Health Care Reform or Not?

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I have been noticing the past few weeks that lots of my facebook family and friends have been taking the online poll regarding heath care reform. I haven’t tallied up the score but I have noticed that folks are very clear- yes or no- even though there is a maybe option. The only person I saw that was brave enough to be undecided was my cousin Linda. (Good for you!)

 

I don’t know how everyone became so clear, when no really has all the facts. Of course, it looks like it’s divided down party lines, and the political rhetoric of both the left and the right is mimicked perfectly in the comment sections.

 

That’s what was bothering me originally. I couldn’t hear any voices- just politicians and talk show hosts.

So, I started thinking… and that led to a little homework… which led to more questions.

I am going to try to lay this out- the facts and figures I have gathered, so that it makes sense to everyone. (no easy task given the mumbo jumbo I am digging through. )

So I think the BIG divide consists of these questions:

Is health care reform socialistic?

Will tax payers pay for everything?

Will the government decide who lives and who dies?

Will companies be fined if they don’t offer insurance?

One question at time folks. First, though- let me tell you where I am coming from. My personal perspective-

I belong to neither the left nor the right of political parties. I am independent. I am one of those people who need to know the facts before I make a declaration. I am open- minded and usually able to see both sides of an argument. I am decisive- so I cut through the crapola and sugar coat nothing.

 

I am a 57 year old white, middle class woman who has not made much money in last two years. As an independent contractor, I paid my own health insurance the last four years until the beginning of this year when I had to drop it. It was crappy anyway- my last complete exam cost me about 2K out of pocket. I have preexisting conditions that won’t kill me and will never qualify for disability but will keep my premiums high and my pharmacy at rite-aid busy. I am about 40-50% deaf in both ears. I wear (2) hearing aids which I paid cash for- 3995.00. The life span of good hearing aids is about four years if the dogs don’t eat them.

I am currently employed- my employer does not offer health insurance or pay me enough to buy my own insurance and groceries too.

http://www.americanprogress.org/issues/2009/07/too_sick.html

Of all the different health coverage’s I have had in my life, my favorite was Kaiser Permanente. The doctors were the best, the wait the shortest, copay the lowest and prescriptions were free or 5.00. My pregnancy, C-section and 5 days in the hospital cost me 60.00. Granted, that was 25 years ago but the going rate then for that particular pregnancy would have been about 8-10 grand and probably 40,000 today.

 

Okay- so here I am wondering if health reform is a good thing or a bad thing. I see all my buddies have already decided so why haven’t I?

 

Right off the bat- my gut tells me we need reform. Few can afford to go to the doctor. ONE gauze bandage in the hospital can cost 14.95. An overnight stay in the hospital- just for the bed... no meds, no Band-Aids…can be 700-1000 dollars per night.

Okay- on to the meat.

 

Tax payers are afraid they will pay for this. Guess what? You (and I) already do. 27 years ago when my brother was in motorcycle accident with no health insurance- the taxpayers foot the bill for his 100 plus days that he lingered in a coma, his brain surgery, his eye surgery, his ICU stay (over 2 months)… oh yeah- the helicopter ride from Nowhereville to Santa Rosa Memorial and the ambulance ride to the “rehab” hospital where he died 3 weeks later. I never thanked you fellow taxpayers- so thank you on behalf of my family.

 

Okay- nothing has changed there- we taxpayers still pay for uninsured everything.

Who decides who will live and who will die now? Well… it sort of depends but mostly for this conversation –right now, it’s the insurance companies. And I do mean some (hopefully) high school graduate who may or may not be intelligent and who for practical purposes is an order entry clerk. They have no medical background at all. They input some information- and their program kicks back a reply. There is no case by case. You actually have a better shot with the government because they would be given new guidelines for deciding treatment options.

http://www.ahrq.gov/clinic/techix.htm

Will individual people be fined if they have no health insurance?

Well this is as confusing as it gets. As of this moment in time- nothing is in cement. BUT it looks like yes small businesses with a payroll of 500,000 would indeed be fined under the current proposal.

According to an article “Proposed Health Insurance Fine Puts Small Businesses In A Fix” By PETER BENESH an Investors Business Daily news analyst. “The penalty would start at 2% of payroll and increase with payroll size. The maximum penalty would be 8% of payroll for firms whose annual outlay for wages and salaries is $750,000 or more.”
http://www.ibdeditorials.com/IBDArticles.aspx?id=334451627166395

“According to the U.S. Census Bureau, nearly 46 million Americans, or 18 percent of the population under the age of 65, were without health insurance in 2007, their latest data available.

http://www.nchc.org/facts/coverage.shtml

A recent study shows that based on the effects of the recession alone (not job loss), it is projected that nearly seven (7) million Americans will lose their health insurance coverage between 2008 and 2010. 3 Urban Institute researchers estimate that if unemployment reaches 10 percent, another six (6) million Americans will lose their health insurance coverage. Taking these numbers together, it is conceivable that by next year, 57 to 60 million Americans will be uninsured”

http://www.ahrq.gov/qual/qrdr08.htm

Last but not least… is health care reform socialistic?

Socialism is definitely an economic philosophy, which believes capitalism, is not fair. With emphasis on health insurers that have taken advantage and helped set prices for health care that almost no one can afford I think Pres. Obama’s plan might include a government run health care system that would probably work as well as the Veterans Administration.(yes that well)

I think … for what it’s worth: there is a solution somewhere in between socialism or government run facilities who know nothing about medicine and greedy insurance companies who also know nothing about medicine. I think, they can use successful models, like Kaiser for instance and have affordable health care for all. Yes, some will pay more than others- larger groups higher discounts, lower co pays.

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Some things need to change though. Somehow, hospitals and medical offices need to manage their costs. Medical suppliers need to play ball. EVERYONE needs to help.

The President says he can find money in Medicare and I believe him. I have seen redundancies for years in that program and I am getting close enough in age to be worried about it. I could personally walk into any government run office right now, and save them a butt load of money in printed materials and Xerox copies alone. And accounting is not even my forte.

I have inserted several websites I read and loosely quoted a paragraph or two. I tried to find a GOP website with facts and figures as opposed to editorials- to no avail. I will keep looking. I know- there has to be something out there.

If any of this has helped anyone that is undecided- then good. My intention was never to change minds- I just couldn’t help but think maybe someone else was as confused as me about the facts. I am open for discussion and please feel free to let me know what I missed.

Meanwhile, I am going to take my aching feet that need a doctor for a pedicure and hope that before I am completely crippled I can buy my own insurance. It would be nice if I didn’t have to worry about when I can afford to go to the doctor next.

Thinking about BaMa

My Great-Grandmother Katie, has been on my mind a lot lately. I’m not sure why. Usually when people are on my mind so much or if I dream about them, I call them or email, but those no longer with me… just keep bugging me until I hear what they are trying to say.

I had a special bond with my Bama. Besides being named after her- I was told all my life I looked just like her. Now- today at 57, I look at my hands and see hers, age spots in the same places and in the mirror, the wrinkles on my face bring her face into view. She was tall and lean though, where I am short and not so lean. She was 5’9 and maybe 140 pounds, she had an athlete’s body.


Katherine Niemann was a tough German woman who came to this country in 1906 when she was seventeen; all by herself. Her first job here was in an insane asylum in Sonoma, cleaning, I think. She met my Great Grandfather John there-- he was a young carpenter at the time.
She was intelligent and independent. She taught herself English on the boat coming over. I still have the book she used with her notes in German and then later in English. When my Great-Grandfather became a San Francisco Policeman, they moved to San Francisco where she taught swimming at Sutro Baths. Eventually, she opened her own bakery/store in the Geneva-Mission district. (The same area my mother's people lived). Her brother, Willie Niemann owned the Buena Vista Café, now famous for their Irish coffee.
She was brutally frank. Not unlike myself. She made no bones about letting someone know if she did not like them. Later in life, her sharp tongue kept her family away. She could read my mind too. She always knew what I was thinking. She had a way of telling me things that made sense to me.
She had two sons. Will, my grandfather who died when I was about 2 and Ben, my Uncle who I loved to death. Bama, was the one that told me- “The worst thing that can ever happen to parent is to have their child die first.” I never forgot her words or the teary eyes that spoke them- 10 years after her son had died.

Kate raised my father. One story is, my grandfather was a ner’do’well and his wife was not able to support a baby- so they gave the baby to my Great-Grandmother. Another is they paid them off to get the baby and that my Great-grandfather bullied the situation. Either of those or none of them could be true. In any case- my grandfather was not a very responsible guy and I think he was an alcoholic too. Still- he was her favorite. Later my dad was her favorite. She called him a schmoozer. She knew he manipulated her- but she didn’t care.

When my Great-Grandfather left her for another woman, my father was about three years old and she was probably about 50. She lived in a big corner house on 46th Ave. In San Francisco and rented out rooms. She took care of herself.

She received something like 800.00 in her divorce. She eventually remarried, the kindest man in the world- Papa Carl. He bought her the house she always wanted- with lots of land to garden, have chickens, trees and a place to sit in the shade under the grape vines.

When she was in her 70’s she was stricken with breast cancer. She had the breast removed and came home 4 days later to tend her farm. Papa Carl was already gone. She was alone. She asked me if I wanted to see her scar. I shook my head yes even though I was afraid to see it. She took off her shirt and showed me he gapeing hole that was once her chest and underarm. She was stitched from under her arm towards her back to the front middle of her stomach. They was no plastic surgery for 70 something women in those days. She sat down at her sewing machine and removed the pocket, which was always on the left side of all her shirts and moved it to the right. She stuffed that pocket everyday with a fresh handkerchief to fill the gap and make her look even.

Bama told me all about dreams. I believe she had prophetic dreams that would disturb her for days at a time. She had a tendency to believe in the odd and occult- things like rubbing a dead persons hand on a wart would make it disappear. Thankfully we never tried that one on my wart.

Her medicine cabinet was full of Bengay, Mercurochrome, and Colgate products. I can still smell her Bengay. She taught me to bake, cook some German food and sew. She taught me to garden- though I never was as good as she. I learned how beautiful a birds song is when I sat at the kitchen table eating my homemade jam on homemade bread listening to her German canaries make music. Sometimes I would just sit with Papa Carl and watch him play solitaire and listen to the birds.

She lived through two world wars, Korea and Vietnam. She raised two sons and one grandson. She buried one son and one husband. (no tears were shed when her ex-husband passed). She traveled from Stade, Germany to San Francisco, California all by herself. She slept through some of the 1906 earthquake until her brother ran up the hill and made her leave the flat. She thought it was a thunderstorm. She lived with German guilt most of her adult life because of Hitler. She could not watch a war movie. She was not religious but was spiritual. She slept with a baseball bat next to her bed. She saved rainwater to wash her hair and reused everything until it was no longer usable. She never left a light on and when I stayed with her she fashioned a button to a string fastened to a light switch on the lamp so when I drifted off to sleep the light would go off. She was around for horse drawn carriages and trips to the moon. She took her first airplane ride in her late 70’s. She never drove a car. She could give a cold look like no one else I have ever met- although my mother said my cold look was the same. She loved my father, my brother John and me. She was an independent woman forty years before the movement.

I like to think I am like her. The good stuff anyway.


So now, I am searching for what it is she is trying to tell me. Maybe she is just trying to say hello. But I think it’s more. Should I sew? Bake? Plant some potatoes? Should write her stories? I wish I could hear more clearly. Maybe she will tell me in a dream.

How Stupid Are We?

It’s really hard to not be upset with my fellow Americans right now. I think the majority may be morons.

There are people lined up collecting Michael Jackson memorabilia, and showing up at places his body will not be, kids who did not even know who he was, in tow… to mourn a guy that was completely fucked up. I don’t deny that he had musical talent- or that he even had altruistic tendencies. But, this was a guy who could not function in the world. Now that in itself does not make him a bad guy… but he had strange ideas about appropriate behavior with children- which he shared with the world… and apparently 75% of America was not listening. At the end of his life, he looked like Batman’s Joker and surrounded himself with nuts and sycophants. He was a very sick man and no one should be surprised by his death.

Meanwhile, I have a bunch of friends who are holding their breath waiting for word from their Marines in Afghanistan currently involved in Operation Strike of the Sword. Or worse- word from the Marine Corps officials that make those calls none of us ever want. They have to dig for news.

This morning I woke up to Michael Jackson news… at 6AM. There was not a word about the current state of affairs in Iraq or Afghanistan’s Operation Strike of the Sword. Not even a mention of the Marine killed in action, the British Lt.Col killed in action or the missing soldier. Not a word about the many wounded.

It’s easy to blame the news media… but frankly- they are in business to make money and those that aren’t in it for the money- have their political agendas and tailor the news to fit their goal. So I am going to blame the people that continue to listen to the speculation, adulation, and misplaced hero worship the news media is spouting.

How did Americans get so stupid? I’m guilty too. I do stupid stuff when I should read a book, I watch soaps, I waste time, I cyber argue with morons... but I never forget our military in harms way, or the people who have laid down their lives for our freedom or the freedom of others who don’t have the where-with-all to fight for themselves. Unfortunately- this news does not sell advertising.

Now I know- most of you that read my blog feel the same as me… so maybe this is preaching to the choir, but I had to get this off my chest… so I can get on with my day and appreciate the freedoms that some have died to ensure.

Remembering where you come from....

I like remembering where I came from- it keeps me real. Sometimes it keeps me humble- not always. It keeps me real because I don't distort the truth... as ugly as it is. But just in case I ever do forget- or sugar coat anything- I have some pretty good reminders.

I don't usually offer up excuses for why I was the way I was... but since a lot of people don't know me, I'll offer just this. I lived in a crazy family- and I took care of my mom a lot. I took care of my younger sister and brother too. And I drank and did stupid things. I drank, so I could survive.

Now I really do look upon most of my drinking years as one big party that just got crappy at the end...and sometimes I actually forget that the party went many years longer than it should have because I got off to a very bad start.

So the day before yesterday my niece Marni called me asking if she could stop by- she had something really funny to show me. Sure I said... I love having the girls (my nieces)stop by, I have always loved them to death.

Marni comes in the house and hands me a piece of paper. It looks like a child's school paper and the very first line across the top is...
My Auntie Katie is in Jail.
Oh wait- it gets better... (pardon the errors I think my darling niece was only 7/8 years old.)

Today at 6:15 we had a phone call Police Station. I was asleep. My sister woke me up at 6:30 AM. I said "What happened? " My sister said Auntie Katie is in jail. How come? She had no license. How does she get out? When we get the money my mom said. She was on the phone until 7:00. I had to make my lunch. Is this her first time? You kidding? No, more than one time. Poor Auntie Katie I said. She deserves it my mom said.
Now sadly, poor Marni only got a B- on this original work. I think she should have gotten a A. I had lost my license years before and never renewed it - it was super stupid. I was super stupid. Drinking makes people REALLY stupid.
Only my old friend Renee, my sister Linda ("she deserves it") and my sister Angie remember those days. And me- I remember.
I'm glad I got things worked out and my son never had to report on his mother going to jail. (or being drunk)I'm glad I am clear headed today- and able to laugh with Marni about this funny paper. Oh- by the way. I went to all of Marni's and Kelly's (her sister) open houses. I got to meet this teacher too.
Crazy old days.

The crazy old days....

Yesterday my sister Angie and I went to San Francisco to meet an old friend of the family for lunch. Carol, our friend is pushing 80… and still going strong. She still moves fast and her brain is as sharp as ever. A native New Yorker, she is a pull no punches- abide no whiners, kind of gal. That’s what I always liked about her.

Carol was in our life the most when my dad owned the restaurant and his wife (after my mom) Jeanie, was still alive and then a few years after she passed away. She would have lunch or dinner with Angie and I- listen to our romance woes or tales of our crazy adventures- and the Jewish mother in her gave us sage advise. It was so nice to see she was still the same. She told us funny stories about men she has dated recently and had us in stitches.

We started to talk about all the people that used to come in or work at the restaurant. Sadly, most are dead now. The cast of characters was amazing though. We did have a unique bunch of friends that spent every day with us.

Some of the departed we thought about -we loved. Javier B, Larry Layne, Bernice Enright, Loretta Mitchell, Johnny Armando, Uncle Irving Beirman. Some just made our days… Mr. Chris, Big Tony, Babe the deaf-mute- a guy who called himself God and walked around taking notes about everyone. Pretty Mary- I’ve written about her.

Angie and I stopped in the restaurant on our way to the car. The place was dingier and dirtier than we remembered. We didn’t know a soul. We didn’t stay.

Yesterday, when we were leaving we got to the garage where we have parked our cars for over forty years, and our friend and old co-worker Rey was there. We were so happy to see Rey and he us. We all hugged. Angie, Rey and I spent many hours together over the course of 20 something years. Working and knocking back a few cold ones after work. We were family. We all were. We were a mismatched set of crazy and colorful people who made life interesting.

So it was a little sad to return to the past yesterday. But fun too. Fun to remember the days when my sister and I spent 10 hours a day together usually laughing; and we owned San Francisco. We could go anywhere in town and know everyone. We were the Figone girls. Or Don's daughters or Bev's daughters.

And the stories we could tell…

Fear and the Crazies

Fear seems to be running a lot of our lives. I can’t even remember the last time I wasn’t afraid of something. Either Nick getting killed, or me getting sick, or being broke or my animals getting sick. I’m always worried that something will happen to someone in my family or one of my close friends. My friend Liz mentioned me hovering over her the other day. I can’t help it- she is one of my best friends and I worry about her.

I do the best I can to push the scary stuff out of my head. But it’s always there ready for a spare moment.

The other day Nick was getting on his motorcycle and I popped my head out the door to say goodbye- be careful… and he started laughing at me. “What?” I said… “You look like an apple doll.” He replied then mimicked my face all scrunched up with worry… no wonder we get wrinkled and really end up looking like apple dolls. Kids.

My life has never been easy- so I don’t really expect the journey to be bump free. I just hate the anxiety I get because I know there is another bump coming and I don’t know how big it will be.

Sometimes I focus on the stupid stuff on purpose. It’s easier to worry about the weeds in the back yard than Nick on a motorcycle. I have been hoeing the weeds like crazy lately. The weeds are growing in gravel, so it’s a good workout. A better distraction. Nick keeps telling me to stop because if I hoe them he can’t see them to spray them. He doesn’t understand it’s just me obsessing over something I can actually control. Weeds.

There are times I wish I could be one of the “oh well” people. But that’s not me. I care too much, love too hard, eat too many cookies. I am obsessive.

Fear can be a good motivator too. I am motivated to take care of my health, watch over my friends and family, walk my dogs, write, read, live.

Fear can make you crazy. I have been there- it’s always a short walk away. It takes a lot of practice to not let the crazies spread their germs my way. Crazy people should try hoeing.

I always seem to have this great advise for other people and nothing for myself. Don’t be crazy is what I tell myself. Don’t be scared. That’s all I can come up with- the wordsmith that I am.

I think I’ll go vacuum something.

A blog about blogging...

I don't feel compelled to blog about every little thing. I'm actually sick to death of some topics. I am sick of politics and the rhetoric that follows. The left hates the right and the right hates the left... those that meet in the middle are ostracized for lack of loyalty or some such nonsense.

I am not an expert on everything. I can't expound on a federal health care system that we don't have, or foreign policy that is ever changing. I can't tell you if this president is a good one or not, (he's too new). I really don't have an opinion about everything.

I can speak to the war on terror only as it has invaded my own life and took my son and changed him forever. But at least I got him back. More than some mothers can say. Along with many friends whose kids have chosen to serve their country, I have worried about their welfare and what will come of them when they return to a country with no work. At least they are not as hated as our Vietnam Vets.

My phone has never been tapped, there is no dossier on me- at least not for terrorism. I have no beef with Homeland Security- what little I know about them tells me they are not effective enough to worry about one way or the other. (granted they are relatively new)

My worries are closer to home now. Employment, finances, sick dogs, friends in need, aging relatives, friends, family - family.

I want to go to Samuel P. Taylor Park and Mt. Tamalpias with my son, before the Governor closes them. I want to go to the Cheese Factory with my friend Renee and have a picnic like we did 20 + years ago. I want to see my niece and my great nephew in the 4th of July parade (in Novato). I want to go to Phoenix Lake with Kelly. I want to make gnocchi with my sisters, and go see my Uncle Richard in Palm Springs. I want to go to Glen Ellen and watch my sister Deb feed the yellow jackets. I want to spend time with all my nieces and nephews and even a few cousins. I want to help Liz build her website and show off her artwork, and I want to spend a day with Patti, sitting in the sun, reading our books and talking about life and loves lost. I want to help people. I want to understand the journey before it's over. That's all I want.