Last Night I Dreamed Of Potatoes

Yes, I did. There was something about a wedding celebration and lots of food - particularly starchy carbs - a big steaming bowl of mashed with butter and dill, extra large baked Idahos with a ton of sour cream and chives and a couple of other dishes that faded into the haze as I woke up. I had already eaten a full serving of each and the hostess figure in the dream pushed seconds on me and it turned out it was a huge serving because it was all that was left and we wouldn't want it to go to waste. Damn it tasted good.

I guess I'm grieving this on a deeper level than I realize. Yesterday was a challenging day - in true depressive manner I slept a lot and didn't do much of anything. I broke down and had a box of Target fancy macaroni and cheese. My sugars actually responded better than expected. I was tempted, however, to put up a status on Facebook that read: Collapsing under the weight of "for the rest of your life."

Today is another day, however. It is sunny instead of grey, breezy and cool instead of rainy and damp. My average glucose level for the past 3 days is now down to 115. I would be more excited by that except that I remember that it is the insulin, not the departure of the illness. I don't want this. I want it gone now.

As before, I appreciate all the words of encouragement and attaboys. This blog is about putting my obsessive self awareness into print, perhaps for the benefit of others. With God's help and your love and kindness, folks, I will get through this and come out the other side hopefully medicine free.

PS - Cyber prayers for my good buddy and fellow secular monastic, Maria -- she has a rather difficult chore ahead of her this week that she's not looking forward to doing.

If It Ain't Broke...Oh, Wait A Minute...

Child of Illusion has a number of posts on her blog about the health care crisis. As she will be leaving her position by the end of the year and is not yet old enough for health coverage under Medicare - covering the uninsured hits her personally. Out of respect for her future situation and the situation of the 50,000,000 or so uninsured Americans, I wanted to start this post by directing folks to her blog.

As a health care worker in this country, I don't see how we can fix this situation. I saw a news item today that President Obama wants more concessions from hospitals. I shook my head - in the past seven years, I believe the non-union employees of my hospital have gotten raises only two times (maybe three). The last raise was over two years ago and we are finally getting a whopping 2% raise this July.

I read somewhere recently that a major part of the problem has to do with the concept of insurance. In every other aspect of our life, we purchase insurance as protection against an unlikely tragedy. If we are fortunate, we pay into our auto and home owners insurance plans and never need to take advantage of them - that would mean that we have no wrecks in our vehicles, no fires or major damage to our homes.

There was a time where health "insurance" served the same purpose - in the event you ended up hospitalized with a lengthy illness you had coverage. Of course, back then many folks with serious illness didn't survive to end up in a hospital bed for weeks on end - if not months. The model still worked in the early days.

However, now we have a completely different situation. Science has brought us highly accurate (and expensive) diagnostic tools. Pharmaceutical companies have developed medications to treat our common ailments. Life saving surgical techniques, emergency medicine, defibrillators, etc. all keep people going when in the past they would simply die. However, this is not what the insurance industry would routinely cover.

Think about it. Let's apply this concept to our automobiles. How expensive would our insurance premiums be if State Farm or All State had to pay for oil changes, new tires, brake jobs, new head lights, etc.? In other words, routine health maintenance for our vehicles. How much would our home owners insurance cost if it paid for the new furnace, the new roof, new windows - routine maintenance to keep the house "healthy and strong?"

We need to differentiate between health care and health insurance. There really is a difference. The insurance model doesn't work any more. Child of Illusion's post discusses cherry picking as a potential problem of having competing public plans next to private plans. The comment she references is most likely spot on - the insurance companies would dump the "sick" folk to the public plan and take the healthy folks only. Auto insurance companies are not forced to insure bad drivers with multiple accidents and moving violations at the same terms as drivers with good records, are they? The "insurance" model no longer works for health care.

IMHO we need to work towards a universal health plan that provides basic coverage for all with co-pays in the way that Medicare does for seniors. The private insurers should retool to provide supplemental policies only. Even then, we will likely have a situation develop similar to what I understand has happened in Britain. Boutique hospitals, clinics and doctors will spring up where individuals with "Cadillac" supplemental plans or the cash reserves to pay up front will be able to obtain state-of-the-art, personal care on demand. The rest of us will have long waits at the other facilities.

In typical fashion, we in this country want it all. We demand the best health care available - no matter that as science develops new and better treatment options at escalating costs - Medicare only reimburses hospitals at rates for simpler less accurate treatment options. For example, in the arena of cardiac care new and improved stenting in the cath lab has significantly reduced the need for open heart surgery. However, despite the fact that costs for the new treatment are thousands of dollars more than the recent (and now outdated) procedure, Medicare continues to reimburse at the lower rate. Hospitals are forced to not offer the current, best option and have patients choose to go to a competitor or they take about a $3,000 loss every time they perform this procedure. We want it all.

Doctors feel obligated to order many many extraneous tests out of fear that if they miss a diagnosis, the family lawyer will be dragging them into court. They're not wrong to do this. How many of those obnoxious lawyer "trolling" commercials have you seen on television - where they are fishing for potential clients? We want it all.

Look at me - I am not high and mighty by any means - I am fat and sedentary and now I have diabetes. What? You mean that if I had kept my weight down and exercised regularly I might have PREVENTED this? Really? Wow! Why didn't anyone tell me...you get my point. We want it all.

Look back at that cartoon at the top of this post. Imagine that our auto insurance had to pay for repairs to our vehicles - even when we ignored engine lights, failed to get the oil changed, pretended the transmission took care of itself...and now, they have to pay for the repairs. How expensive would it be for that kind of "insurance?"

Putting Things In Perspective

I realize that no matter how carefully I choose my words, some of you will find this post to be snarky. My apologies if that is how you take it.

If you've been following this blog, you well know that I regularly peruse a number of Anglican oriented sites - both hard line liberal and conservative and points in between.

If you're Episcopalian, you well know all the turmoil that is currently stirred up in the greater church -- departing bishops forming new churches, who gets to keep property, the consent process for the bishop-elect of Northern Michigan, General Convention, gay clergy, gay marriage...the list is long.

If one spends most of their cyber time amongst Episcopalians and on their blogs, one can begin to lose site of perspective. The drama of this church seems to fill the news cycle and spill over into our lives. I, for example, have been diligently reading and cross-referencing, trying to hear both sides of the issues when possible.

Yesterday I had an epiphany like moment - an epiphanette - just a little one - and the image above came to me. In this country, the unchurched outnumber the churched and even amongst the churched - the ECUSA is a rather small little church. Compared to what is occurring around the world, the drama of TEC is just a shaken up snow globe.

I understand that for a good many people, "church" plays a very important social role in their lives and "church" provides the framework on which they hang their spirituality and connection with God. I realized as I sat down to type out my thoughts that there is a second understanding of that image of a church in a snow globe. The individual congregations with their own issues, liturgy style, drama and love are in some ways encapsulated in their own little globe--removed from the drama and angst of the greater church.

It is the Internet that has allowed us greater access into the meeting rooms and planning of the greater church. As bishops meet somewhere far away, we can eagerly await updates and statements and verdicts and then comment on them. I think that this is one of the fuels that feeds the fire. Good or bad it is here and cannot be ignored.

As Iranians continue to take to the streets to protest and demand freedom, around the globe we are using Twitter and Facebook to lend our support, disseminate information, and watch. It is one of the fuels feeding the fire.

I read somewhere that we live "in an exponential age" and society's attempt at relearning, rethinking, and restructuring how we do things in light of instant communication is falling a bit behind. I don't believe it is a simple question of good or bad - all modern means of communication have been used and misused before.

What is a bit frightening is the linking of speed of information with mob mentality - more and more frequently we are reacting as a group with less and less time to process what we are hearing. I hope our instincts are improving.

OMG! I'm Afraid of Food...

Yesterday after work I stopped by my local Co-Op to grab some food for dinner and the weekend. Granted I was tired after a very long week and a bit stressed over the whole darn thing, but as I walked the aisles I realized I was afraid of food - so many many things I'm "not supposed to eat."

Of course, with carb counting the reality is I can eat it all appropriately and deliberately. As I drove home, other emotions were finally beginning to bubble up, namely anger and sadness.

We've all heard of the four stages of grieving - denial, anger, bargaining, acceptance. It is more common now to think of working through all four at once - bouncing from one to another and back again. My "fear of food" is part of my denial streak - the "I will beat this" mentality. I don't mean I will beat this and be a good patient - I mean I will beat this and make it go away.

My head and heart are battling out - of course I mean my emotional self and my rational self - when asked how long I will be on the medicine and such - I logically answer that whether or not I am on insulin or oral medication, I will have to deal with this for the rest of my life. The more I emotionally process that, however, the more upset I get.

I hate feeling restricted and it takes many forms. For the present, the simple thought of not having the choice drives me a bit bonkers. Yet as I was running errands today I thought about my job. I am required to carry a pager for half the month--usually a week on and a week off. When I am having to carry the pager, my activities are restricted, and, yet, I don't feel that pinch. I've gotten used to it and it comes with the job which has many other perks.

I have been receiving wonderful support from cyber friends and local friends and family. I am not feeling overwhelmed by this. However, I'm not happy about it. I am determined to be off insulin within a month or so and off oral meds by the end of a year. My body's response to insulin for now appears to support this plan. I will have to begin getting my ass off the metaphorical couch. I have purchased two cans of Deep Woods Off so that I have no excuse for riding my bicycle or going for a walk with the dogs (I loathe mosquitoes and this season has been particularly bad).

I catch myself whining that it's not fair - but what the hell is fair? I survived the 1980's somehow and have lived to battle with diabetes today. I can put together quite a list of names of friends and acquaintances who would be glad to be alive today with only diabetes to worry about. In fairness to myself that way of thinking is a bit of the "oh get over it - you think you have it bad" stuff. We so like to compare apples to oranges in order to deny ourselves the right to feel badly.

As with so many aspects of our lives, I will apply the rules of the Big Blue Book and Scarlett O'Hara to this situation too. I will only think about today - today I will get some exercise; today I will watch my carbohydrate intake; today I will take my medication. I won't worry about tomorrow - tomorrow is another day. One day at a time - it dovetails nicely with my intentions to live in the moment. Peace all.

My Name Is Larry And I'm A Diabetic

This is me in August of 1983 age 20 years old. My high school graduation weight was about 120 pounds. This is two years later when I was in the Navy in Orlando, Florida, probably at about the same weight more or less.

This is me now, twenty-six years later and a little more than double the weight. The last 60 pounds came on in the past ten years. I don't have any full body shots because the camera adds pounds and in photographs I feel like I should have Goodyear emblazoned across my back side. This week I officially became a statistic in the Great American Diabetes Epidemic.

I am what is commonly referred to as a Couch Potato (CP). However, I am an unusual sub-species of CP in that I don't have television. I am a literary couch potato -- at least I have a well exercised brain, if not body. That really is my main risk factor in conjunction with my weight gain.

I really don't have a family history. My paternal grandmother made claims to being diabetic. God love her, she was a bit of a hypochondriac though and made claims to lots of illnesses, so the family history is suspect.

I'm not exactly a carbo loader either. There's half of an organic 70% dark chocolate bar still sitting on the table from Saturday's dinner with company. There's a tub of Breyer's vanilla ice cream in the freezer that I purchased about two months ago. Dinner tonight was some smoked turkey lunch meat and raw zucchini and green beans tossed with some salad dressing.

And, yet, here I am with a brand spanking new diagnosis...Type II Diabetic. Like most diabetics, my pancreas is still producing insulin but my body has stopped using it efficiently. I was extremely fortunate that my sugars escalated rather quickly to a high degree and that I recognized that something was wrong and got the medical attention that I needed and had insurance to pay for as well. As a result, I've caught this problem very early -- probably within months of having raised sugars.

Many others have no idea that they are walking around with high blood glucose (sugar) levels. I remember a number of years ago I finally convinced a friend of mine to sign up for the Marquette County Medical Access Coalition and get a check up. She works as a seamstress and at the time she had no health benefits. She felt fine so she didn't go to the doctor. After much nagging on my part, she went and had her physical. As it happened she was diabetic and had high blood pressure. She could easily have gone on for a few more years without any symptoms while the illness did it's damage to her circulation, eyes, kidneys, etc.

I am very optomistic about this. I don't have to make significant changes in my eating habits - I have to learn to count my carbs and give myself the appropriate insulin for now. I will soon begin some form of walking regimen. The doctor thinks I should be off the insulin rather quickly.

I'll keep you all posted.

Slowly Coming Down...

OK then...The dogs woke me up around 6:30 to go outside for their morning constitutional. I felt pretty good for the first time in days. I had slept well with only one trip to the bathroom.

Checked the blood sugar and it was down to 270! It's amazing how differently my body felt. Not only was the icky layer of fuzzy feeling gone, but my skin felt different, my thinking felt clearer, I felt reborn. That's the best that I can explain. Similar feelings are the chills I get up my back as the muscles begin to relax when the head ache is finally gone or that feeling of physical relief when the fever has broken.

Although I don't relish the thought of continued monitoring of blood sugar into the far future and accompanying shots, if that's what I need to do for now so be it. Assuming this is just a strange presentation of a new diabetes diagnosis, it is also quite likely that I will simply be put on a pill--how American.

The truly strange thing here is that I am not a big sweets/sugar eater. My one sugar vice is in my coffee in the morning. I'm not a soda drinker. I usuallydon't have cookies and candy in the house. In fact, there's uneaten organic dark chocolate bar still sitting on the dining room table from my dinner with friends on Saturday!

I am large - about twice as big as my high school graduation weight. Worse then that, however, I am the bookish equivalent of a couch potato, meaning I don't have television to stare at but I am still very sedentary. My good friend Julie who has lived with diabetes for all of her adult life is my coach through this ordeal. She wisely has recommended that I not make any changes until after I've seen the doctor and we have this figured out. My co-worker and friend, Mary Ann, was lecturing me to go out and take a walk today in comparison. Given the relationship between exercise and utilization of insulin in the body, I'm taking Julie's advice.

So the adventure continues...as always I really appreciate all the cyber hugs, cheers, prayers, etc. It's very comforting to know that there are many people out there thinking and praying over you. Peace and love to you all and then some.

OMG! My Blood Sugar is 528!!!

Well, folks, here's the story. For the past week or so I've noticed that I'd gotten incredibly thirsty all the time and, of course, going to the bathroom all the time. The past few nights I've been up at least 3 times before morning. Today at work, I was also feeling a little dizzy. Not sure if I decided to see the doc before or after I realized I drank 40+ounces of water in about 20 minutes and was still thirsty.

They set me up for an appointment tomorrow morning and then I asked if I should get some labwork done today before the appointment. Got the blood drawn just before lunch and not long after was getting a call from the doctor's office telling me to come on over pronto. In fact, they almost sent me to the Emergency Room.

My doctor is a bit stumped. All my blood sugar levels up until now have been normal. Generally folks my age who get diabetes start to have creeping in their levels and eventually the hit around 200 and they're diagnosed. To jump up rather suddenly to this level is unusual. That's why I'll be seein an endocrinologist on Thursday. In the meantime, I have a glucometer to check my levels and insulin to try and get my sugars down between 100-200.

No significant family history - one grandmother might have had borderline diabetes. I am not a big candy and sweets kind of guy despite my size. The logical and most common answer will likely be that this is still a new diabetes diagnosis. However, there are some other things it could also be and the endocrinologist should probably rule that all out with some testing. I had started a B50 complex a few weeks back and there seems to be a correlation between niacin and elevated sugars. The supplement has 50 mg of niacin which is over 3X the recommended daily amount for a man. I'll be stopping that for now.

I'm must a bit freaked and appreciated all the kind thoughts posted on Facebook. Keep me in your prayers.

Pigs 'N Heat...

Child of Illusion posted this piece on her blog the other day about apparently random police brutality. I commented on her post and ended with a statement about not really understanding why I've always respected and admired firemen and merely tolerated policemen.

This is a pic shot at what is an annual fundraiser in Marquette - the Pigs 'N Heat hockey contest between teams of firemen and policemen to raise funds for families who are burned out of their homes due to fire. (This is big time hockey country up here - kids here aspire to play hockey not Little League)

Policemen and firemen...what images come to mind? I admit that I think firemen tend to be hot - Billy Baldwin and Kurt Russell in Backdraft. I think of police and I think of overweight donut eaters with power complexs - I can't help it. Of course, there's plenty of tales of corruption, violence, brutality that plague our law enforcement officers. When's the last time you heard of firefighter brutality or fire department corruption, eh?

The nature of their job gives firefighters an automatic edge. They deliberately enter burning buildings to rescue our families and pets. They put themselves at risk to save our homes. The physical nature of their job and the active involvement of their officers right on up to Captain keeps them in decent shape.

Police officers, on the other hand, enforce our "Nanny Culture" in addition to serving and protecting. Too often, I think, our only images of police are pulling people over, setting up seat belt enforcement checkpoints, or cruising the highways hoping to ensnare a victim - particularly at the end of the month (don't we all have suspicions about ticket "quotas"?).

Perhaps if firemen made random house searches and ticket folks for failure to have changed the batteries in their smoke detectors or too many plugs in one outlet, they'd start to fall in our estimation. It is in their role as enforcer of the state's wishes that police lose their heroic shine.
Peaceful protest? There's the force in their riot gear tapping their palms with their clubs. Playing your music a bit too loud at your graduation party? There's the cop showing up telling you to turn it down or else. I've already mentioned the check points - for seat belt usage, for driving under the influence.

Logically I know that the majority of police officers are good hearted, dedicated men and women who genuinely want to keep us safe. George Bush made a big deal about keeping us safe all the years after 9/11 - just because nothing bad happened again. Perhaps that's also a big part of the image problem for police officers - their biggest accomplishment is that because of their presence nothing bad happens to most of us. Unlike George, our police departments keep us safe, we just don't have a good measurement or a visual reminder of that.

I'll try to remember that - but I'll still probably root for the "Heat" at the annual hockey game.

Who Do You See? What Do You See? Why?

Has anyone you've thought you really knew well ever done something that really shocked you? Something that caused you to doubt your total under-standing of who he or she really was? I've been thinking lately about how we relate to and understand each other. You may recall that in the post below, I asked you to think about what comes to mind when you see an image of Michael Jackson. What about Madonna? How about Marilyn Monroe or Marilyn Manson?

There is an anecdotal story about Norma Jean Baker (AKA Marilyn) in which she was walking down the street of New York in schleppy jeans and baggy sweatshirt, scarf and sun- glasses and no one was paying her any mind. The writer or journalist that was walking with her was discussing her famous persona. She said, "Do you want to see her?" -- just like that in the third person. The gentleman recalls that it was like flipping a switch and she became "Marilyn" and within moments folks were stopping, pointing, and asking for autographs.

It seems to me that quite often we don't really see people so much as we see symbols. A symbol is "an act, sound, or object having cultural significance and the capacity to excite or objectify a response," according to Merriam-Webster. For example, take the two magazine covers at the top of this post. The first was the New Yorker cover that prompted a significant outcry and the second is the Nation cover that parodied the first. There are many people in our country who can look at a television image of any of those four individuals and will still see the caricature from the magazine covers. In other words, when we see an image of President Obama or Governor Palin we don't really see the man or the woman -- we see a symbol.

What started me off on this idea was the on going selection of a new bishop for the Episcopal Diocese of Northern Michigan. At this point it looks as though the bishop-elect will not receive the necessary consents from either the House of Bishops or the Standing Committees. Having worked directly with the man, I have my personal reasons for how I stand on this issue. I have followed the blogs closely and commented where I felt I needed to comment. I have sent personal e-mails and even blogged here as well. In the end I hold to my belief that for most of the people out there, the bishop-elect is a symbol, not an individual.

I think it is much easier to grasp this concept when we are dealing with people who really exist in an abstract way for us. We don't get to sit down and have coffee with Madge (AKA Madonna) and start to know the woman behind the marketed persona. Even those who knew John McCain well stated they didn't recognize the man on the campaign trail.

What really started to make my wheels spin though was to bring it all closer to home. I think we see symbols more often than people even in our day to day lives. Our brains are wired to receive stimuli, track the learned associations, and recognize/name what is before us. Over time we learn to ascribe expected behaviors or traits. For example, look at this picture below.

If this little critter was right before you and you leaned down to pet him and his lips curled back and he began to snarl and try to take a chunk out of your hand you would be completely startled and surprised. What you saw was a symbol of cute, sweet puppy - the real animal turned out to be a bit different.

So what's the point of this whole ramble? Well, as usual, I am thinking about how we co-exist. I try to understand the barriers to understanding and subsequently to love. I think that part of the secret of getting beyond seeing symbols begins with self awareness. If we don't really know ourselves, how can we know others? If we don't understand our emotional reactions under stress, it is understandable how we often misinterpret or misunderstand reactions in others.

For Jesus said, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you...For if you (only) love those who love you what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same?" I used to have a lot of difficulty understanding this concept. I now believe that it's really about reaching across that which divides us to seek common ground. This is very hard to do if you're only seeing symbols.

We don't have to be completely self aware before we can begin to see beyond symbols. We can start by just being aware. Peace.

Seeing Through The Looking Glass

Fair warning that this is likely to make little sense to anyone but me, thereby revealing how quirky I really am. There are moments when my life feels downright mystical.

Yesterday morning I sat at my table surfing on my laptop. It was a glorious day -- sunny, low 50's, gentle breeze. The trees are now in their full, lush green, filtering the sunlight down to a verdant hue.

The great room has three large windows that frame the scene. The maple trees are well over 50 feet high so the image through the windows is a complete background of rising trunks and green leaves.

I chose Loons in the Morning Mist for some peaceful listening, and set back to surfing on the computer. One particular track of music included the sounds of a gentle rain. I looked out the window at the sunny day and yet heard the sounds of a rainy day. The juxtaposition seemed mystical - I could feel a tremor in my inner core.

How often do we experience the world in a very uni-dimensional way - almost with a type of tunnel vision? It is as if to gain our footing we deliberately zoom in to the simplest understanding of what we are experiencing. We like to have resolution and feel that all is within our grasp and understanding. I think this is the usual manner in which we move through our days.

What made yesterday mystical was that chance juxtaposition of visual and auditory that blended into a broader experience. I looked through the window and could see both the sunny day and the rainy day -- I listened to the music and could hear the rainy day and the sunny day.

Not long after, Zoe, my baby-girl Bichon, wandered across the great room and her reflection in the window appeared to have her wandering out on the porch. This too struck me as mystical - looking through a window and at the same time having that window function a bit as a looking glass. Thus, once again multiple layers of experience, what we like to call reality (whatever that really is - think "reality tv").

This post is likely a prelude to a later post I will write on how we see each other - how much of what we think we see as people is really nothing more than symbols with human faces. How do we perceive our experience in the world? One might say, "Well, I know what my eyes see and I know what my ears hear -- that's all that matters. (harrumph!)" However, what and how we see depends on many factors. How many versions of an event do police obtain from witnesses? How do magicians entertain us? Think of the many optical illusions whereby our vision is tricked by the image. And what of hearing? Identifying sounds, voices, etc. is even less straightforward.

To further muddy the waters of our logical interpretation of experience, there are individuals who have wires crossed a bit in their brains and actually have visual images in their brains for different sounds, or images/colors have a unique smell. Try explaining to a person blind from birth what blue is or what green is.

Our world is such a complex place that it is perfectly human to want some solid ground to plant ourselves in in order to feel some safety and security. Many of us are uncomfortable with ambiguity. Roses are red, dammit, and violets are blue... Perhaps we need some mystical moments to loosen up our experience.

Take a moment and experience your favorite landscape, embellish it with a glass or two of your favorite wine, do this alone. Now experience it on many levels at once - clear sky, cloudy sky, rainy sky, cold, mild, muggy, blustery or quiet - it is all out there in your mind.

Now pick a particularly challenging person in your life and do the same...

Peace.

Brave New World?

Much has been written so far this week about the murder of the doctor in Wichita. The ferocity of those on the right making Dr. Mengele comparisons is only matched in my book by the audacity of those on the left elevating this man to sainthood. The right looking upon all abortion as the most vile sin imaginable and the left declaring abortion as a sacrament and blessing. To all of them I say: TIME OUT!!!! Go to your respective corners and shut your mouths.

For starters, abortion is a medical procedure. Is it gruesome? Yes, but so is debriding a nasty stage 4 decubitus ulcer ("bed sore"). Is it painless? Not exactly. Is it moral? Hmmmm, now there's the rub, isn't it? How do we determine the morality of a medical procedure? "But wait," you say, "It's taking the life of an unborn child!" Well, now were debating "life" and I'll get to that in a moment. Is amputation surgery moral? "Oh, please, that's a surgical procedure, how can morality enter into it?" Well, what if adult despondent children are pushing for the amputation of the leg of their dying father - a man wracked with cancer - because there's gangrene setting in on his foot? Trust me, it happens. Now would that surgery be moral?

You cannot determine the morality of a medical procedure without understanding the situation and the mindset of the patient, the family members, etc. "But what about killing a..." Hold on there! The debate over "life" enters into this - in the case of abortion it is part of the situation and part of the mindset of the patient.

My wonderful cyber pal Maria (and fellow secular monastic) has a wonderful post on her blog today that got me thinking about this whole topic. Her post involves a can of Eagle Brand condensed milk. Some of what follows is from our dialogue in her comments section of this post. I hope you will go check it out.

Her example of the bread, wine & water used in the Eucharist got me thinking. Picture church early Sunday morning. A loaf of bread and a bottle of wine sit waiting in the sacristy to be used in the service today. How many members of the congregation would feel at this moment that this bread and wine is sacred? How many would gasp if a man off the street walked in, ate half the loaf and tossed the rest in the trash to hide his crime and drank half the bottle of wine, spilling some on the floor in the process? Perhaps only the elderly widower who brought that bread and wine special to honor the memory of his deceased wife that day. The rest would say that it was just bread and wine.

Now what if it's later and the altar guild ladies have unwrapped the bread and decanted the wine and placed everything out on the creedance table or at the back of the church in preparation for the service. What if that same man walked through the church now and grabbed the loaf of bread and bottle of wine and in rushing out dropped the wine carafe spilling the wine all over the floor and dropped half the loaf on the ground rushing out the door? How many now would gasp at the abuse of the sacred? Well, the altar guild and the widower would be upset as well as those first few elderly congregants who came early to pray. That bread and wine would already be seen as sacred by them perhaps, though most of the congregation hearing about it later would say, "Ah, well, it was just bread and wine."

What if the ushers have now brought it to the table for the Eucharistic prayer? What if the Deacon has taken it from them, spread the corporal, filled the chalice, and just before the presbyter is ready to begin the prayer that same man rushes in grabs the chalice and gulps the wine spilling it onto his greasy shirt and the floor; what if he knocks the loaf of bread to the floor while reaching for it and stomps on it in spite? How many of the congregation sitting there would still say, "Ah, just bread and water, nothing sacred" - and would simply be perturbed that this man burst into the service. A decidely larger number though might feel that the bread and wine were sacred and had been desicrated at this point - even though the moment of elevation had not occurred technically.

Finally, the service is over and in practice with the rubrics the left over blessed wine is carefully desposed of because it is seen as sacred now. However, even at this point there are some in the church who would say, "It's just bread and wine."

The sacredness of the bread and wine is completely dependent on the belief system of the beholder - it is tied up in their faith. You cannot argue this logically. If you were raised Roman Catholic or Anglican or Lutheran...on an emotional level that bread and wine becomes sacred somewhere along the way.

How much more difficult then to determine at what point a cluster of cells, a bit of flesh, an embryo or zygote is life and is sacred. Opinions range from "every sperm is sacred" to just short of delivery. When does abortion switch from being equivalent to removing an abnormal growth to the killing of an unborn child? How can we know? How can we pass laws dictating when this medical procedure is moral and when it is not? Or pass laws outlawing it from the safety of clinics and hospitals because, I'm sorry, we cannot legislate away abortion, we can only legislate away legal abortion.

Abortion is a medical procedure. Determining when life begins is a moral argument.

Don't forget to check out Maria's post. Peace.

Rest In Peace, Tristan

My parents had to put Tristan down today. He was that big lunky, beautiful German Shepherd there on the right on my sofa at my old house. This evening my parents' home is without the physical presence of a dog for the first time in over 30 years, though the canine spirits that hover have a new friend joining them tonight.

Tristan came to my mom and dad's as a seven-month-old puppy who had spent much of his formative puppy months locked in a crate in a basement, the victim of a divorce. This left him a bit skittish for such a big guy, but gave him an extra helping of love to bestow on his new family.

He joined Elizabeth Regina "Ellie," a rather high strung Airedale who fancied herself human and wouldn't give dogs the time of day - she'd give them a snarl or two (she once tried to eat my darling little Frankie when he was but a pup) - but most of the time it was detente, pure and simple. Needless to say, Tris didn't learn to speak dog very well in Miss Ellie's company and pretty much kept to himself.

At the right time, I brought Frankie down for a visit from the U.P. and Frankie is one cool dude. It didn't take him long to teach his big cousin the ropes on having a romp with other dogs and relaxing and playing. The awesome thing is that Tris turned around and brought this lesson to Miss Ellie and soon after Frankie's visit, Tris and Ellie were best buds.

Ellie eventually passed on though, leaving Tristan on his own for a bit until my parents rescued Gracie, an energetic, friendly Airedale who took to her new pal right out of the starting gate. On occasion, my parents loaded up both dogs and came to visit me in my old house in town. However, Pop likes to come up for NMU hockey and Tristan was always his traveling buddy. As Dad would start to pack up the PT Cruiser, Tris would get all excited knowing that a road trip was in the works.

The travel routine always involved a pit stop at the rest area south of Green Bay. Tris might even get a bit of a fast food treat along the way. Once up here they would often take a walk down the bike path near my house.

Over the years, Tris's health took some serious turns for the worse. He dodged a bullet twice when he suffered spinal strokes that left him weakened in the hind quarters. Managing the stairs at my new house in the woods got to be a challenge for him the last couple years.

He was diagnosed with a rather aggressive cancer a month or so ago. He held on as long as he could, getting himself upstairs to my parents' bedroom to sleep at night even after he could no longer get himself up on the bed. Only the last night or so did he have to stay downstairs. His poor body began to fail him and today was the day for him to cross over.

Despite his health issues over the years he lived to be eleven years old. He was a magnificent dog. He was preceded in death by his canine buddies Ellie and Gracie and his canine cousins, Bernie and Chiquita. He is survived by his loving parents and human siblings and his canine cousins, Frankie, Zoe, Cosmo, & Lola. His ashes will be interred in the family plot behind the house with a small bit being interred here in the woods of his Uncle's house as well. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made in his memory to your local Humane Society or the Canine Rescue Organization of the breed of your choosing.

This tune is dedicated to his memory and to dog lovers everywhere. Rory Block, a very talented blues musician, wrote this piece called Momma's Stray Baby. Enjoy.

NEW COMMENT: My mom told me that the day they were scheduled to bring him in their vet got a call from her kid's school that she was sick and needed to be picked up. The vet called her husband and told him he had to do it because the Shell's were coming with their dog. What an awesome doc, eh?

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