Saturday, September 26, 2009
Learning from the past
I've had a really good day-tiring, but really good. I went to Old Cowtown Museum with some of my kids-the weather was perfect, the crowds were not crowds, the saloon hot dog was pretty good, the cow was protective of her baby, the displays were interesting. I like western lore and culture-and, every once in awhile, I need to be reminded that I'm fortunate that I don't have to wash clothes in a creek on a wash board. Those times seemed simpler, but you know, I don't think they were. The steps one had to go through to do laundry, to cook, and even to get water were physically demanding. Medicine was primitive and life was characterized by hard work and more hard work and more hard work. Every day. You didn't pack up and go on vacation. You stayed home and worked. You helped your neighbors when you could. You enjoyed Sundays as there was not as much work to do, but still, it wasn't a total day of rest. Life was hard and you survived by your own working hands and God's benevolence and mercy. It seemed the music of the church centered on trust, obedience, hard times, and the faith it took to pull through. The old hymn, "Does Jesus Care?" written in 1901, plaintively asks what we today sometimes wonder-four verses of four lines each questioning what happens sometimes in life, and one chorus, 4 lines, to assure the singer that yes, He does. Interesting. A simple faith? Maybe. But as we sit in front of our computers, and TVs, and cook in our microwaves, and drive our cars, we can learn something from these stoic pioneers.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Angst
So I was thinking about anxiety yesterday. I even looked it up on wiki to see a synopsis of this state of mind - like you, I've had my struggles with it. I realized that one way I've coped with anxiety over the years is to snack. To look at me, you'd probably guess that. But it became clearer recently what my trigger points are and I thought I'd share a couple of those with you. One happens Sunday evenings. I'm in the "getting ready to go back to work" mode, and I'm gathering up materials, thinking about my schedule, planning on lunches for the week, looking at my calendar, figuring out what my priorities are, and if I have anything scheduled which is causing me some concern such as a meeting with difficult parents, then the worrying about that begins. Sunday evenings find me restless and going into the kitchen about every 10 minutes as I get ready for a new work week. This has become obvious to me as I've been on a weight watchers plan, and it's gotta stop.
Another source of anxiety is, believe it or not, walking Lydia in our neighborhood. After we first got her, two loose dogs attacked her as we were getting out of the car from a trip to the vet. My daughter remained calm and decisive, I went into panic mode. Normally, I'm not afraid of dogs-I've always been an animal person, but this little event really fostered some fear in my brain. Since then, I've walked her a little in the neighborhood, but mostly at a nearby park, however, when it rains, the park path is muddy and puddled. The thought of getting out her leash and walking her around here scares me, but I hate hate hate being ruled by fear, so what to do...
What to do indeed. For the dog problem, I bought a little canister of pepper spray, took some lessons from "The Dog Whisperer" (a TV show in which the guy 'rehabilitates dogs and trains people'), and worked with Rebekah who did a lot of training with Lyd when I first got her and continued to encourage me. My anxiety made Lydia fearful, so now the goal is to be relaxed-to know what to do if we encounter loose dogs on the walk helps. You would be amazed, or maybe not, about how many irresponsible dog owners we have in this city who just let their pets out the front door unleashed and unrestrained. It is astounding to me. But I digress.
The anxiety that occurs on Sunday nights is getting better. But there are oh so many other little things that I let ball up inside me-concerns about my kids, friends who are going through hard times, problems with an administrator at work, and oh yes, let's not leave out how each and every day I never meet my own expectations. Ever. To know me you might not realize I'm so self-critical, but I battle that demon too.
Is there a cure for anxiety? More later.
Another source of anxiety is, believe it or not, walking Lydia in our neighborhood. After we first got her, two loose dogs attacked her as we were getting out of the car from a trip to the vet. My daughter remained calm and decisive, I went into panic mode. Normally, I'm not afraid of dogs-I've always been an animal person, but this little event really fostered some fear in my brain. Since then, I've walked her a little in the neighborhood, but mostly at a nearby park, however, when it rains, the park path is muddy and puddled. The thought of getting out her leash and walking her around here scares me, but I hate hate hate being ruled by fear, so what to do...
What to do indeed. For the dog problem, I bought a little canister of pepper spray, took some lessons from "The Dog Whisperer" (a TV show in which the guy 'rehabilitates dogs and trains people'), and worked with Rebekah who did a lot of training with Lyd when I first got her and continued to encourage me. My anxiety made Lydia fearful, so now the goal is to be relaxed-to know what to do if we encounter loose dogs on the walk helps. You would be amazed, or maybe not, about how many irresponsible dog owners we have in this city who just let their pets out the front door unleashed and unrestrained. It is astounding to me. But I digress.
The anxiety that occurs on Sunday nights is getting better. But there are oh so many other little things that I let ball up inside me-concerns about my kids, friends who are going through hard times, problems with an administrator at work, and oh yes, let's not leave out how each and every day I never meet my own expectations. Ever. To know me you might not realize I'm so self-critical, but I battle that demon too.
Is there a cure for anxiety? More later.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Words- the voice of the heart
The title of this blog is a quote from Confucius, and how true it is. The Bible says something similar - that the things that come out of your mouth, come from your heart (Matthew 15:18). It seems that recently, several people have been in the news because of the words they've spoken - Kanye West grabbing the microphone from Taylor Swift at the Video Music Awards and interrupting her speech, tennis champion Serena Williams screaming and cursing at a judge at the U.S. Open, and of course, South Carolina representative Joe Wilson's outburst during President Obama's speech this last week - shouting "You lie" as the President spoke to Congress. What on earth is going on, I mused, as I pondered the decline of civility and respect - pondered from afar.
Then, it happened to me. A minor happening, yes, but a happening nevertheless.
It happened on Facebook. Someone posted an insensitive, offensive comment on a friend's wall. The comment was published on all of our facebook pages and was in extremely poor taste. What to do, I mused, as I read the comment. Do I say something or do I let it go? The comment wasn't about me, however, it reflected on someone I care about. I decided to comment on the comment, and as I expected, the reply which was posted to my comment was condescending and rude. Even though I expected it, I still gasped as I read it, as it was pointed directly at me.
The person who penned the original comment is a sophomoric, immature, poor excuse for a man. He objectifies women and has no respect for them, let alone for himself or for the God who created him. He speaks from his heart-his comment truly let us all see what he values most. I did not value his reply enough to respond and I will not get into a war of words with someone on a web page I don't even know.
But words-how powerful they are! A reminder of that to me, someone who has plenty of experience saying things I shouldn't have practically from the day I started talking - is certainly timely. And maybe all of us need to be reminded that civility and respect goes a long way in life. Can't we all just get along?
Then, it happened to me. A minor happening, yes, but a happening nevertheless.
It happened on Facebook. Someone posted an insensitive, offensive comment on a friend's wall. The comment was published on all of our facebook pages and was in extremely poor taste. What to do, I mused, as I read the comment. Do I say something or do I let it go? The comment wasn't about me, however, it reflected on someone I care about. I decided to comment on the comment, and as I expected, the reply which was posted to my comment was condescending and rude. Even though I expected it, I still gasped as I read it, as it was pointed directly at me.
The person who penned the original comment is a sophomoric, immature, poor excuse for a man. He objectifies women and has no respect for them, let alone for himself or for the God who created him. He speaks from his heart-his comment truly let us all see what he values most. I did not value his reply enough to respond and I will not get into a war of words with someone on a web page I don't even know.
But words-how powerful they are! A reminder of that to me, someone who has plenty of experience saying things I shouldn't have practically from the day I started talking - is certainly timely. And maybe all of us need to be reminded that civility and respect goes a long way in life. Can't we all just get along?
Friday, September 11, 2009
Mr. Smith
I went to the doctor for what I hope is the final time and got released to go back to work on Monday. He did not want me to work full days, but I promised him I would be careful about overdoing things.
My comments today have to do with HIPAA, which is an acronym for the congressional act passed in 1996 guaranteeing privacy of medical information for individuals. Since I've spent a lot of time in the doctor's office the last 10 days, I've had opportunity to observe waiting rooms and check-in procedures, and I gotta tell you, from my vantage point, there isn't a lot of privacy and protection of medical information at my doctor's office. There are several physicians who practice at this well-known clinic here in Wichita, and I became acutely aware that privacy, at least during check in is practically non-existent.
From the chair in the waiting room, I was able to hear patient's names, insurance information, birthdays, addresses, and employment information. I was able to listen in quite easily concerning not only which doctor people were checking in with, but why. Would I desire to do so, I could write this information on this blog. Had I made notes during my 3 office visits I could tell you who was there for shingles, who needed to make an appointment for a mamogram, who wanted to see a doctor for a stubborn infection, for a rash, for lab work, for chest congestion, and for blood pressure checks. I could tell you who had no insurance, and who was instructed to come back to the desk to pay on their way out. I know who a few of the new patients are visiting that clinic for the first time. I heard a physician counsel an elderly woman regarding whether or not it was ethical for her to slip her husband depression medication in with the pills he takes on a daily basis, explaining that he doesn't know what he takes and it certainly might improve his mood.
The girls, and I use that term purposefully, behind the glass checking in people are young. They do not speak so that hard of hearing people can understand them, so they raise their voices. "Mr. Smith, you have Medicare? And also Blue Cross?" Mr. Smith yells back, "YES. I need to make an appointment for next week." "Why do you need to see the doctor?" queries the what looks like a 16 year old receptionist. "Because I have an INFECTION," shouts Mr. Smith. The girl confirms his address, his date of birth, and his doctor of choice. She makes the appointment, and all the while, people sitting in the waiting room now know all about Mr. Smith. What is wrong with this picture?
When I checked in, I refused to state why I was there, and just said I had an appointment at 10:30. I made all my follow up appointments by phone instead of at the reception desk. When the receptionist raised her voice to confirm my insurance carrier, birthdate and address, I tried to barely nod without speaking.
It bothered me to such an extent that I feel like writing a polite but concerned letter to the clinic. Surely there's another way to handle this-surely there's a way to treat people with dignity and respect at the doctor's office without informing 30 or 40 strangers why you are there. Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? You tell me.
My comments today have to do with HIPAA, which is an acronym for the congressional act passed in 1996 guaranteeing privacy of medical information for individuals. Since I've spent a lot of time in the doctor's office the last 10 days, I've had opportunity to observe waiting rooms and check-in procedures, and I gotta tell you, from my vantage point, there isn't a lot of privacy and protection of medical information at my doctor's office. There are several physicians who practice at this well-known clinic here in Wichita, and I became acutely aware that privacy, at least during check in is practically non-existent.
From the chair in the waiting room, I was able to hear patient's names, insurance information, birthdays, addresses, and employment information. I was able to listen in quite easily concerning not only which doctor people were checking in with, but why. Would I desire to do so, I could write this information on this blog. Had I made notes during my 3 office visits I could tell you who was there for shingles, who needed to make an appointment for a mamogram, who wanted to see a doctor for a stubborn infection, for a rash, for lab work, for chest congestion, and for blood pressure checks. I could tell you who had no insurance, and who was instructed to come back to the desk to pay on their way out. I know who a few of the new patients are visiting that clinic for the first time. I heard a physician counsel an elderly woman regarding whether or not it was ethical for her to slip her husband depression medication in with the pills he takes on a daily basis, explaining that he doesn't know what he takes and it certainly might improve his mood.
The girls, and I use that term purposefully, behind the glass checking in people are young. They do not speak so that hard of hearing people can understand them, so they raise their voices. "Mr. Smith, you have Medicare? And also Blue Cross?" Mr. Smith yells back, "YES. I need to make an appointment for next week." "Why do you need to see the doctor?" queries the what looks like a 16 year old receptionist. "Because I have an INFECTION," shouts Mr. Smith. The girl confirms his address, his date of birth, and his doctor of choice. She makes the appointment, and all the while, people sitting in the waiting room now know all about Mr. Smith. What is wrong with this picture?
When I checked in, I refused to state why I was there, and just said I had an appointment at 10:30. I made all my follow up appointments by phone instead of at the reception desk. When the receptionist raised her voice to confirm my insurance carrier, birthdate and address, I tried to barely nod without speaking.
It bothered me to such an extent that I feel like writing a polite but concerned letter to the clinic. Surely there's another way to handle this-surely there's a way to treat people with dignity and respect at the doctor's office without informing 30 or 40 strangers why you are there. Am I making a mountain out of a molehill? You tell me.
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
Starting the third week
I'm sure some of you are wondering what's up with me as I haven't posted recently. It's simple-I'm off work for the 3rd week. I still am not well enough to go back to my job, and I am frustrated and sad. I have to go back for a re-check this Friday so I'm hoping I can go next Monday. And that's all there is to that.
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