Month: March 2017

A Tale of Two Systems

It’s been a while since I have written a post — though I have been spending a great deal of time on my book — but have been repeatedly urged by family to finish telling the story I began in “Rise of the Leftnots” back in January regarding my experience in the very contrasting health systems of the US and UK. Not feeling I could really do it justice until the process was almost complete, I write today from a lovely hotel 5* in London having had a similarly 5* healthcare experience vis a vis the surgery I had here yesterday, but thanks to the insurance-dominated healthcare system in the US could not have had there for at least two more months, if at all. That is an important distinction to bear in mind and one I wish would reach the level of public discourse: the problem is not the healthcare system in America, but the health insurance system, industry and its powerful lobby. Unless and until we have an honest dialog about those two systems and their unhealthy relationship and unholy marriage, quality healthcare in our country will never be truly accessible and affordable to all.

Anyway, my story is very much that and I am by no means going to claim that this is typical anymore than I would suggest that everyone can give their American doctor the middle finger, hop on a plane to London and have one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the world operate on them. I am blessed both to know the right people and to be able to afford to do so, though I suspect the actual cost of it — which I am going to share — will surprise you. For those of you used to my writing, do not expect the snarkiness or attempts at humor or poignancy of my usual tone as to me, the importance of this story lies in the facts and details thereof; there is nothing entertaining about the state in which we find the current healthcare system in the US. So, without further ado…

I broke my foot on December 3rd, a notoriously difficult to heal Jones Fracture. The real deal; not what some doctors erroneously call a Jones Fracture that really isn’t the true, bitch of a break that this is. The first doctor I saw at the ironically named walk-in department of our local and somewhat (allegedly) prestigious bone clinic was closer to honest with me about what that meant than was the over-hyped foot surgeon I would see four times thereafter. The initial doctor had told me I would be in a non weight-bearing cast for 8 weeks followed by probably 4 more in a boot and that these breaks are amongst the most difficult to heal in the body with an overall non-union rate near 28%, this group eventually requiring a surgical solution. That doctor was semi-retired and worked at the walk-in to keep himself engaged, but I much preferred his style. He was old-school, blunt and seemed to not have been trained in, or impeded by the insurance speak which has so rabidly infected the rest of our system. Frustrated with the news, but thankful for the blunt talk, I got the cast and corresponding instructions and upon leaving, a follow-up appointment for 2 weeks later with “our best” (certainly their words and by no means mine) foot surgeon.

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Appropriate This

As I was getting ready to go back to London for a few days, I did as I always do and started digging around for my favorite clothes, shoes, and accessories, being frustrated all the while by the fact that I mostly wear adult Garanimals (i.e., all black), which makes distinguishing one piece from another difficult without my glasses, which I also could not find. Not being able to rock any terribly original outfits at the moment thanks to the limitations created by having a cast up to one’s knee, I accessorize to emphasize and as such went in search of a very specific pair of large gold hoops I bought a few trips ago, knowing that they would add a little ‘yes, I swear this outfit was bought in this century and is not an oversized BabyGro’ legitimacy to my monochrome and monosyllabic ensembles. But as I took them out of their pouch to make sure they were intact and had not interbred with one of the long necklaces I often throw in with them, I remembered something I had recently read admonishing, “White girls, take off your hoops.” Without giving this moronic plea too much attention, I will summarize the story by saying that a Latina girl at the extremely pricey Pitzer College in Southern California decided that white women who wear hoop earrings are culturally appropriating from their Latina counterparts, and believed in her heart of hearts that this issue rose to the level of requiring an “all campus” email proclamation. We’ll just leave that there for a sec.

I lived in the UK for many years and while there became a fan of Rugby Union, and especially like national rugby competitions such as Six Nations and Rugby World Cup. The England v. Wales game is traditionally the biggest rivalry of Six Nations, and the atmosphere and camaraderie is second to none. Both nations of course have their official anthems, but the unofficial anthems of Welsh and English rugby are borne of a love of group drunk singing and were, I feel certain, chosen almost entirely on these criteria. The chosen song of Wales is Delilah, which makes more sense when you remember the god that is Tom Jones is Welsh; the anthem sung in unison by English fans is Swing Low, Sweet Chariot. Less clear what the correlation is there, but it’s slow, deep, and easy to slur-sing, so I never had need to question it. Plus, I’m always enjoying myself when I’m at rugby matches, so I never have need to question anything other than calls which go against my team of choice. “Enjoying myself”: words millennials never use and do not understand. Anyway, over the last few months, feminists have petitioned Welsh Rugby to discourage or even ban (don’t know how you get 80,000 drunk Welshmen to do anything other than drink more, but okay, moonbeam) singing of Delilah because it is “a song about domestic abuse and could or may inspire acts of domestic violence as a result of its lyrics.” While you’re absorbing that, fast forward a few months to the fact that the English rugby team is being criticized for culturally appropriating Swing Low, Sweet Chariot because it is an historic slave spiritual.

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