In the general scheme of my life, I couldn’t care less what happens in Madonna’s life. I do like some of her music. But this latest soap opera is too crazy not to notice.
Madonna wants to take a little orphan girl from a pathetically poor country where most of the parents died of AIDS. And a group of nutty people, perhaps the same bunch that claim white people shouldn’t adopt black children because it is better to live in black poverty and foster care than it is to escape into the wicked white world, have lobbied loudly for the little girl remaining right where God put her. In a country where the average life span is approximately the length of time it takes to get a decent education.
And some judge, who probably routinely accepts gifts of chickens and bags of rice, rules against Madonna, who has pumped millions of dollars into this awful country, none of which the judge has apparently seen. This is all because Malawi, believe it or not, has a law that people adopting children from there have to reside in the country for 18 months or some ridiculous length of time.
Now how completely crazy is that. But, wait, there is more. This morning I was listening to an interview with a Western charity worker in Malawi on public radio who said that Madonna should be supporting thousands of children in Malawi, not just trying to save one. Because the Malawi Government and the Western press had identified the little girl in question, Madonna was now obligated to care for this child forever and as many other Malawi children as her “riches” would allow. Does that sound not so vaguely like a black mail threat? I thought so too.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Joe’s Ocular Odyssey
In the early fall I noticed bright, vertical shafts of light when I looked far to my right or left. I turn this way when backing up my truck or changing lanes on the highway. It was most noticeable at night but I confirmed that the light was there during the daytime by doing this in a darkened room.
I mentioned it to my Internist. I had suffered something different, but still along the lines of fuzzy lights in one eye, just before my stroke. I was nervous that these lights might be the harbinger of something similar.
The Internist said I should see an Ophthalmologist and his office gave me the name of a local practice. I called and explained the situation. They arranged an appointment for about a month later. Meanwhile, I suppose, I could just buck up.
The day arrived, the appointment was kept, my eyes were dutifully dilated and the Ophthalmologist said it sounded like blocked carotid arteries to her. She thought my eyes seemed fine “for my age”. I put my sunglasses on and drove to work without truly seeing a single thing clearly.
I reported back to the Internist who arranged for an ultrasound of the carotid arteries several weeks later at the local hospital. The day came, the appointment was kept, my neck was greased up and the images taken. A week or so later I was informed that one side was clear and one side was 70% blocked, which I already knew, but that was not nearly enough to cause the lights or to worry about. The Internist suggested I see a Neurologist and recommended a practice.
I called and an appointment was arranged for several months later. Neurologists, even Russian Neurologists, were obviously busy people. In the meantime, I needed to have an MRI of my head so I arranged for that. Our local hospital has an MRI machine in a rusting tractor trailer hard up against one side of their otherwise immaculate and modern building. I swear, it looks like it arrived in that truck and no one bothered to move it into the hospital proper for fear that they might not be able to escape fast enough should that be necessary.
MRIs take place when you are inserted, lying on your back, in long, rather narrow tubes of solid plastic. You should not be claustrophobic to do this successfully. I closed my eyes and went to my “happy place”. I listened to generic public radio from their subscription radio system. When the banging stopped I was asked if someone was there to drive me home and I said, “Of course. The girlfriend is waiting at the main entrance”. Thank god for the mythical “girlfriend”. I drove back to work.
I arrived at the appointment with the Neurologist. She said she had no idea why I saw the lights. My MRI showed my brain was pretty good “for my age” except for one little blockage that might explain my erratic behavior but had nothing to do with my lights.
She suggested I have two more MRIs. One of my head and one of my neck with contrast. She also suggested I see a specialist, an Ophtha-neurologist. On leaving, the Neurologist’s office lady said both tests would be arranged once my health insurance agreed to pay for them
Two weeks later the health insurer agreed and the tests were scheduled a week after that. I went, eyes closed, this time with an intravenous line so “contrast” could be injected. My marvelous “girlfriend” picked me up again and I drove back to work.
The Neurologist called on Friday and left a voice message suggesting there was nothing to worry about. But what, I wanted to ask, what about the bloody lights!
On Monday I went to the specialist with a DVD of my latest MRIs. When I finally got in the office, I handed it to him. “I don’t read MRIs”, he said. “I can’t imagine why they suggested you bring it.” I told him that I thought the report on the MRIs was included. Reluctantly, he took the disk and put it in his ancient computer attached to the largest cathode ray tube monitor I have seen since the deluge. It whirred and clacked and brought up the report.
He examined my dilated eyes. The trouble with problems like the lights I was currently experiencing, he said, was that I was unlikely to drop dead from the condition any time soon. Since, in his opinion, a thorough autopsy would be needed to accurately pinpoint just why I was seeing lights, he probably couldn’t tell me. Talk about bedside manner!
After the exam, he told me that his best guess was that the “viscous matter” in my eyes has shriveled up, much like a raison. When I turn to the right, my now shriveled viscous matter tries to go that way and pulls on the retina, causing the lights! Nothing to worry about; nothing to be done. Perhaps it will get better over time but that’s just a thought. In the meantime, should I drive at night, perhaps I should only go “straight ahead”!
I mentioned it to my Internist. I had suffered something different, but still along the lines of fuzzy lights in one eye, just before my stroke. I was nervous that these lights might be the harbinger of something similar.
The Internist said I should see an Ophthalmologist and his office gave me the name of a local practice. I called and explained the situation. They arranged an appointment for about a month later. Meanwhile, I suppose, I could just buck up.
The day arrived, the appointment was kept, my eyes were dutifully dilated and the Ophthalmologist said it sounded like blocked carotid arteries to her. She thought my eyes seemed fine “for my age”. I put my sunglasses on and drove to work without truly seeing a single thing clearly.
I reported back to the Internist who arranged for an ultrasound of the carotid arteries several weeks later at the local hospital. The day came, the appointment was kept, my neck was greased up and the images taken. A week or so later I was informed that one side was clear and one side was 70% blocked, which I already knew, but that was not nearly enough to cause the lights or to worry about. The Internist suggested I see a Neurologist and recommended a practice.
I called and an appointment was arranged for several months later. Neurologists, even Russian Neurologists, were obviously busy people. In the meantime, I needed to have an MRI of my head so I arranged for that. Our local hospital has an MRI machine in a rusting tractor trailer hard up against one side of their otherwise immaculate and modern building. I swear, it looks like it arrived in that truck and no one bothered to move it into the hospital proper for fear that they might not be able to escape fast enough should that be necessary.
MRIs take place when you are inserted, lying on your back, in long, rather narrow tubes of solid plastic. You should not be claustrophobic to do this successfully. I closed my eyes and went to my “happy place”. I listened to generic public radio from their subscription radio system. When the banging stopped I was asked if someone was there to drive me home and I said, “Of course. The girlfriend is waiting at the main entrance”. Thank god for the mythical “girlfriend”. I drove back to work.
I arrived at the appointment with the Neurologist. She said she had no idea why I saw the lights. My MRI showed my brain was pretty good “for my age” except for one little blockage that might explain my erratic behavior but had nothing to do with my lights.
She suggested I have two more MRIs. One of my head and one of my neck with contrast. She also suggested I see a specialist, an Ophtha-neurologist. On leaving, the Neurologist’s office lady said both tests would be arranged once my health insurance agreed to pay for them
Two weeks later the health insurer agreed and the tests were scheduled a week after that. I went, eyes closed, this time with an intravenous line so “contrast” could be injected. My marvelous “girlfriend” picked me up again and I drove back to work.
The Neurologist called on Friday and left a voice message suggesting there was nothing to worry about. But what, I wanted to ask, what about the bloody lights!
On Monday I went to the specialist with a DVD of my latest MRIs. When I finally got in the office, I handed it to him. “I don’t read MRIs”, he said. “I can’t imagine why they suggested you bring it.” I told him that I thought the report on the MRIs was included. Reluctantly, he took the disk and put it in his ancient computer attached to the largest cathode ray tube monitor I have seen since the deluge. It whirred and clacked and brought up the report.
He examined my dilated eyes. The trouble with problems like the lights I was currently experiencing, he said, was that I was unlikely to drop dead from the condition any time soon. Since, in his opinion, a thorough autopsy would be needed to accurately pinpoint just why I was seeing lights, he probably couldn’t tell me. Talk about bedside manner!
After the exam, he told me that his best guess was that the “viscous matter” in my eyes has shriveled up, much like a raison. When I turn to the right, my now shriveled viscous matter tries to go that way and pulls on the retina, causing the lights! Nothing to worry about; nothing to be done. Perhaps it will get better over time but that’s just a thought. In the meantime, should I drive at night, perhaps I should only go “straight ahead”!
Friday, April 3, 2009
I wonder why...
Help me with something I am unable to fully appreciate. Why would the government spend so many billions of dollars to resuscitate an insurance company that committed financial suicide, yet not be willing to spend 15% of that amount on two of America’s auto firms? The auto makers employ more people. The suppliers to the two automakers employ more people. They actually manufacture a useful product. They don’t just speculate wildly in derivatives of nothingness!
When I have asked this, folks have suggested one of the following: that the failure of the insurance company would have panicked Wall Street, would have cost us more in the end, would have left businesses looking for insurance. So it seems, the people I’m asking don’t know either! Is there only one insurance company in America? Why didn’t the collapse of Lehman Brothers do Wall Street in!
Has anyone asked bankers or insurance company employees to reduce their wages, to pay more for health care? Has it been suggested that we abandon all retired bankers and former insurance company executives to lives without health insurance at all? Then why do we propose such actions for auto workers? If health care is a concern to this administration and General Motors is the largest private health insurer in the country with a million employees and retirees covered, why would we let it go into bankrupcy and end all that health insurance?
I read recently that former employees of bankrupt financial firms had had no difficulty finding new work. Something like 90% were already working again, no doubt hoping to bankrupt additional firms.
Here’s an odd thought: where did all the TARP money go? I don’t think it all went to bonuses for boneheads. No, I think banks are holding it all, waiting for the next big thing, the next derivative of a tulip bubble so they can make a killing! Why squander it on your silly little 5% mortgage? If they waste money like that how much will they have to invest when Son of Madoff comes along with a guaranteed 12%!
Besides, when was the last time you paid your auto worker a bonus?
When I have asked this, folks have suggested one of the following: that the failure of the insurance company would have panicked Wall Street, would have cost us more in the end, would have left businesses looking for insurance. So it seems, the people I’m asking don’t know either! Is there only one insurance company in America? Why didn’t the collapse of Lehman Brothers do Wall Street in!
Has anyone asked bankers or insurance company employees to reduce their wages, to pay more for health care? Has it been suggested that we abandon all retired bankers and former insurance company executives to lives without health insurance at all? Then why do we propose such actions for auto workers? If health care is a concern to this administration and General Motors is the largest private health insurer in the country with a million employees and retirees covered, why would we let it go into bankrupcy and end all that health insurance?
I read recently that former employees of bankrupt financial firms had had no difficulty finding new work. Something like 90% were already working again, no doubt hoping to bankrupt additional firms.
Here’s an odd thought: where did all the TARP money go? I don’t think it all went to bonuses for boneheads. No, I think banks are holding it all, waiting for the next big thing, the next derivative of a tulip bubble so they can make a killing! Why squander it on your silly little 5% mortgage? If they waste money like that how much will they have to invest when Son of Madoff comes along with a guaranteed 12%!
Besides, when was the last time you paid your auto worker a bonus?
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