From a client

To Whom it May Concern:

I thank God for the Parish Nurse Programs, President Bush's Faith Based Initiative Programs, Walmart, and Champaign County Christian Health Center.

Here's why--

In 1983, life as I knew it (and as most people would know it) was over for me. My wife had a paranormal meltdown (Western science classify her as an untreated, paranoid, schizophrenic.) Work on my Doctorate of Engineering Internship program with McDonnell Douglas Automation Company in Saint Louis came to an abrupt end as I spent the next 5 years at home trying to keep my wife calm.

In 1988, she was calm enough so she would allow herself to be taken to a hospital. Having no insurance, we got shuttled off to the Missouri State Mental Hospital of Saint Louis, where the admitting psychiatrist asked 2 questions: 1) was she homicidal? No. 2) was she suicidal? No.

Then we were sent away because of funding cuts. No state money was available for outpatient treatment, let alone hospital confinement.

We then left Saint Louis and returned to Champaign, IL.

This past fall of 2008, the parish nurses at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church said my blood pressure was too high to go any longer without medical treatment. I am the sole support and only contact person my wife has. Dying on her is not an option.

So I went to the Illinois Department of Human Services (IL DHS) and filled out the forms asking for medical assistance only for myself. (My wife will still not seek medical treatment for herself. "All doctors are quacks" is her belief. Also, a lawyer friend tells me forcing her against her will to seek medical attention is kidnapping, still frowned up in this country. And that assumes I have the finances to pay for the treatment, which I don't as I'm still one of the medically uninsured in this country.)

IL DHS said my application was incomplete because I didn't apply for disability benefits for my wife who I stated is not working. (She's never worked a day in her life and is totally incapable of doing so.)

I reiterated to IL DHS I was only seeking medical assistance for myself, no benefits of any kind for my wife and no food stamps.

My application was then declined with no reason given. I suspect I had three strikes against me: white, male, and no children in the household.

Next I tried the Francis Nelson Clinic, followed their procedure of telephoning in with a description of my medical condition, and that someone would call me back. From September 2008 to January 2009, I have had no followup contact from the Francis Nelson Clinic.

I also called the Champaign County Christian Health Center (CCCHC) at that time and was admitted as a new patient the next day (this was in September 2008). Besides the high blood pressure, I was also found to be diabetic with extremely high blood sugar levels. Diagnosis and diet change suggestions from CCCHC with prescriptions filled at Walmart has brought down my blood sugar levels significantly. I'm working on getting the blood pressure down, but progress is not as rapid as with the blood sugar levels. There is still a tremendous amount of stress in my life that I can't control due to my wife's condition.

But with the prayers (yes Virginia, there really is a God) and the medical attention provided by CCCHC, I'm not as worried about dying prematurely and having my wife become another 'crazy' homeless person.

I appear to be one of those people who "fall through the cracks" of the healthcare system in this country. It's organizations like CCCHC who are the only institutions there to catch people like me. I learned a long time ago (1988), that you can't rely on the states or federal governments to help you when you hit the wall.

I Love My Job

Last week Wild Will came in - he's an elderly man who is bipolar and has some major thyroid problems. He lives in a shack with his 12 dogs, all dobermans. He's always crusty and smells and shouts because his hearing's pretty bad. And he always likes to tell people he's bipolar and often suicidal - he'll say while looking you straight in the eye. That week, he brought someone with him. Clean, tall, pleasant-looking young guy - Ray. Good voice, good handshake. Gave Will a ride to clinic. I sat down next to Will and asked how he and Ray were acquainted but Will was coy and wouldn't say. He left for the bathroom and Ray explained that he worked at the Humane Society and investigated animal cruelty. He first met Will because of his 12 dobermans and had to make sure every dog was being properly fed and taken care of. Of course, they weren't, so Ray decided that he'd check up on Wild Will regularly, make sure the dogs were OK. Turns out that not only was Will unable take care of the dogs, he couldn't take care of himself. His health was failing and soon went into respite care. So? Ray decides to take Will into his home, to take care of him and his dogs. Stinky old cantankerous wild wild Will. He has bad hygiene. He's a little crazy, officially. His med schedule is a nightmare. He comes with 12 other bodies that need care. But Ray and his young wife are taking this old man into their home to be his family, at least while they can. Why? Ray says, "Because we know it's the right thing to do."

Some days, the human race amazes me. This was one of those days - I was optimistic about my existence and I was thankful to have a "ball-and-chain" that gave me the chance to meet Will and Ray. I love my job.

It's Always Burnin'

I was working at the coffee shop today - woke up at 5:15AM after going to bed around 3AM. It's $2-Latte Day which means the line of customers looking for their fix is forever and ever. The lack of sleep destroys me on Latte Day.

There was this older gentleman that came in. He was a cyclist and wore his helmet, shades, biker spandex, the whole shebang. He ordered a coffee instead of the mainstream choice ($2-latte). It was a dreary day but right as he came up to the counter I glanced at his riding gear, took a quick look outside and saw that it was sunny for the first time. I smiled and mentioned how nice it was that the sun came out out, not really caring about the sun but more to make conversation and to affirm his choice to ride his bike, especially since the weather seemed to be clearing up. Then he said the most lovely thing in his slow, wobbly voice:

"The sun's always out."

I had to stop and process and eventually realized that this was entirely true. I said, "You are so right. The sun is always out - I guess it's the clouds that roll away." And then he says:

"Yep. It's always burnin'. Have a fun day."

I'm going to my interview now. Over and out.

Ignore Fred & Ginger

I love OSCAR.

Global Rage

"... The currency of the term tolerance has recently become badly debased. When it used to mean the respecting of real, hard differences, it has come to mean instead a dogmatic abdication of truth-claims and a moralistic adherence to moral relativism - departure from either of which is stigmatized as intolerance."  -- Meic Pearse, Why The Rest Hates The West

"Openness - and the relativism that makes it the only plausible stance in the face of various claims to truth and various ways of life and kinds of human beings - is the great insight of our times. The true believer is the real danger. The study of history and of culture teaches that all the world was mad in the past; men always thought they were right, and that led to wars, persecutions, slavery, xenophobia, racism and chauvinism. The point is not to correct the mistakes and really be right; rather it is not to think you are right at all."  -- Allen Bloom, The Closing of an American Mind

Kiss my backside

"It’s the supreme art of the devil that he can make the law out of the gospel. If I can hold on to the distinction between law and gospel, I can say to him any and every time that he should kiss my backside."

-- Martin Luther

I hope you never read this

I don't even know where to begin - I've known this creature for 5 years and I've talked to him more in the past three weeks than I have those other years combined. He's crass and hairy and slightly unattractive and in a word - leprechaun. He thinks I'm mean and calls me out when I publicly castrate him. His words, not mine. He spits (and sweats) when he gets excited. His taste in women is... paltry. I take him shopping and he forces me to come into the dressing room with him so that no one else can hear my critiques. My choice in pants concerns him because they're tighter than he's used to and "what if I get a boner and everyone sees?" His words, not mine.

He sings Alanis in the car and nothing else. He calls me Hilary Clinton because he says I like to think I can destroy men. He goes to the library and checks out The Spiderwick Chronicles and Ravi Zacharias in the same day. When he gets mad at me he threatens to smear his bare feet all over my pillow.

But he listens to me whine. He buys me food when we hang out and makes me laugh so hard I double over and can't talk for 2 minutes. He tells me he sleeps instead of praying and I nod because so do I. He isn't embarrassed that he cries when he thinks about his future and when I tell him secrets I know he'll keep them. His execution is terrible but his heart is big. So is his head.

He's been a large part of my delicately-held-together sanity the past month. If he knew I was so appreciative of our relationship he would freak out and think I was in love with him and cut me off for life, which is another reason why he's an idiot but the greatest. Happy birthday, my hobbit friend. I hope you never read this.

"There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk around the whole world till we come back to the same place..."

Why is this so difficult?

Metal Heart, You're Not Hiding

Metal Heart, you're not worth a thing.



Oh hidey, hidey, hidey, whatcha tryin' to prove...