local hospital, Seton Northwest, with possible meningitis.
A CAT scan and a spinal tap later, meningitis was ruled out. What a relief. I knew it was so contagious and I thought about the pregnant girl in one of my ESOL classes and how horrible I would have felt if she'd gotten sick. My blood pressure was very low--not too bad if I was lying down, but sitting up or walking, forget about it. Eventually, they got two reasonable readings in a row--they didn't try walking me again--and I was sent home with a prescription for some heavy-duty pain meds. The plus side of the hospital, I got some pain medication via the IV. A few hours of relative bliss.
Then the post-lumbar puncture headache set in on top of all the other pain. Light hurt. I couldn't read. Even reading the medicine bottles hurt. I could barely sit up. Nausea set in--leading to the vomiting of the pain medication. By Tuesday, the pain was even worse. At my regular doctor, I could not make it back to the exam room without a wheelchair. He diagnosed the post-lumbar puncture headache and gave me some anti-nausea medication. Underlying all this, he thought, was just a nasty virus. If I didn't feel better by Wednesday, I was to go back to the emergency room and get a blood patch. Okay. I went home.
By Wednesday, if it was possible, I was actually worse. Not only could I not hold down the pain medication, I was throwing up the anti-nausea drug, so I had no pain medication in my system, at all. Now, I could not even get to the car to go to the hospital. My husband called an ambulance. Back on the IV. Back on the IV pain meds for a brief time. Apparently, sometimes when spinal taps are performed, you loose too much spinal fluid and you loose pressure in your spinal column and around your brain, leading to the extra bad headache I'd been experiencing since my Sunday trip to the hospital. They took blood from my arm and injected it back into the area where they had removed the spinal fluid. This time they didn't even try to get the top number of my blood pressure over 90. It hit 87 once and they sent me home. I wasn't even sitting up.
And, I was told I should drink lots of fluids. Of course, in the hospital, they put a toilet next to my bed, realizing I couldn't walk to the restroom. Somehow, when I got home, I would magically be able to get myself down the hall to the bathroom again and again--after all, I was drinking my fluids.
Once I had been home for half an hour, all the IV meds were out of my system and I was back to Hell. I told myself that either I would die or I would start to get better, because I couldn't take any more pain. The doctor who had performed the blood patch had told my husband to call if he felt I was not doing better or if there were any problems. He called the hospital and was transfered to countless departments and treated like he was bothering people.
Finally, sometime in the middle of the night--or early morning--I started to take a turn for the better. That was not last Wednesday, that was two Wednesdays ago and last night, I was still running a low fever. I've been back to the doctor. I am supposed to go back in two weeks for more blood work. We'll see.
Now I know that in Peru there are millions of desperately poor people who cannot afford health care. I know that the little two-bed hospital I was in didn't have a CAT-scan machine. I know that. But, I was cared for. I wasn't rushed out. My pain was taken into account and mitigated as best as was possible given what was available. Here, in the United States of America, I was rushed through, spit out and made to suffer needlessly. I don't know if my insurance wouldn't have covered any more care. I don't know if they needed my room in ER, but then no one even asked me if I was willing to pay out of pocket for a few more hours on IV pain medication--and trust me, I would have gladly laid in the hallway or a broom closet, for that matter, with the IV in my arm.
No one knows yet, what exactly was initially wrong with me. Best guess, some mysterious virus that attacked my joints and muscles. But, I can't help but feel that I would have gotten over whatever it was faster, if my body was not put through the additional agony and distress of unneeded pain.
How often do we hear stories of people cut loose from care--even mentally ill discharged earlier than would be recommended-- because insurance has run out or doesn't pay for hospitalizations for certain maladies? Everything is so expensive, partly because of the layers of bureaucracy associated with our over-complicated, ever more expensive insurance. But more than that, our system makes you feel like no one cares if you hurt. I know that during this ordeal, there were a few people who did care, but they had very limited contact with me. There was one person to do my blood work, another for the IV, another one pushed my wheel chair. The people with the warm smiles, all disappeared in moments and those on the end of the phone who didn't want to be bothered with my husband's pleas for help replaced them .
It is a sad commentary, when illness in the United States, makes you nastolgic for food poisoning in Peru.
Now, the last time I was really, really completely unable to function sick, I was in Peru and got some sort of viral food poisoning while visiting Machu Picchu. I won't share all the details of what was running out of me from both ends, but let's just say--you don't want to know the details.
Once it was clear that I was not going to be shaking this thing, a doctor was summoned to our hotel. She actually made two trips to see me at the hotel and then I was put into a wheelchair and taken by the doctor, her assistant and one of my traveling companions down the steep, winding pedestrian streets to a little two-bed hospital. I was hooked up to IVs, tested and analyzed and monitored the whole day by the actual doctor. I was only left "alone" with the assistant while the doctor went on another hotel visit for another patient.
There was nothing fancy at this hospital, let me tell you. But I was cared for and monitored. My vitals were taken many times throughout the day. No one was rushing me out. At the end of the day, all the travelers in my group (including my students, because I was "leading" a tour), were heading back to Cusco by train. I was given the option of going back with them or staying the night in the hospital and going back the next morning. By then, I was much better, though my body ached from so much retching earlier in the process. I was still very weak. If I wanted to go back to Cusco, how could I even get to the train? There weren't even any cars--much less an ambulance. No problem. I was wheeled/carried in the chair all the way to the train. The bill--including my Gatorades to go? $138.
The next day, I missed the white water rafting. I needed to rest. And I got a massage to get rid of the aches. And I was fine.
Let's contrast that with my current situation. I knew I had been burning the candle at both ends--teaching, the ballet folklorico and its Spring Show, political involvement, not enough sleep--so when I woke up on Thursday, the 16th with a headache, I figured, I had it coming. I took some Ibuprofen and headed into school. The headache improved, but never went away and whenever I leaned down to pick something up, the pressure was incredible. I dragged myself back in on Friday, but soon it was clear, I was not going to make it. Along with the headache were pains in my neck, joints and leg muscles. I went home early. By Sunday, I was in really bad shape. The pain was worse; I was covered in a rash and my fever was up. The urgent care center sent me to the Emergency Room at the local hospital, Seton Northwest, with possible meningitis.
A CAT scan and a spinal tap later, meningitis was ruled out. What a relief. I knew it was so contagious and I thought about the pregnant girl in one of my ESOL classes and how horrible I would have felt if she'd gotten sick. My blood pressure was very low--not too bad if I was lying down, but sitting up or walking, forget about it. Eventually, they got two reasonable readings in a row--they didn't try walking me again--and I was sent home with a prescription for some heavy-duty pain meds. The plus side of the hospital, I got some pain medication via the IV. A few hours of relative bliss.
Then the post-lumbar puncture headache set in on top of all the other pain. Light hurt. I couldn't read. Even reading the medicine bottles hurt. I could barely sit up. Nausea set in--leading to the vomiting of the pain medication. By Tuesday, the pain was even worse. At my regular doctor, I could not make it back to the exam room without a wheelchair. He diagnosed the post-lumbar puncture headache and gave me some anti-nausea medication. Underlying all this, he thought, was just a nasty virus. If I didn't feel better by Wednesday, I was to go back to the emergency room and get a blood patch. Okay. I went home.
By Wednesday, if it was possible, I was actually worse. Not only could I not hold down the pain medication, I was throwing up the anti-nausea drug, so I had no pain medication in my system, at all. Now, I could not even get to the car to go to the hospital. My husband called an ambulance. Back on the IV. Back on the IV pain meds for a brief time. Apparently, sometimes when spinal taps are performed, you loose too much spinal fluid and you loose pressure in your spinal column and around your brain, leading to the extra bad headache I'd been experiencing since my Sunday trip to the hospital. They took blood from my arm and injected it back into the area where they had removed the spinal fluid. This time they didn't even try to get the top number of my blood pressure over 90. It hit 87 once and they sent me home. I wasn't even sitting up.
And, I was told I should drink lots of fluids. Of course, in the hospital, they put a toilet next to my bed, realizing I couldn't walk to the restroom. Somehow, when I got home, I would magically be able to get myself down the hall to the bathroom again and again--after all, I was drinking my fluids.
Once I had been home for half an hour, all the IV meds were out of my system and I was back to Hell. I told myself that either I would die or I would start to get better, because I couldn't take any more pain. The doctor who had performed the blood patch had told my husband to call if he felt I was not doing better or if there were any problems. He called the hospital and was transfered to countless departments and treated like he was bothering people.
Finally, sometime in the middle of the night--or early morning--I started to take a turn for the better. That was not last Wednesday, that was two Wednesdays ago and last night, I was still running a low fever. I've been back to the doctor. I am supposed to go back in two weeks for more blood work. We'll see.
Now I know that in Peru there are millions of desperately poor people who cannot afford health care. I know that the little two-bed hospital I was in didn't have a CAT-scan machine. I know that. But, I was cared for. I wasn't rushed out. My pain was taken into account and mitigated as best as was possible given what was available. Here, in the United States of America, I was rushed through, spit out and made to suffer needlessly. I don't know if my insurance wouldn't have covered any more care. I don't know if they needed my room in ER, but then no one even asked me if I was willing to pay out of pocket for a few more hours on IV pain medication--and trust me, I would have gladly laid in the hallway or a broom closet, for that matter, with the IV in my arm.
No one knows yet, what exactly was initially wrong with me. Best guess, some mysterious virus that attacked my joints and muscles. But, I can't help but feel that I would have gotten over whatever it was faster, if my body was not put through the additional agony and distress of unneeded pain.
How often do we hear stories of people cut loose from care--even mentally ill discharged earlier than would be recommended-- because insurance has run out or doesn't pay for hospitalizations for certain maladies? Everything is so expensive, partly because of the layers of bureaucracy associated with our over-complicated, ever more expensive insurance. But more than that, our system makes you feel like no one cares if you hurt. I know that during this ordeal, there were a few people who did care, but they had very limited contact with me. There was one person to do my blood work, another for the IV, another one pushed my wheel chair. The people with the warm smiles, all disappeared in moments and those on the end of the phone who didn't want to be bothered with my husband's pleas for help replaced them .
It is a sad commentary, when illness in the United States, makes you nastolgic for food poisoning in Peru.
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