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!

Billy Bragg Claims Drinking Tea Doesn't Make Him a Facist

Wikus convinced me to stay out later than I was planning  yesterday to see Billy Bragg (Biccy Brass!).  We spent most of our day camped out at a bar listening to various bands (only one was good: Beach Fossils), while sitting down.  Don't make me, I'm old.  Some man knocked a pint glass of beer off the bar, and it narrowly missed hitting my head, but did manage to get beer all over half my body.  Then I watched bands with beer-soaked shorts.  He was profusely sorry, but it kind of sucked.  Other observations at the bar: an Asian girl walked past who was dressed in classic Debbie Gibson outfit (you know, high-waisted shorts, black Amish-looking hat pushed back so the brim is basically pointing at the ceiling--I would find a picture of Debbie in this look if it wasn't so horrifying to browse through all the semi-naked pictures of her on Google).  Some fat Harley-looking dude came up to the bar, said "Howdy" to the bartender, lifted up his t-shirt, and patted his round, hair belly while asking for a vodka on the rocks with Red Bull.  Then he kind of tripped on the woman standing next to him in line, and tried to hit on her by apologizing and asking if she'd like a drink.  She (surprisingly) turned him down, so he started jabbering to the bartender about how his girlfriend "literally" tried to kill him last night.  I bet that woman standing next to him was quite relieved to have escaped that hot mess of action!  So many great people in town right now!

Anyway.

Once we finally decided to leave (the band we were waiting for had actually switched times, and we had missed them entirely), Wikus pointed out that Billy Bragg was to go on soon.  I saw Billy Bragg two SXSWs ago at a radio party, and he played about two songs.  I was worried it was going to be more like that.  How wrong I was.  He was playing on the east side in some big parking lot/grassy area, and he gave us the full show complete with beautifully inspirational socialist speeches, and an awesome set list.  I texted Frijole as much as possible, so she could enjoy it with me.  She would hate the crowds, but she'd swoon to hear it.  I even managed to sit on this sturdy box of promotional freebies (No, I'm not for free, assholes), and was able to actually see Billy Bragg instead of fat hot-dog necks, hairy backs and dirty ears. 

Billy told a story of how decades ago, when he was touring with Echo & the Bunnymen (excuse me, I need to take myself back in time and attend this show, please), they were served tea.  They were completed horrified to be given iced tea.  An abomination to the English.  He said when Americans come to his house, he serves boiling-hot Coca-Cola (you can hear part of the story in the video clip below).  For the record, I would drink that just to sit in his kitchen and eat with him.

He also insulted the Tea Baggers, and kept giggling over how that wouldn't go over well in England as a name.  Indeed, Billy.  It shouldn't here either, but that is how stupid people are.  It was a big audience, and I only heard one dude yelling at Billy to "shut the fuck up."  I guess he didn't like the truth so candidly (and succinctly) given to him.  Texans don't like being told how fucked up they are, especially not from some English guy.  Billy discussed how he is worried about England and who is up for election who is a holocaust denier, so that his (Billy's) politics are just as important now as when he was writing his songs in his teens and early 20s.  Give the man a hand folks--if he comes to your town, it will be well worth your while to go see him.

Here are some YouTube videos I found from yesterday's performance.  The person who shot it was either very excited, drunk or both, and you can't see Billy, but you can hear him just fine.





This morning right before it was time to get up and give Whoopis his shot of insulin (as handled deftly by The Boy), a huge storm hit and lightning was everywhere, to the point I was sure the house would catch fire.  That didn't happen, but The Boy did scramble to unplug the entertainment center lest our nice flat screen and all the video-game consoles get zapped in to unusable crap (instead of the usable crap it is now).  That storm dropped us from 70 to 40 degrees.  I refused to leave the house today, and spent most of it sleeping on the couch.  Thus forcing The Boy to get me both breakfast and dinner (we are in a desperate situation grocery-wise).  Have I mentioned how awesome he is?

Oh, yesterday I finally got my Turkish chicken kebab.  Thank you Kebabalicious for deigning to be open during the afternoon.  I gobbled it all down, and so did Wikus with his falafel.  I look forward to eating you again next year.

I'm in a bit of a quandary.  I'm going to buy a pair of these shoes, but I can't decide what color.  I'm leaning heavily for the olive or red.  I already have red shoes, but am always in need of more.  I have a pair of patent green mary janes that feel like I'm walking with a cement block tied to my foot.  The olive ones would definitely be a very nice addition to a professional wardrobe.  Sigh.  I need help--or at least the money to buy all variations of the shoes.  That would be the best solution, because the pale blue and pink ones are very nice, so are the lavender ones.  Sigh.

Then there is this problem.  My heart goes out to this man, and all other people in a similar predicament.  I have worked in the insurance industry and I have worked in healthcare, which has given me a lot of firsthand experience regarding the weighty matters of health.  Insurance companies are beyond crooked, and do not care one bit about the people they cover.  It always comes as a surprise to me that someone can sit down, read someone's story, and decide, no, you are too expensive for us, go on your merry way, and good luck staying alive.  I have worked with people who wanted me to scare a person off of our COBRA plan.  This person had renal failure and was driving our premiums up each year, and they wanted me to call and ask why not go on Medicare?  Hmmm, please go on to government assistance, get on the bottom of the kidney-transplant wait list, and have some half-ass health care, because you know, you're dragging our company down with you.  I refused.  I was also fired three weeks later.  Coincidence?  I don't follow orders very well, especially when it comes to dicking around with someone's health just because  he/she is a financial burden.  I really hope that there is a strong rallying cry behind Cary Tennis, and he is able to bully BCBS in to covering his cancer treatment.  Let's all put on a Billy Bragg album, and start changing the world by posting about this serious problem, and insisting the government opt for better health care for every single fucking person living in this country (and yes, that goes for illegals, too).

Ahem, I feel a little bit of a dry throat.  I seem to only have champagne in the fridge.