Tag: health care

Snapshots #224 and #225 and a Brief Rant

Early voting began yesterday in Florida. I had planned to be first in line at the polls, but I settled for being #22.

I call this one, “I Wore Blue to Vote Blue.”

And this closeup is called, “Feminists Vote Blue.”

Thanks to my friend Linda for the necklace. I wear it proudly.

Yes, I realize I wear my heart and my vote on my sleeve. Yes, I realize the odds of turning Florida blue are against us. But every vote counts and I have to keep on believing that we can make this a better place to raise children and care for our seniors.

Only the Democrats favor health care reform that doesn’t exclude people with pre-existing conditions from having access to affordable insurance. Only Democrats support salary increases for public school teachers. Only Democrats fight for social security, Medicaid, and Medicare. Only Democrats are standing up to the NRA in order to enact and enforce sensible gun ownership laws. Only Democrats fight for the rights of LGBTQ citizens. Only Democrats are working to stop the cruel separation of immigrant children and parents at our borders. Only Democrats support a woman’s right to choose.

I’m a reformed conservative, and I vote blue for all of the reasons stated above and more.

And Dignity….

Hillary for President

  
A couple of days ago I posted the following essay on my Facebook page. As essays go, I’ve written better, but several friends asked me to share my thoughts with a wider audience. So, here you go. 

I’m a Liberal. I haven’t always been. In fact, I once was a staunch Republican. I voted for both Bushes, Poppa and W. 

I did not support Bill Clinton, but, I was always impressed by Hillary. Her fight for health care reform sparked something in me. You see, I’d always been fortunate to have access to good insurance through my husband’s job–until his job was “excessed” during the deregulation of the natural gas industry and we found ourselves at the mercy of a health care system that doesn’t value those on the fringes. 

Now, I wasn’t ready to leave the GOP then, but I was beginning to notice the blatant inequities between the “haves” and the “have nots.” While my family had never been wealthy, until those bleak days when we didn’t have access to good insurance, I’d never had to worry about falling ill and losing everything we’d worked for. Still, I believed I could work within the party to fight for women’s rights, for equal pay, for health care reform.

Sadly, it took Sarah Palin for me to see what a backwards institution the GOP had become. Not all Republicans believed the stupid things she spouted, but enough that I became certain that I could find a better party in which to place my trust. 

I voted for President Obama in 2008 and I’ll never regret that decision, even though I suffered heart palpitations while doing so. I voted for him proudly in 2012, convinced that he was the best man for the job, and he has never let me down.

Now, on the verge of the Democratic Party nominating the first female candidate for the highest office in the land, I’m so very proud to say I’m a Hillary supporter. I cannot believe that the party I once supported has devolved into one that embraces racism and hate, but the GOP’s nomination of Donald Trump has proven that to be true. Trump will not make America great. He only knows how to make Americans hate.

This is me, and I approve this message.

Peace, people.

Surviving a Fake Heart Attack

I could have sworn I’d written before about my near-fatal fake heart attack, but I could find no such post in my archives. Knowing me, I probably gave it some off-beat title like, “Only the Heart Knows” or “Deadbeat Heart” and now I’m unable to locate it. That shouldn’t be a problem with this post.

First, if one is going to have a heart attack a fake one is by far the best kind to experience. Chances are there will be a full recovery given enough time and plenty of TLC.

Studly Doright and I had recently moved into our temporary rental home on the northwest side of Tallahassee. Delighted by the pleasant February weather we decided to ride our bikes around our new neighborhood on that bright Sunday afternoon.

Having moved from Mahomet, Illinois, where February temperatures seldom climb into the 70’s, we pedaled about with abandon. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the gentle hills of Tallahassee were beckoning.

We rode for thirty minutes or so. It certainly wasn’t a strenuous ride, or wouldn’t have been for someone used to the hills. Or to exercise.  But I was neither. 

When we returned to the house and I dismounted from my old green Schwinn, my heart was beating so hard I thought it would tear out of my chest. I wasn’t in pain, just embarrassed at being so out of shape. Finally it slowed its frantic bump-bump-bumping and we had a good laugh. I promised myself to begin doing some cardio so I could avoid this situation in the future.

I started dinner while Studly showered and that’s when the first Holy Cow pain hit my chest. I had to sit for a minute while the pain subsided. I knew it wasn’t good. Figured, in fact, that I was dying. When Studly found me sitting at a chair in the kitchen I told him just that. 

“I’m dying.”

“No you aren’t.”

I returned to cooking, which in itself often seems enough to kill me. We had dinner and I poured myself a glass of wine and had my second Holy Cow pain. This time Studly witnessed it and we decided to go to the emergency room.

Of course we weren’t sure exactly where that was. Neither of us thought to use the GPS, instead we headed down Thomasville Road to where we thought we’d seen a hospital. Holy Cow pain number three hit just as we located Tallahassee Memorial Hospital’s emergency facility. 

The facility was busy, but a suspected heart attack moved me to the front of the line, and I was in an exam room in under five minutes. Emergency staff began hooking me up to machines even as they took my information. 

They were efficient and thorough and were about to send me home with a pat on the head and an admonition to take it easy on the exercise until I acclimated to the Tallahassee terrain when another pain hit and the EKG spiked. The young doctor on duty determined that I should have a stress test, but that their facility didn’t do those. With great earnestness he suggested I go to their hospital, spend the night on a monitor and have the stress test the next morning.

“You’ll be home by noon,” he said. I was then transported by ambulance to TMH’s hospital across town.

Noon he said. Ha! Two long days and countless tests later, my deductible for the year completely satisfied, I was told most likely a chest wall muscle was spasming, but that my heart was quite healthy. 

Thank goodness for good health insurance. Apparently they pay for fake heart attacks just as well as for real ones. Studly makes a convincing argument that my hospital stay would have been considerably shorter had our insurance not been quite so good.

In case anyone wonders, I made a full recovery. The only lasting consequence is any time I have a pain of any intensity Studly is quick to remind me of the expense of a fake heart attack. 


On a serious note–never ignore chest pains. Had this been a real heart attack these guys would have saved my life. I received excellent care, and I’m glad I had everything checked out.

Serious note number two: everyone deserves affordable health care. 

Peace, people!