Health Care Issues

Its funny how the Health Care Provider industry suddenly has the ability to reduce their rates and their "take" in the face of a "public option". How is it possible that now hospitals and other providers are willing to negotiate what once was a type of price fixing? If this were any other business, they would be investigated for racketeering. I believe the necessities of life: housing, health care, food, clothing should be carefully guarded from the prospect of greed.

I guess I shouldn't complain since I am a beneficiary of generous donors who have paid off my medical bills which started with a little back pain last year. (see January 6, 2009). I bring this up to ask who knows what it really costs to rent a room for a night at a hospital? What does it really cost to dispense a Tylenol tablet? How much is it to lease an operating room? Who decides how much a small piece of metal to fit in an artery costs? Of course there is also the bigger question once you determine what it truly costs to do these things: What is the cost-benefit analysis?

The escalating cost of health care and the diminishing return leads me to reiterate: Have a Living Will, Health care Directive and/or Proper Power of Attorney. Let your family and anyone else who may be asked by medical professionals, what your wishes are in the event of catastrophic illness or injury.

Social Media and Community Building

People are asking about and studies are showing the pros and cons of social media. By social media, I mean the proliferation of Blogs (such as this one), Twitter (and Twitter-like mediums), Facebook and Myspace, LinkedIn and Plaxo....

For me the pros are evident. I can keep informed about the daily life events of my friends. I can share pictures, stories and news. If I see a post on one of the sites to which I subscribe that details a happy or sad occasion in the life of a friend, it motivates me to pray for them or to call them or to write them. If a call to action is listed and it has an electronic method of responding, I am more likely to do so and not procrastinate. I can click to respond to an email. I can respond to all or only to the original poster. I can click to "like". I can click to call my congress person. I can even re-tweet with a click, thus providing a broader audience of "followers".

Do I feel closer to those whom I care about? Do I stay informed about causes important to me? Yes, if they also happen to be subscribers. But what about my friends, family and causes who are not regular social media subscribers? Will I still have time to pick up the phone or tap out an email or for the true luddites, write a letter? With all of the information from those who are subscribers flooding my in-boxes, status-boxes and text-boxes, will it crowd out those for whom social networking is "Greek"?

Truly a new digital divide is appearing. Those who keep in touch only via phone or email are being lost in the shuffle. Those who use the Postal Service are even more likely to be missed. The Internet is becoming a bit like a crowded grade school lunch room. The din of voices vying for attention and influence is deafening. Meanwhile somewhere in Kansas a nephew has been in a car accident. In California a farm worker is dying in the heat. In North Carolina a child is being molested. In Iran a democracy is emerging. In Honduras a crisis is affecting my friends. How can we hear those voices? How do we respond? How do you place an e-card on a mantle?

In the great rush to be heard, are we properly protecting our private lives from voyeurism? Are we contributing to exhibitionism? Are we truly staying connected to those we love and causes for which we care about? Are we sharing more about ourselves or just a lot of information?

I spoke to a family member the other night. I could hear in his voice the strain of concern. The fighting back of tears. The release of emotion. Dialogue occurred, not monologue or a diatribe. His voice was searching for understanding and compassionate listening and advice. I hope I conveyed that to him. I just answered a call from a friend who is placing his loved one in hospice. His voice revealed some guilt and worry and relief all in one. Could either of these messages been conveyed by e-means? Of course. Would their meaning been the same? certainly not. I am committing to checking in more often by phone or in-person with those whom I love.

For Public Consumption

I have been writing a blog for private, invited guests only, for about 4 years. That blog is a closed group of readers and contributors. This blog will be my public version of what I write on the private blog. In this way I hope to be able to share some of my thoughts with friends who repeatedly ask to read my blog.

I hope to migrate some of the stories here--with some editing. Due to the fact that some of my stories are not "PC", or are critical of institutions, governments, and culture...this blog may not be for everyone. It is my exercise in airing some of my thoughts and feelings on a wide range of topics.

The Latin title of this Blog, is roughly translated from the English: On our way home. I consider myself to be on my way home. This is not my home, nor is it your home. I have not arrived, this blog then, is for those who also recognize they have not arrived. Therefore we are all on our way home. How we find ourselves and each other along that journey home is what I plan to discuss on this blog.

Off with the last piece

Most, if not all of you know that my spouse and I mentor a group of neighborhood teens each year. The group was formed eight years ago as a response to a crisis in our neighborhood. The crisis: teens who had nothing constructive to do with their time getting into trouble. Sociologist have a term for these kids: "at-risk youth". That trouble eventually led to the shooting death of a young man named Christian. I moved to Saint Louis too late to get to know Christian well ,before his untimely death. However, from what I have learned, he was a star student and athlete. He was in line to receive a full scholarship to a prestigious private high school. Over Christmas break he was hanging out with the wrong people at the wrong time. The story goes that it was an accidental shooting. Someone, not the shooter, took the fall for the "accident" and spent a few years in jail.

Meanwhile, a group of concerned neighbors gathered at my office in the 'hood to talk about what we could do about the lack of jobs, recreation, mentoring offered our "kids". One of my board members came up with the notion that since we managed rental property which was always in need of repair, and we were occasionally constructing new residential properties, and there were many of our neighbors in need of a helping hand for their own property maintenance, that we should employ the teens to do that work. I naively thought that board member, who was very skilled in the areas of construction and carpentry in particular, would offer to form and lead this rag tag bunch of kids as they tackled these projects. I found, however, that the responsibility would be mine and I was fortunately able to recruit my spouse to help.

Each Spring our city hosts a city-wide clean-up effort known as Operation Brightside Blitz. We decided to recruit teens in our neighborhood to join us in cleaning alleys, vacant lots and neighbors yards and basements as our first project. I really did not expect much turn-out on that chilly spring day. However, I was surprised that when I went out to the back yard to greet my new workers, that 20 kids showed up. Tough ones and mild ones, troubled ones and stable ones. Brothers and sisters, cousins and unrelated. They had all come out to see what our little upstart project would offer them. In other words, they wanted to know if we were 'for real".

We grabbed our tools and went out to make a difference in the neighborhood environment, but in my heart I was embarking on an experiment with much bolder: to make a difference in young lives--before they would be lured away by drug trafficking, gang banging and other dangerous pursuits. Early on, we decided to pay these kids a stipend for their participation. We set up standards of work and behavior on the job. Each week attendance and performance were evaluated. We held meetings to determine the name of our group, sought input from the kids on how they thought they were doing and how they thought we (me and Teka) were doing.

Together, as a team, we tackled clean-ups, landscaping, demolition, site prep, rough construction, and really rough construction. The most daunting task was not the tasks we undertook in construction or demolition, but rather, the demolition of barriers of mistrust and the reconstruction of trust between us. We learned the concept of co-responsibility--that we all take credit for our successes and failures. We learned to treat each other with respect. We learned to take pride in hard work and a job well done. We shared struggles and meals, and at time, our home with these kids.

The defining moment for me that we had become a team and that the program meant something came on one of the hottest days of the year. One Summer we had been hired to perform demolition of a property slated for rehab. We stripped out the lath and plaster, we tore out plumbing and electrical we deconstructed walls and windows in preparation for the rehabbers to take over. Our last piece of the project was to tear off the roof. The roofing material had been built up layers of tar paper and tar and gravel for over 100 years. Each chunk of roofing was heavier and hotter than the last. One final section of the roof remained. The temperature on the roof was over 100 degrees. It took all of us working together to pry that section loose, lift it and throw it over the edge. When it crashed to the ground we all rejoiced together on that roof. High fives all around! We jumped up and down. We laughed. We groaned. Looking at each other, Teka and I realized we shared the same complexion with our kids--dirt and grime and tar dust covered all of us. We learned that day that "together we can" do what is impossible for just one of us to do. We became a team!

Up to that point I had my doubts that the thugs and straight-laced, jocks and scholars of our neighborhood could work together for a common goal and that the Downtown Teens could survive this unlikely coming together of worlds. They still show up at my house every Saturday during the school year and every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday during the Summer break with expectant hearts. Each year brings a different group. I'm not sure how they hear about the program which is privately funded by myself and a few dear benefactors. But come they do. Each year we build a team through hardship and obstacle to great to be faced alone. Each year we accomplish greatness. Each year we see some of our kids graduate from high school, get jobs, go to college, get married, start families. Each year we exhaust ourselves financially and emotionally for our "kids". And, every night I thank God for my opportunity to learn and teach.

Semper Ubi Sub Ubi...

that's I wanted to name this blog, but believe it or not the title was taken. The reason? Humor. A lot of life seems serious (and a lot of it is), but most of it can be tempered with humor. Thus, I try to not take myself so seriously. I try not to take offense so easily. I try to inject a little sarcasm, irony or comic indifference about the news. Try it you'll like it. Or as another friend has said: "you need to do more than try".

other possibility: Viaticum--too dreary.