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Death by Doctor
For the past six months his brother has been trying to get him to see a doctor. On Friday the bleeding made him concerned enough to go. Saturday night he still looked bad by the end of the Nascar race. By Sunday morning he was dead.
These are the only facts that I have, which I got on the way home from a funeral. Shorty after receiving this news, I also discovered another friend has been hiding her health struggles. After 14 years of watching a beloved mother struggle with Lupus, we wait for the word on her test results. Of course if it's not Lupus it's some unknown thing that causes pain and depression beyond the life circumstances of the anniversary of the death of her mother on the day she goes to trail as a witness for the murder of a friend. Yesterday was full of information.
I can't even say it was too much information, or not enough. Certainly I don't have all the facts for the one, and there may be serious issues, while the other could have continued to keep her struggles to herself. Actually, it's probably a very good thing that she didn't, and didn't yesterday at that precise time. I was barely maintaining in my anxieties. Not the social anxieties that keep me close to the house, but the health anxieties that started all of this.
One of the beauties of being an observant woman in her thirties, is knowing one's own body. Being familiar with your self in a physical way means noticing when there's a pain that wasn't there yesterday, or the that just stared and won't seem to go away. When you are aware of your person, you become aware not of just the obvious monthly irritations, but the flow of emotions and sensations that lead through the process. When these changes all come together to affect your personality, you know you have a problem and need professional help.
Of course that doesn't mean the professionals know anything more than you do about your body and how it works. They may have a general knowledge that is greater, but the Creator made each of us with variations, meaning that our bodies don't work like factory machines, but like the handmade guns of the Revolutionary war. Firing pins and barrels were different sizes and cleaning and putting together one Bessie didn't mean the next one would go together exactly the same way. A soldier probably could preform with another man's weapon, but not as smoothly as his own, because he knew the nuances of his hand crafted weapon.
People are very much the same, even carrying within them that same ability to take life. When this weapon we are borrowing misfires, we turn to a gun-smith to aid us. Maybe they have a unique specialties in metallurgy and how specific chemicals mix to make the strongest steel, or we just need the butt carved to fit our shoulder better.
Whatever Master-smith we seek, we put our faith in their knowledge and ability to fix what we do not understand.
As straining as it may be to wait out the investigation of the problem and then the resolutions for those who have the money to pay, those without funds strain more then their budgets. Not many people like going to the doctor, but have you ever had to try to figure out if it was more important to go to the grocery or to the doctor? It happens. When you have neither the money to pay a doctor, chances are you don't have the money to pay the insurance that is supposed to aid you in going to the doctor.
I don't, that's why I am so shaken up over this most recent death. Make no mistake, I am seriously worried for his brother and our circle of those who will find it difficult to process the loss of someone our own age, for reasons that we cannot understand. The living is my greatest concern, and me the least of these. But I know I am not the only one in fear of what I see.
Because this brings it beyond the simplest fear of "Am I going to die from whatever is ailing me?" to "Something preventable will kill me because I won't go to the doctor in time." How many times have you seen a statement about how "the underprivileged" die of (fill in the blank with whatever disease) more than anyone else and it makes you say "Well duh!"? If you don't have money, you can't go to the doctor for regular check ups, much less when you actually are unwell. Most of these things that go in the blank are diseases that can be treated if caught early enough, but you have to be able to go to the doctor to catch them. So of course people who cannot afford a basic doctor's fee is going to die from preventable causes.
It's not that I am asking for "socialist medicine" either. Although I may consider minimal medical opportunities as a basic American right, I understand the principles of the capitalism that we live under. It is not the government's responsibility to provide anything to me other than the permission to breath the air in this space. The law does not state I have a right to food or housing or even that my body will be disposed of when I die. I've read the Declaration and the Constitution. I'm not a legal genius, but I'm not stupid either. I'm just poor.
Being poor doesn't mean I'm lazy either. Every day I wake up and do the only two things I am capable of that improves the condition of the world: I clean or I write, usually both at some point throughout the day. I kind of figure that if I am incapable, for whatever reason, of providing an income for my family, then it is my responsibility to make our physical space appropriate for us. Of course I carry my cleaning a bit too far for the comfort of my family, but they understand that this is my effort to participate in their greater good so that they have a comfortable foundation from which to go forth into the world. In addition to these physical things, I also do whatever research and writing required for the day to try to overcome the anxieties that have locked me here. Again, this is something I do for the people I love, not so much for myself.
Even as I write this, I can see how basically useless I in my poverty might seem to those who have established careers. Even those who understand the value of a good home may have doubts as to my motivations. To an outsider I probably seem lazy. Does that mean I don't have the right to live? Because that's what I feel like others are telling me through their actions. Even though it was not me specifically who was given prescriptions and sent home to die, I have recently been told that, because the problem isn't immediately mortal, the doctor would not treat me. No, I do not have all the facts, and I do plan to undertake an in depth investigation as soon as it is appropriate, but sometimes the facts have little to do with the consequences.
I am only one person but I know there are others who will feel the kinds of despair and fear this man's death has caused. There are many of us who knew him who are just as likely to join him for the same reason-we put off going to a doctor because of the money. I do not care if I die myself, likely a remnant of extreme and constant pain, but I do care if others go through this torture. I understand that I have copious amounts of love and support to see me through my days and my fears. Even those who have similar affirmation in their lives, cannot possibly have it to the degree that I do, and even so, I have moments when I have to wonder if it is all worth it. How much worse will this be for those people I have known who have no support? It is for those people that I must speak up.
Because my worth is not based on any government's opinion of me. Just because someone else has made it impossible for me to afford basic medical care, does not mean that I don't have as much value to the air I breath as someone who is gainfully employed. I cannot put my faith in the hands of Humans, there are logistics to this reality that are simply beyond sense. But so is God. That which created me gave me the right to breath this air, the same as you. In not being perfect myself, I know that other people will not be either, and I am thankful that I know enough to know that it is only Faith that is perfect.
I do not understand much, but I do understand that if I believe in God, then whatever happens is as it should be. From punishments and disappointment, to rewards and love, each experience leads me to something. When I look, I can see how small incidentals in my life have lead to greater things I could not have expected. Those times when I moved forward on nothing but Faith, I not only survived, but thrived. This is my personal proof for the existence in a Supreme Being beyond. In my limited understanding I look at this proof, and I know all this will turn out OK. I'm not saying that this will end in such a way that I will see the rewards and feel the joy of life. That's not always the goal, but I do know that people will learn, compassion will surface, and the Great Creator continue to care for us, even when we no longer care for one another.
These are the only facts that I have, which I got on the way home from a funeral. Shorty after receiving this news, I also discovered another friend has been hiding her health struggles. After 14 years of watching a beloved mother struggle with Lupus, we wait for the word on her test results. Of course if it's not Lupus it's some unknown thing that causes pain and depression beyond the life circumstances of the anniversary of the death of her mother on the day she goes to trail as a witness for the murder of a friend. Yesterday was full of information.
I can't even say it was too much information, or not enough. Certainly I don't have all the facts for the one, and there may be serious issues, while the other could have continued to keep her struggles to herself. Actually, it's probably a very good thing that she didn't, and didn't yesterday at that precise time. I was barely maintaining in my anxieties. Not the social anxieties that keep me close to the house, but the health anxieties that started all of this.
One of the beauties of being an observant woman in her thirties, is knowing one's own body. Being familiar with your self in a physical way means noticing when there's a pain that wasn't there yesterday, or the that just stared and won't seem to go away. When you are aware of your person, you become aware not of just the obvious monthly irritations, but the flow of emotions and sensations that lead through the process. When these changes all come together to affect your personality, you know you have a problem and need professional help.
Of course that doesn't mean the professionals know anything more than you do about your body and how it works. They may have a general knowledge that is greater, but the Creator made each of us with variations, meaning that our bodies don't work like factory machines, but like the handmade guns of the Revolutionary war. Firing pins and barrels were different sizes and cleaning and putting together one Bessie didn't mean the next one would go together exactly the same way. A soldier probably could preform with another man's weapon, but not as smoothly as his own, because he knew the nuances of his hand crafted weapon.
People are very much the same, even carrying within them that same ability to take life. When this weapon we are borrowing misfires, we turn to a gun-smith to aid us. Maybe they have a unique specialties in metallurgy and how specific chemicals mix to make the strongest steel, or we just need the butt carved to fit our shoulder better.
Whatever Master-smith we seek, we put our faith in their knowledge and ability to fix what we do not understand.
As straining as it may be to wait out the investigation of the problem and then the resolutions for those who have the money to pay, those without funds strain more then their budgets. Not many people like going to the doctor, but have you ever had to try to figure out if it was more important to go to the grocery or to the doctor? It happens. When you have neither the money to pay a doctor, chances are you don't have the money to pay the insurance that is supposed to aid you in going to the doctor.
I don't, that's why I am so shaken up over this most recent death. Make no mistake, I am seriously worried for his brother and our circle of those who will find it difficult to process the loss of someone our own age, for reasons that we cannot understand. The living is my greatest concern, and me the least of these. But I know I am not the only one in fear of what I see.
Because this brings it beyond the simplest fear of "Am I going to die from whatever is ailing me?" to "Something preventable will kill me because I won't go to the doctor in time." How many times have you seen a statement about how "the underprivileged" die of (fill in the blank with whatever disease) more than anyone else and it makes you say "Well duh!"? If you don't have money, you can't go to the doctor for regular check ups, much less when you actually are unwell. Most of these things that go in the blank are diseases that can be treated if caught early enough, but you have to be able to go to the doctor to catch them. So of course people who cannot afford a basic doctor's fee is going to die from preventable causes.
It's not that I am asking for "socialist medicine" either. Although I may consider minimal medical opportunities as a basic American right, I understand the principles of the capitalism that we live under. It is not the government's responsibility to provide anything to me other than the permission to breath the air in this space. The law does not state I have a right to food or housing or even that my body will be disposed of when I die. I've read the Declaration and the Constitution. I'm not a legal genius, but I'm not stupid either. I'm just poor.
Being poor doesn't mean I'm lazy either. Every day I wake up and do the only two things I am capable of that improves the condition of the world: I clean or I write, usually both at some point throughout the day. I kind of figure that if I am incapable, for whatever reason, of providing an income for my family, then it is my responsibility to make our physical space appropriate for us. Of course I carry my cleaning a bit too far for the comfort of my family, but they understand that this is my effort to participate in their greater good so that they have a comfortable foundation from which to go forth into the world. In addition to these physical things, I also do whatever research and writing required for the day to try to overcome the anxieties that have locked me here. Again, this is something I do for the people I love, not so much for myself.
Even as I write this, I can see how basically useless I in my poverty might seem to those who have established careers. Even those who understand the value of a good home may have doubts as to my motivations. To an outsider I probably seem lazy. Does that mean I don't have the right to live? Because that's what I feel like others are telling me through their actions. Even though it was not me specifically who was given prescriptions and sent home to die, I have recently been told that, because the problem isn't immediately mortal, the doctor would not treat me. No, I do not have all the facts, and I do plan to undertake an in depth investigation as soon as it is appropriate, but sometimes the facts have little to do with the consequences.
I am only one person but I know there are others who will feel the kinds of despair and fear this man's death has caused. There are many of us who knew him who are just as likely to join him for the same reason-we put off going to a doctor because of the money. I do not care if I die myself, likely a remnant of extreme and constant pain, but I do care if others go through this torture. I understand that I have copious amounts of love and support to see me through my days and my fears. Even those who have similar affirmation in their lives, cannot possibly have it to the degree that I do, and even so, I have moments when I have to wonder if it is all worth it. How much worse will this be for those people I have known who have no support? It is for those people that I must speak up.
Because my worth is not based on any government's opinion of me. Just because someone else has made it impossible for me to afford basic medical care, does not mean that I don't have as much value to the air I breath as someone who is gainfully employed. I cannot put my faith in the hands of Humans, there are logistics to this reality that are simply beyond sense. But so is God. That which created me gave me the right to breath this air, the same as you. In not being perfect myself, I know that other people will not be either, and I am thankful that I know enough to know that it is only Faith that is perfect.
I do not understand much, but I do understand that if I believe in God, then whatever happens is as it should be. From punishments and disappointment, to rewards and love, each experience leads me to something. When I look, I can see how small incidentals in my life have lead to greater things I could not have expected. Those times when I moved forward on nothing but Faith, I not only survived, but thrived. This is my personal proof for the existence in a Supreme Being beyond. In my limited understanding I look at this proof, and I know all this will turn out OK. I'm not saying that this will end in such a way that I will see the rewards and feel the joy of life. That's not always the goal, but I do know that people will learn, compassion will surface, and the Great Creator continue to care for us, even when we no longer care for one another.