Wednesday, June 30, 2004

That for which we are thankful

I had a crush once on a guy who I helped stage manage a play during the spring of my senior year in high school. His name was Torrey, and, in looking back, I recognize now that he was just one of many not-so-sane and exceptionally dismal men I’ve been attracted to. He flaked out on work—both things that paid and things that didn’t. My mom sold him my car as I was leaving for college, and he paid a friend to “steal” it in hopes that he might not have to keep paying her for it…really, not one of society’s finest. He was, however, a very skilled chef, and part of his apprenticeship had been with a Chinese master of some sort. One of the tattoos on his forearm (I know, I know…give me a break, I was 17) was a Chinese symbol that meant “heart without anger.”

The experience of knowing Torrey taught me a lot of things—never set up payment plans on private car deals without bank involvement, how to recognize cocaine usage from the look of someone’s eyes…but the idea of a heart without anger sticks with me the most. Today, I have no idea what the tattoo looked like—hell, I can’t really remember what he looked like—but the concept has stayed with me. A few nights ago, as I headed to bed churning with anger over the day’s events, I remembered Torrey’s tattoo. As I exhaled deeply, I let as much of it go as I could…and sent out a silent prayer of sorts for the serenity to experience a heart without anger. It worked, at least long enough for me to fall asleep peacefully—and as I walked through the following day, I continued to gain perspective in a way that made the anger feel less important. For that, and for the countless times before that I’ve called upon the idea behind that small tattoo, I am very grateful to Torrey. Thanks.

Friday, June 25, 2004

It's the little things that make this place fun

After weeks of fielding whines from my coworkers, I decided to indulge them today and wear the must-requested Papa Don't Preach sweater. I'm so caring sometimes.

Thursday, June 24, 2004

'Tis a gift to be simple

It’s been a long, long time since the last time I put together the Lists of Things I Like and Things I Don’t Like. I think I stopped doing them for two reasons: a) sometimes the justifications portion of the lists take longer than my hurry-up-and-wait work day allows, and b) I’m intensely lazy and entitled. Sooo….I’m bringing back the Lists, with a facelift. In our current climate of complex and enigmatic social issues, I’m bringing a bit of sophomoric simplicity to life by polarizing it all into Good and Bad.

Good
• Elaborate breakfasts on weekend mornings
• Full-body sneezes
• Gmail
• Unexpected windfalls
• Advance meal planning that facilitates snacks
• Leaving work early
• Boxing, when done by others
• Running, when done by me
• The fearless use of passive voice
• Stevie Wonder
• Spending 40 cents more to get real Q-tips
• Bank errors in your favor
• Birth control that comes with a video game
• Potatoes
• Naps, solo
• Naps, with someone you really dig—particularly when they turn into Snaps
• Slinkys
• Inappropriate capitalization That Makes Your Point
• Free pens

Bad
• Fatigue
• Raisins
• Orange Juice
• Boredom
• Smelly garbage disposals
• Skipped meals
• Thermostats set at 68 when it’s 74 and raining outside
• Drama
• That truck that’s parked just enough over the line to make the second parking space inaccessible to everything but a Miata
• Incompetence
• Incontinence
• Impatience
• Saving 40 cents and going for fake Q-tips
• Under-eye circles
• Finding unpleasant souvenirs from the cat in the laundry basket
• Cashiers who glare
• Faucets that leak
• Houseplants that speak
• Unidentifiable odors

Monday, June 21, 2004

Counting, Betting, Complaining, Inviting

After today, I have 5 weeks and 4 days of regular work left. There was a time (a long time) when I seriously considered working through the first week of August. It seemed like it might be a good idea to get one more week of pay, to leave 5 more days of training my successor, etc….not so much. The money—feh, I’ll figure that part out. It looks like I’ll come out ahead either way I cut it, so the minimization of the agro is definitely worth it.

We rented a movie this weekend. From Blockbuster. On my card. It’s due Saturday (see? I know when it’s due!). Anyone who’d like to cast bets on whether or not I bring it back on time is welcome…I won’t be offended. In fact, I’ll start it out with an Abraham Lincoln that says I end up taking it back Sunday morning.

Not to complain (wait, what? Who am I? What is this blog about again? Oh, right.), but I need to say in an official manner that it sucks *royally* to realize at 11:45 p.m. that you need to be at work an hour and a half early the next morning. That, for those slow on the uptake, would be me today. Due to a breakfast I helped organize, I hit the security gates this morning at 6:55 a.m. It feels like I’ve been here for a hundred years this morning, and it’s only 8:35. Wowie. I think today *definitely* calls for some Bank Admin games. It’s true, we make up our own sad little brands of fun. There’s Poor Man’s Lacrosse, where Little RayRay and I use hardhats to catch a stress ball we throw back and forth across the divider between our desks. There’s Peppermint Toss, where we try to throw Starlight Mints into a coworker’s shirt pocket. Finally, there’s the many, many fun things we do with laser pointers. Surprisingly, racing them across the ceiling takes a steady hand and no shortage of skill. Sometimes, we play Laser Pointer Chicken, where we take turns shining them into the VPs’ offices for as long as we dare. Really, it’s a good time to be had by all.

In other news, I [heart] gmail. Now that I have invites, I feel like one of the cool kids. In a way, it kind of makes up for all the crap I took in high school. Who knew that the power to bring others into a beta release of a web-based email program could compensate for all the why-aren’t-you-pretty-like-your-sisters, what-are-you-looking-at-freak, why-don’t-I-just-take-this-orange-juice-from-you and well-we-know-YOU-aren’t-going-to-homecoming comments….wait, actually, it doesn’t. But it’s pretty fun nevertheless.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Comments, please!

So, like, yeah...the new template. What do you think?

Monday, June 14, 2004

Meet you by the swings in fifteen

When I first heard about the proposal before the AMA requesting an endorsement for physicians’ refusal to treat medmal attorneys, I was really, really steamed. In what way does that make anything resembling ethical sense, I thought. After long consideration (okay, medium consideration), I’ve changed my mind. Read this, then see my comments:

CHICAGO - A doctor's proposal asking the American Medical Association to endorse refusing care to attorneys involved in medical malpractice cases drew an angry response from colleagues Sunday at the annual meeting of the nation's largest physicians group.

Many doctors stood up to denounce the resolution in passionate speeches -- even after its sponsor, Dr. J. Chris Hawk, asked that it be withdrawn.

Hawk, a South Carolina surgeon, said he made the proposal to draw attention to rising medical malpractice costs. The resolution asks that the AMA tell doctors that -- except in emergencies -- it is not unethical to refuse care to plaintiffs' attorneys and their spouses.

"It expresses the frustration I have with a broken system," said Hawk. He said doctors are leaving his state or retiring early because of insurance premiums -- making it harder for patients to receive care.

Neurologist Michael Williams said although he understood Hawk's frustration, the resolution never should have been introduced because it seeks to discriminate against a group of people.

The resolution left the AMA "a really big mess to clean up," Williams said.

For years, the AMA's top legislative lobbying priority has been the medical malpractice system, and some delegates said the resolution could hurt those efforts by giving trial lawyers ammunition.

AMA committees considered more than 250 reports and resolutions Sunday. The committees will make recommendations to the group's delegates, who will begin voting Monday afternoon on policies to adopt.

Last week, the daughter of a Mississippi legislator said she was denied treatment by a plastic surgeon because her father opposes limits in damage suits against doctors.

Dr. Michael Kanosky said he referred Kimberly Banks to other plastic surgeons to have her burn scars removed because he had lobbied on the other side of the issue and saw an ethical conflict.

********************************************************
We ask a lot of our physicians. We ask them to be certain about uncertain things, to fix our bodies and our minds without consequence or tradeoffs, to undergo extensive and grueling training while being ridiculously under compensated so we can be “sure” that they’re adequately prepared to handle us. We hold them to a high standard—as well we should--but often we do it without perspective or empathy.

And when things go south, we sue them.

We sue them and demand indulgently excessive remuneration. We ask for their licenses, for money to cover additional treatment or long-term care, and for money to ease our fragile minds. Medical malpractice insurance has become so prohibitive in some states that there are shortages in some specialties. Try having a baby in Florida—Ob/Gyn malpractice insurance runs around $210,000, and there are fewer and fewer docs who are willing to continue practicing there. Independent, private practices are the hit the hardest, since they don’t have the financial backing of a hospital to support their insurance payments. In many states, the premiums can’t be spread over the year like car insurance--it’s a cash deal, upfront.

Given that, and given our current litigious climate in which more and more registered voters view plaintiffs as lucky bastards who have found a way to make an end run to a lottery jackpot of sorts, can you really blame a physician who says s/he doesn’t feel like turning the other cheek and smiling through treatment of a patient who earns a (handsome) living seeking exorbitant damages for medmal suits?

Granted, it’s a slippery damn slope, and I’m not convinced this is the path towards any meaningful, long-term solution. Who is next? What about the plaintiffs in frivolous medmal suits? What about jurors who award astronomical punitive damages to plaintiffs? Surely, each group holds a hefty corner of the responsibility bag, so are they the next groups for whom treatment is refused?

I hope there’s resolution here at some point, but I think it’s going to require two things--only one of which seems even remotely realistic, so I suppose I can reasonably foresee a partial solution.

Thing 1) We need substantial tort reform legislation and we need it now. We need it to be comprehensive, but to keep its eye on the ball and not to include a mixed bag of other access red herrings that pull voters and legislators all asunder from the real issue at hand (Texas Prop 12, I'm looking at you). I think this is possible. Not necessarily probable, but possible.

Thing 2) We need a realignment of the expectations of the masses. There are six people in each civil courtroom who wield a significantly powerful sword or responsibility in medmal cases. The jurors, pulled from a random pool of registered voters, are (often) responsible for assigning dollar value to the actual and punitive damage awards. The numbers they hand down are upheld more often than overturned, and to ignore their role in this circus is intellectually lazy. The expectation that someone should be responsible when bad things happen doesn’t stay behind on the courthouse steps. Worse, we have come to lose any distinction between “responsible” and “monetarily so.” And we have adopted a truly inane value scale for what a medical mistake is “worth.” I deeply, deeply disagree with the notion that an error in physicians’ judgment, a miscalculated treatment plan, hell--even a grievously misguided set of intentions should be rectified with ghastly sums of money. Yet I am, apparently, in the minority on that one.

Once, during my more medically-oriented days, I treated a woman’s sprained ankle in an emergency room. During my time with her, it came out that she didn’t have insurance, but it didn’t matter because she could pay cash for her treatment. Why? Her husband had been badly injured in a chemical explosion the previous year, and their settlement had been in excess of five million dollars, not including the reimbursement for medical care or workman’s compensation. She breezily told me that, since the receipt of their settlement, they had bought cars for everyone in their family and were in the process of building a new house (it was, in fact, in looking at model homes that she had tripped and sprained her ankle--I wondered out loud if she was planning to sue the builder of the homes, and she was). Though I was very sorry for her husband’s state of permanent disability as a result of the accident, I’m still not convinced such an experience warrants the instant affluence their family obtained.

If a chemical burn is worth $5M and some change, why isn’t it worth $10M? $20M? Gee, we’re really sorry this bad thing happened to you, so we’ll make you really wealthy to compensate. It’s such fuzzy logic, and it demands a sort of absolute responsibility/blame for anything we don’t like…and that’s not how it works. Still, until that mentality undergoes a big revision, I think we’ll continue to have exorbitant jury awards in civil suits.

Long-term, the refusal to treat medmal attorneys may not be the most ethically sound solution, nor may it give way to the most sustainable pattern of resolution. Still, sometimes there’s something immediate and impressive to be gained from bypassing the traditional, administrative channels of resolution and meeting your opponent out by the swings.


Friday, June 11, 2004

The Waiting Game

If you happen to know anyone who took the April MCAT, give them a little (or medium, or big, or whatever strikes you) hug this weekend--scores should be out early Tuesday morning. For my fellow law school applicants, folks, we've got nothin' on the med school peeps in terms of waiting hell. It's been nearly 8 weeks since they took the damn thing, and that's enough to make the sanest of folks punch their crazy bag a few times.

And that's to say nothing of the ridiculously prolonged and expensive application process. A tough row to hoe, for sure. My hat is off.

Monday, June 07, 2004

Shoes and Schadenfreude: an Unholy Pair
My shoes are too big. They’re too big today, they were too big the day I bought them, and they’ll be too big for all time and eternity. I understand this, fully and completely, yet I continue to wear them every few months. I have no idea why. Do I think my feet will grow half a size? Is it that I think I might have been a little wrong all the other times I’ve worn them? Who knows. Actually, I do know; they’re a size 9, and hence should fit. Should. That, and I bought them with store credit from the Christmas gift my boss gave me last year. Really and truly, I appreciate the gesture but I just didn’t need another cut glass objet d’art. No, not even a semi useful bowl. If I were an octogenarian philanthropist with a large house and fancy candies needing a functional yet beautiful place to await hungry hands, it would have been perfect.

More importantly, the wedding countdown is on! No, duh, not mine. Yikes, though it would be an exciting thing at some point, it's waaaay too early and I think that would be the level of complexity this summer to push me into a fugue state, wherein I could only speak in lyrics from songs by men named Neil (most prominently, of course, the partners of my favorite imaginary law firm: Diamond, Sedaka and Young, L.L.P.)

The wedding in question is my stepsister’s. In less than 6 weeks, she’s allegedly getting married in a small ceremony at her future in-laws’s house. Why the doubt? You be the judge: the first notice of this blessed event came my way a little over two weeks ago via voicemail from my dad. The message went something like this:

“Uhh….hi there. I have an…interesting question for you. It, um, looks like we’re going to be having a wedding here on July 17th and I was wondering if, uh, there’s, uh, any chance that you would be interested in, uh, being here. Yeeaahh….it looks like M and D are going to have a wedding. Aaaaaanyway, give me a call back and let me know if you think you can make it so I can get working on a ticket. MBye.”

When I called back, gushing pseudo-enthusiasm for attending this happy, happy nuptial celebration, it was even weirder. After a few minutes of the usual awkwardness we have on the phone, I tried to use the wedding as fodder for nice conversation. Trying to seem genuinely interested, I asked “soooo….is she excited?” And we rounded the corner into the truly bizarre.

Dad: Um, it’s kind of strange, actually.
Me: How so?
Dad: Wellllll, he hasn’t actually proposed.
Me: I’m sorry?
Dad: No proposal.
Me: Huh?
Dad: I know, it’s weird.
Me: But there’s a date…and you guys are trying to decide whether to have it at your house or D’s parents’ house…
Dad: But no proposal.
Me: [pause] Does she know?
Dad: Does she know?
Me: About the wedding. Does M know this is happening?
Dad: Oh sure…she bought a dress last week.
Me: Does he know?
Dad: Does she know? I just told you.
Me: Nooo….does HE know?
Dad: D? Um…..I think so. We talk about it in front of him an awful lot.
Me: Oh my.
Dad: Yeah. It’s complicated. I keep thinking this is going to make him feel uncomfortable, what with the way we discuss it in front of him, especially when she turns to him and says “It’s not like I’ve been PROPOSED to yet!”
Me: Wow.
Dad: Yeah, I could talk for a long time trying to explain it, but it still probably wouldn’t make sense.
Me: That’s cool.

And to think, at first, I was only going for the food.



Tuesday, June 01, 2004

I’m not very good at this

No matter which way I approach the matter, the truth is that I’m not very good at returning movies on time. And of course, by “not very good” I mean “essentially incapable.” In the days when I patronized Blockbuster, I think I managed to put three or four employees’ children through college and graduate school with my many, many late fees. It’s enough to make one decide not to rent movies anymore. From an economist’s standpoint (which I rarely take, given that I believe economics is a made-up science for socially inept people who are good at graphs), I can’t help but factor the late fees into the rental cost, yielding an actual cost that is much, much higher.

Did you know that not all Blockbusters are created equal? They aren’t. They can set their own prices, which really bakes your noodle the one time you go BBuster hopping trying to find a copy of Superstar to view before a pep rally at work, for which you’ve been asked to perform a Mary-Catherine Gallagher skit. I don’t know anyone that’s happened to.

I really enjoyed digital cable when I had it a few years ago. Not cheap, by any means, but I had the package that included something like 42 versions each of HBO, Encore, and Starz, so there was always a movie or episode of SITC to watch. Always. Of course, I solved this problem completely by taking on way too many teaching gigs outside of work and thus rendering the idea of spending upwards of 80 large a month on cable I would never be home to watch laughable at best.

I know, I know…there are other options now. I hear people rave about Netflix all the time, and maybe someday I’ll give it a spin. Come to think of it, I remember something about my mom promising to get me a 6 month gift subscription two Christmases ago, but it never happened. Clearly, I’m no worse for the wear. The idea is spectacular, but I fear the reality would quickly dissolve into me feeling angry and used over the fact that I continue to pay $20 a month for two movies I can’t bring myself to send back. Oy.

Last year, it seemed like there was an answer to all my movie rental problems: they installed a DVD vending machine in my apartment complex. For $3.50 (less if you have the coupon they email you after each rental), you can check out one of several new releases. Perfect, right? I thought so. Your $3.50 gives you the thing until midnight on the second calendar day from the day you rent it. The machine is in the fitness center, so it’s accessible 24-7. Not a huge selection, but incredibly painless when you feel like thurpling downstairs and grabbing a movie without a lot of bother.

Pete and I decided to rent movies and do a whole lot of nothing last Friday and Saturday, and the DVD machine was really handy. No trip to the out-of-the-way-for-both-of-us BBuster, a fine selection of new releases from which we chose two, and a price that’s at least a dollar below the rental market for our area. All we (I) had to do was return them by 11:59 p.m. on Sunday. It was a tragedy, therefore, that I decided to rewatch Love Actually on Sunday evening. Somehow, as I sifted through the (muted) bonus material and listened on the phone to volumes one through four of the lizard-in-my-best-friend’s-house adventure, 12:30 came around awfully quickly.

Dammit.

They’re still sitting on my kitchen counter, too.

Double dammit.