This was no surprise party

Is there a conspiracy against my medical condition simply because two so-called "proven" examinations turned out generally negative?

I mentioned a week or so ago about the MRI and EMG tests on my back turning out negative, ruling out surgery. But worker's compensation continues their charade, basically implying the injury is faked. I would love for them to come by and see me try to walk around this house first thing in the morning, or in the afternoon when I attempt my household chores. Consistent limping can't be faked.

Actually, let me take that back about someone visiting me for that purpose. I received a surprise visit from someone about that at the clinic earlier today, and darn if I nearly melted down to a 2005 level.

Waiting for the doctor to perform my recheck, a woman shows up (actually, barges through the door), and ask if I'm Kevin. Well, with that rapid heartbeat of mine making itself known due to the shock, I basically say "who wants to know?" Turns out she's the case nurse making a visit.

Case nurses making a visit have happened to me once before. This was when she flat-out told the attending doctor that the injury was a total fake job, and I was to return to work at once. We all know what happened next.

This woman was a complete psycho. Asking me stupid, unrelated questions, lecturing me that I wasn't signing forms right and talking down like I was a first-grader, saying I was illiterate for not being able to pronounce my medications (they're 14 letters long, for pete's sake), racing around the office demanding the doctor interrupt his peer conference call because she had to "be somewhere", and when she wasn't talking, staring me right in the face with a stupid look on hers. And what am I supposed to say, "glad to know you?"

This woman is not related to anyone or employed by the clinic I go to. Yet it seemed that she possessed the iron fist in her mind, and the staff would have to scurry around and cater to her every whim. I swear she made those staff members as jumpy as she was making me. I could even tell a sense of aggravation on the doctor's part.

The case nurse was begging for a chance to get me back to work before my time. And boy, did the doctor prove her wrong. Not only did he mention that I had a ways to go and I would likely need those epidural injections, but upon examination of my toe resistance exercise, he noticed the left foot has weakened considerably in just the last two weeks. This does not bode well. And it didn't fit the script of the nurse, who shut her mouth after that. Defeated, I take it.

I go to retrieve my prescriptions and paperwork and go to leave, and she said "you're not going anywhere." Who is she, my trainer? I shot her an acid look and left under my own power regardless. Hey, she complains she has somewhere to be... well, so do I: home!

Whenever I do go off worker's compensation, I will leave a detailed message over there completely trashing them for the lack of care and concern they have provided; not only to me but also co-workers who have been burned by the manager's idiocy. A friend of mine knows a worker's comp. referee and believe me, I may put him to good use.

Maybe surprise parties are out of the question for my future... you tell me.

Symbolic flags; completed projects

I hope everyone had a happy Memorial Day weekend.

Thanks to my not trusting the car (even though my neighbor Stephen finally fixed the tail light problem it had earlier), I did not make my annual trek to the cemetery to place the flag on my uncle's grave... but once the car undergoes an overhaul (which worker's compensation makes very difficult to afford) I will get out there.

... In other news, my pinched nerve on my left side seems to be growing worse. Twice over the weekend I was laid up for hours at a time because the pain just wouldn't go away. I have a re-check coming up this Friday and I almost dread hearing that I'll need an epidural injection... I have major problems with the sting of needles.

... Also, after about eight years, my cousin Raymond's house is finally finished! All it needs is cosmetic touch-ups to the new upper floor, and all his hard work will finally be paid off. I just hope he doesn't do what I fear he'll do: turn around and put the house on the market.

That's one thing I could never understand. I realize that to increase the resale value of a home, the seller must do some basic upkeep in order to make the house look clean & presentable. Code violations, etc., must also be addressed... and it does take time, labor, and money. But for a total house re-do (in my cousin's case, the house's square footage nearly tripled), wouldn't you want to at least live there a few years to enjoy the fruits of your labors?

My landlord had talked about adding a dormer to this house years ago. Were we to go about doing it, I wouldn't think about moving in the slightest. I'd love the new look of the house, as well as the new space.

Call me crazy for thinking like that; having not been a homeowner before. But when you work so hard to put your signature on your own home, wouldn't you want time to enjoy and show off for your family and friends?

I defer to Raymond, however... he is the engineer of the family and in this case, I guess he knows best.

Handing out a heart

Short entry today giving my heart and best hopes to Jenni, as she is prepping to undergo a massive venue change which will work out so much better for her family. I know she can do this; she has more guts than any of her friends ever gave her credit for.

I believe in her and I know she will get the job done - and she will be so much better off for it.

My heart also goes out to the neighbors, who are facing more health issues. The news as of last night is very encouraging, however, as the person in question did a 180-degree turn in terms of health and seems to be back to her old self. I hope so, because she is a wonderful mom, grandmom and great-grandmother.

You guys know where I'm at if you ever need anything at all. :)

The food chain is in danger

What "great" news we have been hearing the past three months or so regarding all these pet-food recalls for salmonella poisioning. I don't even want to begin to figure the ratio of good pet food vs. bad pet food. The shelves aren't empty, but they're certainly more light-weight.

Now Jenni emailed me an article which says that several dozen fish species are being killed off in Lakes Erie & Ontario due to the viral hemorrhagic septicemia virus which has infected 19 different fish species in the New York area. Although it does not directly affect humans, the disease has killed off members of six of the species, and can be spread very easily, even by tainted bait.

Look at what's happened the last ten years or so, especially in this area. Combine the salmonella issues and the VHS issue along with the Emerald Ash Borer, the zebra mussels which crowded the Detroit River years ago, all the beach closings in southeast Michigan with the e.coli bacteria breakout, mad cow disease in England, the pending arrival of the "killer bee" in the next several years, and you have to wonder: what is happening to the balance of nature?

And what will happen to our source, and our pets' sources, of food?

Remember also that corn is skyrocketing in price due to its use in ethanol. What will be left for us to eat that isn't just machine processed pellets with loads of preservatives?

Years ago, I used to laugh at a Looney Tunes cartoon featuring the Gopher Twins, who end up getting caught in a food processing plant. One of the gophers ended up in a water-soluable food packet which opened when you added water. The idea of such food packets was decades ahead of its time and was played for laughs.

Will we need to watch that cartoon in order to see what the future actually holds for our food consumption, the health of our pets, the safety of our beaches, and the well-being of the fishing industry?

If there's anyone who's an expert on how to truly slow down & eradicate these diseases so they do not threaten livelihood, please stand forward. We've heard all the news, and the situation could grow worse. Someone needs to step up and say there's a plan, then stop talking and implement the plan.

Science brags about being so technologically advanced that our heads would spin. Our heads are only shaking right now, particularly mine, at the fact that these advancements have done nothing to cure these conditions found out there.

The food chain must be kept out of danger, or lives will change from a totally different perspective: biological.

Lawsuit in the making?

I'm not sure if this is a case of over-reaction or not... but based on the phone call I just made, my patience is worn thin and almost at the breaking point regarding my worker's compensation adjustor.

After two relentless days of searching for the source of a problem tied to no brake lights on the Contour, it has turned up nothing. The rest of the morning was spent online trying to troubleshoot the problem. The good news is, I think I have located the problem's source. The bad news is that I can't afford the fix right now, and in my panic about today's therapy appointment, I had to cancel, and then call the transportation provider to take me in tomorrow.

To say it was done grudgingly is an understatement. The adjustor treated me like she was the know-it-all mom, filled with sarcasm and making me question why I even pick up the phone half the time. "This stuff regarding your car is your responsibility to take care of," she said, "and I don't see where I still should be helping you."

Thanks a lot. In an effort to keep a technically street-illegal car off the street while waiting for my next delayed compensation payment to come in, she'd rather hope the law be broken?

Maybe it's a case of me trying to go through life with a perfectly spotless driving record. In these days, it may be unobtainable given the road rage conditions out there.... someone is bound to be at fault.

But the point is, I am aware of an electrical problem in the car. Without the means to fix it, I am still trying to steer my way around it (literally). And all I get in response is a soggy-bread session with the adjustor -- who, by the way, has left my April mileage compensation sheet unsigned & unprocessed for twenty days. She only found it among a mound of paperwork when it was mentioned to her. That's only $80, but hell, it could afford me the part I need to correct the brake light problem.

Co-workers have said I could pursue a lawsuit over all the anguish. I am half-tempted to inquire into it, although it might be equal to kicking a dead cow.

Friends, I don't think I'll ever be able to return to that job. You don't pour yourself full-force back into the job hoping the nerve miraculously stays normal. Many times, complete rest is the only prescription, along with an alteration in routine. That includes job routine. So my time at the airport is likely done. Point being, however, that I'd like to stick with the compensation arrangement a little longer just to see how the nerve reacts to further therapy. I'll use all I can, then say "screw it, I quit," if it comes to that.

But whenever the therapy and the compensation does end, you can bet hand will be meeting rear end in a not-so-subtle gesture towards this compensation agent, who has made this entire non-work experience a living hell; for me and for other co-workers who have been down her path.

Does it pay to be injured? I guess not -- and even if it does, it comes several days late according to the "pattern", whatever that may be.

Safety net's down below

I went to the airport this morning to turn in some long-overdue medical paperwork. I went there anxious & rather happy. I left feeling some depression, resentment, and yet in glee, knowing I'm not missing much over there, and might be better off without that job, now more than ever... even with Michigan's economy continuing to take a tumble.

I didn't recognize half the staff that was there. And the half I did recognize took their sarcasm routines to a new level in which I only wished I could have dropped the paperwork off and did away with the socializing. Nine weeks away have shown me the bad attitudes I was working with, and they stick out like a sore foot the more I'm not there. If they're in misery, perhaps they deserve it.

No one knows to this point how much more therapy is needed for my back and waist nerve, and no one knows how long the worker's compensation will last. If in fact it runs out on me soon, I do have a safety net in place: a possibility of two jobs waiting for me. Combined, they can earn me more than the airport ever gave me.

The immediate hope is as a taxi dispatcher in Romulus. I have experience as a dispatcher in 1999-2000, and I did enjoy it with the exception of the hard-nosed boss. On one of the early April cab rides from the clinic, I struck up a conversation with Karl, an older driver. Turns out he's the father of one of the new company owners. He asked me then if I wanted a job; repeating the request later in the month when I needed the service to attend a funeral. I said sure, keep me in mind. He took my number and I thought nothing of it, until he made some calls to me within the last week.

Apparently they like the way I conduct myself with others; a value I have held dear since childhood. They are on the lookout for dispatchers as they move to a new building. I'm not crazy for the hours, since they are night hours, but it might be a good start.

Then my friend Jackie alerted me to a job in my career field at last: a videographer for weddings and such. Just think - a possible $200 per night doing what I specialize in. Now there's the salary that the field demands! I have had to put the call to the lady on hold until I found out about my transportation situation, which is technically good now. This week, I will be putting in a call just to test the waters.

Money is nice, but happiness is the most important. Should a person enjoy what they do for a living? I believe the answer is yes, and I hope I can be one of those yes-men in due time.

Surprised I wasn't deleted

Okay Kevin, remember what you kept telling everyone when you thought you would hit it big in television: "I will never forget my roots; I will never forget where I came from."

One humongous myspace account later, I sat here wondering where I came from. Hence, my return to these parts after a near two-month absence. What goes around comes around, it seems. Have I edited anything on myspace in the past three weeks? No. Yet I get the sudden desire to blog. And yes, it will become daily (or as close to it as possible) again - I promise.

So there will need to be plenty of updates concerning me, my condition, and the goings-on in life, so here goes:

* Me myself: things are progressing slowly. Tuesday I finally purchased a vehicle to replace that stinking Grand Am I threw money at daily: it's a 1996 Ford Contour, suspiciously identical to the one my cousin had in 2000-2003. I even got a bargain on it. The lot wanted $995 flat for it, but the internet site had it advertised for $850. Good thing I printed the $850 ad and showed it: apparently used car lots are now responsible for providing the plate; thereby adding an astronomical $125 plate fee to the mix. Otherwise, I would not have been able to afford it. As is, my budget for the next two weeks is now virtually non-existent.

This car looks to be another work in progress, and I am extremely concerned (to the point of paranoia) that something major will go wrong in this one too. It has trouble when it first starts going, and I had to deal with a plume of white exhaust on a run towards the airport. But the white plumes seem to be lessening the more I drive -- so maybe the vehicle just sat for a long while before the lot picked it up.

Regardless, I needed my independence back, and this was a hell of a start.

* My condition: The MRI I spoke of in the last entry turned out normal, although the EMG (which is a nerve reflex test) showed a pinched nerve in the lower waist. This is now the primary reason why I am still out of work - and there is no telling whether the return date will be late June, late July, or whenever. I still have my 3x-week therapies, which don't do much, although it's fun to try to exercise and talk to the others in there. I can't believe how many people from different firms are off on injury - this is what you get when society stresses productivity per worker.

Times have changed, and the workers' bodies aren't adapting to this change as well as the firms have hoped.

* Steve is still here (cue the groans). However, the internet access here has been eased considerably, as he has rented (surprise) a new computer. Hey, at least it's not the ever-popular flat screen TV! My computer has now moved into my room, while his may be moving to his room in the next couple days. He seems to have recovered from his memory loss of late March, which to this day, I still attribute to stress regarding his overseas situation. His visit there earlier this month was great, but now he's beginning to feel ill again in the morning.

I'll just keep my thoughts to myself on that one and let him deal with whatever it is. I know he'd prefer a professional, rather than personal, opinion.

* The utility switchover I conducted in late March has paid dividends: our electric bill is only $63 -- while Mike's power is shut off at his trailer. Not entirely his fault, though... he's out on injury as well, and is being subjected to the same rude treatment by his worker's comp. manager that I have been on mine. Now I think he's seen it all, probably a reason why he's been more understanding towards my plight the past few months.

Stay tuned for more - within the next day or so (that is a promise!). It's good to be back to my roots.

Pausing -- turning a corner

Sorry for the gaps in the blog recently - things have been happening so slowly in my life that it wasn't worth repeating the same information daily. Even news in the world has been basically the same: getting more ridiculous by the day to where commentary by me would be re-iterating the obvious point(s).

But for those who may have worried, I am still here -- and here are two weeks' worth of updates (hopefully) crammed into one blog entry...

* Tuesday I am due in for an MRI on my troublesome back. Now the hip area bothers me; I cannot walk more than three blocks without dehabilitating pain, and forget the hour-long standup marathons... I spend most of my time off my feet now. Thursday I go in for what is called an EMG. I have never heard of such a procedure - and having lived with a mother who swore by Physician's Desk Reference for many years, the procedure is indeed a mystery to me.

* My cousin Mike has been more than generous with giving me rides to the various therapies and doctors I've needed to see. He has also finally found true love after 33 years, and I don't mind playing the part of the cheerleader on this one. A good relationship has to hit this generation sooner or later.

* Steve... I have no idea. Now he seems to have had a loss of memory. His overseas girl has upset him to the point that he couldn't remember her name, who he was, what his interests were, and so forth. I don't mean that officially in the past tense, as he has not truly lost who he is in a matter of 24 hours. But his behavior worries me, and frankly, I can't take much more of it. I've set a deadline of April 30th in fact to have him out of the house, and I may have a successor roommate ready to move in; one who finally cares about how a house looks & smells. I've carried that ball solo for four years and am tiring of it, back notwithstanding.

More to come...

Searching for a professional game

I have enjoyed bowling since I was three years old, throwing my first bowling ball at the old Sport Lanes in Wyandotte. I joke and say it's been 32 years of struggle since, but in the last three years I've developed a hook and much more accurate spare ball. Last time I checked, I was consistently hitting 180 per game.

With my bad back, however, comes extra boredom because it does no good to hurt the back worse by attempting to bowl. I thoroughly enjoy watching bowling on TV, but it's not on as often as, say, college basketball...?

So I have been on a hunt for a bowling video game. A REPUTABLE bowling game. I'm finding they hardly exist, new or used.

I wore out the one bowling game I had for the PlayStation, Ten Pin Alley. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised that the title isn't out there now, as it's ten years old. My copy was still working, but I traded it in for a 2005 baseball game, which itself got traded in barely a year later.

This would be a perfect way to curb my boredom, until I remind myself of that transaction. With new & used video stores not stocking bowling titles, and with a proposed release still six months away, I decided to search eBay today for some bargains.

Hah! I could get them - at the expense of professionalism! Call me fussy when I prefer professional conditions, but look at it this way: as many "cartoonish" golf games as there are, you've always got the Tiger Woods series which shows the sport in its natural, professional environment. It's always a hot renter & seller. Why can't they do the same for bowling?


I do not consider the game shown on the left as having any promise for professional-grade content. Yet, the bulk of the eBay listings show games just like this - and worse. Am I interested in bowling on the beach, or on a pirate ship, in a graveyard, or even in Egyptian tombs? Yes, on some of these games, you can.

I, on the other hand, enjoy the pure sport, not the knock-offs, which unfortunately must be produced in order to grab any up-and-coming fans. Why can't the game itself in its true form grab gamer's attentions? I worked at Woodhaven Lanes back in 2000, and the place was always packed with young kids and teens in-season.

The sport has got a future in real life. Why can't video game designers follow suit?

The Dawn of a nice night

I can't believe nearly a full week has passed without my acknowledgment to my friend Dawn for showing me a great time on Tuesday night, even though she says it didn't amount to much.

Well, in our pocketbooks, it certainly didn't show: a pool of family & friends spent $90 to try to share some of that record-setting $370 million Mega Millions lottery jackpot. Us Michiganders didn't even come close, but there was something more rewarding: quality time with a friend who I regret not spending more time with.

I'm close to the whole family next door; we're actually like extended family. There's nothing I wouldn't do for them. Dawn was the first one I met, and though she can have far-fetched ideas at times, she's always been there for me and I would hope I could be for her.

The Tuesday fun was simple: driving around, getting lost at least three times, and meeting other members of her family as we were collecting the proceeds for our stab at millionaires. Her Uncle Bob in particular was a joy to talk to: although I had to stand on my creaky back for nearly two hours with no available seat in the living room, he graced us both with stories about his life.

That night was simple, and simply wonderful. It got me out of the house and away from the routine with a girl I've always been fond of. Dawn, it means more to me than I let on that night. Money's nothing; company's everything.

Little things like that make me glad I'm in the neighborhood.

Punishing over minor things

When the Detroit Pistons traded for Rasheed Wallace three years ago, I questioned the move. Here was a man who made himself an outcast in his time for the Portland Trail Blazers. He was Mr. Technical Foul, and anything he did was counter-productive for the team.

I can't say he's done a complete reversal in his stint in Detroit, but he's worked hard to fit into the Piston mentality and has tried to be less of a distraction for his team.

The NBA refined their techincal foul penalty rule before last season, saying any foul over a season total of 15 warrants an automatic one-game suspension. Wallace hit that total last night and will likely be suspended for the Pistons' game on Sunday. But the technical he received in Denver the other night was due to him saying "ball don't lie"? Is there an obscenity in that statement that I'm not aware of? If I say that to someone, will I have a bar of soap headed for my mouth?

Absolutely not. That so-called technical was ridiculous. The NBA changed their rule specifically with Wallace in mind. Be aware: in the so-called "thuggish" life in the NBA, what he's done is tame compared to the past... and very tame compared to what "stars" like Kobe Bryant are doing.

Bryant received a one-game suspension for drilling a defender with an elbow while releasing a shot. He served the suspension, then came back tonight to score 30 points for the Lakers, while drilling Philadelphia defender Kyle Korver with another elbow in the process.

If this has always been a shooting flaw in Bryant's game, throwing elbows all over the place, then why did it start just this year? Why are the elbows obvious now? Aren't incidents like these the ones that justify the punishment? How can you punish someone for trash-talk and turn the head the other way for someone who deliberately tries to injure people or send a physical message?

I only recently started watching basketball on television again because of boredom around the house. I watch it grudgingly because I don't like the environment the NBA promotes: too much hip-hop in my opinion. Silly technical fouls and severe oversight of the obvious make my past unwillingness to watch basketball justified.

In attempting to "take over" the NBA mentality with dress code orders and such, Commissioner David Stern has let the mentality take over him even more. I get more pleasure watching a group of young kids in a recreation league do their best and show the best sportsmanship. On Tuesday's trip with Dawn, I saw one of these games, and I knew that the young kids have it right.

Life before agents, attitudes, and reputations beyond one's skills. That's how you play the game!

The family's still there

If I've given the impression that I've fallen off the face of the earth lately, it was not intentional by any means. That said, I'm glad I heard from my father and my aunt earlier today.

I want my father to know that conversations like ours tonight are great. There are concerns in life that are very apparent, but it's good to spend the course of a phone conversation without dwelling on the obvious problems. If you really enjoy doing something or going on a diversion, you do it because you want to get away from the "everyday" life for a short while.

We did this tonight, and I say thank you, many times over.

In the next entry, you will see the story of a supposed "best friend" relationship headed south. The moral there is (I guess) that friendship is fleeting. When all is in doubt, family won't leave you behind, because family understands you more than anything.

A gratifying thought in an otherwise ungratifying world.

You can label it "best friend"

... but it seems like a label is all it is. If there's any true meaning to the term, it's lost on me.

There is some worry brewing. Sheila has not been heard from on a consistent basis for three weeks.

Granted: My internet time is screwy right now, as Steve is holding literal overnight vigils on cam with his fiancee, as his perceived illness grows worse by the day. Even if he's sleeping, I'd rather not barge in and surf the internet for fear a program will cause his communication to crash, further worrying the fiancee.

This is proof that yes, I am not readily available for chats or email opportunities as I used to be. But still I keep the modes of communication available as long as I possibly can; even if it means having Steve monitor my messenger communications until his fiancee (her name is Eden) comes online.

And Sheila has not been heard from at all in nearly two weeks; no sign of even being online. I have left repeated messages on the computer for her during that time, have tried leaving messages on her cellphone and house phone as well. No response whatsoever.

You should see her crowning Christmas present to me: a beautiful desk plaque in silver & marble with an engraving naming me her "dearest and best friend". This was back when we were literally inseparable. Can there be any more distance than there is now?

A nice guy can only go so far before he begins to kick the proverbial horse when it's already down... meaning that constantly trying for communication will get me no further than I am now. I had always hoped for patience & understanding for Sheila, as I will never forget her kindness as she filled a void over Christmas, normally my worst time of the year.

But when do you draw the line, stop worrying, and thinking about a lost cause? Will I be shooting off messages to her a month from now with still no response, or will I just say the interest has gone, and move on?

I want to move on if there's no answer, but I don't want accusations of not giving it a "final shot". I'm sure I will in the next few days. Between three methods of modern communication, Sheila had to get the message somehow. If she chooses to ignore me, then by all means, I say she should do so.

But at least explain to me why. If she values honesty as she so openly professes, she should give - and I deserve - that much.

You can hang the "best friend" label on a hook for all I care now. That's all it is: a label.

In a group of friends, there's a few you know better than others. That's how I would classify my little group right now. The last thing they need is a label floating over their heads.

Playing armchair psychologist

For those who may not have guessed, I may as well admit: I have been on medication since 2005 in order to control symptoms related to (but not directly pointed to) psychotic natures. If anyone reading this blog thru the past year wondered about that mysterious 5-month gap in my work career in 2005 mentioned previously, it was due to a nervous breakdown suffered in March of that year, as pressures from work and personal natures finally got to me.

I am proud to say that through the techniques provided during my week-long hospital stay, I have turned out to be more slow-witted than before, and more willing to take constructive criticism and pressure than I was before. It has helped immeasurably in work & responsibility for me and has been noted by co-workers who formerly deemed me lazy.

Crazy nighttime dreams were noted way before this "crash", and are still being noted now. What was most noteworthy was last night: for the first time in eons, I didn't wake up due to a nightmare.

I am becoming aware of a shortcoming in the quality of psychology I have received of late. Doctors in that field seem to be taking on a materialisitc way of thinking, like so many people do in their jobs: they rush you through a session so they can meet the next person, thereby meeting their daily quota. Does no one think about truly caring for a person, or even faking their way through a session?

I blab on & on during the sessions, and I would hope for some "blabbing" on their part to give me a clue. That hardly happens now, and makes going to a session counter-productive.

I do not live life on the edge; there's no suspenseful drama in my life during waking hours -- insomuch as I don't intentionally try to make myself worse off. I have experienced the afflictions of psychotic-like dreams all of my life and have no idea why, or why they won't even reduce in number (let alone cease to exist). To use the term "surrealisitc" would in fact downplay the term: too many psychologists would probably prefer retirement over helping me with this concern.

I'm teased all the time by Steve, who says I spend 90% of my waking time in my room. Okay, I may not be willing to face life's struggles, but I'm not afraid of them, having spent years working through them. But how much of that 90% is actually spent in peaceful, productive slumber with no drama or horror? It almost seems like one has dropped acid and is on a powerful high with everything spinning, and events going out of control.

Is that any way to calm a mind which usually goes through enough pressure and stress in the real world?

Walter Reed needs own war chest

The Walter Reed Medical Center crisis: it cannot be underestimated, and it is disturbing to think about.

Many debate the merits of the overseas wars we are fighting. Regardless of how our troops landed in that mess, the fact is that we should be caring for the wounded. As we know through reading the papers, you don't hear about simple surface or shrapnel wounds. You either hear about the mounting death toll, or about those who can no longer live normal lives afterward because of irrepairable damages to body and psyche.

Walter Reed Hospital, at one time, was the nation's crown jewel in care for war veterans. Now some ugly details have seeped through the cracks, as they show just how borderline inhumane the patients' living conditions are.

As was the case with yesterday's blog about the Stephen Grant case in Michigan, this entry will not gauge my reactions directly to the upcoming congressional investigation. Yet, without having been a war veteran myself, I can see how conditions can deteriorate in hospitals, and I feel for the vets who have sacrificed themselves for this country, and are now being under-treated.

Neighboring Allen Park housed the area's vets at a then state-of-the-art hospital. However, when my father and I visited the complex in the early 1990s to see a friend of his (I cannot recall who; it was a buddy of his), I was astounded at what I saw. Just because the building itself may have been sixty-something, did it mean the infrastructure had to date from about that time?

Leaky radiators. Equipment not working. The equipment that was working looking like it was taken out of a bad 1960s horror flick. Unsanitary conditions. Lack of activities for the mobile, and an absence of staff appearing to take care of those with pressing needs. Especially for those who had no nearby relatives, or no family at all, what type of thanks was this for providing the country the ultimate sacrifice?

I basically kept my mouth shut during the visit, as my complaints would have been only one of many, and who would listen to an early-20s person with no military experience? Within the last ten years, they've moved the vets to a much more modern facility, where I'm sure diversions are more plentiful. But I wonder how deep-rooted their pain was at the conditions they witnessed and lived through.

It's like that at Walter Reed today. How can rooming quarters for some injured veterans be shared by rats & other creatures? How can basic infrastructure be left to rot, and still be open to patients? Whoever brought these conditions forward to the press ought to get their own medal for the admission; they've just opened Pandora's Box - but in a good way. These conditions need to be rectified immediately.

With all the near-$100 billion annual requests for additional war funds for the Middle East being approved at the drop of a hat, exactly where are these funds going? Walter Reed aside, how is our equipment holding up? Armored vehicles aren't armored enough. Helicopters break down. Ground weaponry -- don't even ask. Our fighting men & women have the skills, but do they have the resources? How can the war be effective if it's being fought with ineffective parts?

The committee investigating the Walter Reed finds is said to be bi-partisan, and that's the best news you can find, although being bi-partisan should be a given, not news. No matter where you stand, these conditions must be reversed.

The war itself needs the headlines, true. But those that have thought need more than just a fleeting concern from the budget-makers in government.

The patients just got done fighting an enemy and have paid the price. They don't need another battle on their hands over their care & living conditions. The obvious should be done, and should be done NOW.

Don't show him light of day

The big headline locally these days is the issue of Stephen Grant, accused of the murder and gross aftermath involving his wife, Tara.

I am not here to comment on this case, because it is so obviously disgusting. You can read the latest about the issue on the Free Press homepage (if the link outdates, I will fix it).

I think my opinion or commentary on the issue can best be summed up by a photo from the paper, versus anything my passive mind would add:

Amen, one thousand times over.

If fairly convicted, the man better not see the light of day outside of a prison cell.

Survey for the chronic worrier

It's likely that my next internet exploration will be to the world of surveys, to see if there's any survey gauging how much of a worry-wart a person can be.

I managed to get my worker's compensation check cashed, but only after I found out the bank wouldn't let me keep any cash, and to three other places that weren't sure if worker's comp. checks were cashable. The place I ended up going to told me to wait until 1:30, then 2:30, 3:00, 3:15... and were still unsure about things when I showed up at 3:20. The counter person gave me an evil stare at my request, then processed it grudgingly. Did I ever yearn for the safe deposit environment of a bank!

This was all to pay off one loan, while taking out another to get the rent money, which is already three days late. Rent time is always among the most stressful of times for Steve & I.

In the end, everything worked out for this month... but how much sweat was used, as well as rapid heartbeats? Many people say I worry too much. Sometimes I do question if all the worrying is valid. My main concern is to make sure I stay on top of things, trying not to miss a detail that may rock the budget boat the wrong way. This is why my mind is clouded with too much information at times, giving me my confused look.

Yes, more money would ease the worries. But is life really about money? I wish it wasn't, and I wish I'd be proven wrong.

If I find such a survey, I'll share the results with you whenever I do find it.

Tend to the downtrodden

This will be my last work/injury post for, hopefully, awhile.

That's because it is likely that I won't be reporting back to work for quite awhile, particularly after a shockingly thorough examination by the clinic technician last night. How that company ended up with her talents, nobody knows; but judging the clinic for what it is, they don't deserve her.

Regardless... to make a long story short, my recovered state at work lasted 28 1/2 hours before the back simply said "enough". It locked up on me and I was helpless, staring at a building mound of bags. I called the appropriate supervisor - my "buddy", the guy I can't stand.

The response? "I can't get to you at this time; I'll fit you in the best I can. Just take a seat,"... for the next two hours? What in the world could happen to my back in that time?

Now I respect authority to an exaggerated degree. I also respect the operation at an equal level. So I hated to jump over his head and call his supervisor - at home, no less. But the fears & helplessness going through me (I had no less than two arguments with a co-worker who thought - surprise! - that I was faking it) dictated I needed to take prompt action. I did so, and ended up having the girls upstairs take my medical information down.

But the surprises were saved for later: in addition to the back woes, the doctor noted my weakening left knee (work-related), and a possible hernia (work-related). If I do go under the knife, it will be for multiple ailments; well above what I budgeted for.

When I turned the paperwork in, the dumb boss had enough and had already left. The girls took my paperwork and said I had guts for even trying to make it in. What followed was a bad-mouthing session of their own, which made me feel I wasn't the only one rowing the boat.

Now I'll be out for quite some time, I would think. It's almost 6:00 as I write this, and the worst of the evening rush begins at this time. I'm just laughing to myself: I wonder how they're doing, and at the same time... I could care less.

But put yourself in a position of authority, and ask yourself: would you let an injured worker wave on the vine for two hours, virtually ignoring the need for that employee's well-being and prompt medical care? Perhaps this may be the beginning of the end for him, which so many people out there are hoping for.

Batting a blind eye

It's safe to say I'm not as confused by MySpace anymore. If you remember reading a few weeks back when I originally started my page, it took a double-team of tutorials for me to understand the simplest terms. Now with practice, of course, the process is pretty easy.

Unfortunately, the process is too easy for people of questionable intents to start pages on the site. The group moderator (who also happens to be the founder) insists he is there to help, and will quickly monitor those borderline pages, doing what he can to make sure the process is safe.

Steve & I noted one of these questionable pages yesterday with a blatantly offensive photo adorning the cover page. The profile was very suggestive in nature. It was pages like this that have thrown MySpace into the news at times. Citing its inappropriateness, we sent a message to the moderator in hopes this page would be removed.

Now, if he's available to everyone, obviously he may not get right to our message, since he has many other requests to process.

But this is what I don't understand. We were a bit long-winded in our original request, and the prompt came back from him: "Whooo!" Okay, we thought that was an honest reply; we used too many words. So we made a much shorter paragraph, asking him to take a look at the questionable page.

Immediately again: "Whooo!"

Is this the type of quality communication that we are promised, time & again, throughout the site? Some sort of staged comment which would pop up no matter what you typed?

This happened yesterday morning. If there's no response by Sunday, and we retype to get the same "Whooo!" response, well... we won't count on that bad page being removed. It just left a bad impression on us -- this is the extent of the technical support? I would hope not.

Canton Township authorities recently apprehended a juvenille escapee who had left taunting messages on his MySpace page, which authorities cite as key to his whereabouts and capture.

I say "Whooo!" simply because society has re-captured & locked up another convicted felon, making us safer. I only wonder what the moderator would say, at the risk of cuing up another staged statement to cover his investment.

----------------------------------------
The OJI bug hit Mike yesterday, as his shoulder went out on him at the airport lifting a golf bag, and he's already saying that the clinic people don't know what they're doing. I've been saying that since I got injured in January. I go back in today after three days off, and Mike told me not to play games, and go to that clinic the minute the back goes out on me again (which I know it will).

Gee... part of me wants to, and yet...

Passe: Quality education

When does the vicious circle stop? People have often said "life goes around in circles... when things get so wrong, they start getting right again."

Automatically? It might be too late for the type of formal education I received growing up.

In the era of political correctness, which tries to excise any mention of religion from the conversation lest a war of words & actions flares up, I will abide by the times by only mentioning I went through private (pre-charter school era) schools from first through twelfth grade. Take away the peer teasing (my early Achilles heel) and I reflect on those times as some of the most rewarding of my life.

The Detroit Archdiocese, battling budget problems for years, plans to close fifteen more private schools by the end of this term, including one in Riverview and one in Wyandotte, precariously close to my hometown. I know them well, and it upset me when I found they were among the targets. Chances to save these schools are deep: one school has raised $25,000 of the approximate $110,000 needed just to keep the school open for 2007-2008.

The $110,000 deadline: Monday. Bless all those who contributed, but that mountain looks impossibly steep to climb, especially when you consider how poor off most Michigan workers are.

And so here we go with the vicious circle previously mentioned: Workers are already poor in the pockets. Next, the knowledge quality goes down significantly, continuing a trend. You can imagine what this will do to the skill level & confidence of the future workers of the world. What if they're ill-prepared to work the jobs waiting for them?

I remember slacking off, both in grades & personal conduct, in junior high school. Tuition, while tame then compared to now, still comprised a hefty chunk of the household budget. Be it due to that fact, or just for an intimidation factor, my mother used to threaten to pull me out of the private school and put me in the public school system.

It worked as an intimidation factor for me, as I would hustle and reverse my skidding grades by the end of the term. I had heard so many negative stories about how the public schools didn't care; that they turned a blind eye to fistfights, and casual tobacco & drug use. Is this really the environment I was ready for?

Absolutely not! There was a certain comfort level in attending the school I went to. The teachers cared. There were parent-teacher-student-principal bonds built on a natural scale that I know public schools could not duplicate. You were treated to a full education and a full life experience going there. You lacked confidence, they built it up. If caught doing wrong, you were told the moral implications of the deed as well as paying the penalty with detention. The staff really wanted to see the entire person move ahead, not just the scholastic individual.

The public schools were only interested in graduating out one group of people in order to bring another one in. Failures in life were not their fault - the kids were seen as numbers, not individuals. This would grow into a lot of the ineptitude that we see at places like McDonalds these days.

I worked my butt off at reversing myself because, yes, I was in a comfort zone. But it was for my own good to stay there, in spite of the rising costs. I like the kind of person that I am, and I don't think the public school system would have done the job.

But it's coming at a cost of lower enrollment and skyrocketing tuition rates in 2007 that may never be reversed. And the capacity for greater learning could downturn right along with it.

Makes me wish there really was a money-tree species growing amongst us.

Health initiatives: Part 1

Here I sit this afternoon, with the back getting worse by the hour, with at least three calls into different people trying to get me into a spinal specialist sometime this week. I won't delve into the gritty details about how many times I've struggled to prove my point, and even to shout them down in order to get that point across.

It makes me wonder: Is the healthcare industry ready for the up-and-coming generations as they get older and we get larger & more diverse? At the same time companies are cutting back benefits, we get scare bulletins on occassion that say we better be careful how to eat, how to breathe, and so forth.

Nothing in this world seems to be healthy for you anymore, and yet there's precious little quality medical care available to help us? It reminded me of a computer blog entry I made last April addressing these scare tactics. It's divided into two parts... enjoy.

Humans do not possess an infinite life-span, and were never intended to do so. Early biblical teachings pontificate that Adam and his descendants would live to ages approaching 800-900 years... What makes modern media and medical science believe that such a life is possible: scare tactics or hard evidence?

One could argue a bit for both, although the common physical logic will drown out the hard evidence. We live in a world filled with scare tactics, designed only to hold our attention more than it was held during the previous tactic. Common physical sense tells us that we have beliefs that drown out what the media is saying. In this case, we know we will not live forever. Predestined or not, our demise will be recorded at the appropriate time...

But why has medical science touted breakthroughs in increasing life expectancy for decades now? Our life span is easily a decade longer now than in the early 1900s. Cures have been found for a barrage of diseases and many more are in research. Does this give them the right to insinuate that we can live to be 100-150 years old in the near future? Think for a moment what that would do to the population of the planet, which is increasing at an alarming rate and whose citizens of impoverished countries cannot feed their own.

Look also at the pronouncements made by groups like the AMA, which offers "scare" bulletins every month or so, saying that something-or-other will cause cancer in a person. That point alone is my focus here.

An "All in The Family" character, Justin Quigley (age 92) once said, "They make all sorts of remedies to make us live longer, then they don't know what to do with us."

(Conclusion below)

Health initiatives: Part 2

More from my April 2006 personal computer blog about modern media's health initiatives being a scare tactic:

The latest scare (reported April of 2006) says that grilling foods may cause cancer. Great! At heart of the matter is a time-honored, national holiday tradition. Can you imagine the 4th of July without a barbecue? Well, if we follow the AMA's advice, we'll no longer cook out. Come to think of it, what will be done about food; since it has been said that even healthy foods can cause cancer if eaten regularly, will the stomachs have to go empty?

Oh, wait. That will cause us to die as well!

Nutritionists did lecture us in the 1970s and said that "too much of anything is not good for you." That is true; steak everyday will not make you live the longest life. This is why they developed the food pyramid, to assist in the promotion of a balanced diet with four basic food groups...

But eating healthy, watching the intake and the weight, is supposed to be rewarded, or so I thought. Their underlying message is that nothing is good for us anymore: never mind whether or not it's rated "healthy" on your food pyramid or that it's eaten as often as the other basic nutrients; it will kill us all. What, are the experts saying we will live 150-200 years if we do everything they say?

A more personal slant to that message is that we live in a world where we have been proven unable to think for ourselves. (And yet) people are entitled to think and to do as they please. Everyone has a certain amount of logic in them. Ingest cyanide and don't expect to live. Swallow a potato whole and you'll choke to death. They have an idea about the food pyramid credo. Does this mean they have to follow it by the letter? Seems like that's what the AMA wants us to do, having put so much research into it.

Well, that's for the individual to decide.

Slants aside, we wonder how to best substantiate these scare tactics. Immortals, we have never been. The race itself may last for thousands of generations more, but its members will always be replaced. Make them live longer & longer, and then wonder what to do with the people who remain...

I wish agencies, their advocates, and the media would lighten up on their attitudes on how the general populace lives their lives - and moreso, try not to mess with their peace of minds, and their unerring logic.

Gee, I've never felt better

Cue sarcasm above.

My internet time has been whittled away the past few days as I've completed three days of utter torture at work. Last night, I nearly threw in the towel and demanded to go back to the clinic, as my spine started to pop every time I walked.

Moving to afternoons has been a curse. We lost the only reliable supervisor that shift had, and the current supervisor has joined those "doctors" and "clinic specialists" in saying I've been faking the injury from day one.

I don't care what it does to my attendance: I am NOT going in today. Those I know say I'm nuts for even trying to come in. I've worked 24 hours on that bad back, and work conditions have never been worse.

Now's the time for a specialist to intervene, before I become one of those wheelchair passengers my skycap friends from the airport push around daily. As if having no car was bad enough, that would pale in comparison to having no moveable legs.

No job in the world is worth such a hopeless payoff!

Big Bang, Big Squeeze

Those who follow the universe's natural history know that the probable cause of its formation was the "Big Bang", where matter exploded from a central core at an astonishing rate of speed & force, and has been expanding ever since.

Astronomers have noted, however; that there may be a finite limit to the distances of the universe, and that cosmic matter could eventually run out of expansion; thus, begin to retract into the small cosmic core it started out as before. This is the "Big Squeeze" theory.

The latter theory may become a way of life locally, thanks to the never-ending, pessimistic sounds of the Michigan economy. This article details preliminary plans to combine five communities' fire departments into one "central core".

All five communities in the story have reputable departments known for great response time. They have saved many lives and kept small fires from become un-battleable. But should the operations be constrained to one location, or even with one body overseeing five communities, what may happen to the response time?

The last thing the Metro Detroit area needs is more bad publicity; they've been battling it since before I was born. It took the southern Downriver area over thirty years to battle out of its image of "smokestack capital". Fringe cities close to Detroit continue to suffer local economic setbacks, cronyism, and extortion. And we know how bad Detroit can be; its fire department can't handle cases decently -- many times, the hydrants won't even work right.

It's pure guesswork and conjecture as to who actually runs the department there, but the main point is: the department has to control too big an area, and finds itself lacking in quality services. When people complain about poor municipal services, police & fire are the top two departments they beg for overhauls from.

Perhaps combining services, as is the case here, is the only answer they can think of, and perhaps a prelude to cities annexing each other and becoming more like the 160-square mile townships that were surveyed in the mid-1800s.

But potentially at what cost? The loss of effectiveness, or worse yet, the cost of a human life which cannot be replaced?

Let's hope for more research on the issue, and no snap-judgements when it comes to vital community services.

Tomorrow, I'll know

Well, the quacks cleared me.

And I don't understand how a health-care "provider" like them can remain in business.

Three-and-a-half weeks after my work injury, I have gained some range of motion in my back, but only because I'm allowing myself the extra five seconds to get my back in a bent position. Like I told everyone from the very beginning, the therapy I've received has not been a benefit, because the simulated working conditions they preach do not equal the actual working conditions experienced at the airport - especially with parking lots overflowing & spilling over, meaning additional passengers, and additional bags.

It took a more reputable general practitioner a mere five minutes this evening to tell me what the clinic refused to tell me for nearly a month: the pain is not courtesy of my brain or thinking: it is real, it is there, and that I need to see a spinal specialist "immediately." It only took that short time for him to realize he didn't like how my back was reacting to a simple drill; how it took me nearly fifteen seconds to sit up from a prone position while holding my feet down for maximum leverage.

If I truly didn't see a necessity to work there, as I said before, I would have quit ages ago. I can't see myself without a job, period... and that's the only thing available right now. Yet, how can they judge me to be 100%, when I am technically not any better than I was on January 28th?

"Well, we're open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, if you feel a need to come back & see us," was the doctor's frank reply as I left in a huff. "Okay, see you tomorrow," was my immediate reply. I would be taking bets on how many hours I'll last before I'm in that supervisor's office, with that idiot supervisor rolling his eyes. He'll just be met with the truth: their "reputable" clinical care said I was 100% in spite of how I truly feel.

What a shame they don't give their employees more consideration when it comes to their own physical well-being. After all, those who hurt have to live with the hurt, and know where the hurt is. A doctor or unlicensed assistant who doesn't even physically or verbally check for problems is hardly in a position to understand; never mind empathize.

I've grown to know this in the past five-plus years, and finally there are co-workers who know exactly the things I've gone through, and they root for me. For that, I couldn't be more thankful. In fact, it scares me that I have been proven right in this regard. People agreeing with me on my condition is something new to me. Don't bother to pinch me, as I'd rather not lose this satisfaction.

Look for another report tomorrow. My current estimation: Five hours of work before it goes out again, and the entire process repeats itself.

The spinal specialist will be called Monday when they reopen. Until then, I can only hope that all breakdowns will be cosmetic in nature only.

Thursday tidbits - Feb. 22

Rambling on...

* Looking at my dealings this morning with various medical claim adjusters and such, you would not think I am the cousin of two doctors (one deceased) who have/held various important positions in the medical field at local area hospitals. It took me until just a few minutes ago to find out exactly what an adjustor's role and a case manager's role was. Turned out I had them both backwards, and almost made an appointment with a second doctor without getting the adjustor's approval.

People claim they don't understand me when I say I need a secretary of my own to sort out my paperwork & thoughts for me. It's not to say I would refuse to do my own work, but my scenario is indeed confusing, and for one that was not officially taught how to deal with the medical profession, it has become increasingly embarassing with each passing day.

* How could we have a "freeze advisory" in effect the other day for this area, when in fact it should have been a "thaw warning", as snow actually began to turn to slush around here after a 3-week cold snap? Then I figured it out: Dense fog that morning could have deposited ice alongside bridges & lesser-travelled roads.

Food for thought: I was set on learning meterology before I settled into television production as a life major. Guess that wouldn't have "digested" well.

* Isn't anything else going on in the entertainment world? ENOUGH about Britney and Anna Nicole! The judge in the Anna Nicole case is trying to become the next Judge Judy, per rumors? How warped and out of proportion do these cases have to be blown? A case expert on CNBC said this morning the longest this trial should have lasted is two hours, in and out.

Gee, that wouldn't have brought in ratings.

As far as Britney's trevails go, two one-day round trips in & out of rehab tells me all I need to know. She's in trouble, and yet she uses it for publicity. Don't tell me at least some of this isn't premeditated. She won't garner sympathy this way, and it may turn off those who really would want to help her.

The worst feeling you can have is one of total lonlieness... and she is headed down that dark path now.

Don't we have a war to report on now? Aren't those the lost lives we should be concerning ourselves with?

It doesn't pay to be known

As if we weren't on wits end dealing with the constant media barrage of Anna Nicole Smith's death, we are now witness to the shearing of Britney Spears' hair becoming front-page tabloid news.

I've listened to various psychologists try to explain what may be going through Britney's mind. Simply put, it's likely the price of fame that is bringing so much pressure to these people. Pressure to perform, be noticed, sell albums or movies, and out-do the competition with outrageous stories & relationships that will grace magazine covers and make them the talk of a nation burnt-out on celebrity gossip.

CNN Headline News devoted parts of two hour-long news shows to this yesterday, and all we saw was the same four photos and video footage of Spears shearing her hair off. An argument with her mother, her divorce from Kevin Federline, the possibility of losing custody of her kids, checking into and out of rehab within 24 hours... it's no wonder the stress is there.

Is the stress even worth the price of fame? I'm not noted for anything other than my past work in television, with the gap between then & now growing larger by the day. I prefer to be a typical working-class Joe, out only to make myself better than I am today. Do I want those outrageous mansions that they buy & sell at the snap of a finger? Hardly; I have trouble maintaining the 800 square-foot house I'm in now.

My print exposure in life has been limited to eight news columns about high school; five op-ed blurbs, and two small articles on TV shows I've done. It's been gratifying to see my name in print, even though I won't do something outrageous to be front-page headlines. I don't need to grace magazine covers in check-out stands to know I'm trying to do something with my life. My heart will tell me when I've accomplished something good, and that accomplishment comes through stone-stepping and gradually meeting that goal.

There is a sin to getting something way too fast. I never figured out where the pressures could come from until recently. If things happen so fast, they start spinning around, dividing the mind at will to where a secretary is needed just to keep your mind focused. When things spiral out of control, you can go mad or nuts. And this is as likely without media coverage as it is with.

Britney is probably wondering why she bothered getting into the "glamorous" route. She is very talented, but perhaps going into the pressure cooker of "mainstream" hurt her more than anything. Her behavior is erratic to say the least, but being erratic is a sure sign the brain is on overload, and is a cry for help. So to the psychologists who say she's crying for help, it's a most accurate assessment.

While allowing for new issues to pop up with her autopsy, Anna Nicole was likely a victim of the same self-made expectations that crashed her down as quickly as she was built up. In this day & age and with the media on stars like a hound, the victims have every right to wish for a simpler time in life, where not every move was analyzed in detail.

For them, it may have paid off not to be known. The price they paid, or are paying, is their souls.

Those cannot be replaced.

Saturday snippets, Feb. 17th

Thawing my brain manually, since Mother Nature continues to refuse the duty, here's some pondering thoughts:

* If they would only revive the old TV series "That's Incredible!", I'd have their lead-in story: the first case of a house hating cars! Now it's happened to Mike. Add onto the estimated $2,500 repair bill I mentioned before is a need for a new starter, and where did it bog down? In front of my house, of course. We made two walking trips to the auto stores to purchase a battery & relays, without getting the thing to move.

Somehow he got to his karaoke gig yesterday by taking that rickety cab service I would take to work. Average wait time has been 45 minutes since last night. Hey, "last call" at the bars was twelve hours ago as I write this!

* I made an appointment, at the urging of two of my friends, to see a medical specialist who may give me advice about where to turn to fix my bad back. I will never get the answer I want from that chop-shop clinic: I need an MRI, and they think it's all in my imagination.

Surgery on the spine has not been ruled out. I cannot bend the back more than 15 degrees without pain shooting thru the whole midsection now. Even when injured before, this has not happened. This is not an imaginary thing by any means. I need someone reputable who wants to move the issue forward, rather than spinning my wheels for me.

* Steve came back from the Phillipines yesterday. A good trip all in all, but he's waiting for word on whether his fiancee is expectant with child. Why he wants to have a child before marriage is beyond me. Just ask me if he can take care of himself, let alone a child. Is that what love truly is? Does it have any depth at all?

I should be answering my own questions.

* Though they will remain nameless because I prefer to protect people's identities, please keep my neighbors in your thoughts: many of them in that house are facing rather serious medical problems - my friend is undergoing tests for cancer. Cancer can strike at any age, but still, she's only 31, and would be heartbreaking to me. They would appreciate the kind thoughts sent their way.

* Norah Jones has just released her latest album, Not Too Late, and the first single off it, "Thinking About You" is simply wonderful. I love this girl, her talents, and her sound.

I have been to only one live concert in my life, Sheryl Crow in 1997 when she played Detroit's Fox Theater -- so I am not really a concert-goer. If Norah Jones ever announces a tour, I will actually pine for front-row seats. She is simply that good.

Vote becomes formality only

Well, the U.S. House Of Representatives passed their legislation the other day showing their disapproval of President Bush's request to send 21,000 troops to Iraq in order to help quelch the escalating violence. The U.S. Senate is picking up on the issue now and is expected to run a "test vote" through the body to see if their actions agree with the House's.

I think this whole movement, instead of promoting positive action, is more a visual stance given by the two chambers of Congress, given what the President's ultimate reaction is going to be. Here is a man who has ignored countless committees and their recommendations on how to more safely handle the overseas situation, and now people think he will listen to the Congress? The President has shown that he will make the decisions, and to many, they will continue to be the wrong ones.

The new members of the Congress, give them credit, are doing what they can to address the war issue from a different point of view, and the parties are crossing over to make it more non-partisan. When we can see they share Joe Q. Public's views, we know that to be scary.

But if the "buck stops here", as former President Truman used to say, it will certainly stop at the same place in this day & age: the Oval Office. We may never get the truly honest results we want from this war that may never end.

At least we can rest comfortably in the days & weeks ahead, knowing we are not the only ones to think that thinking should come before blindless fighting, for what ultimate purpose we clearly do not know.

Ripple effect to the preps

The same afternoon that I watched footage on ESPN about Jason McElwain, the autistic high school basketball player who finally got into a game for Greece Althena High School in Rochester NY (the story can be found here), I saw footage on the local newscast which showed a parent interjecting himself into a preps wrestling match, literally.

The link to any video footage has been forgotten, but the images are inexcuseable. The parent lept from the stands, ran onto the mat, and pulled & threw the opposing school's wrestler off his son, claiming his son had suffered a shoulder injury. Taking a few steps towards the cameraperson, it also appeared the parent was launching a verbal tirade and threats to do that person in as well.

Strangely enough, a fight between the two prep competitors did not break out. The referee was in the middle but made no move to restrain the parent. Even more odd was the fact that the opponent's mother didn't harbor any hard feelings towards this case of obvious assault on the mat.

Whether they already worked out their problems afterward is unknown, and obviously not the juice of the story. Without making it sound sensationalistic, this footage & story is just another case about how sports are getting out of control sometimes.

From a very positive feeling that McElwain's story generated (he also had a visit from the President), a haphazard parent mutes all that positive thinking. I am sure the referee of the match would have stopped it if it became obvious an injury was lurking. It's a parent's right to be concerned about their own, but manhandling a kid half their size is not the way to get the message across.

My point? In these uncertain times, we have to have eyes in the back of our head, for we never know what might happen, especially at a sporting event, where emotions peak multiple times per game. The classic brawl between the NBA's Indiana and Detroit teams, where players ran into the stands and sucker-punched fans, showed there was lax security at those events. Players must be restrained from the fans, and vice-versa.

The preps episode shows a case of "necessary shame" of the times, where nothing can be done safely, it seems, except beyond locked doors in the house. Security protection at prep sporting events may need to be thought of, a requirement rippled down from the NBA incidents. Years ago, the local prep basketball rivalries grew to such a pitch that entire blocks of the season had to be cancelled. Evidentally, no league at any level is safe or exempt from crazy things happening.

Even when I attended the PBA event in Taylor back in October, I was amazed at how accessible the bowlers were, and how easy it would be for something bad to take place. Yet, due to the easy access, I had the fear that some wayward fan would try something unthinkable.

Whether it's the influence of booze, the overly passionate way they feel about the competition, or just due to the home environment itself, parents need to learn that there's a right way & wrong way to settle disputes, and react to situations they may not have control over.

The tone of the prep story suggested to me that the boys finished the match in spite of the parent. Now who's supposed to be teaching whom here, according to the pecking order?

You've been "Googled"

Last week, I heard an offbeat news story that a site exists which will tell you what the search engine Google thinks of you, called Googlism.com.

Unlike Google, Googlism does not specifically say where you yourself are mentioned on the internet, but it tells you what other people sharing your name are known for doing. Some claims are believable, some are outrageous, and yet funny at the same time.

To wit, yours truly can claim to be:
* awake
* a singer (ha!)
* an assistant professor of geology
* is #408
* is progressing nicely (why, thank you!)

My Dad can claim to be:
* an unknown commodity
* a rare breed
* displayed for all to see
* compiling an encyclopedia of all data pertaining to the Loch Ness Monster

My stepmom can claim to be:
* a grade three math teacher
* chairperson of the "millenium millions appeal"

My roommate Steve can claim to be:
* a man worth laughing at (and believe me, we do!)

Last for today, my cousin Mike can claim to be:
* a yuppie lawyer
* not expected to act before the election

There are other options you can use on the Googlism site. For some laughs, check it out. Also, I'll be adding additional links to the right-hand column in the next couple days.

Verbally re-united

Yesterday was a communications heaven, as I reconnected with two friends: one not so far gone, the other I thought was dead & buried as far as communication goes.

I've had many different friends over the years, only to lose them due to different circumstances. Sheila, for one, I thought had dropped off the map as I hadn't heard from her in nearly two weeks. Yet, she finally called me yesterday, saying she didn't know the internet in my house was back on. We chatted the afternoon away and it was nice to have cyber-company.

The second case, I can thank myspace for. It's enabled me to have a re-evolution of sorts, as I've connected back with former co-workers, the most notable of which is Laura. She lived in Providence in 2005 when I was debating about moving there to start a new life. As I didn't have all my marbles at the time, that visit turned out to be less than ideal and we stopped talking for that reason, most likely.

I saw her myspace page two days ago and was tempted the entire time to place a friends request. It took some coaching by my other friend, but I nervously typed in the request. The result wasn't too long in coming, and resulted in a nice e-mail, and a good hour-long conversation on the phone, where we reconnected as if nothing ever happened.

This bodes well. Sometimes, I'll get into a phase where I want to rediscover the past and reconnect. This usually dies before the first action is taken. Why am I so longing for the past at times? They were happier times by far. Now, I finally got a chance to see that the process does work on occassion, and I couldn't be happier.

I only wish I could take the last two years back. But they can't take the subsequent years from me, as I will strive to prove. I've got control of the situation now, and "burps" like the one two years will not happen again as long as I maintain that control.

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Steve is due to come back today, so we think. That nasty weather I spoke of earlier is causing havoc with flight schedules at the airport. It has gotten lonely in the house at times over the past two weeks, but not so desperate that I would welcome his company full-time again. As long as he meets his financial committments, he can be anywhere in the world he wants to be. I've carried on solo many times before, and sometimes that can be a good feeling.

One ground rule to be laid out: He has to become a better housekeeper. If his fiancee moves in with us, she comes with the title of "neat-nik"; she hates things messy & out of place. I do my part the best I can, and I'm sure she'll like that. But if he doesn't change things, she may see that side of him that I know, but that she won't accept. I only suggest that to him in hopes of avoiding confrontation with her later on. If he loves her, I think he'll make the change.

Boy, I wish I could reschedule my therapy for tomorrow. Those roads & sidewalks look too impassable for me to walk on today.

You can't fight city hall's plow

We received six inches of snow overnight. Thanks to my semi-crippled back, my idea of shoveling is a minute here, minute there, and an hour inside the house. Simply shoveling the sidewalk clear is a production in itself.

It had to be done, though, because mail is delivered on foot, not with on-street mailboxes as I was accustomed to in our old neighborhood. I just spent the last twenty-five minutes waging war with a defective snow shovel in digging out the abyss. I get back in the house and barely take my snowsuit off when BLAM! Here comes the DPW snowplow down the street.

The sidewalk looks like it's never been touched.

I wish there was no mail delivery today, or I'd leave the sidewalk like that as a monument to my poor timing. This is my 36th year witnessing the white stuff, and the lesson keeps coming back to me every year to watch out for that darned plow. As northerners know as well, what they pile up on your driveway is even harder to shovel out.

I laughed last night when I saw a plow company come by just to do someone's driveway (and I'm not talking snowblowers, I'm talking the plow blades attached to a 4x4 truck). Now I wish I had obtained their number. This recent snow and constant mind-numbing cold actually makes me wish I was in Florida -- and I'm no traveller by any stretch!

Guess I'll make some "Be Careful" signs in the meantime.

I Am Man, Hear Me Roar

I am not trying a cheap pot-shot at the classic 1970s anthem sung by Helen Reddy, but I do believe a little change in the wording would explain my experience at work therapy today. And - with no strong language attached!

Let me set the scene. As mentioned before, this is my fourth back injury in five-plus years at the airport. It's pretty much down to a science, even with two years separating these incidents, that I know what the stretch and therapy routines are like, and in what order to take them. Grudgingly, my back will end up cooperating and I'll be back at work, at worst, in two weeks.

This time, the old routine is not working. It started as a dull pain in the small of the back, near the spine. Through therapy, the pain has worked itself to the left hip, and today's appointment was one of embarassment. I'm ashamed to admit of suffering setbacks in treatment, but if they occur, they must be mentioned.

You would think the therapist would be on the same page. Not a snowball's chance. Approach him with a concern and he shrugs it off. Get over-exerted and need to catch your breath, he'll say "you're not tired, c'mon!" Find out that you can't touch your toes or bend over fully, he'll tell you "you're not trying hard enough!" Tell him that you lost sleep for half the night because your back pain flared up, and then his favorite saying comes out: "Oh, come off it!"

I see it like this. If he's trying to imply that I'm lazy & going through the motions on this therapy, he's disguising it poorly, because I'm all too aware of his message. My focus was on trying to do the stretches, and have everything go in one ear & out the other whenever he opened his mouth.

A stand had to be took this time, however, as I didn't want him to end up telling the insurance company that I made a false injury claim. But the pain was real, and how will that let me resume my work & home activities?

Finally, I roared. I told him I wasn't any better no matter what he thought; that the exercises were straining the injury more, and that if I really didn't want to go back to work, I would have quit and saved everyone this hassle.

Boy, did he change his tune. "Well, maybe we ought to give you another week of therapy," and "You did well today." Now I think we're finally on the same page to where future sessions will be a little easier to deal with on a mental basis.

It's a shame I had to compromise my personality and spout off where, in normal instances, I wouldn't have to. But the little guy always has to speak his piece in order to be seen.

I was "found" today, and I'm sure my back will be thanking me.

Intelligence quotients

Monday morning ramble:

How often does glancing at the side of a kitchen trash bag make you think about peoples' intelligence?

I bought a cheap brand of trash bag the other day, and went to line my kitchen can with it, when I spotted printing on the side of the bag. Here is what it said:

"Warning: To avoid danger of suffocation, keep away from babies and children."

So, why the entry on something that seems so meaningless and common-sense? Simply because of the fact that the warning is actually on the bag. And what does that have to do with intelligence? It may mean that some people out there don't actually know how much harm plastic bags can do.

This should be a learned common fact by the time we even hit grade school. Years ago, the warnings would come from parents or guardians: "Don't do this," etc. Most of us, I'm sure, have been taught wisely thanks to the teachings & advice our parents or guardians gave us. We would know not to do anything obviously dumb as stick our heads in plastic bags, because we knew the dangers of suffocation.

But what has happened to the teaching? Why is the teaching scrawled on the side of a plastic bag? Does this mean that people out there truly don't know about the danger? If not, then why haven't they been told?

I can see the validity of warning labels on chemical bottles, describing what can happen and, in many cases, how to treat an accident while calling a doctor. But when it comes to something as obvious as a trash bag, it's possible there's not been enough teaching going on.

One semi-humorous sidebar to this one, though: I support the idea of road signs featuring symbols rather than words, because many people either can't read or simply don't know the English language. Symbol signs are universal and they may be a big help.

But symbols are not necessarily welcome in publications like instruction books, for instance. We have two television entertainment centers in the house, and they were frustrating to assemble, because the manual had pictures, no words. Plus, the pictures were so small and some of the ink so blurry, half the assembly process was guesswork.

I'd rather appreciate worded instructions versus visual. This does not claim that I have no intelligence quotient; I can read and decipher pictures. But when it comes to assembly, not everyone can tell the one inch screw from the 1 1/4". Distinct labeling would really help the cause.

As is, we haven't lost a TV yet due to a rickety cabinet, which means Steve and I pulled through on assembly.

It's just those three-time-per-year television returns to the rental company that make up for any "accidents".

Customization headache

Last night and early this morning was a bonanza in frustration. I finally bowed to my friend's wishes and became potentially the last living person in my age bracket to put up a "MySpace" account.

Compared to setting up my blogs hosted here, I had to enlist the help of two friends online just to even figure out how to get a friends list started. The computer was bogging down as well, as I had to have six windows open at the same time so I could compare messages, sites, and my own bumbling attempts to get the page started.

In the end, getting the basic information on the page was a snap compared to trying to customize the looks of the page. Three hours and one very sore back later, I threw in the towel, though I'll go back to working on it once I'm done with this entry.

Supposedly, you can do a lot with design modifications & appearance on your page. But my downfall obviously is my lack of knowledge when it comes to HTML coding on the computer. This seems hard to picture, given that I worked computers long before other members of the family (1979). From the looks of yesterday, it seems my knowledge got bypassed and left in the dust since that time.

Setting up preferences & appearances on this blog were infinitely easier, and yet four months passed before I finally figured out the tricks of the trade, and made this page look like it does today. I don't like bland things; I am more into colorful, almost borderline psychadelic colors (though I don't wear shirts like that; breathe easy).

I just don't understand how certain sites out there can preach ease of comprehension in modifying a page's look; doubly so when you can't find the help you'd look for in a tutorial because they haven't been written yet. I spent an hour just trying to figure out how to apply my modifications... The towel was thrown soon after.

If sites like MySpace want to give everyone the impression that "you're hip if you sign up", and "anyone can make the page reflect their personality", you'd think they'd make allowances for those with the simpler personalities, such as mine, to have a fighting chance at design success.

Just because vanilla ice cream happens to be my favorite, doesn't mean its perceived blandness applies to other areas of my life. I would only hope for a better experience this afternoon.

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Fear not, though: on a personal level, all my blogs here will still be maintained. I may post snippets on MySpace, but Blogger came first, and I have a good library of material here, so I will stay put for sure.

Detroit needs to borough in

Ah, Michigan, where everything proceeds backward. Auto companies announce downsizing, housing markets crumbling - and now our governor saying raising taxes is the only way to remain competitive. At this rate, the United States will number only 49 in a matter of years, as you can't think about the possibility of federal receivership anything less than seriously now.

The Detroit Public School system is much the same way: another article in the paper today detailed outlandish amounts being spent by school board members to California and even Disney World in Orlando... while back home, roofs are leaking, boilers aren't operating, students have as many guns as they have books, and teachers are woefully underpaid. The vicious circle only continues as parents rightfully pull their children out of these poor conditions, which leads to less state money and a continuation of these problems two-fold.

The school district has spiraled out of control and is too expansive for a school board to supervise properly. The state has been out of control for years; a huge bureaucracy is to blame as THEY cannot supervise properly, either.

If it's too huge, perhaps responsibilities should be cut back; a borough-type of thinking where a big area is split into parts which can be better supervised by a small group of people. Thinking along those lines, I reprint for you a computer essay I wrote two years ago, when I thought the city of Detroit needed to go the way of New York and split into boroughs:

I had actually thought up this idea to myself well over a decade ago, and shiver when I find it's only now being discussed. Rather than elect an at-large council, elect a representative from a specific boundary to have a place on council. Simple idea, now why don't we have a simple resolution to make that law around there?

Some parts of Detroit are obviously in better shape and are more affluent than others. Are the "haves" the only ones being represented? Do the have-nots even have a voice? I am sure so many people would like to run for council to make a difference, but when they see this strong-arm system in place, their hopes are deflated before they can inflate. Never mind battling the egos, but where will the issues of the down-trodden be placed? Forever to be discussed; never to be enacted.

Under the new system, you may well have someone representing the gated communities with top security. But what about the one representing those on a street with many potholes, poor trash collection, street lights out, and crime all over the place?

Moral of the story: wise ideas like this one begat more responsibility and effort placed in a smaller area, which could result in more progress and a shorter lifespan for that vicious circle mentioned above.

Current methods simply aren't working. It's worth a stab (or a thought) at change.

This'll last a month

Hurray! Back with the home internet again after two frightful weeks without. When you combine no computer with no cable television, a phone that can't dial long-distance, and a work injury, the days do get pretty long. The last two days were better as I was able to vent towards friends and pass the time that way. Now the only question is: how long will THIS internet order last? They seem to only average a month before we're screwed on the billings somehow.

Random thoughts which occurred to me during the latest outage:

* Who knows when I will be working again? My back must be sending me a message. Through two weeks of therapy, the back injury has not responded to what's been prescribed. The therapist who works on me is one of those overly-optimisitc types who's prone to say "Oh, come off it" when I complain about the pain of a strain. He thinks he can clear me to work by Monday, but some miracle better occur for that to happen.

Friends are talking about my need for a second MRI, which will probably reveal more extensive damage than in 2002. I'll never forget hearing the words "spinal fusion" upon recovery from that initial injury. Even now, it hurts to sit back in a chair and laying on my back is near impossible.

* As a result, there's been a lot of down time at the house, with me being alone. I finally finished a seven year project (and no, it's not that book) by getting the family photo albums updated, duplicates tossed, and former rejects refiled.

Those albums will likely be the only thing I would save in case of a robbery or fire.I can replace everything else I own (which is not much), but photos can't be replaced, just for their significant personal value.

* My cousin has gotten into karaoke, which is really surprising on two fronts: (1) He was always shy in public gatherings, and (2) Steve and I would always bark like two hurt dogs when he did try. I guess it took a realization on his part that he'd feel more confident singing his type of songs, which are modern country.

* Remember my car, three weeks ago? "Oh, just sell it to us... we'll send it to the scrap heap tomorrow," said that crap repair shop which doomed it. It's still there as of yesterday morning, and the darned drivers' window that never went anywhere but down is now up. Perhaps they are fixing it to sell to someone else? They better look out for the transmission to go next!

* Friends used to joke to me about my (then) promising career in television, in that I should move to Hollywood. Why, to commit suicide by being plastered on the front page of every gossip magazine for something I purportedly did?

I first heard the term "paparazzi" when Princess Diana died in 1997... now I know their goal is to snoop on celebrities 24/7. How can they concentrate on being themselves, when these photographers & videographers watch them more than anyone?

Anna Nicole Smith fits this in a tragic way as I heard about her death this morning. And virtually all the cable news channels (CNN, Headline News, Fox News, MSNBC, CNBC, Court TV, E!) had non-stop coverage on it this afternoon.

Maybe for a good reason, it's better that she's gone to a better place, where there won't be as much snooping. Anna Nicole certainly didn't end up living the type of life that a normal person would wish for. I can't imagine - and don't want to think about - the stress levels involved.

The excuse post-dates me

Through the fortunate use of a friend's computer, I bring you this latest issue that has parents up in arms...

We are still going through one of the longest cold snaps this area has seen in decades. Two of the past seven days have seen the high temperature for the day lower than the average low temperature for this time of year. We've not had a double-digit low temperature in nearly two weeks.

But according to a local meterologic specialist, this cold wave has not set individual records. Nor has it resulted in much snow, as we've still tallied less than ten inches for the season. Roads are perfectly normal in fact; any ice was melted over a week ago to where there's not even slush to go through.

But to hear the wave of school closing that came through this week simply because of the prolonged cold surprised me. Are there seriously that many building problems in the area just starting in 2007? Or has a new excuse for closing down schools come through?

My generation was not as hearty as the one before. Bill Cosby made the joke that his father had to walk to school "uphill, both ways." So we didn't have it as hard as the older generation. Now I know what went through the older people's minds when they shrugged their shoulders & sighed at us for complaining about the conditions.

Snowstorm or ice storm, granted - schools would be closed. Building problems - acceptable. Too many cases of teachers honestly getting the flu - understood. But just cold weather when the roads are passable and most car batteries do work properly?

I hope it's not just me who thinks this latest fad started this year. More and more, future generations are being coddled, and it can all be traced to political correctness. Consequences and less-than-ideal situations are the norm for humankind, and a thicker hide needs to be grown as a person moves up in life. If they are protected from every minor thing, what will happen when they reach adulthood will shock them & remind them of how unprepared they may end up.

It gets just as cold where I work as it does around my house or anyone else's, and yes - I dread having to venture out in that weather. But I dress smart, and I head to work knowing there's a job to be done. Saying the airport should close due to cold weather is just a joke: that would never be an excuse for actually cancelling all the flights (to warm-weather destinations, no less). As it is with mail delivery, there's a job to be done regardless of the weather conditions.

Schooling prepares you for a successful life, and you need all those 180 days of education you can get. Unfortunately, it requires some effort to get there, just like it does in the adult world of jobs. Why try to take the easy way out if weather conditions and the building facilities are near ideal?

There are always roadblocks in preparing a child for adult life & responsibilities. But some of these roadblocks are glorified window-dressing in their purpose and reasoning.

Some of my best friends are doctors

We knew it was only a matter of time before I'd be filing an injury report. I fell victim to a slip-and-fall accident at work on the 28th and am out on worker's compensation leave indefinitely.

The old back woes flared up again - this is the fourth time it's acted up in five years, and the second time due to the slip & fall. In this instance, thank goodness my right arm braced the cart I nearly slid under, because otherwise I would have slid totally under, and it could have rolled over me.

Pardon me for saying, but these injuries have a childish theme about them, at least from the stance of considering my education. I once worked with government people, and now I'm sliding in the ice underneath bag carts?

Maybe the break will be good. The company is in the midst of its semi-monthly panic about staffing levels, and I'm glad some of those concerns will pass me by.

My next update will likely be on the 9th of next month, as cited below when the internet originally crashed. I did not expect my back to crash with it -- therefore it will limit my mobility further, so Kinko's will be out of the question.

The running gag in the house is that Steve has a black cloud about him that he gives to everyone around him. All I've gotten since he's left has been a snowstorm.