Here's why we need a change in healthcare

We need a change in our healthcare system. That is not a debatable point. Everyone agrees. So let's set that out there from the get - we need a change. Next, let's look at the different components to the existing system so we can figure out what to change. On second thought, scratch that. We can't. There are too many and I'm not that smart.

So instead let's look at the ones I can think of and have something to say about. I'm nothing if not honest. I know this is a BIG topic and there are alot of strong opinions, emotions, and - yes - some facts that come into play. I'm setting out the stuff that matters most to me and hoping it strikes a chord with some. For others, other issues may be of concern.

That's the nice thing about our country. Lots of us. Lots of opinions. All heard. None shouted down. None diminished in importance because of lack of popularity or AM radio time. It's one of the things that distinguishes us from a socialist society.

Here's what I care about:

This is an economic issue. We have to have a healthy, striving and sustainable economy in order to produce everything we need and enjoy - including healthcare. The problem is the U.S. is competing in a global market on an uneven playing field. Our corporations and our workers are carrying undue burdens related to healthcare costs and inefficiencies.

The United States spends twice as much on health care per capita ($7,129) than any other country . . . and spending continues to increase. In 2005, the national health care expenditures totaled $2 trillion. Source: National Center for Health Statistics (Pesky little facts.)

These problems amount to kicking us in the shin with the blade of an ice skate as we try to run in that global rat race.

In 2006, the percentage of Americans without health insurance was 15.8%, or approximately 47 million uninsured people. Source: US Census Bureau. (That's a fact.) That's more than the last registered population of the entire country of Spain. (That's an estimate, since the numbers I saw ranged from 43 to 45 million.) Can you imagine kicking everyone in Spain in the shin every morning as they got up for work? Big job. Very expensive. Bad for the Spaniards. And after a few days, you'd better believe, some of those folks would be less effective at work.

This is a general welfare issue. Swine flu is going to kill how many people this year? Yet my children's school can only afford to bring a nurse in on a part-time basis. (That is a fact.) Nearly a thousand people incubating in a building with scary-movie-type levels of hand touching, sniffle wiping, cough spreading and related germ spreading activities going on all day. Don't you think that if we had a healthcare system that provided reasonable, accessible care more parents might take their children in for preventive care - or immediate care during the early stages of an illness or injury? (That is an open question.)

Instead, because a large majority of the students in my children's school qualify for free or reduced lunch, one can infer that many of those same families do not have healthcare coverage. We infer this because free or reduced lunches are linked to poverty. Poverty is often linked to under- or un-employment. Private healthcare costs would make it highly unlikely that a person who meets the free or reduced lunch poverty requirements would have sufficient income to cover private healthcare costs.

In fact, the primary reason given for lack of health insurance coverage in 2005 was cost (more than 50%), lost job or a change in employment (24%), Medicaid benefits stopped (10%), ineligibility for family insurance coverage due to age or leaving school (8%). Source: National Center for Health Statistics.

Sadly, this doesn't even account for the families that don't (or won't claim to) qualify for assistance. How do I know? My family is one. I am an educated, articulate, professional person, with a job and a mortgage. I have a reasonably clean home (don't check today, but if you call first...). I speak English. Pretty well. I am a natural-born citizen. But my job does not include healthcare coverage and the costs of buying private insurance would render us incapable of owning a home, despite being a two-working-parent household. So we go without. Say what you want to say about Blago but his healthcare program for children has saved our family.

Frankly, I'm shocked it's taken this long. After all, I'm entitled to general welfare in the constitution. In fact, my non-socialist country is supposed to PROMOTE general welfare. To me, that means encourage, support, provide resources for and allow the welfare to flourish. That's why my government provides for education, fire and police protection, a legal system, public libraries, postal service and so forth. My government, through and by the people, provides for my welfare in all of these ways. How is it that my health is not related to my welfare?

Moreover, we've long overlooked the question of morality as it relates to national healthcare. The United States as a world power and leader in the world falls woefully short in this regard. We still, as tarnished as we are, provide a beacon of light for others to follow.

But from 2000 to 2006, overall inflation in the U.S. increased 3.5%, wages increased 3.8%, and health care premiums increased 87%. Source: Kaiser Family Foundation (Statistics/Facts.)

That is unconscionable. The powers-that-be are well aware that as costs increase in such grotesque disproportion to wages, families fall away from the system. The end result is that we fail to protect more and more people from simple things like common illness, injuries and chronic (but treatable) diseases. Horrid.

Further, our stellar system results in our ranking as 43rd in lowest infant mortality rate, down from 12th in 1960 and 21st in 1990. We're getting worse and not better? Given our improvements in education and technology, that's not very American or very moral, is it? It means we're using our know-how and tools, but not to protect even the tiniest of American lives? What kind of example does that set? What does that teach the children who make it past that first year?

Some of the other 42 nations that have a lower infant mortality rate than the US include Hong Kong, Slovenia, and Cuba. Source: CIA Factbook (2008) So, Slovenia, huh? They can teach us a thing or two, I guess. (That is sarcasm.)

What's more? For as many people who come here seeking our oustanding care, there are people who leave the United States not because the healthcare is not good, but because it is inaccessible. A friend from work travels to Colombia every year, leaving her job and husband behind for a month, to take her developmentally disabled daughter to an intensive therapy camp that would be available to her here, but is too expensive for her parents to afford and isn't covered by their plan. It's free in Colombia because the woman holds dual citizenship.

I have another friend whose son is autistic. She's been fighting with her local school district for help covering astronomical (tens of thousands of dollars) costs for a therapy that's helping her son to talk and communicate, because the school can't provide it and won't help her pay for it. If she can't get her son the help he needs, he'll be always dependent on his little brother. Both lives, as well as those of the parents, forever tormented. Is that moral? Is it necessary in the richest country on earth?

My own mother is reduced to living quietly the most modest of lives because she is tied to her employer's disability plan which stipulates that she can't be found doing anything remotely identifiable as 'liesure' because that would mean she wasn't disabled. We've begged her to go on the tiniest vacations with us - even to Wisconsin for a day - but she won't because she's terrified of losing her coverage and having to depend on us to help with her expenses. After all the life she's lived, she deserves better, and I am heartbroken every day that I can't provide it for her. It is immoral to allow her to live out her remaining days in this state, at the hands of a country that she has always loved, served and cared for so diligently. It is immoral because we can do better.

Taking care of our citizenry, however, is not a step toward socialism. Ever heard of Medicare? Seen a VA Hospital? In fact, a revamp of our healthcare policies will be a life-saving step toward reviving the capitalist system, allowing us to shake off the burdens of an overly expensive and ineffective system that does not keep our people in good health and precludes us from greater success in the world. Plus - look what the debate has already done to reinvigorate the democratic process!

As for the woes of the private sector as it contemplates the prospect of competing against the government, puhleeze. The government competes with private sector all the time. You can't have it both ways - either the quality will be awesome which will force the private sector to up its game, or the quality will be lacking and it will give the private sector everything it needs to succeed. There are examples of this everywhere in our every day lives. Have you ever used FedEx instead of the post office? Have you ever gone to Border's instead of the library? Ever seen a security guard at a mall instead of local police officer? Ever gone into a public school instead of hiring a private tutor? Gotten on a bus or train instead of in your private car? The government can provide an alternative and you can choose it or choose something else. That's the definition of friggin capitalism, NOT socialism.

A healthcare system that would have private, corporate and government options and would include competitive prices, a broader marketplace and a wider distribution of services is NOT socialist. We are not going to start wearing fatigues and combat boots if we can go to a local healthcare provider the same as we'd go to our local police station or our local library or our local state rep's office. Stop acting like the President of the United States is in cahoots with some radical underground socialist movement trying to make us all die slow deaths in line for treatment at some dingy clinic where the doctors all have hippie beards and smoke weed while they stroke our chests with feathers. It's ridiculous and beneath us as intelligent people discussing a critical issue in our country.

The fact is (ok, ok, my opinion is) the President and all self-aware and self-preserving policy makers are responding to a desperate need in our country that, when addressed, will lift an anvil off our shoulders and free us to be more competitive, healthier, more globally responsible, moral, capitalist pigs.

Amen and applie pie to that, my friends.

It was the potty training

Have you ever heard my reason for not having more children? It was the potty training. Specifically, it was potty training the twins. They turned nine yesterday. And I'm still traumatized from the experience. It's been seven years. I shudder as I recount it for you here.

We'd been living in the house for about a year or so. I was feeding all three children lunch and, as part of my potty training regimen, was preparing to take the twins to sit on their potties after they'd finished eating. This was the same routine I had with their older sister years before and it had worked pretty well.

I would sit with them, encouraging them to use the potty and reading our potty book. Sam was catching on, but Sara was too prudish to cooperate. Still, she was compliant with the sitting and I figured at some point she'd give in.

On the particular day in question, as I led them to the bathroom, my son informed me that his cousin had instructed him to have 'pie vet see' in the bathroom. 'Boys need pie vet sees in potties,' he said, 'Meme said.'

'Wha? I don't care what he told you. You cannot eat in the bathroom!'

'No, no,' he protested, 'Pievet. See'. He was speaking to me slowly. Irony dripping.

I'm a doe in headlights. Blink. Blink.

'Privacy,' Lucy translated, with the heavy sigh she's perfected over the years.

'Aaaah!'

I told him that he and Sara always went together, thinking he was trying to rid himself of her company since she wasn't much of a pottier. No. He informed me that she was no intrusion on his privacy, but I was. Fine. Not the first nor the last time I was going to get shoved off by one of my darlings.

I got them both situated, left the door slightly ajar and went back to the kitchen to clean up.

A few minutes into my cleanup, the radar went off. Too quiet. Got that crinkly feeling on the back of my neck. Figured, at worst, they were sitting on the sofa with no diapers getting ready to introduce my bought-it-when-I-was-childless-fabulous couch to strained carrots and boiled chicken, the impolite way. I figured that'd be the worst because I hadn't yet seen the worst.

I approached the bathroom and heard them gibbering in there. Good sign. Couch safe! I stood in the hallway between the dining room and bathroom, peering in to check without disturbing the privacy I'd been instructed to respect.

There were my two adorable babies... they were naked from the waste down... staring down at their respective potties.... bellies full, hands on hips... but... what was that?

"No, Sam," I heard Sara say sternly. "That's not enough. Put mas [the Spanish word for 'more'] in there."

Whereby Sam dutifully stuck his hands in one potty, and scooped his waste from it into the other potty.

"Is that good?"

I came into focus. The horror swept over me in waves.
"I think so," Sara mused.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH," I barged in, saying the only intelligent thing I could think of.

The rest of the scene becomes a blur again.

"Look, mommy!" Sara beamed, "I made caca in the potty!"

"No, Sara. No you did not!" I screamed, "that is Sam's caca. You put your caca in her potty?!" I demanded of him. Whereafter my beautiful boy took his hands out from behind his back where he'd tucked them when I stormed in, smeared them all over my freshly painted peach walls, held them up, full of poop he'd forgotten about and looked at me with those eyes. "No, mommy, I didn't. I swear."

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH," I screamed again. Not the first nor the last time words have failed me in the process of parenting.

I grabbed them both by the waist, hoisted one under each arm, Sara giggling, Sam starting to whimper, marched them up the stairs to the full bath, bathed them thoroughly, redressed each and put them to bed. By this time, they'd all sensed the situation had become dangerous enough where Lucy actually put herself down to nap and the twins said nary a word as I barged back down the stairs to clean the scene of the disaster. I was well into it when I heard the front door. I can only imagine what I looked like when my husband walked in. Smelling of pine sol, feces and furor I approached him.

"The babies are upstairs," I said through clenched teeth. "It is my Christian upbringing that has kept them alive this day. I am going out now. You're in charge." I paced slowly past him. He just stood there, nervously, not saying a word. "Oh. And there's poop on the walls in the bathroom." And I walked out.

I honestly can't say where I went. I don't remember. I do remember rinsing myself off with the hose outside and I remember coming back to a pretty clean and stable house. We never spoke of it that night, nor in the days after. It took me a long while to recompose myself. But there are still scars. I have dreams. I can't walk down the plastic potty aisle at Target without shivering. And, of course, I can never potty train again. Never. AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH.

Searching For the Right Word

I attended the funeral services of our neighbor yesterday, the woman who taught my children how to say sunshine in Polish. It sounds like 'swonechka'. (I just know I'm mangling the spelling.) She taught it to them because that's what she called them. "Hello sunshine!" she'd call to the babies as they came spilling out of the house. She'd dig in her pockets for lollipops and pass them out like, well, candy. They loved her.

If the day was nice, we'd stand on the sidewalk for a bit and watch the kids sugar up. While we did, we'd chat about this or that. She'd fret about the condition of her grass, I'd sympathize. She'd gossip about neighbors, I'd gossip back. And now and then she'd tell me little bits and pieces of her life story. Before she came to live across the street from the house I'm now raising my family in, she'd lost her family in a war. She suffered time in concentration camps (including Auschwitz), faced the prospect of death more than once, served in the army, participated in an uprising, and survived. She lived in Poland, in Italy and then England. She married a suave young man, a singer, and started a family.

She arrived in the U.S. in the late 1940s and went about the business of being normal, whatever that means. She raised a son and a daughter here, worked hard, tended her garden, cared for her husband until the day he died, loved her grandchildren dearly, and through it all, maintained close bonds with all the Polish friends who joined her in the states. She kept faith with her church, got her hair done every Saturday, and never left the house without makeup. She was powder-scented, soft-cheeked and fine, with restrained elegance and a ready laugh.

I know I'm not getting it right - the picture of her that you must have in order to know who she was - resiliant, beautiful, steady, weak sometimes but always trying, lovely and full of life. She was a surprise and happy greeting, she was what lifted you when you were down, she was strong and constant and good. So then, perhaps the only way to describe her is by using a word she might use herself. Teresa was 'swonechka'... sunshine. And, oh, how I'll miss her.

No Fish, A Wish, and Delish

We've discussed here before how important it is to make someone happy. I'm sure we've also touched on how darn hard that can be. And then, some times, it all lines up just right and it seems so simple. We have had several difficult weeks at work and the constant pitter patter of doomsday's feet coming down the hall at us has taken its toll. I spent the last week posting morose daily ditties on facebook about how each day of the week was as agonizingly bad as the one before. But a gal can be miserable for only so long.

So I spent all day yesterday wondering how I'd turn the page, so to speak. Before I left for work I promised the kids we'd have a little treat when we got home. As I sat at my desk, I reviewed my options and settled on the idea of some late afternoon fishing at the harbor. I pictured us all lined up on the wall, feet dangling, poles in the water, lakefront scenes providing a backdrop to a happy summer evening for our family. Perfect! Then I pictured all the schlepping of equipment and chairs and snacks and the rest. I pictured my husband swearing under his breath as child after child dropped his/her worm into the water and asked for a new one. And I pictured trekking back and forth to the port-a -potty where child after child would insisit he/she could 'hold it instead'. Not the picture I was looking for. So I decided.

No fish.

After I felt like I'd scanned all the other possibilities and discounted them for one reason or another, I was starting to feel a little helpless. My Facebook status update blinked at me expectantly. My husband's moping became near-neanderthal in appearance as bad news reached epidemic levels in the office. Kids called, sounding so full of fun as they awaited our arrival for the big family night I had yet to plan. Seriously a "Calgon, take me awayyyyy" moment. But we don't have a tub at the office and it'd been a little weird for me to disrobe and put flowers in my hair for a bubble bath anyway.

So, I made a wish.

'Lord, please let me find a way to make this happen.' No bushes set aflame, although in fairness we don't have those in the office either, so I figured it was no luck but worth a shot. I continued to perform the manic task of mentally evaluating all options and then ticking them off the list as quickly as they appeared. It was frantic and exhausting. As we got in the car to go home, I had nothing.

Then, a few blocks from home, I blurted out to my husband, "We're going to Millenium Park!" Don't ask me where that came from; I've no idea. Oddly, he asked "Why? What's at Millenium Park?" Ack! I hadn't thought of that. Why would he want to know that?

If you ever hear me complain about my new cell phone (which sucks, but I'm not going there right now) remind me of this. In mere seconds I had pulled up the schedule for the park and discovered they were having an open-air performance at the pavilion. Score! We went home, packed a few things to eat and a cooler, got the kids ready and off we went. Parking was pretty easy and we found a spot close to the stage. We all sat down, bits of music tinkling in the air, the city starting to twinkle as dusk set in, all the colors and flavors represented. Then it started.

Have you ever seen Handel's Acis and Galatea? I began to panic. The mangificence of the venue aside, I've probably experienced more delight in the performance of wet socks cycling through a laundromat dryer than I did at that show. A few minutes into it I thought I was going to cry. The kids were entirely focused on eating, my husband was growing irate with their constant crinkling of packages and bouncing out of seats, and I was mortified that my lovely evening was going up in flames. And then it happened. The Lord took time away from his busy schedule to cast his favor upon me - upon all of us - and it happened.

As the orchestra played, my husband turned to me and whispered gravely, "Be vewwwwy quiet. I'm hunting wwwahhhbbit." I almost lost my full bladder. What a night! We stayed for the whole thing, the kids alternately listening and then giggling to themselves, my husband and I sitting a row behind them, arm in arm, taking in the air and sound and sparkle. After, we all went for a walk through the park, exploring exhibits, stopping to gaze and amaze, joking, laughing, holding hands. We ended with a splash-walk through the Crown fountain and back to the car, where losing our parking ticket was no match for the night we had.

Quite simply, delish.

Fascist My Ascist

Some of this stuff I picture being said by a person dressed from coiffe to shod in drool and spittle. The sad truth is its being spewed by perfectly good, nice, and otherwise 'normal' people. I like some of these people. But some of what is being said is at least nonsense and at the far end, hateful. Read my response to a chain email I received, along with the original note below, to understand why I feel this way.

From Webster's online dictionery - fas·cism Pronunciation: \ˈfa-ˌshi-zəm also ˈfa-ˌsi-\ Function: noun Etymology: Italian fascismo, from fascio bundle, fasces, group, from Latin fascis bundle & fasces fasces Date: 1921 1often capitalized : a political philosophy, movement, or regime (as that of the Fascisti) that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression of opposition2: a tendency toward or actual exercise of strong autocratic or dictatorial control
So the president's plan is fascist, is it? He exalts nation and often race above the individual, through his healthcare plan; he stands for a centralized autocratic government according to the health plan; he seeks to lead the government as a dictator, as far as the healthcare plan is concerened; the plan includes severe economic and social regimentation; and there will be forcible suppresion of opposition both about and within the president's health care proposal. Huh. I didn't get that part.
The short title is so misleading, then: ‘‘America’s Affordable Health Choices Act of 2009’’. Choices. Clearly a fascist lie. The dictator Obama shows himself to be a real clown offering this kind of language in a fascist proposal: "Protecting the choice to keep current coverage." Aha!! And this Communist quote directly from the plan "A qualified health benefits plan may not impose any pre-existing condition exclusion..." offers plenty of insight into how he plans to handle the race issue. Race is, after all, pre-existing for most of us.
Then, the autocratic maniac has the nerve to insert this little tidbit? "The requirements... relating to guaranteed availability and renewability of health insurance coverage, shall apply to individuals and employers in all individual and group health insurance coverage, whether offered to individuals or employers through the Health Insurance Exchange, through any employment-based health plan, or otherwise, in the same manner as such sections apply to employers and health insurance coverage offered in the small group market, except that such section... shall apply only if, before nonrenewal or discontinuation of coverage, the issuer has provided the enrollee with notice of non payment of premiums and there is a grace period during which the enrollees has an opportunity to correct such nonpayment. Rescissions of such coverage shall be prohibited except in cases of fraud..."
I could go on and on. From my point of view, the writer of the analysis below is not particularly bright and shows his bias more clearly than he does his point. All the great men and women that have gone before Obama, and I say that with tongue firmly planted in cheek, have done nothing to address this horrible, embarrassing, in some cases criminal, problem in our country. I'm glad beyond glad that Obama is addressing it, whether the plan is perfect or not. The brilliance of our form of government does not come in each individual step. It comes in the way of the indomitable spirit of the individual joining hands with the collective to move forward; the incredible strength of our self-correction through government of the people, by the people and for the people; the struggle to do, to climb, to pursue, to fly and to provide the opportunity for all of us to have the chances we would not have anywhere else.

Fascist? Hardly.

THE ONE WORD TO DESCRIBE OBAMACARE



Written by Dr. Dave Janda
Thursday, 23 July 2009
As a physician who has authored books on preventative health care, I was given the opportunity to be the keynote speaker at a Congressional Dinner at The Capitol Building in Washington last Friday (7/17). The presentation was entitled Health Care Reform, The Power & Profit of Prevention, and I was gratified that it was well received. In preparation for the presentation, I read the latest version of "reform" as authored by The Obama Administration and supported by Speaker Pelosi and Senator Reid. Here is the link to the 1,018 page document: http://edlabor.house.gov/documents/111/pdf/publications/AAHCA-BillText-071409.pdf Let me summarize just a few salient points of the above plan. First, however, it should be clear that the same warning notice must be placed on The ObamaCare Plan as on a pack of cigarettes: Consuming this product will be hazardous to your health. The underlying method of cutting costs throughout the plan is based on rationing and denying care. There is no focus on preventing health care need whatever. The plan's method is the most inhumane and unethical approach to cutting costs I can imagine as a physician. The rationing of care is implemented through The National Health Care Board, according to the plan. This illustrious Board "will approve or reject treatment for patients based on the cost per treatment divided by the number of years the patient will benefit from the treatment." Translation.....if you are over 65 or have been recently diagnosed as having an advanced form of cardiac disease or aggressive cancer.....dream on if you think you will get treated.....pick out your coffin. Oh, you say this could never happen? Sorry.... this is the same model they use in Britain .The plan mandates that there will be little or no advanced treatments to be available in the future. It creates The Federal Coordinating Council For Comparative Effectiveness Research, the purpose of which is "to slow the development of new medications and technologies in order to reduce costs." Yes, this is to be the law. The plan also outlines that doctors and hospitals will be overseen and reviewed by The National Coordinator For Health Information and Technology. This " coordinator" will "monitor treatments being delivered to make sure doctors and hospitals are strictly following government guidelines that are deemed appropriate." It goes on to say....."Doctors and hospitals not adhering to guidelines will face penalties." According to those in Congress, penalties could include large six figure financial fines and possible imprisonment. So according to The ObamaCare Plan....if your doctor saves your life you might have to go to the prison to see your doctor for follow -up appointments. I believe this is the same model Stalin used in the former Soviet Union . Section 102 has the Orwellian title, "Protecting the Choice to Keep Current Coverage." What this section really mandates is that it is illegal to keep your private insurance if your status changes - e.g., if you lose or change your job, retire from your job and become a senior, graduate from college and get your first job. Yes, illegal.When Mr. Obama hosted a conference call with bloggers urging them to pressure Congress to pass his health plan as soon as possible, a blogger from Maine referenced an Investors Business Daily article that claimed Section 102 of the House health legislation would outlaw private insurance. He asked: "Is this true? Will people be able to keep their insurance and will insurers be able to write new policies even though H.R. 3200 is passed?" Mr. Obama replied: "You know, I have to say that I am not familiar with the provision you are talking about." Then there is Section 1233 of The ObamaCare Plan, devoted to "Advanced Care Planning." After each American turns 65 years of age they have to go to a mandated counseling program that is designed to end life sooner. This session is to occur every 5 years unless the person has developed a chronic illness then it must be done every year. The topics in this session will include, "how to decline hydration, nutrition and how to initiate hospice care." It is no wonder The Obama Administration does not like my emphasis on Prevention. For Mr. Obama, prevention is the "enemy" as people would live longer.I rest my case. The ObamaCare Plan is hazardous to the health of every American.After I finished my Capitol Hill presentation, I was asked by a Congressman in the question-answer session: "I'll be doing a number of network interviews on the Obama Health Care Plan. If I am asked what is the one word to describe the plan what should I answer." The answer is simple, honest, direct, analytical, sad but truthful. I told him that one word is FASCIST.Then I added, "I hope you'll have the courage to use that word, Congressman. No other word is more appropriate."Dr. Dave Janda, MD, is an orthopedic surgeon, and a world-recognized expert on the prevention of sports injuries, particularly in children. His website is noinjury.com.

Oh brother... I wish I had one

Did you ever have a day when you wish you had someone to lean on? It doesn't even have to be a tragic day. Just one of those days. When you need someone who's a little bit taller than you, stronger and kind? It can't be someone you're married to because that person is the someone you always lean on. And if your spouse is like my honey, he or she already has a permanent dent where your head usually rests.
So it has to be someone who doesn't often hold you up. Just someone who knows you, loves you, and wants to comfort you for no better reason than because you need comfort. And don't say 'God', because much as I love the Lord, some days it is necessary to feel the palpable strength He provides in the way of a human touch. (I believe this is why God invented massage therapy too.) So it has to be a big, strong person with some vested interest in your peace of mind and not enough day-to-day mingling with your problems to find you annoying. And it has to be someone accessible. And not someone too nurturing or soft. You need someone more stiff and non-maternal. So it has to be a brother.
I always tell my girls "Don't torture your brother. Some day, you'll need him." I wish my mother had thought of that because today, I need mine. I need to tell him I'm worried and have him smile at me and tell me it'll all be alright. I need to whine about my problems and have him give me some smartass response so I forget to be self-indulgent. I need him to smell like cotton and man and faintly like my childhood. I need him to look a little bit like me and have my laugh or something like that. I need my big brother to let me lean on his shoulder while he just sits there waiting for me to get over it all, even if he's holding a remote and not really paying attention. I just need my brother. But I don't have one of those.
So, onward, with my head slightly tilted in anticipation of a place to rest where none exists, with my problems firmly planted on my own two shoulders, and my thanks to that benevolent God for granting me the blessing of giving my girls the brother I never had. I could receive no greater comfort than that.

Wondering, Wonder and Shame

Ever wonder what it'd be like to go on a cross-country road trip with your husband and small children? Imagine it with full-color and smell-o-vision. You might get a waft of the relative freshness of gas-station restrooms across the miles, as compared to the human-fume-infused, infrared-nostril-searing scent in your car. Perhaps you would feel every fiber of your comfort-cushion seats screeching across your body as you struggle to rest with 40 mind-numbing hours listening to bad crackle and worse country music on the pleading-for-silence radio behind you. Or maybe you would envision the roadside discourse with an oversealous tan-clad state trooper who feels morally compelled to tell you that he's doing you a favor as he writes you a $255 ticket instead of jailing you for fleeing his state at top-gun speeds in your minivan. You could picture all those things and you'd have a good idea what'd be like.

But if those visions kept you from taking the trip, you might miss so much more.

You'd fail to see your husband huff and puff his way to the top of a rest-station background hill with seven kids in tow, just to show them what the mountain ranges beyond look like. Even better is watching them all come back down, flushed and excited because the road ahead looks so spectacular.

You'd miss supervising your children as they carefully select the three rocks you're permitting them to take in the car. You can't imagine the depth of emotion invested in choosing one for color, one for texture and one 'just because I have a good feeling about it'.

You would lose the chance to lean back on the massive rock-walls of the grand canyon with the heat of your children pressing upon you as you all gaze up at the milky way. It's one of those magic-on-Earth moments to see your child reach out with a wide grasp, convinced he can touch a star, smiling to himself, twinkling in his own right as he reflects the shimmer of the glistening sky beyond.

And then you might also miss having your baby, er big girl, who usually spends most of her time barrelling down on teen years like the rock that famously chased Indiana Jones, take on the countenance of a babe-in-arms as she delights in simple pool-splashing and ice-cream devouring afternoons. So delish!

If you allowed the worries to overcome the wonder, you might miss the chance of a lifetime to be with your family and love them all the way across the plains, through the mountains, into the desert, over the hills, past the storms, beyond the farms, and back into the familiar lights of your city home, completely spent and thoroughly thrilled, in a good-tired kind of way.

Now wouldn't that be a shame?