My neighborhood book group met last night. Naturally we got on the subject of health care. One woman is a surgeon. She says the doctors are as screwed as the patients under the current system. (I'm not sure she used the word screwed.) One woman just visited her mother in England. Her adult daughter came, too, and developed a kidney stone while there. It was taken care of without any question at all. Another had a medical problem while in Italy visiting relatives. Again, no questions were asked. Nothing was paid. Someone needed help. Help was given. Taxes are paid to support that, yes, and there is a quality of life that is higher than ours if one looks at the happiness index. It is stressful to worry about health care.
What is wrong with this country?
On that note, I met a friend at Crissy Field today which meant navigating the construction for the new Doyle Drive exchange. It is quite a project and is a field-day of big heavy construction equipment. I can't imagine what Zach would say if he saw it. Traffic is one lane in a part and I was gawking, entranced. I realized how much we need vision. It is stimulating to see what is needed being built. Why is this now begun? The stimulus package.
I believe we need something to pull us out of ourselves. This is not the space program, is not a launch, but is exciting nonetheless. I felt proud of where I live, that something that has been talked about for years, is being done. Who do we have to thank? President Obama and Nancy Pelosi. Jobs are provided and this project is needed and it is exciting for all to see.
My friend's dog Amy died two and a half weeks ago. I am grateful I had a chance to say good-bye. Amy had bone cancer. She was suffering. It was time. She was taken to her favorite places before she was put to sleep, and given her favorite foods. The vet came to the house. I listened and thought how humane it sounded. The word humane came to me over and over again.
I know it is different with an animal because an animal does know it is time. Of course, we are animals, too, but we have this complex neocortex loaded with fear around death. How do we talk about this? How do we come to peace with the fear within ourselves?
She also told me about six word memoirs. I know Hemingway's story in six words, "For sale: baby shoes, never worn." I didn't know about six word memoirs. Now, I wonder what I would say. Here is motivation to get you started if you are intrigued.