It is astonishing that so many people who support SB1070 can’t see that they are being manipulated. These otherwise rational people apparently don’t have the ability to perceive that they are being played. But I wonder, why can’t they see that individuals seeking either election/re-election or increased viewer ratings are manipulating information and appealing to primal fears simply because they know it works? Why can’t they see through the false outrage of people whose only allegiance is to their own vested interest — public office or higher poll ratings?

Don’t they realize that laws like SB1070 endanger the freedom of their fellow Americans as much, if not more, than they threaten illegal immigrants? Why are SB1070 supporters so willing to throw their fellow Americans – who may look or “act” foreign – under the bus? For the sake of…what? So that they may feel superior? So that they may feel entitled to the “specialness” of their citizenship? How special is a citizenship that would forfeit the rights of that citizenship to another citizen in the name of “cracking down” on illegitimate interlopers? Worse, how special is a citizenry that would allow themselves to be manipulated just so they can persecute a scapegoat?

How is this not nauseatingly just like Jackson’s ominous parable?

Or

Why I’m firing my doctor

Or

How one primary physician can contribute to escalating health care costs

I have a nine o’clock appointment. I arrive about 20 minutes early because I have a new insurance card and figure the office would need time to change their records. At 9:00 they call my name – not to go into the exam room – to fill out brand new information forms, including info about the new insurance. I don’t get into an exam room until 9:30. No surprise. At past office visits I have been Doc X’s very first patient and had to wait 45 minutes. So I was expecting a wait.

I kill time in the exam room another 10 minutes or so before a tech person comes in to take my vitals. As she leaves she explains that Doctor X is working with a Physician’s Assistant so I may be talking to her. After another fifteen minutes the PA comes in. A perky 20-something blonde shakes my hand (I vaguely wonder where she’s had it last), introducing herself as Linda. With my hefty file in hand – I’ve been a patient at this office for about four years – she perches on a swivel stool and begins to ask me about the reason for my visit. “It’s twofold,” I say, explaining that it has been a year since my last visit but I also had made a recent visit to the Emergency Room and the ER doc told me to follow up with my primary physician.

“Uh huh,” says Linda. “And when you were in the ER was it all very confusing?”

“What do you mean?”, I say.

“Well, it must been a very upsetting experience,” she says.

Thinking she has a negative opinion of the hospital, I say, “Not really. They were pretty professional. Is that what you mean?”

“No, I mean how did you feel about going to the ER?”

“Oh. Are you asking why I went to the ER?”

“Okay,” she says. “Why don’t we begin there?”

I hand her copies of all the test results, instructions and medications they gave me when I left the hospital, explaining the reason I went. I had woken up one morning with crazy, wicked dizziness and called Doctor X’s office thinking I could speak to him for guidance. The woman who answered the phone asked about my complaint and suggested I could either seek emergency treatment or, if I felt I could wait, come in to the office. She never let me close to the doctor. I opted for ER.

Linda leafs through the ER info and glances through the top few pages of my medical file. We engage in a bit of back and forth about my general health and recovery from the dizziness. She asks about side effects from meds I am currently taking. I report that it is nothing worse than the conditions they are treating. There is an awkward silence while I hesitate because I have a list of questions I want to ask Doctor X. She says Doctor X will most likely not be in to see me since she, Linda, is handling my visit. I get out my list. The questions cover a lot of ground but she fields each one and I reply candidly to her queries. She laughs and calls me a “stinker” because I ask so many questions. Do I detect a patronizing tone?

She begins to wrap up the meeting by telling me about the routine blood and urine work they will be doing this morning and that the office will call me when the results are in so I can make an appointment to come back. At this point I ask her why I would have to come back in. You see, going to this disorganized office is a major pain and if I am basically going to listen to test results – they won’t fax them to me – why can’t they simply phone them to me? She says it is “office policy” and if I want I can talk to Doctor X about it.

Then, because by nature I am a nosy person, I ask her about this new (to me) procedure of me seeing a PA rather than my doctor. Linda is remarkably game when I say, “So is my office visit cheaper because I am not actually seeing Doctor X?” No, she says, but there are a lot of other good reasons for doing it this way.

“So,” I say, “what’s in it for me to see you rather than the doc?”

“For starters, I can spend more time with you so I can offer greater support and instruction and help you with questions about your health. It saves the doctor time so he can see more patients.”

I mean no disrespect and I can tell Linda understands this. She asks me if I would like to talk to the doctor. Yes, I would.

Following a mix-up of confusing instructions – that clearly irritated an already grumpy tech person and further extends my time in the doctor’s office — regarding just what tests I am there for I am ushered into another room to wait for Doc X. He breezes in, quickly countermands Linda’s recommendations for meds refills and tells me that there are good reasons for having me return to the office to get me lab results. He insists it is important to make sure I understand the results and that he (even it is his office assistant who does this) take my vitals again. I inquire whether he expects my vitals to change that much in a week’s time. By now I am getting a bit irritated. The answers he’s providing are lame at best. Additionally I ask whether the former can just as easily be accomplished with a phone call from him.

Indeed I know plenty of physicians who do just that. My husband’s cardiologist follows every office visit/lab test with a phone call explaining the results. When my husband was taking Warfarin (a blood thinner whose dosage has to be closely monitored) after a monthly blood test the cardio’s nurse called my husband to tell him how to adjust the medication dose. But…

“I am here to serve you,” Doctor X says, “If I don’t take your vitals I am remiss in my duty to you. And I won’t compromise that principle because it inconveniences you.”

My frown exposes my skepticism here and he continues, “I am not an attorney,” he confesses, “I can’t bill for a phone conversation. If I am on the phone talking to patients I am not making any money.” Wow.

I can recognize that he must have enormous expenses what with the office, staff and malpractice insurance, to name a few. But come on. Now I know how he affords that mountain cabin he’s boasted to me about on a previous office visit. Now I know what his bottom line is. It is not my health or even my well-being. It is billable hours. I don’t come first with him. My office visits and I are commodities. My time and priorities are inconsequential next to his economic health. Maybe not entirely. But his priorities don’t impress me.

My face must reveal my distaste because Doc X suggests that, even though he would hate to lose me as a patient (yeah. right.), maybe I should look for another physician.

Thanks, doc. I will. But where is one who will not be putting his mountain cabin ahead of me?

According to Dora Calott Wang in her upcoming book, The Kitchen Shrink: A Psychiatrist’s Reflections on Healing in a Changing World, prior to deregulation in the 1980s, “courts repetitively ruled that it was ‘against sound public policy’ for companies to seek profit from medical care.” Thus the notion that the free market as the answer to improved health care is not only a fairly recent point of view, it represents a 180-degree reversal from this country’s traditional values. Traditional values, I might add, that are deeply rooted in a conservative philosophy. In order for American health care to adhere to our conservative origins the profit motive simply must be removed from the entire equation.

Think about it.

Also, how can someone be simultaneously pro-life and anti-health care for those same lives? Just asking.

Favorite Reads of the 1^st Decade of the 21^st Century

–in no particular order–

K Blows Top: A Cold War Comic Interlude Starring Nikita Khrushchev, America’s Most Unlikely Tourist by Peter Carlson, nonfiction

Just because I am, ahem, old enough to remember when this visit took place it doesn’t mean I fully grasped all the political implications of what was happening. What’s more, the behind-the-scenes political maneuverings that Carlson reveals from his vast well of research is so much richer than what we all knew about at the time. By all, I mean those of us occupied with lives other than what was grabbing headlines. Of course we paid close enough attention to understand there was much to be concerned about when the leader of our sworn enemy invades our very shore (demanding to visit Disneyland, of all capitalist places!) and when our president hosts him at Camp David. But what we didn’t know was that Khrushchev was only here because a White House aide goofed up, extending an open invitation. We also didn’t know that the Russian Premier had to juggle his schedule – blowing off a trip to another country — in order to make the excursion. But thanks to Carlson’s organic style we can actually “see” the look on Eisenhower’s face when Khrushchev informs him he can “only” stay for ten to fourteen days! Especially since Ike didn’t know he was coming at all! Carlson tells of this remarkable visit, punctuated with the kind of absurd wit and insight that only distant hindsight makes possible (assembling a kind-of historical blooper reel), with equally remarkable skill. Highly recommended.

Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathon Lethem, fiction

Lionel Essrog idolizes Frank Minna because Minna hired Lionel right out of St. Vincent’s Home for Boys to work for his detective agency. Lionel is appreciative because as a victim of Tourette’s Syndrome – a disorder that, among other things, makes Lionel blurt random, inappropriate words and phrases such as, “eat me, dickweed” – his employment opportunities are bleak. Besides, Frank likes Lionel and treats him pretty well. So when Frank is murdered Lionel decides it is up to him to solve the crime and bring the murderer to justice. The story follows Lionel as he discovers his boss was not all he appeared to be. Lethem writes this story with humor and compassion, skill and talent. Lionel is a delightful and intelligent character. I don’t give out 5’s easily so you know I loved this book. Fun with words but so much more!! I liked Lethem’s latest, Chronic Manhattan, a lot but it is a definite second to this one.

Wolf Totem by Jiang Rong, fiction

Wolf Totem is a translation of the semi-autobiographical story (Jiang Rong is a pseudonym) of a young Beijing student, Chen Zhen, who was sent to China’s Inner Mongolia during the 1960s to live among the herding Mongols (a tiny minority vastly outnumbered by the Han Chinese), learn their ways and figure out how to best exploit their land for the benefit of the rest of the country. Although occasionally preachy Jiang Rong’s prose is impeccable – despite certain translation limitations – and the story is eye opening both for the glimpse of a culture so very foreign to much of the world and for the glorious portrait of a land and a people who seem to have made a fragile peace with their environment.

Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill, horror fiction

An aging Alice Cooper-type rocker named Judas Coyne, who collects macabre memorabilia, buys a “ghost” off an internet auction site and all heck breaks loose. It turns out the ghost is not only real but holds a deep-seated hatred for Coyne, whom he holds responsible for the suicide of his stepdaughter, a onetime Coyne groupie/belt-notch. The old man is scary as anyone I’ve read about in a long time but Coyne is no pushover for the ectoplasmic bounty hunter. The ensuing struggle between good and evil (the primary question) kept me awake so I wouldn’t miss a thing and find out who triumphs. I will read this one again because Hill’s debut novel is better than most of his dad’s (Stephen King) and the narrator of the audio version (Stephen Lang) is outstanding.

The Plot Against America by Philip Roth, fiction

Imagine what the world would have been like if Charles Lindbergh had won the 1940 election instead of Roosevelt. It’s what Roth does in this slap-in-the-face alternate universe/what-if novel that features himself and his Jewish family living in a very different New Jersey. His aviation accomplishments aside Lindbergh, of course, was a famous anti-Semite and a staunch isolationist. Under his leadership the United States resists entering the war in Europe and life Stateside becomes increasingly tense for the Roths as religious freedom is all but revoked in the name of national security. Of course, this is Philip Roth and he is never so in his element as when he writes about a young man’s personal growing pains but he also skillfully paints a chilling scenario that conjures feelings not only of lost liberties but usurped personal privacy and freedoms in a post-9/11 world.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Husseini, fiction

Amir is the son of a wealthy Afghan businessman and he grows up palling around with Hassan, the son of Amir’s household servant. They are best buddies but Amir’s culture does not provide him with a frame of reference that will title Hassan as his “friend.” Ultimately Amir’s devotion to Hassan is tested when bullies accost the boy. Amir fails his friend, causing terrible consequences that change both children forever in unspeakable ways. As Amir grows up he must deal with trying to, first, understand what he did and, second, trying to find a way to find forgiveness – both from himself and from Hassan. Amir is on my list of most interesting protagonists. As he tells his story he doesn’t flinch from revealing his faults as well as his virtues. He is struggling with good and evil within his own heart just as everyone else on the planet is. The second best part of this book is the glimpse it gives into Afghan culture. The only fault I found with the story was a couple of disappointing twists that I could have lived without. Note: I listened to this on audiotape, narrated by the author, and feel it greatly enhanced my experience. If I read it I would’ve struggled, trying to pronounce the words foreign to me. Instead, he glided over the text with ease.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon, fiction

Brit Christopher Boone is 15 years old and late one night discovers that his neighbor’s dog has been murdered – done in with a “garden fork” (in the US we call this a rake). At first he’s suspected of the dastardly deed since he’s found crouching over the cadaver. This makes him all the more determined to unravel the mystery and bring the killer to justice. He applies the best principles of his idol, Sherlock Holmes – Christopher is autistic and demands order and logic over everything in his life – and, keeping a journal of his quest that he hopes to publish (the book we are reading), he sets off on a wonderful adventure. I loved this book! Christopher is such an interesting protagonist and Haddon’s storytelling ability is terrific. Wonderful, rich and complex characters; interesting plot.

Peace Like A River by Leif Enger, fiction

Leif Enger’s story, about a Minnesota family who piles into a car towing an Airstream trailer looking for a prodigal son/brother, teaches us a lot about life. Enger spins a delightful tale full of magic and gunplay and fascinating characters and Wild West stories and life lessons. Some things I learned:

- When you put a lot of time and energy into fighting someone/something you end up looking just like your enemy.

- On the other hand, when you fight no one and forgive everyone you can perform miracles.

- Life is magical.

- Don’t take the air you breathe for granted.

- Read, watch, listen and learn.

- Travel life’s road with an open mind.

I loved this book and have been recommending it to just about everyone I know. It is a great read for both men and women. I’m thinking it’s a “5” because it is well written, an enjoyable ride (entertaining) and a well-crafted story.

The Botany of Desire by Michael Pollan, adult nonfiction,

There is a long-held Western belief that there is nature and there is mankind; two halves of a whole that are divided by, what? I forget. I forget because Pollan trashes that dividing line. There is no real difference between natural selection and artificial selection. Truth-be-told, plants are using us humans on a daily basis to propagate their own species by appealing to our very basest desires. Pollan takes us on a journey to examine how plants such as the apple, the tulip, the marijuana plant and the potato have had their way with humans and in the end, they are the tail wagging our very deluded and foolishly arrogant dog. Did you know that each apple seed grows into its very own unique variety? That in order to get an orchard of Red Delicious apples they must be grown from grafted branches of other Red Delicious apple trees? Did you know that at one point in 17^th Century Holland a single tulip bulb could sell for more than a fine house on the canal? Did you know that most 15^th Century Europeans distrusted and despised the potato? Pollan tells a great story so a book that might be deemed dry-as-dust is compelling and fascinating and a terrific read. Highly recommended!

Finn, A Novel by Jon Clinch, fiction

In Finn Clinch has created a fictional biography for a character we all first encountered when we read Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn where Huck and Jim find a dead man in a that’s house floating down the river. The dead man is Huck’s father and he’s been shot in the back. What Twain failed to give us in his book (knowledge of Huck’s family history) Clinch delivers in what I have to say is the best book I’ve read this year. The character Finn – we never learn his first name – is both despicable and fascinating at the same time. His father (Huck’s grandfather) is a judge, also a nasty guy, who seems to have bred all his vileness into Finn, bypassing Finn’s brother who is a decent person. But where the Judge is an upstanding member of the community; Finn teeters on the rim between human and animal, living by his (dim) wits and blundering through life in a drunken haze. And yet…and yet he has deeply tender feelings for the woman who becomes his common law wife, Huck’s mother. Even more, we feel his love for Huck. This book may not be to everyone’s taste for many reasons, not the least of which is getting used to the open racism of the period. But if you’re enjoy terrific writing, complex characterizations and want a book that will have you grabbing people off the street to discuss it with you can’t go wrong with Finn. By the way, Ed Sala does a fantastic job narrating the audio book.

Oh the memories. Here the term “old haunts” took on new meaning. Ghosts of friends, long ago gone their separate ways, waved at me from their front porches. Across the street from our old house I can see my best friend Patty Ann sitting on the steps in front of her folks’ duplex. She’s wearing a brand new powder blue skort. We used to walk to school together and when I’d pick her up their house smelled of freshly made Lipton’s tea and cinnamon toast. Their toaster had a cover that said, “Hot toast makes the butter-fly,” and it had a picture of a butter pat-shaped butterfly on it. Her mom kept plastic on the living room furniture (so did my mom). Even so, when we’d watch American Bandstand after school we’d have to sit on the floor. I think that furniture is probably still in that house — in pristine condition.

There’s my buddy, Dorothy, who lived next door. There’s about a three-foot-wide gangway between the houses and we had bedroom windows that sort of faced each other – hers was a little higher and further back. And for a while we had a tin-can-and-string thing going on until we realized we could hear each other just as well without it.

As I continued my tour memorable events appeared before my mind’s eye like life sized dioramas.

There’s the Methodist Church under whose stairs (which are now enclosed) my friend Tommy and I shared our first kiss. We were ten. He lived down the street from us. My parents would often go to his house to play cards or for a backyard barbecue. While the grownups played cards Tommy and I would watch Saturday night monster movies. His mom grew up living next door to my dad. We still lived in the same house, a white frame four-flat where my dad lived ‘til he was 50. When Tommy’s mom got married she moved a whole half block away. Later Tommy’s family moved to a new house in Burnham.

There’s the building (now a real estate office) that once housed the neighborhood tavern. My grandmother and I used to walk down there on hot summer afternoons. While she was inside getting the bucket she brought from home filled with cold beer I’d wait on the front steps sipping an icy cold orange pop. She was my dad’s mom and lived in the apartment behind ours. We called her “Ma” because being called grandma made her feel old. I used to hang out with her when she’d do laundry in the basement. In the wintertime she’d hang the clothes on lines strung across the basement ceiling. In the summer, of course, she’d hang them outside.

Speaking of hanging out, there’s Rose’s house. She lived a couple houses north of us and was my mom’s age. She and my mom were friends but Rose was special to me because she’d let me hang out in her kitchen when she was cooking and baking for her family. Today I guess you’d call her a mentor because I felt like I could talk to her about things I never talked about with my mom. A gentle and patient woman she was as generous with her wisdom as she was with her homemade strudel. After I grew up I relied upon her wisdom in raising my own kids. Never did have the patience to make strudel though. Tried it once and when I was buttered up to my elbows I quit.

More random reminiscences flash before my eyes.

The alley where I dropped a gallon of milk, shattering the glass and ran home crying. Mann Park where we used to play in the fieldhouse (do they still call them that?). Henry Clay School where I went from kindergarten through second grade before I transferred to the Catholic school. There’s the spot where my dad would sometimes park his ’53 Studebaker when he’d pick me up after school. The IGA (now it’s called Food Club) that was the neighborhood’s first big time supermarket. And there’s the building that housed the tiny library — a big deal because for most of my elementary school years we had a traveling bookmobile. Today Hegewisch has a big, modern library building.

This was a good tour and I have Google to thank for it. They’ve set it up so I can quietly and anonymously tour my old neighborhood – seeing every angle of the buildings in very realistic 3-D-like quality — without the distraction of strange people, traffic and sounds. It’s like a pop-up book where the sight of these buildings releases bittersweet memories uncomplicated by current reality.

So, okay, there was one last stop I had to make before closing the browser on my computer. I looked up Tommy’s (I guess it’s probably Tom now) address and found out he currently lives only a couple miles from Hegewisch. I googled his house – just out of curiosity. I haven’t seen him since we were in our twenties. What’s funny is that even though my motives were only idle curiosity, I suddenly and surprisingly felt like a stalker. I quickly closed my browser and I’m still pondering just what Google has done with its 360-degree vistas of American cities. Can this kind of anonymous visiting – snooping? stalking? — be altogether healthy?-30-
© 2009, Donna M Chavez