HEALTHCARE - A RIGHT OR A PRIVILEGE?

Is healthcare a right or a privilege? And do we, individually, have any responsibility to provide for our neighbor? I think I know how our Creator would answer that question. I wonder what God must think about the fact that we seldom consider what is “right,” but seek primarily what is in our own best interests. I understand that “self-preservation” is a strong human instinct, but I believe more is expected of us.

“. . . one nation under God . . ."

I think most would agree that our founding fathers and early leaders envisioned America as a Godly country, governed by reasonable, responsible and responsive leaders. A country where the citizens would enjoy freedom of speech and freedom to worship as they choose, as well as the assurance of justice for each and every one. I wonder what they would think if they could see and hear what is going on today.

Last week someone said to me: “I don’t want my taxes to pay for someone else’s healthcare.” I wasn’t shocked to hear that, but I am deeply disturbed by the lack of concern that person has for his fellow man and, of course, his position is not uncommon today. I am afraid that as a whole, we are becoming a nation of self-centered, “me-first” people who are willing to allow our fellow Americans to suffer catastrophic losses as long as it doesn’t affect us in a negative way. Have we, indeed, sunk so low? We’ve all heard the stories; no need to repeat the numbers or the facts. We desperately need to provide healthcare for those Americans who have lost their jobs, and as a result, their healthcare. We need to assure that those people whose medical costs have put them on the brink of bankruptcy, are saved from losing their homes and ending up on the streets. We need to be sure that no one has to make a choice between buying the medicine they need or buying food.

"He’s not heavy, he’s my brother.”

I don’t like labels and I suspect that if you have read this far, you may have labeled me either a “religious fanatic” or a “bleeding heart.” I would reject both labels, but I plead guilty to being concerned about my fellow Americans and I plead guilty to believing that God was involved in the beginnings of this country and is still involved in the evolution of this country. I believe that He must be disappointed that His children have so little concern for their brothers and sisters.

We seem to have lost even the ability to allow our brothers and sisters to express their opinions, to vote their hearts, and support their leaders, without vilifying them. Do we need to bring guns to public meetings to indicate our opposition or our outrage. What is that about? Certainly not about respecting our neighbors and their rights. I am frightened by such outright manifestations of potential violence and appalled that anyone would feel right about bring so blatantly threatening.

“. . . indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”

If ever the people of this nation needed to be “One in Spirit,” it is today. Yet I have never seen more divisiveness and rancor. I think it was Patrick Henry who said: “United we stand, divided we fall.” Are we heading for the “Fall?” If, in fact, we lose sight of the fact that this country is only as great as its citizens standing together, hand-in-hand, determined to do the right thing, then we are lost.

“Am I my brother’s keeper?

Yes, you are! I believe that as human beings, “created in God’s image,” we have a responsibility to carry our brother’s burdens when we can do it. If, in fact, we are created in God’s image, and “God is Love,” then we do have a Spirit of Love within us - and love does not seek only for selfish satisfaction and well-being. We need to rekindle that Spirit of love and self-sacrifice. Let us, citizens of the United States of American, stand united, one nation - under God - preserving one another’s dignity and serving one another with respect, love, and courage.

“God Bless America, Land that I love. Stand beside her

And guide her. . .”

LIVING WITH ANIMALS

My daughter and her husband spent the better part of a sweltering weekend installing a wire fence around my vegetable garden to keep the dogs out so that my newly planted seed would stand a chance of actually growing before being trampled into the ground. I thanked them profusely and fed them a nice dinner. I’m sure they had better things to do, but they are very generous with their time and talent.

That night Annie, my younger dog, sometimes referred to as “bull in a china closet,” apparently chasing some wild intruder (probably a cat) drove straight through the gate, bending it completely out of shape. I wonder that she didn’t break her neck, but I knew nothing about the destruction until the next morning when, looking out to the garden, it seemed to me that something was not quite right. It appeared that some of the posts were crooked and the gate was open. Upon closer inspection, it was clear what had happened.

I called my daughter and told her about the damage. She saw the humor in it and had a good laugh. They’ll repair the damage next weekend. Bless their hearts.

When I mentioned this little episode on Facebook, a couple of people remarked that they were glad they didn’t have to deal with animals in their lives. “See, that’s what you get. I’m so glad I don’t have animals,” etc. This started me thinking about what it is like to live with animals versus what it is like to live with human beings. I have to say, that animals win this, hands down.

Let’s see . . . I get no complaints about what I feed them. I don’t have to prepare something different every day; they’re happy to eat the same thing for every meal. Sometimes, I even mix a little of my leftovers into their food and they are completely overjoyed. They never complain if I don’t get home in time to feed them at their regularly scheduled meal time. They simply welcome me home with enthusiasm and smiles and go outside to pee. And then they thank me profusely for feeding them.

Oh, yes . . . They don’t care what I look like, if my hair is not combed or if my makeup is not freshened. They don’t mind if the bed doesn’t get made or the floors vacuumed. Of, course, they can’t help with the dishes, but they don’t complain if the dishes don’t get done right away.

And, bless them . . . they never complain if I’m in a bad mood. Rather, they sense when I need to be left alone or if I need a little TLC. A chin on my lap and sympathetic eyes are such a comfort.

Then, too . . . they never complain. They can be miserable, sicker than a dog, so to speak, and I won’t know it until I see evidence of it in one form or another. I’ve never known a hypochondriacal dog or cat. They hardly flinch when getting a shot from the Vet and while they don’t enjoy taking medicine, it can generally be disguised and administered without difficulty.

And they never complain about their lot in life; they have definitely learned the secret of being content (living with me, of course). They don’t care about world affairs, or bad drivers, or unfriendly clerks or high prices. They just live for the moment and don’t ask for more.

Now . . . it is true that if I want to travel, I have to make arrangements for their care and that can be problematic and sometimes expensive. But they don’t expect to go everywhere with me and they don’t give me attitude when I return. Instead, I feel like “Queen of the Nile” when they give me the Royal Welcome after I’ve been away.

I find animals much easier to live with. How about you?

REMEMBERING

Florida I love . . .

Palm Trees and Palmetto. Sand Pines and Coonti. Myriad shades of green.

Purple, red and yellow hues of the Crepe Myrtle and Hibiscus

Majestic Live Oaks dressed elegantly with hanging moss and supporting on its limbs

The amazing Resurrection Fern which lives & dies & lives again, perpetually

The Mockingbird’s amazing repertoire and the wake-up call of the Sandhill Crane

flying over on the way to the pond with it’s family

The spicy fragrance of Confederate Jasmine and the sweet smell of orange blossoms

The taste of Red Grapefruit harvested from my own tree

A walk on the beach to taste the salt sea air and feel the sand between my toes

The hypnotic sound of the waves rolling in, rolling in, rolling in

To meet the foraging sandpipers . . . and me

Sunshine on my face everyday warming my body and lifting my spirit

But I remember . . .

Trillium and Jack-in-the-Pulpit. The exquisite fragrance of the delicate Lily of the Valley

I remember searching under ancient hardwoods and along old railroad ties

for the elusive, highly prized, Morel Mushroom with it’s incredible taste.

I remember walking on a thick carpet of pine needles

through a silent forest of Magnificent old Pine trees and feeling the urge to pray.

I remember the beauty of God’s Autumn Spectacular.

Color so brilliant it can take your breath away.

Vibrant reds, shimmering golds, deep purples, bright oranges.

And yes, I remember snow, softening the landscape

with a profound hush and slowing the pace on a busy morning.

I remember yellow grosbeaks, and cardinals,

and black-capped chickadees brushing away the snow

to uncover the seed.

And I remember Grape Hyacynths and Tulips

pushing their way through the cold earth to fill our hearts

with hope that winter would finally end.

And Daffodils . . . beautiful Daffodils.

And I will never, ever forget the astounding, incomparable fragrance of Lilacs

Florida, I love . . . But I remember Michigan

Writing Assignment

Following is a poem that I'm working on for a group assignment. If you have suggestion to improve it, please let me know . . . I welcome all criticism. (But be nice, please)

THE MELODY

Barely discernable above the garbled voices,

Breaking through the static

A melody

A voice, tremulous and elusive

Losing strength in the cacophony

Then growing more insistent

Like the ebb and flow of the tide

inching closer with each wave

Now and then I hear it

Clear and pure and painfully honest

Now and then

I don't

Maybe you would like to hear it

Or not?

If I can tune out the static

and listen to the song

Will it be too familiar?

I fear

The melody is me

BAKED IN A CAKE

Pretty Persian Pussycat, attitude unchecked

Crawled into a cake pan, whereupon she slept

In comfort so complete, she failed to wake before

her Mistress entered on the scene and shouted No; No more!

So distraught was her maniacal mistress to see such impudence

This was perhaps not the first such show of feline insolence

"Withdraw infernal feline or I may lose my cool,

And bake your silly silky self until you shed your wool.

Then I shall name you Persian Pound Cake

And serve you at the school.

LABOR DAY

It hasn't been so many years ago that the goal of every red-blooded American working man and woman was to retire as early as possible and enjoy the life of leisure they felt they so richly deserved. Many dreamed of retiring at 55, and many did just that, while others had to make it to 60 or 65, but knew when that day came, their lifestyle was going to change and they would be forever free to do whatever whenever they pleased.

That mind-set has changed in recent years and I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing. Many people in their sixties and even seventies are choosing to continue to work rather than retire. Yes, many have found that their "nest egg" isn't feathered as well as they thought it might be and may actually need to continue for purely economic reasons.

But, many have discovered that continuing to work is actually good for them physically, mentally and emotionally. Too much leisure time is not always a good thing, even when it is seen as well-deserved. When you are still healthy and capable of working, there is great satisfaction in being productive and enjoying that feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day. Doing that job, solving problems, meeting deadlines, and being able to gripe about the boss and the workload is all part of that mental stimuation that helps to keep our brains young.

We are living longer . . . often into our nineties and when we retire at 60 or 65, that means we may have close to thirty years of leisure? Of course, there are a million ways to keep busy with volunteer opportunities all over this country, and those activities are satisfying as well. But I doubt they provide the stimulation and satisfaction that actually working for a paycheck does.

Anyway, on this Labor Day, 2009, I salute all you laborers out there and I thank God that I have a job to go to and a brain that is still functioning at 68. And to all of you who have lost your jobs because of the economic situation, my heart goes out to you and I pray that this country will soon be turned around and you will be back to productive and satisfying work.

THE GOODBYE DAY

THE GOODBYE DAY

Posted on September 3rd, 2009 by AftedEEduth

Mike carried Lindy and I carried her favorite stuffed animal as we approached the Vet’s office, knowing that Lindy would not be going home with us this time. This time, we would hold her and stroke her and speak our good-byes softly and reluctantly. I wonder how much she understands. She has always been so tuned in to our emotions. She always seemed to understand when I was feeling sad or worried or just tired. She would sit beside me on the sofa and lay her chin on my lap, looking up at me with those lovely sad eyes. She could force a smile out of me every time. When we were upbeat and in the midst of planning for company - maybe a family dinner - there was an extra little bounce in her step and her ears were propped up expectantly. She always knew.
I remember the day fourteen years ago when we found her at the Animal Shelter. We had already looked at several dogs and walked a couple of them, but none of them seemed to be “the right one.” We were almost to the car when Mike said, “Why don’t we go back in and look at the pup that was crated in the front office. She was kinda cute.”
“She was cute, but I think she must be already spoken for.” I said.
“Well, let’s just go in and ask,” Mike said.
We did. It seemed that Lindy had been at the Shelter for almost two months. The girls brought her up front to spotlight her because she was very sweet and they were anxious for her to find a home. They were thrilled that we were interested and Lindy was thrilled when we put the leash on her and took her out for a walk. She was such a spirited little thing with her ears perked up and her feathery tail wagging happily, as though she knew this was her lucky day. We looked at each other and smiled. The connection was made. She had found a home and we had found “the right one.”

Our Vet told us that Lindy was probably a year old and would not likely grow much larger. And then he added, “She’s the perfect size, isn’t she?!” She was, I agreed. Also, he doubted that she was German Shepard mix as the Shelter had surmised. Her coloring was predominately black with a tan face and smatterings of white underneath and on her legs. Her eyes were slightly bulgy, rather like a Pomeranian but not that pronounced, and she had a black outline under her nose that looked like someone had painted a little mustache on her face. In short, she was beautiful.

Our kids were well into their teens when Lindy joined our family and, of course, they welcomed her and spoiled her (yes, it was their fault!) She watched them grow up, go off to school, get married, and come home with babies. She was always delighted to see them when they came to visit and welcomed every newcomer with great enthusiasm.

Lindy never met a person she didn’t like. She adored visitors! We used to joke that if someone broke in while we were away, she would welcome them and show them where the silver was hidden. A watchdog she was not. A friend she was.

For years, Lindy and I went for a walk each morning to begin our day. We both looked forward to it and if, for some reason, it didn’t happen, I was made to understand that she was not pleased. There was never any doubt when she was unhappy. Her tail didn’t stand tall and wave back and forth, rather it hung low and her entire body seemed to sag under the weight of her displeasure. Doleful eyes searched mine and not getting the answer she wanted, she would finally sink into a pile of fur and sigh deeply.

One morning, Lindy stopped at the end of the block and pulled the leash to turn around. She was ready to return home. This wasn’t like her; she was always willing to walk around the subdivision with me for twenty or thirty minutes. I tried to convince her to continue the walk but she was sure she wanted to turn back. Our morning walks became shorter and often just to the end of the block. I would say to her: “Really, Lindy, if I can still do it, you can too.” But she didn’t agree and anyway, by that time, she wasn’t hearing much. She wasn’t completely deaf but she missed a lot. And her eyes were clouded with cataracts. She was getting old and I didn’t want to know that. I didn’t want to know what the Vet told us when we took her in. I didn’t want to make the decision that had to be made. How could I possibly say “goodbye?”

I looked into her eyes that day - that “goodbye” day - and she gazed directly into mine. She understood. She knew. But then, she always knew. I smiled and stroked her and thanked her for all of it. All of it. She was the “right one.”

LIFE IS GOOD

The older I get . . .

The easier it is to lose track of time

Often wondering what time it is

And even, sometimes, what day it is

I find I can be okay with not washing my hair everyday

It can be okay to not comb or brush my hair right away

It can even be okay to simply run my fingers through it

Some days . . .

I worry that someone will ring the doorbell early in the day

And find me in rumpled and ragged disarray

But I don’t worry enough to put myself aright right away

Days seem to get shorter as I find myself circling the task list

And trying to remember what it was I wanted to do

Reminding myself write it down as soon as I remember

The wonder is . . .

Somehow I manage to feed the animals and myself a well-balanced diet

Most days I put on my walking shoes and take the girls for a walk

And most of the time, I remember their names

I still enjoy a good challenge, like a difficult crossword puzzle or sudoko

And writing an occasional article for my neglected blog

And trying to understand Republican reasoning (oxymoron?)

Even as the days grow shorter . . . I find I like this time in my life.

Life is good!

CAN WE DO THE RIGHT THING?

Most Americans agree that we need to do something to change the healthcare situation in our country. But is becoming painfully clear that the operative word, “change” is also the scary word, “change.” Many of us fear change and thus are vulnerable to the variety of scare tactics flooding the airwaves these days. It would seem there are folks who will go to any extreme to defeat needed reform, more to further their political ends than to do the right thing for the citizens they represent. Lobbyists are spending boatloads of money to influence our representatives to kill this movement and I fear that our voices will be unheard over the sound of money changing hands.

I am appalled at the vitriolic attacks that have been launched at some of the Town Hall meetings and on some Radio and TV Talk Shows. When did we forfeit our responsibility to think, America? Why are we listening and being influenced by trouble-makers who want to stir up more hatred and cause reasonable people to lose their reason. Thinking Americans need to pull together and discuss this issue with intelligence and respect and let’s do that before somebody gets so stirred up he or she does something we would all regret for the rest of our lives.

Is there anyone reading this who doesn’t know that certain truths are undeniable? For instance, insurance companies are making decisions for us every day. They tell us what doctor we can see (if we want them to pay) and they tell us what medications to take (if we want them to pay). My daughter recounts her recent experience at the pharmacy where she was told that her insurance company would not pay for the medication prescribed by her doctor until she first tried another medication. WHAT?! The insurance company knows better than her own doctor what she needs to be taking? Ridiculous!

Insurance Premiums are increasing three times faster than our wages, yet we are okay with them refusing to pay for medication that our doctor prescribes? We are okay with them telling us that we can only see certain doctors? We are okay with them refusing to cover pre-existing conditions? We are okay with them cancelling us when we lose our job or change jobs?

Come on, America, it’s time for us to be heard above the money-changers in Washington and above the hysterical rantings of Radio and TV wannabees.

I, like most people past the age of sixty-five, am covered by Medicare and am very thankful to the visionaries who fought hard for this “government run” program for seniors. But I know, and you know, that there is room, and lots of it, for improvement in many areas. The President is right when he says that we need to streamline the record-keeping and eliminate duplications in testing, care and medications. I’ll bet most of us have friends or family members who have been made sicker by being over-medicated or even prescribed medications that work against or undermine the efficacy of other medications they are already taking. This is a problem that should not happen and wouldn’t if we had better record-keeping available to all medical providers. And many repeat hospital stays might be eliminated if we had such state-of-the-art records. There is room for improvement and ways to save significant money without reducing Medicare benefits.

We elected a man to lead our country who promised healthcare reform because we desperately need it and because it’s the right thing to do. This is America - land of the brave, home of the free; not land of the sick and home of the destitute because healthcare has bankrupted us. We cannot continue to accept the status quo which allows our friends and neighbors to be forced to make choices between seeking medical treatment when they need it, or putting food on the table and paying the light bill. SHAME ON US IF WE DO.