Dear White People: This is Your Job.

This post inspired by Spectra’s article in Huffington Post, “Dear White Allies: Stop Unfriending Other White People Over Ferguson.”

Dear White People:

This is my son.

He is eleven years old and in the fifth grade. He is the youngest of my three children. He is brilliant, funny, and caring. He loves Legos and Star Wars and will play video games all day long. Sometimes he goes outside to play with the neighborhood kids – riding bikes, playing basketball, and sometimes pretending to shoot each other with toy guns.

I bet Tamir Rice was a lot like that.

I wonder if he would have come over to play Xbox with my son. Would they have argued over which Avenger character to be, like his other friends do? I can envision Tamir and my son playing together in the yard, leaving their bikes in the driveway, chasing each other down the street while shooting Nerf bullets at each other. I can picture them practicing shooting at the hay target we had set up against the garage all last summer at my mom’s house.

My teenage daughter used that hay target against the garage to practice shooting (real) arrows.

None of the neighbors ever called the cops, because everyone already knows that white girls are not dangerous, right?

Once, my son and a 13 year old neighbor boy got into a fight. Regrettably, my son threw a rock at the other kid’s head. (My son has an impulse control problem for which he receives counseling.) The police were called, all parties were questioned, and the officers left, brushing it off as “boys will be boys.” This is how white boys are treated by the cops.

Tamir Rice was playing in the park with his pellet gun, when the police showed up and shot him. This is how black boys are treated by the cops.

It scares me that one of my son’s friends could be shot by police. I can’t imagine the fear experienced by the mothers of these same children. I don’t know what it would be like to have to teach my son how not to get killed by a policeman when he leaves the house. How do you raise a child to protect themselves from the protectors? I teach my son to ask a police officer for help if he gets lost in public. Other women have to teach their sons how to respond to a police stop and search.

I think it is too easy for us in the white community to ignore the problems of police brutality and racism. We have an option to look away which other people don’t have. It is easier to blame the victim, or talk about the incidence of crime in the African-American population, as I have heard many people do, than to stand up for change. We have been hearing about black people dying on the news for years…what’s one more? It is too easy to see it as not our problem, or to dehumanize the victims. We are ignoring the fact that people are dying. White Americans have to stop thinking of the deceased victims as dangerous criminals who got what they deserved – they are other women’s kids. Young men that used to be the classmates of our sons and daughters are dying. Little boys with dark skin who smiled bright smiles when you brought cupcakes to school on your kid’s birthday are dying. Little boys who stood next to yours at fifth grade graduation, in sharp suits or rumpled uniforms, are dying. The little boys for whom you clapped at each recital, band concert, or talent show, are dying.

Not only do we have a responsibility to do something, but we are in a unique position of having the power to do something. In the Nursing Leadership class for my BSN program, we studied change theory. In the Complex Adaptive Systems change theory, Olsen and Eoyang identify the most powerful components of change in a complex system to be the interactions and relationships of people at the bottom of the ladder, rather than at the top. We have to stop relying on the government to fix the problem, because they can’t. Nurses are trained to influence behavior change in health promotion and education activities, but those same theories can be used to influence change in belief systems. Lewin’s Theory states that in order for change to occur, driving forces for change must be greater than restraining forces (barriers) for change.

It is your job to have the uncomfortable conversations with your in-laws and co-workers. The people who are being oppressed are not there at Christmas dinner to argue on their own behalf when your crazy uncle starts talking about how “black people shoot each other all the time, but one white cop does it and everyone riots.” It is up to each individual person to change the attitudes of the people with whom they interact each day. White people who think that you share the same racist attitudes will reveal themselves to you in the comments that they make. We all know these people. It is your job not to let it slide anymore because you don’t want to be controversial. It is your job to call them out and let them know that is not okay. It is your job to be the driving force.

TANSTAAFL

“TANSTAAFL: There ain’t no such thing as a free lunch.”

-Robert A. Heinlein

Today I watched this video clip from Comedy Central’s “The Daily Show,” in which Al Madrigal interviews Butler County, Ohio, Sheriff Richard Jones. In the video, Sheriff Jones makes very strong statements against undocumented immigrants, stating that they receive “free stuff”, such as a “computer, car payments, house payments, free medical care.”

Unfortunately, Sheriff Jones is not the only one perpetuating this idea. A Google search of “illegal immigrants free stuff” resulted in a host of articles, blog posts, and websites, with headlines like these:

• Come To America and Take Advantage of Our Free Stuff
• Undocumented Immigrants to Include More Free Stuff
• Illegal Immigrants Demand Free Obamacare

As an American who previously received welfare benefits many years ago, it is difficult for me to see how anyone without the proper papers could even apply for any sort of assistance. In my home state of Kentucky, applicants for SNAP (food stamps), Medicaid, Section 8 housing, and Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) must jump through flaming hula hoops of bureaucracy to be eligible for assistance. Verification documents include Social Security numbers and birthdates for all household members, copies of utility bills, lease agreements, paychecks stubs, signed affidavits from family and/or friends, etc. Of course, the process is repeated regularly to ensure continuing eligibility. To gain a greater understanding and satisfy my curiosity (and also to avoid writing a paper about Florence Nightingale’s Notes on Nursing), I set out on an internet adventure to find out what I could about public benefits for undocumented immigrants.

What I found on my virtual travels was The Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act of 1996 (PRWORA). Remember back in the nineties when Republicans swore a blood oath to the American people that they would stop lazy poor people from stealing tax money to buy unnecessary luxuries like food and shelter? The result was PRWORA. (Full Disclosure: The entire file is 251 pages. I didn’t read the whole thing. But if you’re interested, you can find it online here.) Title IV of PRWORA deals solely with regulations on benefits for “aliens” and specifically outlines what kind of benefits “aliens” are eligible and not eligible to receive. People who are not considered to be “qualified aliens,” that is, immigrants who came to the US through one of many pre-approved legal channels , are eligible to receive “public benefits” only in the following situations:

• Treatment of an emergency medical condition (such as someone who is in active labor or is having a heart attack – there is a whole separate law about hospitals being required to provide emergency care)
• Disaster relief (for instance, if there just happens to be a flood or tornado in the area where they are living)
• Immunizations (This is really beneficial for everyone.)
• Soup kitchens, crisis counseling, and short-term shelter that is necessary for the protection of life and safety, which deliver resources at the community level, and at the discretion of the Attorney General (so basically we are talking homeless shelters)

PRWORA also says that immigrants who are not “qualified aliens” are not eligible for “any retirement, welfare, health, disability, public or assisted housing, post-secondary education, food assistance, unemployment benefit, or any other similar benefit for which payments or assistance are provided to an individual, household, or family eligibility unit by an agency of the United States.”

If you scroll down a few more pages, the whole section repeats itself again in regards to state and local benefits. There are also some exceptions listed, such as a grandfather clause for people already receiving benefits, and exceptions for refugees. Another interesting item is that even immigrants who arrived here through the “proper” legal channels are not eligible for any of those benefits for AT LEAST five years.

As best as I can tell, the issue of “illegals” getting free government handouts was already settled almost twenty years ago. There has literally already been a law on the books about this very issue since 1996. However, for some reason, there is a section of the voting public that keeps repeating this same urban legend over and over. The main reason for the confusion seems to lie in the fact that children born in the US from undocumented immigrant parents are eligible for public assistance and public education. Non-citizen parents can apply for SNAP or housing in their children’s names, although most do not, for fear of being discovered by immigration officials. However, providing assistance and education to US children born from immigrant parents is not new, and has been going on for generations. I would imagine that many of the grandparents of the anti-immigration set were taught to speak English for the first time in American classrooms, and not from their Russian- or German-speaking immigrant parents.

I can also imagine that the same people complaining today about “Mexicans taking our jobs,” if transported back in time, would complain about the “filthy Irish” or the “Catholic Hordes.” There have always been people who will find a reason to complain if the status quo changes, and feel threatened by people who are different. The anti-immigration argument is not REALLY about jobs, or free stuff, or having to press 1 for English. These are excuses to cover up the fact that they are simply afraid of losing power to a fast-growing ethnic group in which they are not included.

If you would like to read more about immigration, I found several other great posts along the way, namely this one at Cro-Modern with lots of good sources, and another from the Southern Poverty Law Center that explains why if my European ancestors came to the US today the same way they came in the 18^th and 19^th centuries, they would now be considered “illegals,” too.

Action Alert! Maternal Health Accountability Act of 2014

Today I read this article from Detroit News stating that the maternal mortality rate for Detroit is much greater than the rest of the nation.  Maternal mortality in the US compared to other countries is already terrible, beating out countries such as Uruguay, Turkey, and Serbia, at 28 deaths per 100,000 live births.  According to the article, 26 mothers in Detroit died from childbirth between 2008-2011.  That equals a maternal mortality rate of 58.7 per 100,000.  To put this in better perspective, fewer women die in childbirth (proportionately) in EGYPT, KAZAKHSTAN, MALAYSIA, MEXICO, and ROMANIA, than in DETROIT.  In both SPAIN and and SWEDEN last year, the maternal mortality rate was only 4 deaths per 100,000 live births.  Detroit’s maternal mortality rate was FOURTEEN times WORSE than Spain or Sweden. (Statistics from WHO Global Health Observatory Data Repository).

It should not surprise any health professionals that the majority of the people dying in childbirth are female, poor, and black, which is the triple crown of poor outcomes and health disparities in America.  People who are poor, people who are female, and people who are African-American consistently get the short end of the stick when it comes to equality in health care.  Fortunately, Rep. John Conyers, Jr (D-MI) has decided to do something about it.  He has introduced the Maternal Health Accountability Act of 2014, which proposes the following:

“Amends title V (Maternal and Child Health Services) of the Social Security Act to direct the Secretary of Health and Human Services (HHS) to award grants to states for: (1) mandatory reporting to the state department of health by health care providers and other entities of pregnancy-related deaths; (2) establishment of a state maternal mortality review committee on pregnancy-related deaths occurring within such state; (3) implementation and use of the comprehensive case abstraction form by such committee to preserve the uniformity of the information collected; (4) annual public disclosure of committee findings; and (5) collect, analyze, and report to the Secretary cases of maternal morbidity.

Directs the Secretary, acting through the Director of the National Institutes of Health (NIH), to: (1) organize a national workshop to identify definitions for severe maternal morbidity and make recommendations for a research plan to identify and monitor such morbidity in the United States; and (2) develop uniform definitions of severe maternal morbidity, a research plan, and possible data collection protocols to assist states in identifying and monitoring such cases.

Amends the Public Health Service Act to direct the Secretary to carry out specified research and demonstration activities to eliminate disparities in maternal health outcomes.”

That’s the good news.  The bad news is that the next step in the legislative process depends on this guy:

His name is Joseph Pitts, and he is a Republican Congressman from Pennsylvania.  He is also the Chairman of the House Subcommittee on Health, and it’s his job to decide whether or not to pass the Bill on to the House or Senate for a vote or a hearing.  Basically, without his approval, nothing else will happen.  A similar bill was introduced in 2011, and it died in subcommittee.  GovTrack.us estimates that as it stands, this bill has about a 0% chance of being enacted, so it is extremely important to contact our Congressional representatives in order to move it forward. 

Please take a few moments to sign the newly-created petition here to send a message to Congress and President Obama in support of this bill.  You can also contact Rep. Pitts directly via the contact form on his website, located here.

 

Poverty and Motherhood: Part 2, The Positive Feedback Loop of Shame

Click here to read Part 1 first.

This week I was watching the popular National Geographic television show “Cosmos: a Spacetime Odyssey,” hosted by America’s scientist sweetheart, Neil DeGrasse-Tyson. (If you have never seen the show, click here to check out his awesome explanation of weather variation vs climate change.) In this episode, he describes the concept of a positive feedback loop as it relates to climate change.  His explanation goes something like this: increased greenhouse gases warm the atmosphere, which causes the permafrost to thaw, which results in more greenhouse gases, which warms the atmosphere, which causes more permafrost to thaw, which results in more greenhouse gases, and on and on, ad infinitum. The positive feedback loop is a concept that is very common in many branches of science.  One of the most common examples we learn about as nurses has to do with the positive feedback loop of uterine contractions: oxytocin causes the uterus to contract, which causes the release of more oxytocin, which causes the uterus to contract, etc.

What occurred to me is that anti-choice, pregnancy-shaming, poverty punishers are also creating their own positive feedback loop: The Loop of Shame.  It goes something like this:

Last year, I read a Census report that cited the biggest contributing factors for whether or not a woman will become a “welfare mother” as 1) how many children she has, and 2) her age when she has her first child.  It is also a well-researched fact that women who are living in poverty are less likely to have access to family planning services, and more likely to become pregnant.  Knowing these two things, it then becomes clear that the best way to keep women and children out of poverty is to provide education and early access to reproductive choices, including abortion and contraception.  However, the people complaining about people on welfare and who want to get rid of social programs, are usually the same people who would cut funding for Planned Parenthood, refuse to allow condoms and sex education in schools, and block women from accessing the abortion clinic.

Dear Anti-Choice Pregnancy-Shaming Poverty Punishers: YOU CAN’T HAVE IT BOTH WAYS.

You can’t complain about the woman on welfare when it is YOUR policies that put her there.  You don’t get to complain about having to use taxpayer money to feed her children that YOU forced her to have when you shut down the only clinic in her area that provided birth control.  If you want to stop paying for other people’s children, STOP FORCING women to bear them.

I can hear you saying now, “Well, I didn’t FORCE her to open her legs.”

I’m glad you mentioned that, because it brings me to my next subject: Sex is a normal, biological function, in which all human beings, having reached the age of consent, should be encouraged to engage, in the manner in which they choose, with another enthusiastically consenting adult.  There is nothing wrong with having sex.  It is a normal part of the human experience.  Any sex that happens between two adults who are able to consent is acceptable, reasonable, and healthy.  It is unreasonable and unhealthy to expect an adult person with a functioning reproductive system to completely abstain from sex involuntarily, just as it is unreasonable to expect a person with a functioning digestive system to abstain from food involuntarily.  Sure, the doctor can put in a gastric tube, and I can give you tube feedings for the rest of your life, but why would we want to do something for no good reason, that would have such a huge impact on your quality of life? All people deserve to enjoy the benefits of a healthy sex life – EVEN POOR PEOPLE.  As a matter of fact, ESPECIALLY poor people, because it is probably one of the few things they can afford to enjoy.

As a nurse, I come in close contact with people’s body parts way more often than they would like.  I have had my (gloved) hands in other people’s vaginas and anuses regularly, and have inserted tubes into every open orifice. And one thing I have learned with all this unsolicited familiarity with people’s bodies is that genitals are just another body part.  People’s genitals are surprisingly similar, and there is nothing particularly mysterious, sinful, shameful, or amazing about your particular set.  It is just another part of you, like your ear, or your stomach, or your liver, or your little toe.  As such, your reproductive system is entitled to health care that allows it to function at its optimum level, just as we provide care to your digestive system to help it achieve its highest level of function.  There is no one protesting outside the bariatric surgeon’s office that obese people should have to suffer the consequences of their behavior.  It is unfair and unhealthy to pretend that someone’s sexual organs are somehow less important or less entitled to health care than other body parts.

If we are going to start refusing health care to people whose conditions were avoidable or caused by lifestyle choices, then we should start with people who have lung cancer from smoking tobacco, liver cancer from alcohol abuse, cataracts from not protecting their eyes from UV light, cellulitis from not properly controlling their blood sugar, and the list goes on.  Those who would like to be first on the list to not receive healthcare because their condition was caused by preventable lifestyle factors such as poor diet or lack of exercise may sign up in the comments section below.

The Logic of Stupid Poor People

A friend complained yesterday about a poor person buying expensive clothing, and I was reminded of this article.

tressiemc

We hates us some poor people. First, they insist on being poor when it is so easy to not be poor. They do things like buy expensive designer belts and $2500 luxury handbags.

To be fair, this isn’t about Eroll Louis. His is a belief held by many people, including lots of black people, poor people, formerly poor people, etc. It is, I suspect, an honest expression of incredulity. If you are poor, why do you spend money on useless status symbols like handbags and belts and clothes and shoes and televisions and cars?

One thing I’ve learned is that one person’s illogical belief is another person’s survival skill. And nothing is more logical than trying to survive.

My family is a classic black American migration family. We have rural Southern roots, moved north and almost all have returned. I grew up watching my great-grandmother, and later my…

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Poverty and Motherhood: Part 1, “Pregnant While Poor”

This is the stereotypical image of a “welfare mother.”

(Image Source: colorlines.com)

This is the ACTUAL image of a “welfare mother.”

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This is a photo of me, the NSJ founder, and my grandmother, taken after the birth of my oldest daughter.  My family began receiving food stamps, WIC, and Medicaid in 1997, when I became pregnant for the first time.  Even though my husband was employed full-time, the money he made working at a fast food restaurant was barely enough to pay the rent on our one-bedroom apartment.  After the birth of my second child in 2000, I also received childcare assistance in order to return to work full time.

Admittedly, my ex-husband and I didn’t always make the best life choices.  Fortunately, I learned from those mistakes, divorced my ex, and went on to graduate from nursing school.  The intelligence, creativity, and talent of my three children continues to amaze me every day.  I know that the nutritious food that was provided during their gestational period, infancy, and early years had a direct effect on the development of their brains.  The access to healthcare, vaccinations, and treatment for childhood illnesses made it possible for them to attend school instead of staying home sick.  I have no doubt that without the public assistance my family received, my oldest child would not have scored a 28 on the ACT, the middle child would not be an honor roll student who played clarinet in the all-county band, and the youngest child would not have been reading at a middle school level in the second grade.

There is a strong social stigma surrounding welfare benefits, and an extremely inaccurate stereotype.  Women who receive welfare are categorized in certain media outlets as lazy, promiscuous, entitled, dependent and weak. They are portrayed as spending frivolously on luxuries instead of necessities, or trying to get “something for nothing.” The inaccurate image makes it easier for politicians to reduce funding for food stamp programs, such as the cuts that went into effect earlier this year. This type of thinking is part of a greater philosophy that any young woman who has the nerve to get herself knocked up, especially out of wedlock, should be punished for her behavior, along with any resulting offspring.  It is the same philosophy that believes a pregnant woman should be forced to carry every pregnancy to term, so that she may experience the consequences of her sinful behavior, along with the child to whom she gives birth.

In reality, the average woman of child-bearing age who receives SNAP benefits is a single mother of two children, and has a full-time job.  The average recipient family spends less in every category than average families who do not receive welfare.

(Image Source: The Atlantic)

Many welfare recipients are attending college.  I know this, because I went to nursing school with them.  (If you have never tried to raise children on your own while working and going to school, know this: it is nearly impossible to do without help of some kind.)

Some of these women married the wrong man, or were victims of abuse, or simply became pregnant because they thought it was a good idea at the time.  However, regardless of the reason, “pregnant while poor” is not a crime, and a child is not a punishment.  Cutting funding for SNAP benefits literally takes food out of the mouths of pregnant women and children.

It’s time to dispel the image of the “welfare queen.”  If you are now receiving, or have ever received, SNAP benefits, send us your pictures on Facebook or Twitter with the hashtag #iamawelfaremom.  Send us your selfies with your children, or from work or class, or even volunteering in the community. Maybe if we show America what a welfare mom really looks like, it will be more difficult to take food away from our children.

Ten Reasons Mother’s Day is Not Happy for Everyone

Mother’s Day is not a happy holiday for everyone.  On this day, here are some important things to remember about the status of motherhood in the US.

1. Some children are bullied for having two mothers, or having no mother.

2. Some children have lost their mothers, and some mothers have lost their children, due to domestic violence.

3. Some women have lost their children due to human trafficking.

4. Some women are denied the choice of whether or not to become mothers.

5. Some mothers have lost their children, and some children have lost their mothers, due to substance use disorder.

6. Some children have mothers that work two jobs to provide 100% of their support by themselves, and still can’t make ends meet.

7. Some children have mothers that are not biologically related, but are loved just the same.

8. Some mothers are separated from their children by US immigration policies.

9. Some children are separated from their mothers by a US justice system that is biased against women from specific socioeconomic classes or ethnic groups.

10. Women and children are most affected by the consequences of poverty.

 

Zen and the Art of Pain Management

Zen and the Art of Pain Management (by CM from Indiana)

Every morning, I wake up, get some coffee, and sit down at the computer to try to find a way out of the hell I’m living on a daily basis. Some days the routine changes, with my college classes in between the coffee and the research, but it mostly goes the same. I never find anything new or exciting, but it doesn’t stop me from looking. The beginning of this story takes place about 5 years ago. It’s somewhat long, so get a cup of coffee. I’ll wait.

About 5 years ago, I started feeling really tired. My joints ached and my temper was short. I’d been participating in the roller derby for several months, and blew off the aches and pains as a side effect of that. One day at practice, I hit someone with a routine shoulder bump, and that was the beginning of a medical nightmare that has lasted for far longer than anyone could be reasonably expected to deal with. I went to the doctor a couple of days later when I still couldn’t use my arm. In the course of our conversation, I mentioned the issues that I was having with fatigue and aches in other places. He asked if the pain was consistent, and I told him that the most consistent thing about the pain was the inconsistency. Every day, something different hurt; one day it was my knees, the next it was my shoulders. Tomorrow, the pain might be in my hips or pelvis. He nodded in all the appropriate places, and listened carefully to what I told him. I had a great relationship with my doctor, which had led to my epilepsy diagnosis the year before. I made a point of mentioning odd things to my doctor, on the off chance that it could be related to either the epilepsy, or the medication I was taking for it. This time, Dr. Gray had nothing to say really, but noted it in my file in case it came up later.

A month or two later, things were worse – a lot worse. I had daily pain in my ankles, knees, hips, fingers, shoulders and neck. I was exhausted. Sleeping didn’t seem to do any good, and aspirin wasn’t touching the pain. My doctor referred me to a rheumatologist, and off I went. My job was in jeopardy from the days that I had missed to deal with not being able to move, and he advised FMLA to protect my job. I was on board with that, and worked with my company’s HR department to get the paperwork filed. Since I’d been at my job for five years, it was fairly easy to accomplish. Meanwhile, my condition slowly declined in the three months it took for the rheumy to get me in. I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning, because it was less painful to just lie there and try not to breathe too deeply. My mood was taking a plunge with my inability to properly care for my family, and work was a nightmare. When I got in to see him, the rheumatologist took nine vials of blood, looked at my knees, and sent me home.

Our follow-up visit the next month showed nothing from the blood work – no lupus, no MS, nothing. He pronounced that I had hyper-mobile joints, and it was something that I would probably just have to learn to live with. We made plans to rule out things like Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and fibromyalgia, but that would take another 6 months because of all the different medical professionals we would have to go through. Awesome. More waiting.

And then I lost my job.

While the FMLA was protecting me from losing my job due to illness, it also forced me to use all my vacation and personal time before it kicked in. So when I had to stay home with a very sick kid one day, I had no vacation time to cover it. The next day when I came in to work, I was handed my stuff, and told that I could get COBRA. So there I was with no job, and more importantly (at the time), no medical coverage.

In the following months, I was denied every form of help I tried. I was getting a small unemployment check, but Medicaid wouldn’t cover me, and private plans were ridiculously expensive. My pain and seizures were left unmedicated for the duration of my unemployment. Coming down from the seizure meds were the worst. In the #2 spot for “drugs it sucks to go cold turkey from” were my antidepressants. (I still get brain zaps from those, five years later.) I was still looking for work, and a few months later, I landed a job. I was told that my insurance would kick in after three months, and I was happy. But I was still sick.

The first day that I had a seizure at my new job, talk around the office started. I was released from that job after four months, because “I was not a good fit.” Just like that, the bottom fell out again. I had insurance for less than a month, which was just long enough to get back on my seizure medication, and make appointments with 3 different specialists. I haven’t worked since. I can’t function enough to hold down a full time job any more, and getting disability requires a documented history. I can’t get a history without insurance and access to health care.

Last year, a good friend told me about Obamacare and the ACA. When the day came for enrollment, I stayed up until 4am to get on to the website and enroll. I put in my application, and waited. We live on $800 a month, as a family of four. I thought that there was no way we would be denied. The response to my application was a set of directions on how to apply for Medicaid, which had already denied me. I applied again, and waited. It was January.

In April, I was sent a formal declination letter from the state of Indiana, citing our income as the problem. We made too much money: $800 a month, for two adults and two children. I contacted the health insurance marketplace people, and told them what had happened. I was informed that I fell into a “gap” of people who made too much (HAH!) for Medicaid, but not enough for the government subsidies being given out to purchase plans through the marketplace. There was nothing I could do, and nothing that they could do for me. Until changes were made to the Affordable Care Act for families like mine, I was right back to square one, with no job, no insurance, and an ever worsening illness that was STILL unidentified.

Several months ago, I leaned over to pick something up off of the floor. I put a hand on the desk to steady myself, and when I leaned over, my shoulder popped out of its socket. I also subluxated my jaw eating dinner one night. I slept wrong once and couldn’t use my left arm for almost 6 months. It healed itself in time, but I have a pretty large loss of mobility in that arm, and I’m working on building it up again. But it’s ok, because the pinched nerve in my C7 vertebra (old injury from the roller derby days) keeps me from partying too hard. I also have recurrent urinary tract infections that have landed me in the hospital.

Hospital bills when you’re poor are just another thing to add to the stack of stuff that will eventually come back to bite you in the rear, but it has to be done. The problem is that the ER and immediate care facilities to which I have access can’t give me ongoing treatment for them. They can give me antibiotics to treat the infection and send me home, but to find out why I keep getting them, or how to keep them from coming back, I need a GP, which I can’t have, because I have no insurance.

Currently, my eyesight is worsening at a frightening rate, but I can’t afford new glasses. Today my shoulder, both hips, and my right hand are a dull, aching extension of my consciousness. I’ve lost feeling on the skin just left of my spine near my shoulder. I have another UTI, and I’ve had to get up from writing four times now to use the bathroom. I’ll be going to immediate care again tomorrow for more antibiotics with a side of debt. As for the epilepsy, it’s been about a week since my last seizure. I can usually get to the bed before I fall over, but sometimes I just sit where I am and wait for it to pass. I don’t take aspirin. It doesn’t do enough to make it worthwhile, and it would just wreck my stomach worse than it already is.

The worst of all though, is that I recently found out that a medical procedure I had done before I got married is now causing a bit of controversy. A permanent birth control has been popping up in the news a lot lately, because it is migrating from where it should be (in patient’s fallopian tubes) to places that it has no business (bowels, abdominal cavities, and through the walls of the uterus). Almost a thousand women on one online community have posted their stories of hysterectomies and punctured tubes. It has also come up that the device is made of nickel. I just so happen to be allergic to nickel. It was never disclosed at the time that there was any nickel in it at all, or I would not have gotten it. So here I sit wondering if the things are even in my tubes any more, or if they might have migrated, or if they are what is causing all my problems in the first place via the allergy. Not knowing what’s going on is worse than knowing what’s up, and dealing with it as best you can.

There are some days that I am fully functional, not in pain, and my brain is secure with its place in the cosmic order. Those days happen about one out of every seven. The other six days are a mish-mash of subluxated joints, brain malfunctions, falling down, and sleeping for 14 hours at a time. I am in constant pain. Pain management for me consists of just trying to sit still so that it doesn’t hurt to move. Heating pads and blankets help. I’m constantly nauseous for whatever reason, and try to stick to one light meal a day. On the worst days, I smoke a little marijuana to help with the nausea and the pain. It’s all I have that helps. I recently started taking supplements, and it feels like they might be helping some of the symptoms. I take Omega 3s and fish oil for my joints, St. John’s Wort for my depression, and calcium to help absorb the Vitamin D that I also take. At least I can get up and do the dishes, and that’s a pretty big improvement from last year.

I’m in my third and final year of school. This time next year, I’ll have an associate degree to add to my resume. The pain and fatigue are a very real and present part of my life, along with some new and exciting maladies, but I’ve mostly adapted. I know how far I can push myself, and when to stop (usually). I rest most of the time, and have bursts of activity between rests. I still feel useless, but I know that I can ask for help when I need it, and about half of those times, I’ll actually get help. I have almost $10,000 in medical bills from the last two visits to the ER and immediate care that will eventually get taken care of somehow, although I might be paying the hospital $10 a month for the rest of my natural life to do it. I have an appeal in with the Obamacare people, and if that comes through, there is a slight chance that they will help cover my bills from the last few months. I’ve already been told that it’s a very slim chance that I will win the appeal. I can’t get my hopes up. The field in which I am getting a degree is a good one for working at home, and I’m hoping to land something that I can telecommute at least half of my work time.

Most days it really seems hopeless, but I take some more St. John’s Wort, and try to see the bright side of it. Until then, I have a heating pad and a lot of tenacity.

 

About the Author:

CM lives in Indiana with her husband and two children, and a multitude of animals.  She has a background in technical support, and is working on a degree in Computer Information Technology.

The story of a lost and found child

The story of a lost and found child (by L. Rodriguez in Kentucky)

During the end-of-the-semester banquet I casually mentioned my daughter to a friend, and the chair of my major’s department overheard. She quickly turned to me, surprised, and said, “I never knew you had a child! How do you do it? This changes my whole perception of you!” While her reaction was positive, I cringe at the possibility of my role as a mother influencing my professors’ perceptions of me, for better or worse. It is not that I am ashamed or that I hide the fact that I have a child–my daughter often accompanies me to department events and other university activities—but I, like many professional women today, realize that when you call yourself a mother, expectations of you change, so I don’t often talk about her with people in charge of my grades to limit the possibility of differential treatment.

For me, my daughter is my inspiration, not a hurdle. Working to give her a better life drives my every achievement. While it is not always easy, it helps that I have a supportive partner at home and that I waited until she was enrolled in elementary school to continue my education. I have met other student mothers who struggle a lot more than I do because their children are much younger and/or they’re single parents. Compared to them, my difficulties seem insignificant, but they exist. But while life is easier now, it hasn’t always been this way.

I got pregnant with my daughter when I was fifteen after leaving a neglectful and abusive household. As it turned out, lonely men are one of the few types of people willing to take in homeless female teenagers, and so I moved in with my adult “boyfriend” when I was fourteen. Even at that age, I knew it was not right, but it was still better than being at home because at least he fed me.

I panicked when I took the first pregnancy test. I had already dropped out of high school and did not want to be tied to this man forever, and I thought having a baby meant I was stuck. I went to a gynecologist for confirmation, and when I started crying, my doctor told me I should have thought about the consequences of my actions while I was busy having “fun” and that I was lucky I did not have AIDS. I was too young to understand that he was judging my life based on his own stereotypical view of teenage pregnancies, and I felt so ashamed.

I wanted to look into other options, and I ran across an advertisement for a pregnancy center that offered information on abortions and adoptions. I managed to make an appointment for later the same day, and soon I found myself in a place that looked like a medical clinic, but with pictures of fetuses and biblical quotes on the walls. I was taken to an “examination room” where I was to meet with a clinic counselor. While I waited, they played a video called “The Silent Scream,” a film that depicted a developing fetus “screaming” during an abortion procedure. It was horrific and I felt sick for even considering that option. When the counselor finally came in, I told her that I was 8 weeks pregnant. She politely informed me that it was too late for me to have an abortion anyway, but she gave me some literature on Christian adoption. Of course, I later found out that place was a “crisis pregnancy center,” an anti-choice establishment specializing in scaring teenagers with disturbing propaganda, lying about abortion time frames, and pretending to be an actual medical clinic despite having no medical professionals on staff whatsoever.

After having been scolded by my gynecologist and being told that I should give my child up to a “nice Christian couple” by people claiming to be nurses, I dreaded all my upcoming medical appointments.

I wish I could say things improved from then on, but that is not the case. Even though I made sure to keep all my prenatal appointments, no one ever recognized my dedication to my child’s health. Every time I went to an examination, I felt ashamed. I had a nurse tell me that if I was her daughter, I would be smacked. The nutritionist at the health department would not accept that my iron deficiency was from my inability to hold down my meals (I had extreme nausea and vomiting throughout my pregnancy), and she told me to cut back on the junk food because, “You are a mother now. You can’t eat like a kid anymore.” Even on the day I delivered my daughter, when she would not latch onto my breast and I was nauseated from the medicines, the delivery room nurse scolded me for giving up breastfeeding so quickly when all I wanted to do was sleep off my medication and try again later. She said, “You know, now there are more important things than YOUR comfort. If you weren’t ready to make sacrifices, maybe you should not have gotten pregnant.”

Life is easier now. My daughter is 10 and she is awesome. I have a truly supportive partner and we have been together for 8 years now (her biological father left me sometime in the midst of the pregnancy). I am now one of the top students at my university (after working my butt off to get a high score on the GED), and I am graduating with highest honors. I succeed because I have no other option and because I realize that schoolwork is not the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure.

I still struggle. I worry that focusing on my studies is stealing the time I should spend watching my daughter grow up. When I was 20, I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and I am likely infertile as a result (my doctor says that there is a chance that medication could help me conceive a child, but without it, conception will be difficult). My daughter may be the only biological child I ever have, and I worry that I am missing too much. However, I cannot let her live the life I lived, and I lead by example. Through my dedication to my studies and my perseverance, she is learning the value of her own education. Being connected to a university allows me access to events and activities that provide further education enrichment, and I make a point of bringing her to as many as possible. I love my daughter, and I view my education as a means for providing her with better opportunities in the future.

I have heard people argue that stereotypes are based on reality, and I don’t disagree. However, this is not a valid reason to further engage in stereotyping. Although I did not fit the mold of the so-called “typical pregnant teen” who thought more of her own pleasure than her child’s well-being, many people who interacted with me interpreted my actions through that lens. Perhaps it allowed them to better maintain their own emotional distance; admittedly, it is easier to accept a teenager making bad decisions than one who was given poor options. However, I internalized the criticism I received from the representatives of the medical community because I trusted and admired them. It took me a while to understand that they, too, could misjudge a person; and I could have just as easily accepted their words and fallen into the stereotype myself. The criticism I received was neither medically nor emotionally helpful, and recalling my experiences makes me feel like a lost child again even after accomplishing so much. If my story influences even one doctor or nurse to think twice before stereotyping a patient, I will consider it a success.

 

About the Author:

L. Rodriguez graduates this month with a BA in Social Science, and will be continuing her education in a Master’s Program in Public Health.  She currently resides with her daughter and partner in Kentucky.

Healthcare providers should be as diverse as their patients

Healthcare providers should be as diverse as their patients (by James in Kentucky)

This is the first in a series of posts from James about LGBTQ issues in health care.

Sexuality and gender-identity is such a miniscule thing compared to the many great – and not so great – aspects of the people that surround you. While I may consider them the least a person needs to evaluate me with, they are very much important aspects in my thoughts, actions, and life itself.

It’s not easy deviating from the norm, especially as a gay male in nursing school.

“Oh, he can be my shopping buddy!” No, I tried that one with another homosexual friend: Apparently I’m not very good at it.

“The three and a half men” was once used to describe our class. While I wasn’t bothered at all about the utterance of those words, it certainly disappointed me when I learned of the individual that said those words and those that supported the statement.

Oh, and don’t forget the iconic statement: “I’ve got a question, but I don’t want to ask you it now. And you aren’t allowed to be offended. You know….”

The years of public school have hardened me, and as I finally came to terms with my sexuality when I started college and still developing my identity, there is very little someone can say to me that can elicit a reaction from me. When I’m in school, in the hospital, doctor’s office, or anywhere for the matter, I’m an “individual”, not just a gay, gender queer male nursing student/graduate; the constant need to categorize and file people away upsets me, even though I have to stop myself from doing the very same thing.

However, I want people to know that there are LGBT individuals in healthcare, both as patients AND healthcare providers. Healthcare providers should be as diverse as their patients.

 

 

 

About the Author:

James is a graduate nurse from Kentucky who enjoys foreign languages, playing etudes on his clarinet, and pushing his cat off of his bed when trying to sleep.