Yesterday’s post-surgery first was walking three blocks to deliver a loaf of homemade bread to my boss’ house – and walking back.
Today’s first was 12 minutes on the stationary bike, which would be a big surprise to the nurse at the hospital who told patients not to do that. Those other patients were not me. I’m fairly sure about that.
When last we left god-forsaken Kansas, it was ready to forsake caring for women, even sick women. Perhaps the bill will pass, perhaps not, but that’s not really this issue, in my opinion. No, the real question is where is the AMA? Why does the AMA not step in and insist that legislators knock off this destructive shit that will make doctors all but uninsurable in Kansas and any other state that permits or, as in New Hampshire, demands doctors lie to patients?
It’s the best question the AMA’s website does nothing to address. Have a look at the site. It’s so mild it says nothing at all about anything, really. Fortunately, there’s a contact site, so you can ask the AMA yourself. I wrote a charming, profanity-free letter asking why the AMA is silent when women are harassed, misled, misinformed, mistreated, left untreated and, as far as the statutes are concerned, raped? This is not medical care. It is complicity with torturers.
You too might want to write a letter.
My first mistake was making an appointment to discuss cognitive function and memory loss. My second was to show up on time.
Tata: I have to ask a delicate question.
Receptionist: Why are we whispering?
Tata: Because I have to ask a delicate question. I had a 2:30 appointment with the clinician. A little while ago, he appeared in the doorway and a creepy guy sitting near me got up and followed him. It’s now 2:50 and if the creepy guy was not seeing the clinician, where did they both go? Is it possible the clinician double-booked his appointments?
Receptionist: I…I will go find out for you what happened.
The look of horror on her face told me a few things I didn’t expect to hear. She got up and disappeared down a hallway and a minute later the clinician appeared through the leaves of a potted plant near me. He said something astounding.
Young Doctor: Can you stay for a 3:15?
Tata: Absolutely not.
Young Doctor: You can’t? We’re very busy.
Tata: No. You can call me in the morning at my work number, if you think we should reschedule.
Young Doctor: I’m seeing people every fifteen minutes to accommodate everyone.
Tata: Nathan, we are not off to a good start.
My knitting and I flounced off in a huff. A few hours later, Nathan called on my cell phone. It was not morning and I was not at work. This time, I was prepared to torment him properly.
Tata: Nathan, if you make an appointment with me, you should be ready to see me at that time.
Nathan: I’m very sorry.
Tata: If we can’t agree on that, there’s no sense agreeing on anything else.
Nathan: You’re right, you’re right. I’m very sorry. Sometimes technology gets away from me.
Tata: Nathan, I burned a vacation day to see you.
Nathan: You did? That makes it worse.
I did not say, “Pumpkin, I had 50 of them and my department head has lectures me about dragging my ass outside and vacationing like I mean it.” What, are you kidding? I’m training this kid to take his patients seriously.
Tata: Fine, what sort of time commitment are we talking about for this appointment?
Nathan: The first one is a brief interview, then there are two three-hour tests. We should probably spread those out. The first one we can do by phone.
Tata: That sounds great, since I can recline and eat bonbons. At which, I am great.
Nathan: I get out of clinic at 8:30 p.m. on Wednesday. Is that a bad time to speak?
Tata: That is an excellent time to talk on the phone since I am guaranteed to have discouraged everyone else from talking to me on the phone after dinner. Unless someone’s dead. That better be the reason someone calls me at night.
Nathan: Let’s call it 8:45, then.
Tata: Wednesday, 8:45 it is. Now there’s just one last thing about this cognitive testing you’ll have to know.
Nathan: What’s that?
Tata: You’re going to have to forgive me if I forget to answer the phone.
Oh Arizona, you slay me:
The American Civil Liberties Union’s Reproductive Freedom Project has called Arizona’s proposed law the “most extreme bill of its kind,” one that would be more restrictive than any others currently in force in the US. Although it includes exceptions if the pregnancy poses a threat to the life of the woman, there are no exceptions if, for instance, the fetus is found to have a life-threatening condition or other severe impairment. Banning abortions at the 18-week mark would also preclude women from obtaining information about the condition of the fetus, as many medical tests are either not performed or are not conclusive at that early date.
The bill doesn’t stop there. Under this law, if a doctor performs an abortion after that 18-weeks, he or she can be charged with a crime, have his or her license revoked or suspended, and can be held liable for civil penalties if the father of the fetus decides to pursue legal action. The bill also requires a mandatory ultrasound for anyone seeking an abortion at any stage of pregnancy (hello, transvaginal probes) and mandates that a doctor offer to show a pregnant woman the ultrasound, describe it to her verbally and provide her with a photo of “the unborn child.” It would also require a woman to wait 24 hours after the ultrasound before she can obtain an abortion.
I have a proposal of my own: it’s time to empty a state of religious wackos and let women move there who want to be left the hell alone. No bishops with squishy, dudely feelings. No snake-handling mouthbreaters pounding their fists and parishoners. No church ladies pursing their lips and pushing their daughters through the abortion clinic’s back doors. No more witchhunts and small-town gossip. Out they all go.
In go women who have no use for men with control issues. In go women who will never need a women’s shelter. In go women who get the healthcare they need in peace. Women can make a living there because there’d be no need to compete with men for jobs, so from construction to scientific research: it’s all women. All women, all the time. It’d be a state with one menstrual cycle for all, but few of us really need those anyhow. Children would never need to fear child molesters.
We’ll take South Carolina. It’s kind of nice there and I like the ocean, but I sure would enjoy hearing Jim DeMint and Lindsey Graham kiss women’s asses in vain attempts to keep their jobs. Let the yahoos and godbotherers clear out and we can all have drinks on the porch on long, sunny afternoons. Men in other states would have to reconsider how they treat women because, in fact, women would have someplace better to go. And when you called, Arizona, you might not hear back from us for a long, long time.