There's a post circulating of a letter written to a paper in Jackson, Mississippi from an ER doc in 2009. In it he details having to provide care for a woman who has a gold tooth, multiple, expensive looking tattoos, wears an expensive brand of tennis shoes and has an R&B ring tone on her cellphone. The patient received medicaid. His letter stated he didn't like that he was paying for this patient's health care when clearly the patient is choosing to spend her money on vices rather than getting herself health insurance and taking care of herself.
I find so many problems with implications made by the doctor in a letter like this, I'm almost not sure where to begin, but what I think it comes down to race and class.
The doctor doesn't name the patient's race, but gives enough cultural related hints, I think, for the reader to assume that she is black. This article from CNN.com discusses study findings of how doctors view and subsequently treat black and white patients differently. If this doctor were presented with another medicaid case of, let's say, a white woman who has a gold tooth and maybe some other non-typical items for a poor person, would he feel so resentful? For the record, my 93 year old grandmother is on medicaid, has a gold tooth and has many times needed care at the hospital that there is no way she could have afforded to pay for.
Does the doctor know where the patient's tattoos came from? Did the patient tell him she went to the city's best tattoo parlor? Or, did the patient do some jail time and get ink on the inside? There are so many ways they could have happened, that who knows and why try to imply something?
A quick look on the internet tells me that the current cost of milk per gallon is around $4.50. You can buy a 12 pack of Pepsi for $3.69 and a 12 pack of Natural Light Beer for $7.99 (this price was from a Mississippi liquor store). Does the extra $3.50 spent on beer rather than milk give the patient enough to pay for her own health insurance each month? Having provided my own healthcare in the past to the tune of nearly $500 a month, I'm guessing that answer is no.
And what about her food choices? There is a modified version of the letter circulating on Facebook that references the woman's eating fast food take out. While snopes.com puts that letter into the false category, someone thought it was worthwhile to ramp up the evils committed by this woman. Surely people know just how easily it is for the poor community to just walk down the street to Whole Foods and get high quality food at a low cost as well as finding nothing but fresh fruit and vegetables at their local convenience store. There is a reason why the poor are obese. Little Debbie swiss rolls cost $1.33 for 12 at Kmart.
Is she on medicaid because she isn't working and is just living off the system? There are an awful lot of people out of work in our country right now and that may be the case, but there are also a huge number of 'working poor' who can't afford healthcare even though they are employed. The doctor in his letter didn't seem to know how she ended up on medicaid, but again the implication is there.
First do no harm, doctor, which would imply to me you won't judge your patients, you will work to educate them and provide them with the care they need. Be aware of your own racial biases and perhaps inform yourself about what comes along with living in poverty before you pass judgment on another poor woman who comes into your ER.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Mystery on Allen Street
A nice young family lives next door to us. They moved in a year after I did and last year, moved to the upstairs part of their house and rented out the first floor. When they moved in I would smile and say hi, but they really, really kept to themselves. Sometimes they'd nod, other times, no response at all. That isn't all together out of the ordinary in New England. We aren't exactly open and friendly folks all the time, so I didn't think much of it. But maybe I should have.
You see, when they moved in, they had two boys and now they only have one. I'm not kidding. The older boy is no longer there. The younger one is now about 2 and I see him get into the car to go to daycare with his mom in the mornings. The older one was maybe 4 or 5 when they moved in and he's gone. His bike used to lean against the side of the house, next to his dad's which was outfitted with a seat for the infant to ride in. Now, no little person bike, no running around in our driveway. Nothing. I'm not sure how long it has been since I last saw the older boy, but I hadn't really thought about it until this summer when E and I would be out and I'd see the mom out too, but she was always with just the younger boy.
Over the years we've become a bit more friendly and will say hello and chat briefly when we see each other outside. They had a yard sale earlier this summer and the mom came over to tell me the day before and said that she'd set aside some toys she thought would be good for Ella. I went over in the morning and got a bunch of great stuff. We were talking about kids, daycare etc. I commented that I couldn't imagine doing it with two. She just sort of looked at me blankly. I quickly moved on, but it made me realize there really isn't another kid living with them who would now be about 7 years old.
Um, where did the kid go? I can see two options. He was either a product of an earlier marriage and lives with the other parent (the husband has a foreign accent, so maybe the kid is on another continent?) or something awful happened and he died. I would think the neighborhood gossip would have gotten that one around, but who knows. Most of the talk around here centers on the geniuses who miss the one way sign at the end of our road and get yelled at by the old lady across the street who site out on her porch as they drive by (as though they can hear her inside their car).
There is no polite way to ask a question that would get the answer, so I quietly hypothesize and keep my eyes peeled for his bike to return. Now that I wrote this, I totally feel like Harriet the Spy. Or my mother, I'm not sure which.
You see, when they moved in, they had two boys and now they only have one. I'm not kidding. The older boy is no longer there. The younger one is now about 2 and I see him get into the car to go to daycare with his mom in the mornings. The older one was maybe 4 or 5 when they moved in and he's gone. His bike used to lean against the side of the house, next to his dad's which was outfitted with a seat for the infant to ride in. Now, no little person bike, no running around in our driveway. Nothing. I'm not sure how long it has been since I last saw the older boy, but I hadn't really thought about it until this summer when E and I would be out and I'd see the mom out too, but she was always with just the younger boy.
Over the years we've become a bit more friendly and will say hello and chat briefly when we see each other outside. They had a yard sale earlier this summer and the mom came over to tell me the day before and said that she'd set aside some toys she thought would be good for Ella. I went over in the morning and got a bunch of great stuff. We were talking about kids, daycare etc. I commented that I couldn't imagine doing it with two. She just sort of looked at me blankly. I quickly moved on, but it made me realize there really isn't another kid living with them who would now be about 7 years old.
Um, where did the kid go? I can see two options. He was either a product of an earlier marriage and lives with the other parent (the husband has a foreign accent, so maybe the kid is on another continent?) or something awful happened and he died. I would think the neighborhood gossip would have gotten that one around, but who knows. Most of the talk around here centers on the geniuses who miss the one way sign at the end of our road and get yelled at by the old lady across the street who site out on her porch as they drive by (as though they can hear her inside their car).
There is no polite way to ask a question that would get the answer, so I quietly hypothesize and keep my eyes peeled for his bike to return. Now that I wrote this, I totally feel like Harriet the Spy. Or my mother, I'm not sure which.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Day Care, We Does It
It was a big old week here at the Wavis homestead. The Shorty packed up her lunchbox (along with 14 million other bags of diapers, clothing changes, sun hats, butt paste, bottles and formula) and trekked off to school. Well, daycare, but we call it school because she is learning stuff while in a place with 6 other little people all clambering for the same rattle.
We visited the day before she began and stayed for an hour. She was totally content and I felt good about the decision to send her there, regardless of how poor it is making us. Then, that night, it hit me. This whole being home and raising her is coming to an end. I was no longer going to be the sole caregiver for my little girl. When she has a boom, I won't be there to scoop her up and get her laughing again. I'll have to figure out how to get me ready and her ready and out the door with a nutritionally sound lunch that wasn't just rustled up from the fridge. It made me sad.
When the Hubs came home and announced that he was sad she was going to daycare. It made me mad. Who was he to feel that way? His life wasn't changing? He wasn't having to figure out anything new and refind his professional self in between diaper changes and nighttime wake ups.
Then I calmed down and realized he had a right to his feelings too and really, I was just needing to embrace this next change. I knew a part of me was yearning for it. It is HARD to be home all day, alone with a little one. Starting when we were would allow for some shorter days and a slow rolling start before I have to go in to school to teach was a good thing. Waiting two weeks was just delaying the inevitable and would add to the stress level in the long run.
The first day I stayed for half an hour until she seemed suitably distracted and I took off. When I picked her up that afternoon, she was on the floor, chattering away while playing with a book. She heard my voice and crawled at warp speed over to me. Yesterday, I just dropped her off and left and when I picked her up she crawled over to me but wasn't really anxious to leave. I stayed and chatted with her teachers until she sat next to me and threw her hands up in the air saying "all done" in sign and we left. Both days she did short naps but was totally over stimulated from the day and an exhausted mess by bedtime. Today, I could tell she was tired when she got up. When I dropped her off, she kind of gave me this 'there is no way you expect me to do this another day' kind of look and she burst into sobbing tears. I restrained my own tears and exited quickly, figuring they have a better shot of distracting her when I'm not around.
I've kept my cellphone close these 3 days waiting for the call to come get her because she can't stop crying, but it hasn't come. The kid is just ready for this (despite the fatigue, presumably she'll learn how to nap in a noisy environment soon). She loves being around people and has already buddied up with a little boy who is about at the same physical stage (despite being 2 months younger and about 5 pounds heavier) and the two of them crawl around together.
It is hard to believe we've made it here, but here we are. It is daycare for 3 days a week and mom and daughter days for 2. I'm hopeful that this is a good balance for everyone.
We visited the day before she began and stayed for an hour. She was totally content and I felt good about the decision to send her there, regardless of how poor it is making us. Then, that night, it hit me. This whole being home and raising her is coming to an end. I was no longer going to be the sole caregiver for my little girl. When she has a boom, I won't be there to scoop her up and get her laughing again. I'll have to figure out how to get me ready and her ready and out the door with a nutritionally sound lunch that wasn't just rustled up from the fridge. It made me sad.
When the Hubs came home and announced that he was sad she was going to daycare. It made me mad. Who was he to feel that way? His life wasn't changing? He wasn't having to figure out anything new and refind his professional self in between diaper changes and nighttime wake ups.
Then I calmed down and realized he had a right to his feelings too and really, I was just needing to embrace this next change. I knew a part of me was yearning for it. It is HARD to be home all day, alone with a little one. Starting when we were would allow for some shorter days and a slow rolling start before I have to go in to school to teach was a good thing. Waiting two weeks was just delaying the inevitable and would add to the stress level in the long run.
The first day I stayed for half an hour until she seemed suitably distracted and I took off. When I picked her up that afternoon, she was on the floor, chattering away while playing with a book. She heard my voice and crawled at warp speed over to me. Yesterday, I just dropped her off and left and when I picked her up she crawled over to me but wasn't really anxious to leave. I stayed and chatted with her teachers until she sat next to me and threw her hands up in the air saying "all done" in sign and we left. Both days she did short naps but was totally over stimulated from the day and an exhausted mess by bedtime. Today, I could tell she was tired when she got up. When I dropped her off, she kind of gave me this 'there is no way you expect me to do this another day' kind of look and she burst into sobbing tears. I restrained my own tears and exited quickly, figuring they have a better shot of distracting her when I'm not around.
I've kept my cellphone close these 3 days waiting for the call to come get her because she can't stop crying, but it hasn't come. The kid is just ready for this (despite the fatigue, presumably she'll learn how to nap in a noisy environment soon). She loves being around people and has already buddied up with a little boy who is about at the same physical stage (despite being 2 months younger and about 5 pounds heavier) and the two of them crawl around together.
It is hard to believe we've made it here, but here we are. It is daycare for 3 days a week and mom and daughter days for 2. I'm hopeful that this is a good balance for everyone.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Thank you Universe!
The world works in strange ways, no question. As the rest of the country is, we are watching our budget carefully. Starting Ella in daycare means an additional $1400 a month (OUCH) for 3 days of care. It is somewhat of a gamble because I have no idea what I will earn this school year from teaching and who knows about next summer. Anyway...we've been talking about my desire to get back to singing and contemplating how to finance lessons which don't come cheap. We'd negotiated between ourselves that I would try to do 2 a month and factor in an hour of practice time on the days I'd teach. It is a far cry from weekly lessons, coachings and daily rehearsals, but I'll take it.
Just as we settled on this, I got an email from my uncle saying that a great uncle who died probably 4 or 5 years ago had an additional life insurance policy that no one knew about. He died without a will, which, when you live in Delaware means they hunt down all of your living blood relatives and divide the estate up between them. I'd already gotten my initial payout years ago, but this amount will pay for 5 months of lessons twice a month for me without having to touch our other income. The check arrived yesterday and my first lesson is in 2 weeks!
Thank you Uncle Ross!!!
Just as we settled on this, I got an email from my uncle saying that a great uncle who died probably 4 or 5 years ago had an additional life insurance policy that no one knew about. He died without a will, which, when you live in Delaware means they hunt down all of your living blood relatives and divide the estate up between them. I'd already gotten my initial payout years ago, but this amount will pay for 5 months of lessons twice a month for me without having to touch our other income. The check arrived yesterday and my first lesson is in 2 weeks!
Thank you Uncle Ross!!!
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Accomplishment!
Here it is: I actually made dinner at a decent hour last night.
Throughout Ella's life I've not figured out how to make dinner while she is still awake. In the early days dinner time was her meltdown time and now a days, she is on the move, so I can't exactly plunk her somewhere and go off and do something else.
Yesterday, it dawned on me to try putting the pack and play in the kitchen, load it up with toys and see if she'd hang out in there while I cooked. It worked!!! We had some music on, she bopped around, sometimes standing up to peer over at what I was doing and then plopping back down and playing with her favorite toy - measuring spoons.
The bottom line is I had dinner all assembled before feeding her dinner and was able to put it in the oven at 6:30 and we ate at 7, right after she went to bed. My whole being is happier with that plan - I'm not so hungry I'm crabby and I've had enough time to digest that I don't get reflux which messes with my chances of singing decently. She even stayed in long enough for me to wash up prep dishes so the kitchen wasn't an utter disaster to clean up.
And, the most fun of all, was I held out some of the pasta, put some sauce and parm. cheese on it, tore up some chicken we'd had the other night and it was her dinner. There is something of a huge relief to me to have her move into eating table food. She loves it and the mess it makes and I love seeing her grow and move towards a bigger kid.
Now if we can just get her to sleep until at least 6am again.....
Throughout Ella's life I've not figured out how to make dinner while she is still awake. In the early days dinner time was her meltdown time and now a days, she is on the move, so I can't exactly plunk her somewhere and go off and do something else.
Yesterday, it dawned on me to try putting the pack and play in the kitchen, load it up with toys and see if she'd hang out in there while I cooked. It worked!!! We had some music on, she bopped around, sometimes standing up to peer over at what I was doing and then plopping back down and playing with her favorite toy - measuring spoons.
The bottom line is I had dinner all assembled before feeding her dinner and was able to put it in the oven at 6:30 and we ate at 7, right after she went to bed. My whole being is happier with that plan - I'm not so hungry I'm crabby and I've had enough time to digest that I don't get reflux which messes with my chances of singing decently. She even stayed in long enough for me to wash up prep dishes so the kitchen wasn't an utter disaster to clean up.
And, the most fun of all, was I held out some of the pasta, put some sauce and parm. cheese on it, tore up some chicken we'd had the other night and it was her dinner. There is something of a huge relief to me to have her move into eating table food. She loves it and the mess it makes and I love seeing her grow and move towards a bigger kid.
Now if we can just get her to sleep until at least 6am again.....
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
had it, having it and whatall...
I'm not sure if I'm still in the process of 'having it' or if I've just officially 'had it' with working for other people.
This week's adventures make me think it might just be time to hang out my own shingle and go it alone. I long, yearn, pine, drool over the possibility of having a manager who wows the world with communication skills, negotiation abilities, management talents. Thus far, I've come up with diddly on that front.
The aforementioned adventure went from simple, to odd to all out clusterfuck (SUCH a great word). It began as a meeting in which it was recognized that I've been donating my time for about 4 years to run the program I teach in and it was suggested that I should receive a stipend for said work. All good. A meeting was held, an amount was proposed and agreed on and everyone walked away happy. Except one person who, the next day, fired off and email saying I should be paid 80% less - at a rate I haven't been paid since probably high school. I replied and said as much and a bit more.
Things continued until last week when I was asked to put together a list of tasks and estimate time and dollars and my supervisor would get back to me with what the potential stipend would be and I could say yay or nay. I followed through on my end. What did I get in return?
What did I get in return, indeed.
What I got was a mass email sent out to all the teachers yeaterday about starting up in the fall and rolled into the middle of that email was, 'oh, by the way' Person X (not a voice teacher and definitely not me) will now be the Director of the Program'.
Uhhhhhhh.....you know, it saves me load of administrative headache to not have to coordinate things, but that was NOT the way to tell me about the decision. I have been ridonkulously helpful in providing info, setting up the meeting for alumni to talk about the financial side of the program, done this that and the other, was lead to believe we were simply dickering over dollars and THIS is what I get. Communication from someone who appears to be in over his head, with no idea how to manage employees.
Bring on the school year, I can't fucking wait.
All of that had me lying awake listening to my child cry randomly at 4am and thinking, perhaps I should just escape the whole working for someone else and work for myself. Launch a venture that will be workable from home, have some childcare to keep my sanity and just fuck the work world. Sounds pretty appealing if you ask me.
This week's adventures make me think it might just be time to hang out my own shingle and go it alone. I long, yearn, pine, drool over the possibility of having a manager who wows the world with communication skills, negotiation abilities, management talents. Thus far, I've come up with diddly on that front.
The aforementioned adventure went from simple, to odd to all out clusterfuck (SUCH a great word). It began as a meeting in which it was recognized that I've been donating my time for about 4 years to run the program I teach in and it was suggested that I should receive a stipend for said work. All good. A meeting was held, an amount was proposed and agreed on and everyone walked away happy. Except one person who, the next day, fired off and email saying I should be paid 80% less - at a rate I haven't been paid since probably high school. I replied and said as much and a bit more.
Things continued until last week when I was asked to put together a list of tasks and estimate time and dollars and my supervisor would get back to me with what the potential stipend would be and I could say yay or nay. I followed through on my end. What did I get in return?
What did I get in return, indeed.
What I got was a mass email sent out to all the teachers yeaterday about starting up in the fall and rolled into the middle of that email was, 'oh, by the way' Person X (not a voice teacher and definitely not me) will now be the Director of the Program'.
Uhhhhhhh.....you know, it saves me load of administrative headache to not have to coordinate things, but that was NOT the way to tell me about the decision. I have been ridonkulously helpful in providing info, setting up the meeting for alumni to talk about the financial side of the program, done this that and the other, was lead to believe we were simply dickering over dollars and THIS is what I get. Communication from someone who appears to be in over his head, with no idea how to manage employees.
Bring on the school year, I can't fucking wait.
All of that had me lying awake listening to my child cry randomly at 4am and thinking, perhaps I should just escape the whole working for someone else and work for myself. Launch a venture that will be workable from home, have some childcare to keep my sanity and just fuck the work world. Sounds pretty appealing if you ask me.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Feeling Grateful
There are many days when I long for a dear friend to get together with to talk about life and what is going on in it these days. I miss having girlfriends who are experiencing parenthood at the same time I am and who know me well.
In my pre-marriage and Ella days I had friends who were married and had children, but most of them lived in adjoining states - New York and San Francisco to be precise. Locally, I cultivated friendships with other single women - many of whom have no desire to have children or probably get married. Since having Ella, I still see them, but I think we'd all agree it is different though they have been my friends for 15 years. My life has simply moved onto a different track and while we do get together for dinner or a pedicure once in a while, we won't be taking girl's trips to Spain together of going, spur of the moment, to a local watering hole to hang out.
I know I'm the type of person who tends to have fewer, but closer friends that I've known for a long time. Being casual acquaintances with people was not something I ever did well. My mom will be the first to say it was hard to plan birthday parties for me as a kid because I only wanted my best friend there. College was the first time that was ever really required of me and I can't say I felt totally successful at it. I never enjoyed going to dinner with people I didn't know well. In all honesty, I would rather have eaten alone. Over the years I've gotten better at it and have a fairly big circle of people that I know and enjoy, but those I hold near and dear are those I can get close to and form a lasting bond.
Today my desire was fulfilled when I got to chat with my friend Bronwen. We met 19 years ago this month when we started college and lived in good old Marshall Dorm. It is amazing to me that we've known each other that long, when in some ways college feels like just yesterday.
I so appreciate her friendship because our relationship has stood the test of time, relationships, distance and a whole host of other things. There are plenty of years when we probably haven't seen each other more than twice a year, but we've always caught up by phone and it is as though no time has passed no matter how long we go between chatting. Though we've been there for each other over the years, I think in the past 5 years we've really come to appreciate the friendship of the other in a way we never had before. Though our lives are so very different in some ways, we are similar people in our core.
In any event, it felt like a spot of my soul lit up when, after weeks of phone tag, we were able to catch up. There is just something wonderful about getting to talk with a person who just gets you and knows your history so there's no back story needing to be filled in when you talk. It makes me grateful for the friendships I have invested in and so glad to talk with someone who has a life that is somewhat like mine.
In my pre-marriage and Ella days I had friends who were married and had children, but most of them lived in adjoining states - New York and San Francisco to be precise. Locally, I cultivated friendships with other single women - many of whom have no desire to have children or probably get married. Since having Ella, I still see them, but I think we'd all agree it is different though they have been my friends for 15 years. My life has simply moved onto a different track and while we do get together for dinner or a pedicure once in a while, we won't be taking girl's trips to Spain together of going, spur of the moment, to a local watering hole to hang out.
I know I'm the type of person who tends to have fewer, but closer friends that I've known for a long time. Being casual acquaintances with people was not something I ever did well. My mom will be the first to say it was hard to plan birthday parties for me as a kid because I only wanted my best friend there. College was the first time that was ever really required of me and I can't say I felt totally successful at it. I never enjoyed going to dinner with people I didn't know well. In all honesty, I would rather have eaten alone. Over the years I've gotten better at it and have a fairly big circle of people that I know and enjoy, but those I hold near and dear are those I can get close to and form a lasting bond.
Today my desire was fulfilled when I got to chat with my friend Bronwen. We met 19 years ago this month when we started college and lived in good old Marshall Dorm. It is amazing to me that we've known each other that long, when in some ways college feels like just yesterday.
I so appreciate her friendship because our relationship has stood the test of time, relationships, distance and a whole host of other things. There are plenty of years when we probably haven't seen each other more than twice a year, but we've always caught up by phone and it is as though no time has passed no matter how long we go between chatting. Though we've been there for each other over the years, I think in the past 5 years we've really come to appreciate the friendship of the other in a way we never had before. Though our lives are so very different in some ways, we are similar people in our core.
In any event, it felt like a spot of my soul lit up when, after weeks of phone tag, we were able to catch up. There is just something wonderful about getting to talk with a person who just gets you and knows your history so there's no back story needing to be filled in when you talk. It makes me grateful for the friendships I have invested in and so glad to talk with someone who has a life that is somewhat like mine.
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