State Line Liquors has been my favorite place to buy beer nearly since I was legal. Around here in Northern Delaware, they are known as the place that's open on Sundays. Delaware has Blue Laws still in effect banning bars and liquor stores (the law reads something like places that gain most of their profit from the sale of alcohol) from being open on Sundays. People have tried to change this law only to be stopped by the liquor store owners who don't want to pay employees an extra day. (That's sort of an unofficial law in Delaware. Find ways not to pay your employees!) I know that some of you are from pretty far away so I should mention that liquor stores are the only places that sell beer in the state of Delaware. You can't go into a convenience store or supermarket and buy beer. Restaurants do sell alcohol and they can remain open on Sunday. The shocked looks on the faces of people from far away used to be one of my rare pleasures as a convenience store clerk. "You don't sell beer here?"
This post isn't about Blue Laws or where you can or can't buy beer. I've lived in Delaware my whole life so I'm more surprised that things are different elsewhere. I just learned about State Line because that's where the entire University of Delaware gets its Sunday beer and that's my alma mater. They don't get a link because they aren't a place I'm recommending to the disabled.
I've written about tastings before but never cited the store. (I should probably get permission to do so but I'll just give my standard offer to take down the post instead.) I learned that drinking helps pain and it has no long term ill effects if you do it in moderation. On tasting nights, State Line will let you pay a tasting fee that has been as low as $10 and as high as $15 for which you can drink sample glasses of high quality and rare beers for the two hour session. They even provide glasses for a refundable $2 deposit.
Tonight was a particularly nice night because I can't stand for two hours so I have left early because my legs were worn out every previous night. Tonight, I mentioned my problem and they presented me with a chair before I could even ask. It was Belgian Ales night so I knew the lines would be horrendous for my Belgians. So, my friends, don't let your disabilities get in the way. If you can't stand, ask for a chair. The fine people at State Line weren't required to provide me with a chair because I'm not required to be there. They did it because they are good people. I see no reason to go to another store ever unless I'm several hundred miles away when I decide to drink. Even then, I decided to shop at State Line before my vacation because of the selection and because I just like the people.
My post election attempt at coming down succeeded and so I slept away about three full days there. I followed that with extensive work on the first draft of another novel project. I finished that draft after two all-nighters in one week. The insomnia is at its worst when I'm doing well on a project. Since then, I lost about three days and had a day when I couldn't sleep at all from pain and the desire to sleep at night. After sleeping most of last night, I slept until 5 PM.
At that point, I was lying in bed feeling miserable and in pain. Wouldn't it just be better to skip the tasting since I knew it would be crowded and I wouldn't be able to stand that long? No. It wouldn't have been better and Melissa played coach again today. She started getting ready to go out before I did. In addition to being delicious, these beer tastings are my major social activity not involving doctors. Where else can you go to dicuss the relative tastiness of hoppy beer versus malty beer in person?
Once I started moving, I felt better and then they let me use the chair. It was a small thing but that's all most of us pain sufferers ask for. Do the small things for us and we'll heft the pain around. Thanks, guys. Now, which tasting will we attend next?
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Still Coming Down
The only thing more difficult than sustaining a painful and exhausting offensive is stopping the train and finding some way to relax. I played a tiny part in a massive wave that stopped enemies of the chronic pain community from destroying Medicare and so much more. My efforts were but one grain of sand on a massive beach but the entire beach was made up of individuals doing their tiny parts to make the miracle happen.
Some grains were bigger than others. A guy named Eli (last name withheld on principle) never said a word about being more than just another volunteer. He took on extra responsibility but I figured it was just his turn or something. I didn't know that he was doing some big titled job for Representative John Carney. That didn't stop him from making it possible for me to help represent the disabled community along with many others. I knew he was our leader at the phone banks because of all the extra responsibilities he took on. He drove me home from the phone banks twice when I became hopelessly symptomatic. Why not? He was just the right hand man to a Member of the U.S. House of Representatives. I'm stunned.
I'm having a laugh because I tend to feel impostor syndrome when I find out I've been working with someone like that. I feel like a phony volunteer because I wasn't the best of us all. At this moment, the impostor syndrome is losing badly. I can't fathom that this effort was one iota less than what I was capable of doing when I'm on the verge of collapse more than 24 hours after it was over. I cannot deny the pride I feel at hearing my President thank his volunteers. I was a molecule of well made steel sharpened at the tip of Obama's ground game. Violent imagery doesn't apply here so I'm not taking that further except to say that I was one of the many.
Thankfully, quite a few hours have passed since the previous paragraph. I slept, I slept deepy and I slept for a good long time. It felt awfully good to wake up afterward and have some dinner with Melissa. That was a big step in coming down. Unfortunately, I nearly forgot the next big rule. The reason why I needed to come down was that I needed to rest a good while. It's too soon for major projects or long efforts writing. I'm still in an abnormal amount of pain so I'm going to logoff here.
Some grains were bigger than others. A guy named Eli (last name withheld on principle) never said a word about being more than just another volunteer. He took on extra responsibility but I figured it was just his turn or something. I didn't know that he was doing some big titled job for Representative John Carney. That didn't stop him from making it possible for me to help represent the disabled community along with many others. I knew he was our leader at the phone banks because of all the extra responsibilities he took on. He drove me home from the phone banks twice when I became hopelessly symptomatic. Why not? He was just the right hand man to a Member of the U.S. House of Representatives. I'm stunned.
I'm having a laugh because I tend to feel impostor syndrome when I find out I've been working with someone like that. I feel like a phony volunteer because I wasn't the best of us all. At this moment, the impostor syndrome is losing badly. I can't fathom that this effort was one iota less than what I was capable of doing when I'm on the verge of collapse more than 24 hours after it was over. I cannot deny the pride I feel at hearing my President thank his volunteers. I was a molecule of well made steel sharpened at the tip of Obama's ground game. Violent imagery doesn't apply here so I'm not taking that further except to say that I was one of the many.
Thankfully, quite a few hours have passed since the previous paragraph. I slept, I slept deepy and I slept for a good long time. It felt awfully good to wake up afterward and have some dinner with Melissa. That was a big step in coming down. Unfortunately, I nearly forgot the next big rule. The reason why I needed to come down was that I needed to rest a good while. It's too soon for major projects or long efforts writing. I'm still in an abnormal amount of pain so I'm going to logoff here.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Coming Down
It's almost a blur. There were three days of excrutiating pain during Hurricane Sandy. Next, we had a pain doc appointment that moved on to the DMV the same day. That was killer. Finally, we had my terror of Republican policies and my need to be relevant combine to force me into three straight days of volunteering to get out the vote on the phones. That all blends into one mass memory of pain. Well, pain and working with like minded people toward a common goal.
It all culminated last night in a moment (before the big moment) when I thought I would pass out. I was crowded into a theater with a few thousand of my closest friends. (Some of them recognized me but that's the uniform. I walk around with long unkept hair, a beard that seems curlier every day, slippers to help remind people how badly I walk if the cane isn't enough and then there's my "overshirt" worn to keep my arms extra warm and sweaty to cut down on RLS/fibromyalgia pain. I call it my disabily uniform.) In any case, a very large gentleman came up right behind me screaming obscenities at the stage where the state party chairman was giving a bad and boring speech. He was screaming these right over my shoulder which was painful and he was looking like someone who wanted to incite a riot. For both reasons, I tuned up my reasonable voice and asked him to stop because he was hurting me. To my shock, he stopped.
After this, a nice lady behind me who had managed to finagle a chair started asking someone to find a chair for me. The previous gentleman insisted on making up his outbursts to me by finding me a chair. Less than a minute later, I was seated happily.
I plan on writing about all these events in detail and getting back to writing fiction (like I ever stopped completely) but I need to rest first. These dream moments can turn into nightmares for those of us with chronic pain if we can't get the brakes to work. Another storm is on its way today so I really need to stop. It's time for some herbal tea and Pearl Jam music.
It all culminated last night in a moment (before the big moment) when I thought I would pass out. I was crowded into a theater with a few thousand of my closest friends. (Some of them recognized me but that's the uniform. I walk around with long unkept hair, a beard that seems curlier every day, slippers to help remind people how badly I walk if the cane isn't enough and then there's my "overshirt" worn to keep my arms extra warm and sweaty to cut down on RLS/fibromyalgia pain. I call it my disabily uniform.) In any case, a very large gentleman came up right behind me screaming obscenities at the stage where the state party chairman was giving a bad and boring speech. He was screaming these right over my shoulder which was painful and he was looking like someone who wanted to incite a riot. For both reasons, I tuned up my reasonable voice and asked him to stop because he was hurting me. To my shock, he stopped.
After this, a nice lady behind me who had managed to finagle a chair started asking someone to find a chair for me. The previous gentleman insisted on making up his outbursts to me by finding me a chair. Less than a minute later, I was seated happily.
I plan on writing about all these events in detail and getting back to writing fiction (like I ever stopped completely) but I need to rest first. These dream moments can turn into nightmares for those of us with chronic pain if we can't get the brakes to work. Another storm is on its way today so I really need to stop. It's time for some herbal tea and Pearl Jam music.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
The Third Day and the Bad News
After surviving the day before Hurricane Sandy brushed us here in New Castle County and the day of the storm, I thought I was done with the agony for a little while. Tuesday ended up being nearly as bad as Monday. On Monday, I gave up all pretenses of being brave and had a cup of herbal tea or a glass with some amaretto in it most of the day. It was best when I was nearly ready to fall asleep. Unfortunately, there are things worse than pain out there.
Remember my sickie buddy? After appearing to be out of the woods, Melissa's Aunt Lois was diagnosed with cancer again. After her heart attack, she cannot handle chemotherapy so the doctors told her that the cancer would probably kill her. My distraught mother-in-law didn't know any details like what stage the cancer was in. All I know is that surrender is out of the question. If I can handle day after day of agony, she can contact one of the national centers of excellence for cancer.
She needs faith that none of her family will abandon her in this fight, faith in her husband to be there for her, her faith in God that she has demonstrated and faith in the medical science that advances every day. She needs goals like contacting a treatment center and doing the things they tell her to do. She needs rewards but I don't know what exactly she likes to do. It's the trinity of survival and I plan to tell her about it when I can. I can be her substitute coach until her husband is ready if necessary. I think he'll do just fine without my help.
At some point, I was so exhausted by Monday's pain that I fell asleep at night. When I woke up on Tuesday, things seemed just fine like they had Monday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, I was ready to cry real tears from the pain alone. I was doing everything I could just to keep pace with the pain. Eventually, I slept like the dead if you'll excuse the expression only to wake up and face Wednesday.
Wednesday is another story for another day.
Remember my sickie buddy? After appearing to be out of the woods, Melissa's Aunt Lois was diagnosed with cancer again. After her heart attack, she cannot handle chemotherapy so the doctors told her that the cancer would probably kill her. My distraught mother-in-law didn't know any details like what stage the cancer was in. All I know is that surrender is out of the question. If I can handle day after day of agony, she can contact one of the national centers of excellence for cancer.
She needs faith that none of her family will abandon her in this fight, faith in her husband to be there for her, her faith in God that she has demonstrated and faith in the medical science that advances every day. She needs goals like contacting a treatment center and doing the things they tell her to do. She needs rewards but I don't know what exactly she likes to do. It's the trinity of survival and I plan to tell her about it when I can. I can be her substitute coach until her husband is ready if necessary. I think he'll do just fine without my help.
At some point, I was so exhausted by Monday's pain that I fell asleep at night. When I woke up on Tuesday, things seemed just fine like they had Monday morning. By Tuesday afternoon, I was ready to cry real tears from the pain alone. I was doing everything I could just to keep pace with the pain. Eventually, I slept like the dead if you'll excuse the expression only to wake up and face Wednesday.
Wednesday is another story for another day.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Howling for You
As far as I remember, song titles are not copyrighted so I can admit I stole the above title from the Black Keys, a band I'm getting into these days. If the Black Keys or their attorney feel differently, I'll be happy to change the title of this post. Okay. That's it for writing humor at the moment. The howling I did was in pain beyond what I was prepared to accept.
Melissa bowed to my hoarder's instincts and brought out her bottle of Amaretto. She poured me a shot in a little glass since I asked her not to use a shot glass. There was no way I was ever going to gulp down a shot of anything again but it mattered with the way my hands were shaking. The good stuff burned just a little but tasted very good. More importantly, it took the edge off my pain. When it came back, I had more warning so a cup of herbal tea helped this time.
By bedtime, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in bed. That's not something I can do ordinarily but pain is tiring. Unlike the beer, the Amaretto doesn't have to be cold to taste good which would be useful in case of power loss. I got up this morning and read some bad news from a dear acquaintance in PA. This reminded me that some things are worse than pain. I don't have her permission to use her name but she'll know who I'm writing about if she were to read this.
By the time I finished reading, I was feeling a wreck like I was in medicine withdrawal and I realized I hadn't taken my breakfast meds yet. As a normal day sleeper, it isn't unusual for me to take my breakfast meds around 5 PM or so. It was around 2 PM and I wasn't ready to go back to sleep. I took my meds, of course. Then I decided that, if we were going to lose power, I was going to use our modern conveniences while we still had them. I drank some K-cup brewed tea and put on my "overshirt." Between the herbs and the sweat, my meds took effect quickly enough.
I've been hearing reports of power outages moving this way so I better wrap this up. There was what I hope is a great typo on weather.com and not the truth. A headline read that Sussex County was being evacuated including all 25,000 people. There are reasons why this is almost plausible and why it strikes me as absurd. First of all, Sussex is flat and sparsely populated. I joke about it being "Slower Delaware" with the country music and the farms. Still, I'm pretty sure more than 25,000 people live there. If that many people are being evacuated, I wish them well. I'm pretty sure there have to be towns of that size somewhere in Sussex. The rural, slow stuff is less true every year.
The storm hasn't made landfall yet so there is more pain to come. We'll be in a little trouble if we lose power but only if that includes gas. (We're cookin' with gas.) I know what to sniff for in case of a leak which I think is the only issue.
Melissa bowed to my hoarder's instincts and brought out her bottle of Amaretto. She poured me a shot in a little glass since I asked her not to use a shot glass. There was no way I was ever going to gulp down a shot of anything again but it mattered with the way my hands were shaking. The good stuff burned just a little but tasted very good. More importantly, it took the edge off my pain. When it came back, I had more warning so a cup of herbal tea helped this time.
By bedtime, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in bed. That's not something I can do ordinarily but pain is tiring. Unlike the beer, the Amaretto doesn't have to be cold to taste good which would be useful in case of power loss. I got up this morning and read some bad news from a dear acquaintance in PA. This reminded me that some things are worse than pain. I don't have her permission to use her name but she'll know who I'm writing about if she were to read this.
By the time I finished reading, I was feeling a wreck like I was in medicine withdrawal and I realized I hadn't taken my breakfast meds yet. As a normal day sleeper, it isn't unusual for me to take my breakfast meds around 5 PM or so. It was around 2 PM and I wasn't ready to go back to sleep. I took my meds, of course. Then I decided that, if we were going to lose power, I was going to use our modern conveniences while we still had them. I drank some K-cup brewed tea and put on my "overshirt." Between the herbs and the sweat, my meds took effect quickly enough.
I've been hearing reports of power outages moving this way so I better wrap this up. There was what I hope is a great typo on weather.com and not the truth. A headline read that Sussex County was being evacuated including all 25,000 people. There are reasons why this is almost plausible and why it strikes me as absurd. First of all, Sussex is flat and sparsely populated. I joke about it being "Slower Delaware" with the country music and the farms. Still, I'm pretty sure more than 25,000 people live there. If that many people are being evacuated, I wish them well. I'm pretty sure there have to be towns of that size somewhere in Sussex. The rural, slow stuff is less true every year.
The storm hasn't made landfall yet so there is more pain to come. We'll be in a little trouble if we lose power but only if that includes gas. (We're cookin' with gas.) I know what to sniff for in case of a leak which I think is the only issue.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Storm Prepping John Style
Living in Delaware can be such a drag. We get so little exciting weather. There can be a weather map showing the entire Mid-Atlantic region snowed in and there will be a little dot on the map depicting my house. It will have only rained there or had a dusting of snow at most. The boring weather is a double whammy as regular readers know. Rain equals pain.
Last week, I kept hearing rumors of some sort of snow hitting the area and I laughed it off. There was no substance to what I was hearing. I'd catch my favorite WMMR DJs talking about it but just the very end when they were laughing it off. (That's me for you. The station has millions of listeners but I can't resist plugging them.) They got serious enough when the rumors firmed up into Tropical Storm/Hurricane Sandy. Since hurricanes can't really miss you, we started taking the thing seriously in this household. (They can lose strength miraculously and turn into boring old rain storms, of course.)
The final step in taking this thing seriously was the realization that it would probably hit us hard. When the most trusted computer model takes the eye within 25 miles of your home, you have to take it seriously no matter how cynical you are. Besides, as one of those DJs put it, we skeptics can always keep our supplies on hand for the Mayan Apocalypse on December 12th. (Don't worry. That's something in which I truly put no faith.) Hmm...storm supplies. Why did this storm have to hit at the end of the month?
Ever have one of those things you've been meaning to do but never got around to doing? I have a number of those things quite a few of which date back to when I moved here or even when I got sick. We're talking at least a decade of procrastination. So, some company is willing to pay me for the privilege of coming here and towing away what was once a car? Compared to what I had to pay for it, they were paying chump change. Compared to the possible environmental disaster when the toxic chemicals in the thing ate through my garage floor in my own private China Syndrome? It was a good deal.
Most importantly, there was little effort involved. When the prospect of making a phone call to strangers keeps you up all night and then can knock you out for the next week, minimal effort is a big concern. They winched my former car out of the garage, I signed over the title and was given a check that would cover some pretty nice storm groceries. I dislike checks because no one trusts them anymore and it would take my credit union the better part of a week to convert it into spendable money. However, Melissa may have found a way to get the money faster without paying check cashing fees.
If we're lucky, we will have storm groceries shortly after the pain doc appointment tomorrow. Oh...did I "forget" to mention that? Yes, I have a pain doc appointment scheduled for less than two hours after the various weather warnings start to get serious. Let's see. We'll have stress pain from putting together all these plans, pain from the pain doc appointment which always knocks me out, pain from a certain weather system scheduled to pay a visit and the pain of stressing about whether or not the weather will cancel everything but the pain. I will do some serious whining if I don't get my chocolate chip cookie and Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi from Wawa after the pain doc appointment.
Okay. Let's go through the worst case scenario. That would be bad indeed. The worst case scenario would mean that I would have to go to the appointment but the bank would be closed so I couldn't get my money. That would continue to spiral into having to weather the storm with no Diet Cherry Pepsi and chocolate chip cookie plus only five beers to help keep me sedated.
Oh, you were worried about the practical stuff? This is a chronic pain blog but most of you readers might be tempted to intervene if you thought I was in serious trouble. We have plenty of drinking water on hand. We have brand new flashlights with new batteries that have been tested. We have new batteries for the radio which is something they tell you to get. We have regular food and a cooler with cold packs to keep stuff cold without opening the fridge/freezer. We have filled various jugs with water for hygiene purposes. We have candles for that homey quality and to spare the batteries on the flashlights. I have a few days of Depends on hand and about a week's worth of medicine.
We're prepared for the storm or the Mayan Apocalypse or whatever but you don't come here for storm preparedness. This site is about surviving chronic pain. In the most severe circumstances, that is best accomplished with the moderate application of beer. Beer and food that's also bad for you so that you stay in that happy state short of falling asleep but where it is more difficult to stress about everything. I recommend one to two servings of beer per day over short periods of no more than a week. Remember, I am already taxing my liver with narcotics medications. You drink it slowly and enjoy the taste.
Five beers is probably enough for a three day storm if I were to be entirely practical. You just have to remember that I'm not entirely practical especially during and after stress. I want to have a 12 pack or more of extra beer on hand plus the additional Depends I've already gotten. I am a hoarder during my bad days. I may only drink two beers but I want extras just in case I'm trapped under my house and...I'm not quite that bad. I don't have justifications for my hoarding but I feel more comfortable knowing that I will not run out. Having enough keeps me from thinking up nightmare scenarios.
You want a real nightmare scenario? Here goes. I have about a week of meds on hand. What if transportation is messed up by this storm and someone buys up all my meds? What if I run out and start to experience withdrawal? I've been there before and now I'm a hoarder.
I'd rather keep things light so we'll talk about beer and the proper methods of ice cream disposal once power is lost.
Last week, I kept hearing rumors of some sort of snow hitting the area and I laughed it off. There was no substance to what I was hearing. I'd catch my favorite WMMR DJs talking about it but just the very end when they were laughing it off. (That's me for you. The station has millions of listeners but I can't resist plugging them.) They got serious enough when the rumors firmed up into Tropical Storm/Hurricane Sandy. Since hurricanes can't really miss you, we started taking the thing seriously in this household. (They can lose strength miraculously and turn into boring old rain storms, of course.)
The final step in taking this thing seriously was the realization that it would probably hit us hard. When the most trusted computer model takes the eye within 25 miles of your home, you have to take it seriously no matter how cynical you are. Besides, as one of those DJs put it, we skeptics can always keep our supplies on hand for the Mayan Apocalypse on December 12th. (Don't worry. That's something in which I truly put no faith.) Hmm...storm supplies. Why did this storm have to hit at the end of the month?
Ever have one of those things you've been meaning to do but never got around to doing? I have a number of those things quite a few of which date back to when I moved here or even when I got sick. We're talking at least a decade of procrastination. So, some company is willing to pay me for the privilege of coming here and towing away what was once a car? Compared to what I had to pay for it, they were paying chump change. Compared to the possible environmental disaster when the toxic chemicals in the thing ate through my garage floor in my own private China Syndrome? It was a good deal.
Most importantly, there was little effort involved. When the prospect of making a phone call to strangers keeps you up all night and then can knock you out for the next week, minimal effort is a big concern. They winched my former car out of the garage, I signed over the title and was given a check that would cover some pretty nice storm groceries. I dislike checks because no one trusts them anymore and it would take my credit union the better part of a week to convert it into spendable money. However, Melissa may have found a way to get the money faster without paying check cashing fees.
If we're lucky, we will have storm groceries shortly after the pain doc appointment tomorrow. Oh...did I "forget" to mention that? Yes, I have a pain doc appointment scheduled for less than two hours after the various weather warnings start to get serious. Let's see. We'll have stress pain from putting together all these plans, pain from the pain doc appointment which always knocks me out, pain from a certain weather system scheduled to pay a visit and the pain of stressing about whether or not the weather will cancel everything but the pain. I will do some serious whining if I don't get my chocolate chip cookie and Diet Wild Cherry Pepsi from Wawa after the pain doc appointment.
Okay. Let's go through the worst case scenario. That would be bad indeed. The worst case scenario would mean that I would have to go to the appointment but the bank would be closed so I couldn't get my money. That would continue to spiral into having to weather the storm with no Diet Cherry Pepsi and chocolate chip cookie plus only five beers to help keep me sedated.
Oh, you were worried about the practical stuff? This is a chronic pain blog but most of you readers might be tempted to intervene if you thought I was in serious trouble. We have plenty of drinking water on hand. We have brand new flashlights with new batteries that have been tested. We have new batteries for the radio which is something they tell you to get. We have regular food and a cooler with cold packs to keep stuff cold without opening the fridge/freezer. We have filled various jugs with water for hygiene purposes. We have candles for that homey quality and to spare the batteries on the flashlights. I have a few days of Depends on hand and about a week's worth of medicine.
We're prepared for the storm or the Mayan Apocalypse or whatever but you don't come here for storm preparedness. This site is about surviving chronic pain. In the most severe circumstances, that is best accomplished with the moderate application of beer. Beer and food that's also bad for you so that you stay in that happy state short of falling asleep but where it is more difficult to stress about everything. I recommend one to two servings of beer per day over short periods of no more than a week. Remember, I am already taxing my liver with narcotics medications. You drink it slowly and enjoy the taste.
Five beers is probably enough for a three day storm if I were to be entirely practical. You just have to remember that I'm not entirely practical especially during and after stress. I want to have a 12 pack or more of extra beer on hand plus the additional Depends I've already gotten. I am a hoarder during my bad days. I may only drink two beers but I want extras just in case I'm trapped under my house and...I'm not quite that bad. I don't have justifications for my hoarding but I feel more comfortable knowing that I will not run out. Having enough keeps me from thinking up nightmare scenarios.
You want a real nightmare scenario? Here goes. I have about a week of meds on hand. What if transportation is messed up by this storm and someone buys up all my meds? What if I run out and start to experience withdrawal? I've been there before and now I'm a hoarder.
I'd rather keep things light so we'll talk about beer and the proper methods of ice cream disposal once power is lost.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
So Tired
It's 6:30 AM and I've been up all night again. Why? I've been busy taking one step forward and two steps back. The whole country is doing that ridiculous dance. We took a big step forward in 2008 but a minority of people started pushing back so hard that we barely got our feet down on that one step forward. We fought inch by inch to get a watered down but still positive health care law passed known as the Affordable Care Act. The main beneficiaries in terms of actual dollars were the big insurance companies.
Here's the crux of the law. In exchange for a requirement to offer everyone insurance regardless of health status, they got a requirement for everyone to buy into the insurance system. It sounds fair to me at least from a capitalist point of view. The insurance companies get to tap into the pool of people who are so healthy that they decided against purchasing it in the past. In exchange, they have to offer a few more people coverage. It doesn't actually affect me as of right now. Melissa insures us both through her employer and I buy into Medicare.
Sounds like we should be pretty well covered after we pay our premiums, right? Of course not! The insurance company helps us in one way. It negotiates a lower price for medical services. In order for doctors to practice medicine within the insurance system, they have to agree to accept about 50% of what they charge those outside the system. My insurance isn't helping so much as it's distorting the entire picture of what is going on.
Do I really save half of my true medical costs through my insurance? Of course not! First of all, I'm paying a high premium to take part in this price fixing scheme. There goes much of my savings right there. That's not the real problem. The real problem is that the savings you'd expect only kick in after I meet a deductible. This deductible is about 10% of my annual pre-tax income. No, I'm sorry. That was the case in 2012. In 2013, the deductible will be about 20% of my pre-tax income. This is why I get collection calls.
Some of you may be muttering something about lies, damn lies and statistics right now. The difference between me and most Republicans is that I'll admit that I "massaged" the numbers and tell you how. Melissa's insurance covers us both and is deducted from her pre-tax income on each paycheck. Why did I compare the deductible to my much lower income? I'm the sick one in the family. If Melissa were to remember to take care of herself equally, my medical expenses would still be more than 90% of our total. Since we combine all our resources, my contribution would have to cover the premiums in a fair world.
How did I get to be so expensive? For starters, I've been incontinent my whole life. Try spending $20-$30 a week on what you wish you could just flush. That's when I don't have some sort of head and chest cold. Coughing and sneezing are expensive. My insurance doesn't cover those expenses at all. Let's just assume it's a good month. Good month or bad month, we can't forget my Medicare premiums. Medicare is the real reason why my doctors and I survive. They consider all the money spent toward my regular insurance deductible as money going toward their deductible. I reach the Medicare deductible in a couple of months.
What am I getting for all this money? I'm getting the fragile status quo. Every month, I see my pain doctor (twice this month since it's every 28 days) because the law requires they see me before prescribing narcotic pain medication. I've been on the same dosage of pain meds for a long time now because I'm effectively maxed out. Every 28 days, the law requires me to invest in a doctor visit where I might get an attaboy. I don't complain because it's not their fault.
Prescription drugs are covered by another insurer and this one is very good. My medication co-pays are relatively low yet they add up. My real problem is that I spend all this money to stay at the point where it takes everything I have to survive. There's a great U2 song called "Running to Stand Still" that gets a lot of this point across. I have to take medication to stay at the point where I don't have to cry out in pain most of the time as long as the weather is stable. Even with that medication, I get agitated and the downward cycle begins. The agitation gives me head pain and the twitches. The twitches hurt as the twitching muscles get tired and cramp. This goes on for hours sometimes and I get frustrated which leads to more pain.
If I'm very smart and devote everything to symptom control, I can limit how bad things get sometimes. I doubt I'll ever try to walk on hot coals or anything but I can use meditation to go somewhere outside where the pain is taking place. I can sense it but without feeling it. Of course, putting yourself into a trance while already agitated and in pain is not something to try at home unless you don't have a choice.
There's another problem with devoting everything to pain control. Things don't get done around here. For the moment, I seem to have - knock on wood - stabilized my routines so that major bills get paid more or less on time. Even using pen and paper, it isn't easy trying to chase my bills around when they come more steadily than my income. It's fun trying to convince a utility that a few days doesn't mean much. I know you sent me a bill with a due date for the 15th. The third Wednesday of the month happens to be the 21st. That's when I get paid so that's when you get paid. Deal with it.
Those of us who are very sick need more help not less. The only organization capable of redistributing income on the level that's necessary is the Federal Government. Instead of raising the necessary money from the people who pretend to be "job creators," the big discussion is about making budget cuts to pay down debt. That just reminds me of my current pet peeve (other than the existence of the Republican party) and that is health insurance advertising. I want to scream every time I hear some smarmy announcer explain how his company is going to cut health care costs by making everyone more healthy. There was no healthy choice to prevent me from needing brain surgery and there was no realistic way to prevent me from getting diabetes once I was too sick to exercise. I have the genetic pre-disposition or so it seems.
If health care is a big cost to business and insurers keep offering incentives for "healthy choices," it won't be long before people start losing their jobs for getting sick. It happened to me once long ago while working for a temp agency but they had the easy out of simply ending my contract. Without naming names or companies, my job went to the relative of someone who was sleeping with the big boss. Diabetics lose their jobs on a regular basis as well now. Do sick people need more help or less?
There could be more help coming but this election is huge. Every four years, the Republicans find someone more like Darth Vader to nominate for President. This isn't about any percentage of the population: 99%, 1%, 47% or whatever number we're talking about for the day. This is about 100% of us. No one would truly benefit from a Mittens Presidency. More crony capitalism would damage the economy to the point where the Friends of Mittens can't even make money by moving jobs overseas. Our national security wouldn't benefit from building more battleships when some idiot with a rowboat and an outboard motor packed with explosives can damage them in port.
I'm so tired because people can't see their best interests when they are sitting right under their noses. I'm so tired because I have to struggle while an idiot US Senate candidate talks about balanced budget amendments and not paying Congress when the budget isn't passed. Gee. I guess that means only millionaires can afford to serve in Congress now because Tea Party idiots will never allow a budget to pass on time. A rising tide lifts all boats so why are you trying to sink the country?
Here's the crux of the law. In exchange for a requirement to offer everyone insurance regardless of health status, they got a requirement for everyone to buy into the insurance system. It sounds fair to me at least from a capitalist point of view. The insurance companies get to tap into the pool of people who are so healthy that they decided against purchasing it in the past. In exchange, they have to offer a few more people coverage. It doesn't actually affect me as of right now. Melissa insures us both through her employer and I buy into Medicare.
Sounds like we should be pretty well covered after we pay our premiums, right? Of course not! The insurance company helps us in one way. It negotiates a lower price for medical services. In order for doctors to practice medicine within the insurance system, they have to agree to accept about 50% of what they charge those outside the system. My insurance isn't helping so much as it's distorting the entire picture of what is going on.
Do I really save half of my true medical costs through my insurance? Of course not! First of all, I'm paying a high premium to take part in this price fixing scheme. There goes much of my savings right there. That's not the real problem. The real problem is that the savings you'd expect only kick in after I meet a deductible. This deductible is about 10% of my annual pre-tax income. No, I'm sorry. That was the case in 2012. In 2013, the deductible will be about 20% of my pre-tax income. This is why I get collection calls.
Some of you may be muttering something about lies, damn lies and statistics right now. The difference between me and most Republicans is that I'll admit that I "massaged" the numbers and tell you how. Melissa's insurance covers us both and is deducted from her pre-tax income on each paycheck. Why did I compare the deductible to my much lower income? I'm the sick one in the family. If Melissa were to remember to take care of herself equally, my medical expenses would still be more than 90% of our total. Since we combine all our resources, my contribution would have to cover the premiums in a fair world.
How did I get to be so expensive? For starters, I've been incontinent my whole life. Try spending $20-$30 a week on what you wish you could just flush. That's when I don't have some sort of head and chest cold. Coughing and sneezing are expensive. My insurance doesn't cover those expenses at all. Let's just assume it's a good month. Good month or bad month, we can't forget my Medicare premiums. Medicare is the real reason why my doctors and I survive. They consider all the money spent toward my regular insurance deductible as money going toward their deductible. I reach the Medicare deductible in a couple of months.
What am I getting for all this money? I'm getting the fragile status quo. Every month, I see my pain doctor (twice this month since it's every 28 days) because the law requires they see me before prescribing narcotic pain medication. I've been on the same dosage of pain meds for a long time now because I'm effectively maxed out. Every 28 days, the law requires me to invest in a doctor visit where I might get an attaboy. I don't complain because it's not their fault.
Prescription drugs are covered by another insurer and this one is very good. My medication co-pays are relatively low yet they add up. My real problem is that I spend all this money to stay at the point where it takes everything I have to survive. There's a great U2 song called "Running to Stand Still" that gets a lot of this point across. I have to take medication to stay at the point where I don't have to cry out in pain most of the time as long as the weather is stable. Even with that medication, I get agitated and the downward cycle begins. The agitation gives me head pain and the twitches. The twitches hurt as the twitching muscles get tired and cramp. This goes on for hours sometimes and I get frustrated which leads to more pain.
If I'm very smart and devote everything to symptom control, I can limit how bad things get sometimes. I doubt I'll ever try to walk on hot coals or anything but I can use meditation to go somewhere outside where the pain is taking place. I can sense it but without feeling it. Of course, putting yourself into a trance while already agitated and in pain is not something to try at home unless you don't have a choice.
There's another problem with devoting everything to pain control. Things don't get done around here. For the moment, I seem to have - knock on wood - stabilized my routines so that major bills get paid more or less on time. Even using pen and paper, it isn't easy trying to chase my bills around when they come more steadily than my income. It's fun trying to convince a utility that a few days doesn't mean much. I know you sent me a bill with a due date for the 15th. The third Wednesday of the month happens to be the 21st. That's when I get paid so that's when you get paid. Deal with it.
Those of us who are very sick need more help not less. The only organization capable of redistributing income on the level that's necessary is the Federal Government. Instead of raising the necessary money from the people who pretend to be "job creators," the big discussion is about making budget cuts to pay down debt. That just reminds me of my current pet peeve (other than the existence of the Republican party) and that is health insurance advertising. I want to scream every time I hear some smarmy announcer explain how his company is going to cut health care costs by making everyone more healthy. There was no healthy choice to prevent me from needing brain surgery and there was no realistic way to prevent me from getting diabetes once I was too sick to exercise. I have the genetic pre-disposition or so it seems.
If health care is a big cost to business and insurers keep offering incentives for "healthy choices," it won't be long before people start losing their jobs for getting sick. It happened to me once long ago while working for a temp agency but they had the easy out of simply ending my contract. Without naming names or companies, my job went to the relative of someone who was sleeping with the big boss. Diabetics lose their jobs on a regular basis as well now. Do sick people need more help or less?
There could be more help coming but this election is huge. Every four years, the Republicans find someone more like Darth Vader to nominate for President. This isn't about any percentage of the population: 99%, 1%, 47% or whatever number we're talking about for the day. This is about 100% of us. No one would truly benefit from a Mittens Presidency. More crony capitalism would damage the economy to the point where the Friends of Mittens can't even make money by moving jobs overseas. Our national security wouldn't benefit from building more battleships when some idiot with a rowboat and an outboard motor packed with explosives can damage them in port.
I'm so tired because people can't see their best interests when they are sitting right under their noses. I'm so tired because I have to struggle while an idiot US Senate candidate talks about balanced budget amendments and not paying Congress when the budget isn't passed. Gee. I guess that means only millionaires can afford to serve in Congress now because Tea Party idiots will never allow a budget to pass on time. A rising tide lifts all boats so why are you trying to sink the country?
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