Deep Breath...GO!

Whoops, did I leave work today neglecting to say anything to Twit about this is her last day of work before popping out the poor, poor baby that has to suffer a life of having Twit as her mom?  I agree, it was rude of me, but she was over by the fax machine, completely hidden from view, and I felt going to her to say something was more effort than I had to give.  If she had been at her desk when I left, then I would have said something vague, like "Goodbye, good luck, hope she gets handed immediately over to CPS." 

A sentence from an article in today's paper, "A passenger who refuses a 30-second body scan may receive a two- to four-minute manual pat down."  That seems to be an awfully long manual pat down.  I'm fairly certain that a person has been able to bring me to orgasm in under four minutes (I know I have, and I'm not even touching the vast percentage of my body!).  What exactly is security patting down for a whole two to four minutes?  Even if someone literally touched every square inch of my body, would that really take more than 30 seconds to ascertain if there was something there worth further investigation or not?  I'm going to ask The Boy to pat me down and see how long it takes him (I will deduct all seconds of hanky-panky from the over all total).  Hold, please.  Yes, he was very efficient and thorough, and managed to do it in under 30 seconds (that actually includes him grabbing both ass cheeks individually, honking my boobs and taking a rather unsexy swipe at my crotch).  I even reminded him to check under my hair, and we didn't go over 30 seconds.  Will someone pretty please explain, in detail, what a security person could be patting down on me for two to four minutes?

For the record, I'm totally against this asinine, pointless invasion of privacy.  I'm feeling a bit lazy, so I will point you to Patrick Smith, a person I don't know but really like the way he states things.  Obviously I also enjoy him because he seems to think like I do, which automatically makes him awesome.  That and his love for The Wedding Present.  Which reminds me, he should totally fly out and see WP with me on April 5th.  I think we'd  have a grand time, even though I really know next to nothing about flying, and just have strong opinions on various flying matters (like flying with babies, airport and airplane bathrooms, overweight people infringing upon my personal space, noisy airports, art at the airport, etc.). 

Yay, good news for Cary Tennis.  Take that BCBS!  The other good news is the passing of the healthcare reform.  However, I don't think it is perfect or even mostly perfect.  It is a step; a much needed step.  Many exciting things can start from  here, but there's also many ways it could still go wrong.  I stand by what I said before, we need insurance reform and insurance out of the lobbying arena.  Until that happens, there is only so far forward we will be able to move.  I was reading Dooce this afternoon (yes, I do occasionally check in on her), and she wrote a very level-headed response to how reform will positively effect her family.  She also had some crazy-ass flyer that was left in the handle of her front door:

That certainly caught my eye!  I don't think I even have to comment on it.  However, it did make me curious, for the first time, to read the comments on Heather's blog.  It was the usual stuff, all very moderate in language, nothing shocking left or right, but one person's comment did stand out in that s/he felt that we all do have health care, in that we won't be denied  health care if we are hurt and need help.  It just seemed so naive in that on the surface that is true, but Jesus, really?  I am doing my best to not plotz all over the place.

1. Receiving care can still cost a monumental amount of money.  The kind of money that can bankrupt a family and forcing someone to live on the street.  Or, less dramatic but still serious, not have any savings left.  Having worked in the healthcare field, I can tell you that doctors are not shy about referring their patients to collection agencies.
2. "Emergency care" would have been a more accurate phrase. Take Cary Tennis (again), only through his access to the media and blogging about his situation did he get the "care" he needed.  There are plenty of people who are alive and kicking for now, and insurance companies are not exactly compelled to cover expensive and ongoing treatment, especially if it outside of a specific narrow profile.  If you have something rare, good luck getting the testing and treatment you may need.  
3. Proper care often means repeat visits, any of those can be cut off at any time, and you will be expected to pay out of pocket to continue with treatment (e.g.: psychiatric treatment often gets cut off after a certain number of visits).  The insurance company will often determine what is the "appropriate" time frame is for healing.  Your body may have other ideas, though, and you'll be stuck paying for all that additional care that the insurance company didn't think you needed.  
4. Watch Mystery Diagnosis to understand just how much time and money one can spend on trying to find out what is wrong.  Never mind receiving actual care!  These poor people will go years feeling like death.  Sure, a lot of what this show depicts are people with very rare diseases.  However, occasionally there will be something run of the mill, like ovarian cancer that wasn't found in time because doctors didn't want to test for something they knew the insurance companies would not cover.  Also, tests are often not even mentioned to the patient as an option to pay out of pocket.  I don't know why, but it is probably as simple as the doctor doesn't bother pursuing what s/he most likely will not get reimbursed for by the insurance company (DENIED) or the patient (BROKE). 

Gah.  Seriously, there's a lot of shit I just can't get over today.  I haven't even mentioned how Twit felt the need to bring me on a premature-delivery joke.  She was discussing a what-if scenario with one of our coworkers, and they were having some good laughs with their imagined scenarios.  I was doing a fantastic job of ignoring them until my name was said in relation to how I would surely help deliver the baby in the office.  At which time I responded, "I will only call 911 and no more.  Now, this conversation must end.  Thank you."  Then they realized I wasn't joking and the smiles left their faces.  I'm such a party-pooper!