The Cure

Here's what I know.

Betsy was born with hip dysplasia that left her with medical bills so long and impossible to pay that my parents, who had three other kids, just started wrapping her up in them and taking her picture. There she is, in a body cast on the couch, and a bill no less than 12 feet long swirls around her. My dad worked full time, and when he got home my mom went to work until 10 or 11 at night. Sometimes he had two jobs. Sometimes after Betsy's surgeries, my dad couldn't stay at the hospital with my mom because he had to get back to those jobs.

Jennifer was diagnosed with CLL in 2005 after having surgery to have her adenoids removed. Fortunately she was employed at a fabulously supportive accounting firm, one that helped her relocate closer to home to pursue chemotherapy and one that gave her time off during her treatments. It was also one that came with incredible health insurance. And it is exactly that health insurance and the chronic nature of her disease that keeps her in that job. She knows her disease will flair up again at some point, she knows that she will need treatment, and she knows that the only way she can get the treatment she needs is to have health insurance. Which means that even though she wants to try a new career, wants to stay home with her future babies, wants to have the life she chooses rather than the one the health insurance industry forces on her, she can't.

Heather has two sons. The older son has a sensory issue of some kind. He has been to therapy to learn how tricks for how to deal with it. Because of this issue, he was traumatized while trying to pottytrain and had to be admitted to the emergency room. Heather is a stay-at-home mom who has worked as a nurse and an insurance assessor. She told me once that when you put bandaids on a patient in the hospital, the patient is billed for the entire box of bandaids even if they only use two. Same thing for gauze. Some thing for fluids. And the sticker price of these drugstore items are hugely inflated because, hey, it's not the person we're charging, it's the insurance... In trying to get her son the intervention that he needs, she has had to hound insurance companies for thousands of dollars. Normally a financial genius with a safety net that makes me jealous, Heather and her family have gone into debt trying to bridge the gap between paying for the therapy and being reimbursed by the insurance company, which sometimes doesn't happen.

Charles and Shannon were living in England one year and they came home for the holidays. Normally they buy traveler's insurance, but this time they forgot. This was the time that Charles would get appendicitis and spend Christmas Day in the hospital. He came home after one day, back to his old self, except now his old self had a $20,000 bill attached to it. With no way to pay it, they went back to their country, where if I was visiting I could have surgery for free, and hoped for the best.

I have lived without insurance at several points in my life, as has Mack, and fortunately my politics allowed me to take advantage of Planned Parenthood and the services they offer, which come with fees based on your most recent pay stubs, my health allowed me to stay alive, and my luck kept me from drowning in debt. I eat pretty healthily, I exercise at least once a week, I maintain my weight within 10 pounds, I do regular breast exams, I take vitamins, but I am not invincible to disease or illness.

Thanks to the representatives who stepped outside of politics and looked at what Americans need, I may not have to be. The United States may just catch up to other first world countries in providing this basic service to our citizens. We may just be able to stop worrying about how we're going to take care of our parents and how we're going to afford having children. We may just start taking responsibility for our own health, which is something that, like it or not, insurance companies do not let us do.

It's going to be collectively expensive if we get it, one of the biggest barriers to the public health option, but it's no more expensive than paying the overinflated costs we're personally paying now. (Insurance for me and Mack was $400+ per month at my last job... imagine if I donated that money instead to universal health care and it didn't matter how sick I or anyone else got!)

This really isn't about politics. It's about people... Betsy, Jen, Heather, Charles, me, Mack, our parents, the babies we love, you. It's completely doable, it's long overdue, it's anti-American to let people die.

Click here to find out how to nudge your congresspeople to be brave and forward-thinking. And here to educate yourself on what's really at stake.

Cue the Country Ballad

I hate 9/11. I hate that it happened, but more than that I hate the way it's remembered.

I hate that the media made it a frenzy of fear and defiance and righteousness and an annual ratings party. I hate that a lot of Americans confused patriotism with arrogance, and that despite the love for our fellow man that was in the air in the days following, our country ended up as divided as I've ever seen it in the years since. I hate that 9/11 gave Bush momentum and got us in a war that has so far claimed the lives of more than:

- 4,330+ American soldiers
- 304 soldiers from other countries
- 1,395 civilian employees
- 423 Iraqi academics
- 139 working journalists
- 100,000+ Iraqi civilians

I hate that still, 8 years later, there is a hole in Lower Manhattan that I will see for the third time in my life in a couple months, a hole that isn't helping that amazing city heal. I hate to think about the horror those people who were on those planes felt before they died. I hate that their fear was transferred to the people who jumped out of the World Trade Center to avoid burning to death. I hate that the workers who swept up that mess are living with a lasting lung disease and god only knows what kind of nightmares. I hate that they still don't have free, unconditional access to comprehensive health care.

Talk about a boot in the ass.

Courage. Exemplified.

For the last ten days I've only paid attention to very high level stuff about Iran. I've heard about the election, about Ahmadinejad winning, about protesters. But last night, feeling completely irresponsible when it comes to current events, I went to the New York Times online to piece together what exactly is going on there.
I learned about Neda, the young woman who was filmed dying on the street, shot for simply being at a protest. I heard her father scream her name and watched another man try to stop the blood from pouring out of her face.

I peered into the walled courtyards of civilians, normally a place of refuge from all the rules and social scrutiny, and watched as a camera sneaking over the ledge made a record of those who'd used their voices being carried away.

I looked through photos from the streets of Tehran, where men were hurling rocks at police officers and women were respecting Islamic dress even as they were shouting and pumping their fists. I noticed the prevalence of green wristbands, which has come to signify support of Mir Hussein Moussavi. I was touched by the protesters who rescued a policeman from the crowd before he was killed, even though he was there to shut them up.
I remembered the time I visited Iran. The way the headscarf made me feel like I was suffocating at first and then made me feel exotic. The way Mack's grandmother looked in my eyes to tell me things about being a wife that words couldn't communicate. The way his grandfather rubbed my head and commended me for being sturdy. The way everyone danced.

I also remember how, on our wedding day, I walked from the salon to the car without a headscarf on my head, wondering if I could get in trouble for that, or worse, get my new family in trouble. How that same night, I had to run from one courtyard to the other to have our wedding dinner and then back without being caught in public disrespecting Islamic dress. How the next day Laila and I were walking in slow motion as a game and had to stop because we were getting too much attention for walking provocatively.

When I think of the protests happening in the same Iran I experienced, I am left breathless. If it takes guts to run from the salon to the car without a headscarf on, can you imagine the courage it takes to congregate in the street, shout at the establishment, risk your life and your freedom for change?
I like to think that if I was faced with the same responsibility to revolutionize, I would act accordingly. But I wouldn't. I am too spoiled by a freedom I take for granted. I am too afraid.

But what I would do, and what I will do for those heroic, courageous men and women finding strength in numbers, is publicly applaud those who are doing the right thing, thank them for getting the information to the rest of the world and verbalize my support for their fight at every opportunity. Which is more than they're safely allowed to do in Iran right now.

We are screwed.

For more thought provoking, listen to TED.

It's Beginning to Look a lot like Black History Month

If you have the day off today, you should watch this so you know why.

If you're working like me, you should steal 20 minutes from your employer and watch this so you won't feel like as much of a slave to capitalism.

Happy MLK-One-Day-'til-Obama Day! Let the end of segregation begin! Again!

Seriously

My friend David is in Congo right now making a documentary and mingling with child soldiers and it's got me thinking about, you know, child freaking soldiers.

I've heard about 100 stories of child soldiers carrying guns, getting raped, watching their families get slaughtered, sensational stories of survival go team! In general, I think it's bad to have child soldiers and I feel bad about children having to be soldiers.

In specific, look at this:
That woman up there (not the white one, duh) was a child soldier. Her name is Chantal and she was taken by rebels when she was six.

Six.

She was held captive in the forest for nine years.

Nine.

Every day of those nine years she was raped by seven different men.

Seven.

She, like any six- to 15-year-old being raped every day by seven different men, tried to escape. Three times she got away, only to be captured, brought back and tortured. On her fourth attempt, she finally found a way out.

But in the cruel reality of child soldierdom, her escape didn't leave her liberated. Instead she found out she would be forever tethered to the men who'd been raping her every single day because she was pregnant.

Pregnant and with no idea who the baby daddy was.

My friend David met Chantal. And her baby, who is now two years old. Chantal has just started to take care of her child because for the first two years she just couldn't stand the thought of being kind to something that was associated with the person who destroyed her life. I can't say I'd be so generous.

Who really wants to think about this sad crap on a Friday? Not me. It's far worse than I ever imagined it was, and even though I prefer being in the dark about the cruel reality, that won't help other kids like Chantal get a fair shot at life.

What I Did While Obama Made History

After Mack and I did our civic duty at the polls and collected proof in the form of a sticker, we came home to watch as the first African American in the United States became the leader of the free world. And this is what happened...

Kitty tried to kill me and steal my Obama-Biden t-shirt.
Obama supporters cheered and chanted at Grant Park in Chicago in the brisk November weather.
McCain supporters listened to the guys from the FreeCreditReport.com commercials perform at the swanky Biltmore Hotel in Phoenix.
Kitty tried to drink my beer.
Wolf Blitzer said, "Bonanza."
A panel of 5 white people discussed how having a black president will affect race relations in the United States.
Kitty stole Mack's breath and he went unconscious.
Paul Begala said, "Peace out, Cub Scout."
McCain's extra neck skin started to be a distraction... and has he always had stroke eye there on his left?
Obama wins Ohio. I got jiggy with it.
Dana Cash said they've turned off the news at the Biltmore, likely to preserve what's left of the "festive" atmosphere since they opted NOT to have an ice luge.
Guy Working the Map said, "I wouldn't bet a dime on McCain winning New Mexico."
Mack ate some pumpkin chili and broke out his Quantitative Analysis homework.CNN's graphics officially went over the top with the Capitol Building in the middle of the table and the rainbow of seats over it.
And then they hit the ridiculous mark when they HOLOGRAMMED IN Will.I.Am... as if he was Princess Leia.
Finally, the polls closed on the West Coast, and my candidate was awarded what he had worked his entire life for.
Let us never underestimate the power of a community organizer ever again.