I Am Not a Piece of Plastic

About 40 years or so ago, while I was earning my Master of Science in Social Work degree at the University of Louisville’s Raymond A. Kent School of Social Work, one of the ongoing dialogues regarded the unjust nature of the “plastic society” that was and is the norm of the United States.

Plastic, as you know, is inexpensive and therefore disposable. So we dispose of all sorts of containers made of plastic, easily broken toys we give to our children, bags in which we carry our purchases, etc. American society has so bought it to the idea that things are disposable that we create even automobiles, appliances, houses, and much more that are made not to be permanent but to be used up and subsequently disposed of as trash. Sentient beings such as pets and even we ourselves have come to be seen as disposable once our society judges them (us) as no longer having intrinsic value.

We Americans have exported this concept that everything and everyone is disposable to the entire world—a world culture that is based on the monetary worth of things—all things—including human beings.

As I have grown older I have come to realize that I am seen as a plastic “thing.” For example, the United States Veterans Affairs bureaucracy has treated me as a commodity negating my humanity. I qualify this statement by emphasizing that, for the most part, this is not true of VA medical staff. It is quite true of those bureaucrats with whom veterans must deal in order to obtain the promised medical care. One of the ongoing “jokes” I have encountered since I began my association with Veterans Affairs goes:

Thank you for serving. Now, how can we fuck you today?

I have experiences of having my humanity denied, of being treated as a commodity by the Department of Veterans Affairs; I have heard many stories from and about other veterans who have experienced similar treatment.

Many of us have sought justice within the VA. The usual result is that our pleas to be recognized as human beings have been ignored. “Rules” are more important to the bureaucrats than justice, compassion, and humanity.

This injustice and dehumanization goes far beyond the federal bureaucracy of the United States. It is in the corporations of this world, using up their workers and then disposing of them like pieces of trash. It is intrinsic to capitalism and the class system of the United States that has been exported to the entire planet. It is a basic cause of poverty; of genocide and slavery; of the abuse of women, children, the elderly, the physically and emotionally ill; of people smuggling; of racism; of every form of human exploitation.  

My request—my plea—is simple: recognize that we are human beings, not things to be manipulated and disposed of like pieces of plastic. This plea is on behalf of all sentient creatures on the earth. We need a prophet to deliver us from injustice and slavery!

(YHWH) said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

 Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites.  The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” ~ Exodus 3.6-10

Here am I, Lord. Send me.

New Diagnosis

I have received a “new” medical diagnosis: the swelling in my leg that began after I fell through the deck stairs almost two years ago and then spread to my other leg, ankles, and feet evidently has nothing to do with the fall. The results of various tests from the past two weeks indicate that the swelling is more related to my obesity, COPD, and recently found slightly elevated blood pressure.

To use the big words that the doc used, the edema is caused by congestive heart failure, which is the doc’s diagnosis:

The most common signs of congestive heart failure are swollen legs or ankles, difficulty in breathing, and weight gain because of accumulating fluid. Congestive heart failure usually requires a treatment program of rest, proper diet, modified daily activities, and drugs such as digitalis, diuretics, and vasodilators. ~ (Follow the hyperlink above to the document source of this quotation)

Am I upset? Nope

Am I worried? Nope

Did I suspect this diagnosis? Yep.

When the VA medical staff could not find a bone source of my leg swelling and then the edema went to both legs, I suspected that it was something else and began to search websites for the answer. That was almost a year ago. When I suggested to my VA case manager that it might be congestive heart failure, she said that none of the tests the VA had run indicated it.

Of course, my VA case manager never looked at my legs! She has seldom looked at me! About 90% of the brief time we are together she has spent looking at her computer screen and asking me questions. I really am uncomfortable with the practice of modern, computer-based medicine.

Thankfully Dr. Mike and his staff did look at my legs and prescribed a diuretic the first day he visited me. With the confirmation of the diagnosis of congestive heart failure, the frequency of my taking the diuretic has been increased from one a day to three a day. At the moment, he says, I need no other medications, although a member of his staff will be visiting me weekly to measure progress. I feel comfortable with that!

I Wasn’t Going to Watch, but…

After a long and (for me) wearing day that included two medical appointments at two different VA medical centers and two trips to the drug store to fill prescriptions, I was exhausted when I returned home at 3:00 p.m. yesterday. Of course, I wasn’t as bushed as I could have been; Tasha and my new wheelchair saved me from walking five or six hundred yards in Veteran Administration parking lots and buildings.

I thanked Tasha for her excellent assistance. My new wheeling is big and incredibly heavy. If it were a ship, I’d term it a dreadnought.

The wheelchair, with me in it, is too heavy for Tasha to push uphill. So, I walked up those areas—especially the steep ramp leading into the VA hospital. (Why a hospital was so designed I don’t know).

The wheelchair is also too wide to fit through the exterior doors of one VA clinic. So I got out of the chair, Tasha folded it, and then pushed it through the door where I was again able to ride in it. The chair is also too large to fit through the interior doors of the clinic, so again I had to leave the wheelchair and hobble through the doors, where I sat in chair much too small for my bulk. (See my comment at the end of the paragraph, above).

I’ll not learn the results of the two medical visits until at least next week; the one that was the most difficult is the one that means the most to me: recertification for oxygen. If I don’t “pass” that test the VA could remove the oxygen from me. I have my fingers crossed!

Do I need to say that by the time I returned home I was physically drained and really in need of a nap? I just wanted to exchange the portable oxygen tank for my CPAP and collapse in bed!

Unfortunately I couldn’t do that. The furball had scatted out the door when I left for the medical appointments and I wanted to make sure he was safe before I napped. Alex wasn’t in front of my house or napping on my neighbor’s porch. When I called his name, he didn’t come running across the lawns as he often does.

So I shuffled my way to the back door and went out on the deck. I almost didn’t see Alex: he was curled up, sunning himself on a deck chair on the far side of the deck table. I called him—and he either didn’t hear me or he ignored me. So I hobbled across the deck and stood above my sun-bathing cat and ruffled his ears. That got his attention!

Alex uncurled himself, stood up, stretched, leaped off the chair, and strolled across the deck and into the house. By the time I caught up with him, he was sitting of our his table and staring at his food bowls. Yeah, both bowls had food in them from his breakfast, but that makes no difference to Alex. He demanded both his favorite wet meal and that some kitty kat treats be added to his dry food. I gave him both, scratched hi head, and brushed his coat. I was yawning all the while.

Finally I shuffled into the bedroom, attached the oxygen hose to the CPAP, and collapsed on (in) to the bed. I slept soundly for about four hours and only awaked when I became aware that I had a cat curled up on my face. I decided to get out of bed, which I did, and then repeated the procedure I discussed in the previous paragraph regarding Alex and his food.

While feeding Alex I began to feel hungry—I had not eaten since breakfast. I had received in the mail a coupon for a $5.00 medium pizza; so I went online and ordered it to be delivered. Since I was still feeling a bit sleep-deprived, I reclined in my new lift chair, and flipped on the TV. After surfing for a bit, I encountered a NCAA (basketball) tournament game.

I am not a great basketball fan. I prefer to watch (in this order) football, soccer, and baseball. I never get March Madness and don’t even watch the tournament unless one of the universities from which I have a degree is playing. Since I have degrees from the University of Kentucky and the University of Louisville, it is often the case that one if not both are among the final sixteen teams.

I only learned that the University of Louisville was in the tournament when I heard that President Obama had stated that he believed that the University of North Carolina would defeat U of L in the championship game..

So I wasn’t completely surprised when I surfed to a NCAA game in which the University of Louisville was playing another Kentucky school, Morehead University, where several of my friends attended college. A few minutes later the pizza arrived, so I returned to the life chair, and settled back to watch the game.

A few minutes later, I decided I needed something to drink with the pizza and, when I opened the refrigerator, I saw that I still had five beers left from the St. Patrick’s Day 6-pack that I had purchased. I opened a bottle and returned to the lift chair and the pizza.

I hadn’t planned to watch the NCAA Tournament! But here I was, reclining in front of the TV, watching basketball, eating pizza and drinking a beer which I believe a few million other American dudes and dudettes are doing during this March Madness!

It was actually a neat experience, especially after the demanding day I had had. It was even enjoyable when Alex decided to jump up on my stomach and explore the pizza I was eating. I think he did sample a bit of sausage before he decided it wasn’t his kind of food and jumped down to the floor to groom his handsome self!

I may watch more basketball during this year’s March Madness!