Friday, February 27, 2015

Health Care, insurance workers comp

I have had health issues through the passage of my 50 plus years on this planet.

Many years ago, I hurt my back, and went to a health care provider.  I was examined briefly and diagnosed with strained back muscles, and told that I could work 4 hours per day despite my protestations.

So I worked a couple of four hour shifts-I will add here that my injury was not work related-

After three hours I was barely able to stand, and my boss/owner took one look at me, asked what the doctor said, and told me to get myself down to the ER because something was not right.

Luckily for me, the ER doc was sympathetic and suggested a MRI in a few days from a travelling unit that would be coming to the ER.

So I signed up , and lo and behold I had not one but TWO herniated discs in my spine.

Well, I was pretty mad at the first doc, and of course it became a situation where the docs all scrambled to cover him because they are all terrified of malpractice suits...although I was just venting and not planning on legal recourse.

I was referred to an orthopedic surgeon, and he examined me with a series of pinpricks, asking me if it hurt here, or there? and in my ignorance, I agreed hesistantly at one point and the doctor announced I was lying and not a candidate for surgery and basically tossed me out of his office.

I was officially diagnosed with degenerative disc disease at that point.

So I spent a couple of miserable years raising toddlers, with a cranky back, babying the kids as well as myself, learning to get by on next to nothing.

Learning  to sleep with a pillow between my knees, rolling a tennis ball while lying flat on the floor on my butt cheek to lessen the excrutiating pain of sciatica.

I also fell down a flight of stairs with the Firebird in my arms and fractured my sacrum during this time...

All the medical community fought me-I had to go to physical therapy which left me in tears on the floor of my living room, one of the few times I had to resort to prescription painkillers, and I had to get off the floor and drive a forty mile trip to pick the script up from the doctor and then have it filled at the pharmacy.

I credit the tennis ball deep tissue massage-which I picked up off the internet-with finally curing the last of my back issues

Fast forward another decade to my current employment.

About ten employees not counting the owners including myself.  The last month all the building equipment chores have fallen on my shoulders, and pain started to occur in my elbow.  Still I was pressured through the grapevine of command to achieve a certain goal, and being a proud person, I kept wailing away at the project.

My arm started falling asleep at night, waking me throughout the night, pins and needles, being so bad in the morning I could't move my hand.

The owner was due back in a few days, and I bent to task.  Then he reappeared and decided to  convert the project into an assembly line, and asked me to pre drill 500 holes by hand with a cordless drill.

I drilled 20 holes, put down the drill, gathered my things, and told him I could not possibly do that because my entire arm was seized up.  He stopped me, and said I could work on another part of the project, which involved more drilling an screwing, and then left.  My pride injured, I applied myself to the task for the remainder of the shift and went home in agony.

The following day I called in and went to the local health care center, where I was seen by a new staff member, not a doctor, not sure what his title was because he was so new his picture was not up in the waiting room.

I explained to the receptionist, and then the nurse, my symptoms.  The nurse initially found the pulse in the affected arm was 10 beats per minute slower than my other arm, then convinced herself they were the same, although it came it at 62, when my normal resting heart rate is 80.

I was subjected to a barrage of questions about smoking and quitting smoking options, and I note that although I reported smoking less than a pack a day, in my discharge papers it said I was a heavy smoker.

Then the not-a-doctor came in, and turned out to be touch phobic.  I explained I had pain radiating from my shoulder to my hand, loss of strength and feeling in that hand.  He performed a few cursory taps checking for carpal tunnel, which I subconsicously wondered if that was the issue, but the pain radiated down the center of my forearm.

He asked a couple more questions, I pointed to the tip of my elbow as being particulary painful, and then he declared tennis elbow, prescribed the RICE treatment-rest, ice, compression, elevation.

I asked if I should take off work, and he said, well, most people have to work, wear an elbow support, ice afterwards, anti-inflammatories before.

I went home and started doing some internet research.  Yes, I had tennis elbow.   But the most painful point was indicative of golfer's elbow, another tendon.  The pins and needles, loss of feeling and strength, pain in the shoulder?  Radial nerve tunnel syndrome-a potentially crippling condition.

I knew there was no way I could hold a drill another day, so I called in.  I took the following week off at my own expense. I rested.  After a week my arm was no longer falling asleep at night.

Another half a week and I decided to return for "light" duty. I worked yesterday merely weighing out 14 pounds of chamomile blossoms into half ounce portions and bottling them.

Last night my arm kept me up half the night.  My forearm was burning and swollen.

I called in again today.

I am on agricultural pay, so I am not covered by worker's comp.  Even if I was, the doc said to go back to work, and if I was not better in 2 weeks to have physical therapy.  After that, surgery is the only option, scraping the involved tendons with limited success.

Well, if you are still with me, here's the beef:

Instead of paying me to take three weeks off, and stopping these small businesses from abusing their help as slave labor, the system decides that I should continue working, suffer, pay for physical therapy, and then expensive tendon surgery=more than the job would pay me in three years-all in the name of productivity.

That is one messed up system.  Instead of paying me to rest, an insurance company would pay the therapist, the doctors, the surgeons....(well their pay is taxable income, after all) follow the money baby.











Monday, February 23, 2015

Friday, January 30, 2015

Sonnet on the Author's Birthday

Sing on, sweet thrush, upon the leafless bough,
Sing on, sweet bird, I listen to thy strain,
See aged Winter, ’mid his surly reign,
At thy blythe carol, clears his furrowed brow.


So in lone Poverty’s dominion drear,
Sits meek Content with light, unanxious heart;
Welcomes the rapid moments, bids them part,
Nor asks if they bring ought to hope or fear.


I thank thee, Author of this opening day!
Thou whose bright sun now gilds yon orient skies!
Riches denied, thy boon was purer joys—
What wealth could never give nor take away!


Yet come, thou child of poverty and care,
The mite high heav’n bestow’d, that mite with thee I’ll share.


Robert Burns

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Rock Tree

Walk in the park
By the pond
A sturdy trunk
Branches hacked
By rough pruning

Yellow lichen
Moss
Speckle the skin
gnarled and beaten
Knowing sentry
Of countless tales

Close your eyes,
Touch the bark
Flash of granite
Solid and rough
Gravitas
Of the rock tree

Raymond Foss

Monday, December 22, 2014

Go Your Own Way


Loving you
Is it the right thing to do?
How can I ever change things
That I feel?

If I could
Baby I'd give you my world
How can I
When you won't take it from me

You can go your own way
Go your ownway
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
go your own way

Tell me why
Everything turned around
Packing up
Shacking up's all you wanna do

If I could
Baby I'd give you my world
Open up
Everything's waiting for you

You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way

You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day
You can go your own way
Go your own way
You can call it
Another lonely day

You can go your own way...
Call it another lonely day...
you can go your own way...




Hector, Wayne Anthony / Eriksen, David / Gates, Gareth Paul / Tennant, Lorne Alistair.

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Winter Heavens

Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
More than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
In swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
The living throb in me, the dead revive.
Yon mantle clothes us: there, past mortal breath,
Life glistens on the river of the death.
It folds us, flesh and dust; and have we knelt,
Or never knelt, or eyed as kine the springs
Of radiance, the radiance enrings:
And this is the soul's haven to have felt.

George Meredith

Friday, March 21, 2014

USPS and Affordable Health Care

These are two separate topics that I would like to discuss.  I will try and stick to the facts and not insert too much personal opinion.

First, the United States Postal Service, or USPS and some changes that have been implemented that have recently been brought to my attention.

I have had a PO Box for over a decade.  I have found it to be a secure location to receive my mail, and later as I entered the world wide web, a way to maintain some anonymity. I have come across some pretty scary individuals both in real life and on the internet.  Some of the latter have shown they had every ability to get into my computer systems and I really didn't want them finding out my physical address.

Having a POBox means I have to show up at the Post Office periodically to collect my mail and drop outgoing mail in the slot on the wall.  There have always been two slots, one for Local Mail, and one for Out of Town mail.  The local mail is for stuff sharing that zip code, and the postmistress could just take that box and give it to the driver to sort for deliveries.  In recent years, the Out of Town Box has had various hubs that it goes to and then is directed from there.  Now I think there is only one hub, in the state, at least to the best of my knowledge.

Then a couple of months ago I noticed a change.  The slot wall had been rebuilt.  There was one slot, reading, "ALL MAIL".

I stopped in my tracks.  I craned my head around the corner and commented on the change to the postmistress.  To me, this meant one thing, loopholes were being closed.

The postmistress just shrugged and said if someone had something going local they could just give it to her and she would give it to the driver, because it really didn't make any sense to have the mail delayed several days to make the trip to the hub and back when it was going to someone down the road.

So, a few weeks went by.  Sometimes when I am expecting something in the mail, instead of making the trip I would call and ask her if the specific item was in my box yet.  She was quite cheery about this request, and oftentimes would keep an eye out for something so she wouldn't even have to go peep in the box if I called.

I made a call, and got a different person.  He was quite offical sounding and took a few minutes riffling through all my junk mail to come back with a negative reply.  The next day I called again, and received the same person and response.  Hmmm.  I hoped that my regular postmistress was just on vacation because, although this new individual was not unfriendly, I was starting to dread calling to check if something was in my box.

Finally the expected mail arrived (I gave up calling and just waiting a few more days and drove over to check).

That was a month or so ago, and I haven't made the trip since.  But then I started worrying because I pay the fee for the box twice a year, and if you don't pay in two weeks from the due date the notice says they will start returning your mail, so I called to see if the notice was in my box.  Same new person.  I was all set for now, but the notice was coming out this month and would be due the end of the month.

Now, when I first rented the box, the fee was something like $10 a year.  That wasn't too bad.  After all, I was saving them a lot of work driving my mail around town and stopping to put it in my box- rain, snowbanks or shine. Then the cost started going up. And up. And up.  I now have to pay $28 twice a year, or $56 annually for the smallest box.

Usually I just grit my teeth and cough up the money.  But everything else is going up too-taxes are due, car needs work, gasoline prices are through the roof; heating costs have been exorbitant this winter.

So I decided that was that, I will close the box and have the mail forwarded to my tin can at the end of the road.

I stopped at a Post Office yesterday to pick up a change of address form.  I have filled a lot of these out over the years.  You put your name, current address, your name, new address, and mail it to your old post office so they can forward your mail.  It's good for a year, but in the old days postmasters would continue to forward the mail if there were any stragglers. 

Once I got a piece of mail that had gone to four different post offices and was still delivered.  I thought that was amazing!

Instead of a little postcard in the postoffice, there was a bulky glossy envelope, encouraging me in big letters to change my address online.  Inside was chock full of coupons for homeowners insurance, and satellite Tv among others.  Hidden in between was the card I was looking for.  I looked it over, and on the back, where you used to fill in the post office you wanted your mail forwarded from, was Postmaster, USA.

Wow Uncle Sam is getting a pretty long arm!

Moving on, (pardon the pun), next topic, Affordable Health Care.

Basically I just want to discuss health insurance.

One woman I know told me she had been sick before Thanksgiving with an upper respiratory infection.  She pays, for herself, $400, yes four hundred dollars, a month for health insurance. Her deductible is $2500 a year.  Yes, two thousand, five hundred dollars a year.  Meaning, she has to spend that much before her insurance will pay a dime.

She couldn't afford to go to the doctor.  She suffered for months, finally spending several days in bed.  A neighbor brought her some soup.  Finally she went to the local clinic, and got a script for an inexpensive antibiotic. ($40 for the meds plus probably $100 to get the script).  She felt better and after the script ran out she was sick again.  And last I heard she was still sick.

I read that our president was holding a meeting promoting affordable health care, and read an email from a young couple.  The husband earned about 30,000 a year, and the lowest premium they could find was $300 a month for husband wife, and one child.  They wanted to know how they were supposed to afford $300 a month on that income.

Supposedly (I heard this second hand) the president's response was that he was sure if they cut back on their cell phones and TV packages they could come up with enough for the premium. What would they do if husband got sick? The comments I read from folks regarding this were mostly (over 90%) aghast at the response.

Most of them argued that in this day and age a cell phone was mandatory to find and keep a job.  And most of them had already cancelled their cable TV packages.

My personal opinion is that, in this struggling economy, if folks are forced to pay 8% or more of their income for insurance, they are not going to have that money to spend bailing out the economy. And if they do get sick, they won't be able to afford to pay out of pocket until they meet the deductible.

One woman said (I just read this on the wire today) she couldn't afford to buy glasses for her daughter, because either it was not covered or she had to meet the deductible first. The answer was some long winded response about minimum income and percentages and subsidations and medicare expansions.

 By the way, medicare is not free, they WILL make a claim on your estate after you die for both premiums and recovering costs of any healthcare you receive.

So let's see, so far, from what I understand, people can't afford to go to the doctor if they have insurance. What will this do to doctor's incomes? If they are salaried with a group, like a hospital, then logic dictates that at some points positions will be cut due to lack of demand, meaning less doctors available.

And that brings me to my last point.  Health insurance companies can dictate what doctor or hospital you can go to.  There are a number of cancer centers that insurance providers are not including in their list of places you can go. 

So, you get that expensive insurance with the high deductible figuring if something major happens, like cancer or heart trouble, you'll be covered (as long as you can pay that deductible first).  Well, that's nice.  Now it turns out that your insurance can tells you which doctor you can go see. 

I don't think you have to be genius to see where that could lead.  Doctors who are proactive, prescribe expensive surgeries and top of the line medications could be quickly earmarked and shut out.  Doctors that shrug their shoulders, do nothing, and tell you to make your final arrangements will be a gold mine.

Pray it's not so.






Thursday, March 20, 2014

To The Sad Moon



 With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What! May it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case:
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call 'virtue' there— ungratefulness?

 by Sir Philip Sidney

Thursday, August 15, 2013

The Rock Cries Out to Us Today

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.
But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.
You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.
Your mouths spelling words
Armed for slaughter.
The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.
Across the wall of the world,
A river sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.
Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.
Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.
Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more.
Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I
And the tree and stone were one.
Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow
And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.
The river sings and sings on.
There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing river and the wise rock.
So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the tree.
Today, the first and last of every tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.
Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.
Each of you, descendant of some passed on
Traveller, has been paid for.
You, who gave me my first name,
You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,
You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,
Then forced on bloody feet,
Left me to the employment of other seekers--
Desperate for gain, starving for gold.
You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,
Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.
Here, root yourselves beside me.
I am the tree planted by the river,
Which will not be moved.
I, the rock, I the river, I the tree
I am yours--your passages have been paid.
Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.
History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,
Need not be lived again.
Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream.
Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.
Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts.
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.
Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.
The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me,
The rock, the river, the tree, your country.
No less to Midas than the mendicant.
No less to you now than the mastodon then.
Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes,
Into your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

Maya Angelou

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Miracles

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.

Walt Whitman