Thank You, One and All

After a long day and night I think this Facebook post from my niece's Mom says it all:

"Caitlin's father spent the night with Caitlin in the ICU. She
looks good and had a good night. Dr. Baird did some pretty
extensive work on her yesterday. He reworked her tricuspid valve
and tightened it with a ring, put in a titanium mitral valve,
replaced a patch covering the hole in the septum, trimmed off some...
scar tissue, adjusted a small group of heart muscles, and performed
an ablation to the right side of her heart. In ICU now and they are
keeping her asleep for a little while longer."

That's a hell of a lot for a fourteen-year-old to go through (and not for the first time) but her Dad reports that the oxygen tubes are out and she's breathing on her own although still drowsy from the sedatives. The use of an artificial valve this time means she should not have to ever do this again.

In a previous century she never would have made it this far, and I am extremely grateful to not just the superb surgeons who have the skill and talent to perform such work, but also to all the people over the years who developed the techniques and trained the doctors, who invented and manufactured the tools and replacement parts and those who built and maintain the organizations that could bring them all together to accomplish something so extraordinary. And to my fellow citizens, who help to pay for it all through your taxes and insurance premiums. This is the definition of civilization and, today, my niece and her/my family are the beneficiaries.

Thank you. May it all be there for you when you need it.

Payin' It Out, Old School

I got on the phone yesterday to pay my semi-annual auto insurance bill and received a surprise. A human answered.

There was a weird kind of electronic hiccup while the phone was ringing, a hesitation of sorts, while the system apparently switched from the standard automated routine to human back-up. I was so startled to hear a real person I blurted out, "Oh, I was expecting the computer," when she said, "Hello."

She seemed a bit taken aback, too, and not aware their system was down. Nevertheless, she took my policy number, confirmed my name and birthdate, and asked if I wanted to pay the full amount with the card they have on file. I said, "Yes." She said, "Done," and gave me my confirmation number.

The whole process took less than half the time going through their automated phone tree does mostly because the robot voice offers repetitive descriptions of its intent and actions and demands constant confirmation of mine.

I'm sure the robot is cheaper but the human was way more efficient. And nicer to talk to.

Redneck Studies: A Close Call, Parts & Labor Included

Neighbor Dan came over Saturday evening shortly after my brother had left for work. I thought he might be coming to visit the kittens as he and his youngest daughter had done the day before but he was stopping to let me know he had my brother on his phone. My phone was charging at the time. It's a problem with not having a land line anymore.

It seems my brother had been driving on our town's main commercial drag, a six lane (not counting turn-offs) "boulevard" of chain restaurants, strip malls and big box stores when the front end of his truck just fell off about four blocks from work. He needed cash for the tow truck. I grabbed $100 from my brother's stash and headed out.

When I found him, he had managed to pull over into a turn-out lane and was out of the main flow of traffic although that did not stop several inattentive idiots, despite his hazard lights flashing, from pulling in behind his truck as they attempted to enter the mall.

He hadn't been kidding about his truck. It looked as if the left front axle had broken or at least separated from the differential. The end of the axle and the ball joint were just lying there on the road. The wheel was turned in and down at a 45 degree angle and the entire front of the truck sagged. It was a good thing he was in town where the speed limit is 45 mph and traffic volume often prevents even that. If he'd been on the highway when that happened the truck would have gone head over heels and he'd be dead now.

And here's where we get to the Redneck Studies. The thing is, that's exactly the part of the truck he'd had repaired only about 1000 miles ago.

Your typical redneck will opt for the independent contractor, good ol' boy almost every time. The main exception is retail where Wally World wins out over mom-'n'-pop. It all comes down to price, quality be damned. My brother had taken his truck to two guys who used to work for an established (but still local and otherwise good ol' boy himself) mechanic. (They claimed they left voluntarily because they objected to certain of his business practices which is just the unverifiably generic excuse I would expect from a couple of guys who were probably let go for being slackers, but I'm cynical that way.) Be that as it may, they quoted my brother a really good price for the work and he let them at it.

You get what you pay for is a maxim that does not register with rednecks.

I offered to stay with my brother but he declined as there was nothing, really, for me to do there and I'd left my dinner on the stove so I went home before the cats could get to it. My brother had the truck towed to the guys who messed it up, left it parked blocking their garage bay and walked home. I gave him my car to go back to work. So now we're down to one car until the truck is fixed or he can convince his insurance to pay for a rental and since he drives for a living that may not be automatic.

A Trip to Boston

My 12-year-old niece goes in for surgery tomorrow morning, 6 a.m., at Boston Children's Hospital. This will be her third open heart operation, although the first two were done when she was a baby so this is the one she'll remember. I just got off the phone with her and her Dad (my Other Brother). They and the rest of the family, except my younger nephew who is stuck on base in Virginia, are all going off for a Duck (DUKW: ex-military amphibious vehicle) Tour of Boston Harbor.

Caitlin with her Dad and two older brothers.

Fortunately, insurance will cover the operation itself, but there are other expenses including travel costs, living arrangements in Boston, lost income and additional doctors' bills that are not covered so the family has been conducting a number of fundraisers to help defray them.

Caitlin, in the middle, because of the stress on her heart,
has always been  . . .extra petite. For comparison, her friend,
Elizabeth, in pink, is a classmate and the same age. Credit Kevin Kane

I have been very impressed by the support her friends and the community have shown her. Her classmate, Elizabeth McCann organized a bake sale and lemonade stand. The local grocery has been selling fundraising cookies and the church hosted a fundraising dinner. In addition, a number of individuals and charities have donated to her cause.

On the one hand, I wish none of this, the operation or the begging, was necessary. On the other hand, I am proud of how, when the need arises, we do all pull together, just because it's the right thing to do.

The Cupcakes of Desperation

My Brother came home from the bar last night with a couple of treats: two homemade cupcakes, each topped with frosting and a half Twinkie decorated to look like minions from "Despicable Me." He gave me the single-eye-goggled one and kept the double-eyed one for himself.


A quick Google Image Search reveals that Minion Cupcakes
are a thing out there in the world. Who knew?

Apparently, someone's child had been diagnosed with cancer and this was one of the ways they are trying to raise the funds for her treatment.
I am quite confident that, if you were to ask anyone in that bar (this being southern Florida), they would all profess to be adamantly opposed to Obamacare, opposed to government mandated health insurance, opposed to "socialized medicine," and, in addition, are all oblivious not just to the irony but the pure obscenity of having to hold a bake sale to raise funds for life saving treatment for a child (or anyone else, for that matter). My Brother lost his own health insurance last year when his employer unilaterally decided to drop it. Still, he would rather die (and doesn't recognize the increased odds of that happening) than vote for a Democrat. Instead, they all buy cupcakes at $2 a piece and hope things work out because that's the way it is.

On a not entirely unrelated note, my niece (12 years old) is facing her third open heart surgery this fall. Although her parents do have health insurance, and most of the direct bills will be covered, the incidental expenses, ranging from food and parking during hospital stays in Boston to lost income during parental custodial time off and additional doctor bills, means they have had to set up a (slightly more organized) fundraiser for her.

It's wonderful to live in a first-world country in the Twenty-first Century. I'd like to try it some day.

Neighbors

My brother is out buying a new chain for Neighbor Mike's chainsaw.

It turns out that Neighbor Mike and Neighbor Mike's Girlfriend were in a serious motorcycle accident back in December. Both were hospitalized and Neighbor Mike's Girlfriend was in a coma for ten days with a blood clot on the left side of her brain. We only found out a few days ago. Neighbor Mike hangs out at a different club from my brother otherwise we might have known sooner. His club held a fundraiser for them to help out with some of the bills. (NM'sG doesn't have insurance and she's up over $20K so far.)

We found out because Neighbor Mike came over yesterday to borrow an extension ladder. His company has him on disability leave and won't let him back yet and despite the fact they are paying him they're combined income is now half what it was. So he's taking odd jobs around the neighborhood and another neighbor agreed to pay him for trimming a palm, for which he needed a ladder he didn't have. After my brother gave him the ladder he offered to pay Neighbor Mike to take out a line of bushes between our properties and to cut down an orange tree that has been a disappointment for years.

Today, the two of them are out there clearing the jungle. Unfortunately, in trying to cut as close to the ground as possible they cut into the ground, which will ruin a chain faster than just about anything else. So my brother has gone to get a replacement chain and Neighbor Mike is tackling some relatively easy branches in the meantime.

And Neighbor Mike's Girlfriend is recovering slowly. The doctor's say she will probably not have any permanent damage.

Balloon Envy

Mt brother came home last night suffering a severe case of holiday balloon decoration envy. It seems Neighbor Dan has inflated and lit all of his Hallowe'en decorations--and our yard will suffer by comparison.

"He's got two hearses just like mine although they're a little smaller but one has a coffin on top that opens. Plus he's got all new ghosts. Not to mention the haunted house." Also not to mention the Great Pumpkin hot air balloon the headstones and skeletons both semi-buried and hanging. Neighbor Dan has long held the edge in total decorations such that, between the inflatables and the palm trees, his yard is impassable.

Our decorations are not up yet, having been delayed by our inability to mow the lawn, but that will be rectified before nightfall.

This morning, despite recently receiving a homeowner's insurance bill with a 50% premium increase, my brother went out to buy more spooky lawn balloons. We have our priorities.

The "Princeton"

Went to the barber for my semi-annual. He laughed when I told him I'd misplaced my ears and could he help me find them. He did. It's going to be a very long time before they're hidden again.

When I told him how short I wanted my hair, he said, "You want a 'Princeton'?" Well, I don't know. Describe it for me. He did. The results were a lot more severe than the description would lead one to believe.

It may not have been his fault. We were all distracted by the shop's owner, a full-bore Kool-Aid-chugging Tea Partier, who was ranting to his customer about not being willing to pay taxes even for police or fire services. If his house caught fire he'd let it burn down before paying for the fire department. Let it burn and rebuild. That's why he had insurance.

(It apparently hadn't occurred to him that his insurance company requires affirmative action on his part to limit his/their losses. They wouldn't pay a dime if they suspected he just stood around watching. In their eyes, that's only one step away from arson itself.)

Turns out both his customer and my barber were retired firemen.

My barber assures me that my part will reappear in a week or two and I should need the comb again in about a month, maybe a little more.

Still no idea why they call it a "Princeton."