Hallway to Nowhere

Category: society

  • Unsteadiness

    I have a sense of …unsteadiness these days, regarding the world around me in all sorts of ways. Physically, in that I’m getting older and more easily apt to fall or be knocked down by some mishap; politically, for sure, as I live in the Commonwealth of Virginia where I’ve seen a three-ring circus starring our top three elected officials lately (and may I say, Mark Herring in particular broke my heart); but what I especially want to address is INTERPERSONAL transience.  I’m not talking about the change that occurs when a loved one moves, falls ill, or even dies; these are life-events that are normal in the course of a friendship and something that I take into account. What I am referring to is relationship instability and unreliability.

    Two examples: I had a friend (NOT a millennial) who was supposed to pick me up from the grocery.  He had sent me a text offering to do so. I replied saying I would take him up on his offer and told him I was waiting outside the grocery. I waited and waited AND WAITED. He didn’t show. Finally, luckily some other friends came along to offer me a ride, otherwise I would had to wait another hour, b/c I had missed transit. He never replied to a text I sent telling him I was going home. I’m unsure now if he’s getting my texts or what, and calling is no good historically with this particular person. But okay, whatever. Maybe he had an emergency or we had a failure to communicate somehow.  But I’m left with having to process this. Ugh. Today I sent him a text asking what he was doing for lunch. No answer again.

    I had a friend tell me yesterday that SHE had a good long-term friend IRL just drop her and not tell her why. She said she has no idea WHY the friend did this-they had had no argument, fight, disagreement or anything resembling anything that should cause such a move. I told her that I think it most likely had nothing to do with HER. But something these days is causing people to lose their ability to make friends, keep friends, or just to plain BE friends. The simple things that I was taught:   Communicate (listen; talk); show up when you say you will; let someone know if you CAN’T; keep in touch (preferably via some human method) regularly; BE THERE…..I just don’t think people can do these  that much anymore. They’re either forgetting how, if they were taught (like people of my gen-and I gotta say, I’m picking up some BAD HABITS from some of my younger friends) or they’ve never learned in the first place. It’s like DEEP READING…it’s something I try to keep doing and sadly fear I fail to do very well any more.

    So, for those of you out there reading this. I hope YOU are faring better than I these days! Maybe if you have a family or a partner, you are not experiencing such a sense of precariousness and impermanence. And I’m not saying that most of my friends have exhibited such behavior. But I’m saying that in general  people are less reliable than PUBLIC TRANSIT……and that’s a sad commentary on the state of affairs.

  • Disturbing Encounter (With Staff) At A Ballad Healthcare Practice

    Those who know me personally have heard my various stories about my, ahem, continuing fight to ensure that Ballad (once Mountain States and Wellmont, respectively) honors its stated non-discrimination policies. You can easily read them posted on the wall of any (former) Mountain States facility you visit. This particular incident took place at a (former) Wellmont practice, though. The more I’ve reflected on it, the more perturbing I found it, so I did my research. Here’s what transpired:

    The neurologist I had been seeing at Wellmont Neurological Associates had prescribed a VERY old (but most importantly one I had never tried) anti-epileptic. He mentioned that it might be sedating. So I filled the script and got back on the AED merry-go-round. I began noticing as I titrated slowly to my therapeutic dose that I was feeling wired, like I had had 5 cups of coffee and two energy drinks. No sedation, though I read up on the med and given its profile, I should have definitely been feeling a lot less ancy, tense, and hyped up. AEDs are always tricky and sometimes unpredictable in their side effects, but I was having a paradoxical reaction (indeed). I won’t go into the other side effects, only to say that it is just a brutal drug.

    So per protocol I send my neuro a message about this through the patient portal. A week goes by. No response. Finally I get a call from his nurse, who is calling to remind me that the doctor said, “it might be a little sedating.” I tell her (politely) that that is the opposite of what I said in my message and reiterate for her the effects it was having. In addition, I asked her to request that the doctor (or whoever does this) to send me a message through the patient portal explaining exactly how  titrate down from the former AED. (He had rushed through this explanation at the office visit. There was so much we needed to cover I didn’t have a chance to take notes.) She said she would get back to me THAT AFTERNOON.

    After two weeks had passed with STILL no response from his office, I decided that, given that this physician and I did not seem to  be communicating well, I would change to a different physician in the practice. (Forget communicating, actually. He man-splained, cut me off in mid-sentence, and overall acted like a jerk. But I was willing reluctantly to put up with his delusions of grandeur, i.e. that he is a god-physician, IF HE SEEMED TO PROVIDE GOOD MEDICAL CARE. But the communication problem is a medical issue. So.)

    I called the office and told the gatekeeper (unsure of her title-but you go through her for everything) that I wished to change to a different doctor in the practice and gave her the name of the one who had been recommended (by another one of my docs). First reaction: She was SHOCKED- shocked, I tell you!-that I had the audacity to make such a request. (Surely I’m not the first person in the history of this practice to have done this?) Second reaction: She absolutely did not want to facilitate my request. First she told me I had to go through the patient portal. I informed her that 1) there was no means to do this via the portal and 2) my messages to my current physician were getting extremely misconstrued.

    Here’s the kicker: When she FINALLY agreed to do this,  she informed me that BOTH doctors would have to agree to this transfer. I was rather dumbfounded at this, having never heard of a physician  having “veto” privileges over a transfer. I could understand having to check with my proposed doctor, to ensure he had room in his practice, treated my particular neuro subset of ailments, etc. I told her to please expedite this matter and let me know what transpired. Just to cover my bases, I sent a formal request to my then-neuro asking the same. (And in both I was as always very polite and civil.) I got a call from her the next day saying my transfer had been approved but that I could not get an appt with the new guy until August.

    The more I reflected on this, the more disturbing I found it. Under common law, based on court decisions, all patients have the right to choose the physician of their choice, if the physician agrees to provide services. But I am also a Medicare (traditional, no so-call advantage plan) recipient, so there are specific Federal Guidelines that state that a patient’s choice of physicians must be honored. I believe that this is covered by  U. S. Code>Title 42> Chapter 7>Subchapter XVIII> Subsection 1395a:

    (a)Basic freedom of choice

    Any individual entitled to insurance benefits under this subchapter may obtain health services from any institution, agency, or person qualified to participate under this subchapter if such institution, agency, or person undertakes to provide him such services.

    Though the outcome was ultimately what I wished, I believe I might have a talk with the office manager at my next visit. I want to find out what their exact policy is. (I’m also consulting with a lawyer friend beforehand. not b/c I’m taking any action, just to ensure I have my facts straight regarding this.) But if what the gatekeeper said is true, then I believe this practice is engaging in FOC violations, functionally (b/c not everyone will be as persistent as I)  and certainly at least skirting the edge of violating it, if even by ignorance by the gatekeeper. (And if you work in that job, you should know what you are doing. This sort of thing could open the practice up to all kinds of trouble.)

  • Another Mass-Shooting in A School

    Yesterday on a one of my social media sites I posted the Indigo Girls song Don’t Give That Girl A Gun (video posted at end of this blog) from their awesome album Shaming Of The Sun, along with the comment that it seemed apropos for so many of the recent school schootings (one of which had involved a female). I had no idea that the very next day I would view with horrow reports of yet another mass shooting at a school, my words echoing in my ears and the song playing its sound track through my mind.

    I keep asking myself: When did “mass-shooting” become a tool in the set of “appropriate responses” in the American psyche? How did this happen? The first shooting I remember remember outside of war or accidental death or natural causes was the Kent State shooting. THAT was devastating. Granted, it was not armed-citizen instigated violence, but it WAS the first non-military-against-enemy violence, (yes, it WAS military, national guard, but it was military-against-civilian), that I can remember as a young person. And for the times, four dead, four civilian dead, certainly counted as a mass shooting (then). How little did we suspect what was to come down the road.

    I just googled “mass-shootings in the U.S.” Depending on which source you use, your answer will vary from 146 to 147. Of course, that answer is now sadly out-of-date, b/c it was written JUST LAST YEAR. There have been thirty-count that-THIRTY (30) mass-shootings in the U.S in 2018, including the one that just occurred in Florida. This data comes from Gun Violence Archive, in case your’re wondering. (www.gunviolencearchive.org/mass-shooting)  Wrap your had around that for a minute and think about our (lack) of gun control. Maybe also contemplate it the next time you see a nice friendly ad for the NRA.

    I can’t imagine what it must be like to be a parent these days. To send your child off to school when this type of thing is a possibility. Or to be a student when there is the chance that one of your classmates will use the opportunity to kill you.  That was not even on the radar when I was in school. The most we had to fear was physical or verbal bullying. These kids face maybe DEATH by the mere act of attending class. I am in awe of their bravery.

  • Bullying-My Story

    I read heart-breaking stories about young children who have killed themselves because of bullying. The First Lady has (supposedly) taken up cyber-bullying and other forms of bullying as her personal cause. Friends have reported that their children are being subjected to various degrees of bullying for being different, i.e. they are not white/straight/gender-conforming. This has led me to reflect on the instances of bullying in my past, when I was in secondary school. (Yes, I was bullied. Big surprise.)

    The first instance that really comes to mind was during the first day of elementary school. Let me first say that elementary school itself was a HUGE shock to me. This was the first time I had been around other CHILDREN and indeed it was the first time I was treated as a child. Hithertofore I had spent my time around adults and pretty much been treated like a very small intelligent being. Here I was handed CHILDREN’S books, which I regarded as an insult, and I found children to be totally alien.

    Getting back to recess and the topic at hand. We went out for recess and the teacher instructed us to skip. I looked at her blankly and inquired,”Skip what?” She had to show me how to skip, which I found most humiliating, and the other children laughed at me. That set the tone for the rest of the my life in elementary school, vis a vis the other children. My glasses were regularly knocked off my head or stolen; my books were shoved out of my arms; recess was just a nightmare. The teachers didn’t make this any better by their obvious preference for me, once they had discovered my academic prowess. Praising a child in class to the detriment of their peers does not endear them to their classmates.

    Gym class was its own special brand of torture. IT was taught by a misogynistic coach who allowed us divide up into teams that pitted the boys against the girls. The girls got battered, and some girls got battered more than others. Finally I had had enough. I brought a book to class one day, sat myself under a tree in the yard, and announced that I wasn’t playing with the others. The coach yelled at  me to get back in the game (kick ball, an esp. hated game for me.) I refused. He sent me to the principal’s office. I went and explained to the principal that I was tired of getting: shoved, hit, knocked to ground, trampled on, etc. So I was opting out. He said that I couldn’t do that. I replied that I was. He said that I would get an F. I said, “Fine.” He then said, “I think I’m going to have to call your parents….” I said, “Fine.” So my parents came, heard what was ensuing, and backed me up! They told the principal that if I chose not to participate in activity that was causing me to get knocked about, that was totally acceptable and reasonable behavior and that they supported me. The principal reiterated his threat of an F for the semester. My parents told him, “Fine.” So I sat out of gym the rest of that semester with my book. And incidently I never had to take another gym class the rest of my elementary school career. I was excused for “health” reasons by order of the principal. (More likely by reason of my parents theatened to make an issue of the coach.)

    The other bullying that took place didn’t have such a good resolution. It was during Junior High. I was a Band Geek and played trombone. I rode the bus and was always burdened down with a trombone and a heavy knapsack of books. Being a small nerdy girl with glasses with a reputation for being smart can make you a target. There were some really BIG (or so they seemed to me at the time) girls who rode the same bus as I did who decided that I was the perfect prey. Day after day they assaulted me: they pushed me to the ground, knocked over my trombone case, threw my books around, called me names….I couldn’t fight back physically; I was outnumbered, plus I didn’t know how to fight AND we were on school property and I didn’t want to get caught fighting. So I fought back using the only method at my means: my vocabulary. I called those girls names I’m sure they would have surely beaten me up for, had they known what I was saying. But they simply had no idea that they were being maligned. I even cursed them out in Latin…and Latin has some truly amazing curses. (Perite and vacca stulta were two favorites.)

    Looking back on this I find myself wondering where the bus driver or a teacher or SOMEBODY, some adult, was. But back then bullying wasn’t really on anyone’s radar. I certainly didn’t tell anyone about it. It just didn’t occur to me. You didn’t talk to adults about stuff like this. I pretty sure that if I had thought about it, I would have concluded that talking to a teacher would have only made matters WORSE, not better. This was not like elementary school, where your parents could intervene and make a difference. This was Junior High, and your peers ruled. For a teacher or other adult to be seen trying step in your behalf would be infinitely a terrible mistake. Whatever was going on would increase full force. Shudder.

    And this is part of the reason why I left for college at age 16.

  • My Response To My Christian Troll

    You sent me repeated mesages that were not nice at all. You attacked my beliefs, or rather my lack of belief, and then you went to criticize my attractiveness. And you did this all in the guise of Christianity, in a attempt on a DATING SITE, to convert me. The only thing I did to provoke this onslaught was to mention in my introduction that I was an atheist. That apparently was enough to justify inappropriate behavior that borders on being seemingly unstable.

    I usually would have responded snarkily. But I had been pondering the deep divisions I see around me and I made the decision that wherever possible I would not contribute to this on an individual basis. I do not know what a person is struggling with that makes them act or say the way they do and so I resolved to endeavor to try harder to treat others with kindness and compassion. And that means you. That means the person who gets in my face at the laundromat to berate me about Trump for no apparent reason. That means every single person I encounter, whether I like them or dislike them. I have generally approached people with the idea everyone I meet is a decent human being struggling to do the best they can with what they have at that moment…until they prove differently. Now I’m making an effort to eliminate that last clause. Some people WILL do their best to prove me wrong, true. But I am going to treat them kindly and with respect. Because that is what human beings do. Will I fail sometimes? Sure. I’m not perfect. But I will make the effort.

  • I Mourn For My Christian Friends

    I Mourn For My Christian Friends

    I noticed recently that a large marble plaque of the ten commandments (Xtian version, of course) has been posted on the main  street in my little town.  I’m sure that it is on private property but is so situated as to make it appear that it is town-sponsored. Had it just been the decalogue, I would have shrugged my shoulders and gone about my business. BUT underneath this was another marble plaque that proclaims: OUR AMERICAN HERITAGE. Ahem. I don’t THINK so. Your CHRISTIAN heritage, yes. Your JEWISH heritage, maybe, (with a different version).  But NOT American heritage. I believe that the many indigenous inhabitants of this land would beg to differ, as would those who helped build this nation and did not subscribe to Christian beliefs.

    I was on transit when I first saw this. A friend of mine happened to be with me, a retired coal miner. He remarked that HE was Christian, had been all his life, but that he found this offensive. He said, “How do you think people who come to Abingdon who are NOT Christian or not THAT type of Christian are going to feel when they see that? Not welcome or wanted, that’s how! And MY Christian faith wouldn’t think that’s a Christian thing to do!”  As a non-Christian, had I seen that coming into a town, I would have felt immediately on guard. It seems a statement of identity: this is what this place is and who fits in here. It is not welcoming, not hospitable, and not even factual. It is divisive, confrontative, and exclusive. Those who put it up might have had good intentions. But in today’s charged environment, I have to speculate that they realized what they were doing and did it intentionally. I want to believe that people listen to their better angels, as Abraham Lincoln puts it so eloquently. But I find that so often, when a test comes, when the moment of truth arrives and given the chance to do something that will make that difference, they falter and give heed instead to darker voices born from ignorance and fear instead.

    So many Christians, I know you are not this. But this IS HAPPENING HERE. I can critique this, but I can only do it from the outside. For this to stop, CHRISTIANS are going to have toaddress this. As long as this is considered acceptable behavior, it will continue. History will be re-written. Christianity will continue to morph into forms more authoritarian, shallower, and crueler than anything Jesus might have imagined. And those of us looking on from the outside can only watch and mourn and wonder how far this will go.

     

  • Smiling Faces

    Smiling Faces

    I’ve thought long and hard about this this blog post. Finally I decided that I needed to write it. Last Saturday something happened at the local farmers market that I find disturbing, both on a personal level and as a commentary on how men feel free to interact with someone they perceive as female. I have been struggling with whether or not to write about this, for to do so makes it public. But I think this deserves to be talked about. The more women and others allow men to do this, the more they will do this, either because they think it is acceptable or because they believe they will not be called on it. So:

    I was having a conversation with several vendors I know. One (a man) jokingly said of the other that she was looking for a man. News to me, but whatever. I was taken aback at how he said it, though. It was sudden and inappropriate. That began the sorry slide of  continuing remarks of a supposedly jocular tone that were related to dating and or sex. Now this person is older than I am and knows I’m queer. I do NOT know what possessed him to do this. We’ve always been very cordial. I was helping him sell some of items that day in an informal manner, as I have hithertofore liked him and what he manufactored. I tried to laugh what he said off.

    But I can’t. He wasn’t overtly lewd, just enough suggestive to make me uncomfortable, but that it happened at all has now changed the way I see him AND the farmers market. He is no longer a person around whom I feel comfortable. He is moved from my “safe” list to my “unsafe” list. And, sadly, his actions and words have made the FARMERS MARKET, a place which had been one of my most favorite places in Abingdon, now a place where I know that I still have to be on guard. It was naive of me not to have been otherwise.

    Part of me wants to go on a rant. To say: What sort of world is this where a woman (I know, I don’t ID as female,  but still get defaulted that way) can’t fucking GO TO THE FARMERS MARKET without being subjected to some utterly obtuse male thinking it is fine to make sexually suggestive comments? And also: Hello, Harvey Weinstein???  You’d think especially NOW he’d have better sense than to do this type of thing? And so on. But I’m not going to do so. I’m too saddened and disapponted by what transpired. But I could not let it go with saying something. Now I have.

  • Why I Resist

    Why I Resist

    Recently I’ve been asked why I fight the battles I do-against hatred, bigotry, separation of church and state, and Trump (#NotMyPrez) &Co. Friends worry about my safety. I’ve been pondering this. Here is my reply:

    A little of my history. I was a child during the 60s. I saw first-hand that people CAN make a difference, should they choose to do so. I heard the stirring words of Martin Luther King and saw the dismantling of the Jim Crow South (to some effect). I watched the anti-war protests, met some who protested, and saw the U.S. end its participation in the Vietnam War. My father was involved in local politics (Democratic Party) and I often attended rallies and other events at his side. I witnessed the Klan holding a march in full regalia. I heard stories from relatives about the horrors of Nazi Germany AND the pogroms in Russia, and studied this in-depth as an undergrad. Over and over again I heard the stirring words, “Silence=Death”, “Never Again”, and the words of Edmund Burke,” The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.” And the words of Hillel from which the name of this blog is taken: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am not for others, who am I? And if not now, when?”

    So, the recent debacle of a presidential election and the ensuing presidency of Trump made me become even more committed to action. It was MY generation that brought the country to this point and MY generation that elected this man. I feel a deep sense of shame and responsibilty. Though I did not vote for him, nonetheless he was elected. Thankfully, millennials now outnumber boomers. But I firmly believe that that those of us who are older need to strive to all that we can to help those who will inherit the chaotic disarranged morass that this country has become.

    On a personal, individual, and local level, another quote keeps coming to mind. It is one from Gandhi: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” I do not believe that I can change the world, nor do I have the hubris to wish to do such a vast undertaking. What I CAN do, however, is by my example and actions try to make the community in which I dwell a better place. My openness about who I am and what I espouse has been a carefully calculated campaign to let people here see someone is not of their tribe, who is all the things they hear demonized on Fox and other places, who yet is also a kind and compassionate person. I want them to think when they hear heinous  words about atheists, Jews, LGBTQ folk, or progressives, “They’re talking about Kel,” a person who helps people with their groceries, pays their transit fare, inquires about them and their familes and not some anonymous stranger. I hope that by giving them a face to put on all of these things it will make it harder for them to give accedence to hate.

    In addition, I have the capability and will to fight against the wrongs I encounter. I can and will go after the creep of religion that is discriminatory against anyone who is not a (conservative) Christian here and that violates the 1st Amendment. I will make regular frequent calls to my Congress Representative and Senators on behalf of heathcare, immigrants, the LGBTQ community, the influence of big money in politics. I will sign petitions and disseminate pertinent information on social media. I will continue to push back against actual “fake news” and push for evidence-based journalism, science and policies. And most importantly I will show up as a citizen and witness-participant at local organizations and events that foster these same things. I VOTE!

    These things may indeed make it more difficult for me as an individual. Certainly in the short term during the reign of 45 and perhaps even long-term. I’ve encountered opprobrium and invective, more so after the election. But despite that, I hope that my actions will make it easier for others in the future. I fight so that my community will be better. I fight b/c I have faith in the ability of humans to change. I fight b/c it is the right thing to do.

    Thanks to all who read this. I close with a song that I’ve been listening to more and more often.

  • The Glorious Lost Cause: Not Glorious, Just LOST

    The Glorious Lost Cause: Not Glorious, Just LOST

    This is my second blog post on this topic. But I feel it needs to be addressed again and again, LOUDLY, as by as many people as possible. The Glorious Lost Cause needs to be dismantled. The Civil War was NOT glorious, and the South LOST. It was not a war over “states’ rights” but a war stage-managed by the slave owners to protect their right to own and use human-beings as chattel. It was a class and culture war, true. Many of the poor whites, i.e. those not coming directly from plantation families, were fighting on behalf of an ideal that benefitted them little. Fake news was indeed in play during this time, largely spread to inveigle those same poor whites into fighting this war. “States’ Rights”, “The War Of Northern Agression”,  and “the happy slave” were just some of the terms used at the time to cajol people into fighting. But slave-owners in truth placed poor whites on much the same socio-economic place as their African American slaves and saw them as only a little above the beasts they claimed their slaves to be. Cannon fodder, indeed!

    So to all those who decry the recent taking down of Confederate statues and fly the battle flags of the Confederacy, I suggest you do some reading of history before you go proudly embracing the white supremacy of the Neo-Confederates. Find out who your ancestors were and look into their past. Get a DNA test done (gotta have prof of that white blood, right?) I would recommend Nancy Isenberg’s book White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History Of Class In America. After that wake-up call, then read Michael Eric’s Dyson’s Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon To White America.

    To my Anglo-Saxon aquaintances here in Abingdon who love their Confederate Soldier  statue and Confederate Dead section of the cemetary: should you wish to be proud of relics of a war fought not for you nor for your ancestors, go right ahead. But the time has come for these NOT to be in the public eye. The South lost a war it fought for a intolerable ideal. These reminders which glorify that heritage need to be removed and either  publicly destroyed (my hope) or placed into private venues. Like it or not-and I know many of you don’t- the South alongside the rest of America is now multicultural and multiracial. We need to embrace that reality, not cling to some mythical past.

  • Where Is My Country?

    Where Is My Country?

    I read the morning news and wonder, “Wtf happened to the US I used to inhabit? Where did my country go?” I once lived in a place that, though there might be conflict and discord, was still civilized, somewhat predictable, and I felt safe. Now daily I read reports of science being under attack, mass-shootings, the unceasing rollback of LGBTQ rights, police targeting African Americans, and more. So much more thatmerely opening a newspaper feels risky. I have to steel myself for  bad news.

    We have a POTUS (#notmypresident) who is unstable, vicious, petty, and often incoherent. No-one, not his staff, his administration, nor even himself knows he will say or do next. Other nations are understandably nervous about this. He has insulted more countries and heads of state than I care to note. Rather than going about the business of governing, he spends his time reacting to whatever catches his attention and attacking anyone (esp. women) and anything that he feels threatened him.

    Meanwhile, though the GOP controls both the House and the Senate and the Supreme Court, they have been unable to pass a healthcare bill. The infighting in the GOP and the continuing resistance from Democrats reflects the fractured state of the country and the chaotic trickle-down of instability from the WH. The polarization is so extreme that a citizen attempted a major attack on Congress members, driven largely by partisan frustration. Protests continue to roil the landscape and often turn into violent confrontations.

    The situation is dire enough that states do not feel secure in the union.  I read about movements in both California and Texas to SECEDE entirely, both being stark examples of the the left and the right. States and cities increasingly have to act on their own to protect vulnerable citizens-religious minorities (Muslims, Jews, basically anyone who is not Christian), LGBTQ individuals, immigrants, minorities, and women-in an effort to shield them from fallout from the capitol. Sometimes they do so, but often they fail and even join in the efforts to curtail their rights and safety.

    I could go on. The utterly dystopian ad by the NRA comes to mind. But I will stop here. I wrote this largely out of grief. I’m in a state of mourning for a world that seems far removed from the country I inhabited only a year ago. I wish this were just a momentary lapse in continuity. But I fear now: for my nation, my fellow citizens, and myself.