Law of Attraction

This won't be long (famous last words for me)...but I've been thinking about this concept currently called the Law of Attraction. I realize it's really a new name for an age-old faith that improvement of absolutely any kind begins with the thought. When I was younger and practicing Christianity, we called it the power of prayer. Remember the words, 'as above, so below'? If we offer up our prayers, hopes, thoughts (mental energy?), those will manifest below--here in our physical world.

Much of this can be appealing...and since as I said the concept has been around for so very long, I can easily acknowledge there's at least something to it. And yet there's a downside, known at least intuitively by a good many of us...if we embrace this as fact; that we can bring abundance, good health, love and so on, to us, well, the flip side is true that people who are suffering must be engaging in 'wrong thought'. They bring abject poverty, illness, tragedy, etc., on themselves.

For many years, enjoying my beautiful children, I would serenely think, "I am blessed with wonderful, good hearted, caring children". Or I'd say, "God looked at me and knew what I could handle, so He gave me these terrific, healthy kids". Today, those thoughts and attitude shame me, because both sentences really continue: "I am blessed...and poor you, God must hate you!" Likewise, I've enjoyed good health...surprisingly so in light of my smoking, overeating, etc. I've just smiled at this, thinking that I have 'good genes', or again that God only gives us what we can handle...seriously? Millions are starving, burying their malnourished children, dying of disease carried my mosquitos...because: What? God looked at them and thought, "Here's a tough group of people who can 'handle' these atrocities??? Children are born with birth defects, or suffer brain damage from injury during their birth...well, I can just go on and on, but this is the fact:

I reject the simplistic notion that people who prosper 'think well' and that those who don't, 'think poorly'. On the surface, it looks goods...we can all name examples from our friends and family. But truly a look at the world's population illustrates that this concept is too linear. There are too many variables.

But, we can come back to the wording I used earlier, that improvement begins with a thought (and yes, I'm seeing the opposite--that horrific deeds of evil against humanity likewise begin with a thought). So, I can embrace this concept that before my actions I will have the thought. The next question becomes, what to think? What do I wish for, pray for, meditate upon and manifest in my life?

This has been on my mind for some time now. Earlier today, as I sat puffing a cigarette, drinking coffee and planning my to-do list, I thought ahead to this evening when I'll come together with family in remembrance of our brother, Jim, who recently passed away. A sort of meditation or prayer came to me, so I jotted it down: If I have a thought, may it be of my brothers and sisters. If I have a goal, may it spring from the desire to serve. If I speak, may it be with compassion. And, If I seek knowledge, may it be to increase my understanding, acceptance and love of all people.

Those words came to me before consiously considering the Law of Attraction today, but I quickly saw the connection for me. In accepting that I just might be able to influence my life with my thoughts, I will strive to keep that in my heart, rather than seeking wealth for the sake of personal material gain, education for the sake of status, fame for the sake of recognition.

A voice for Jim

A day or two ago, I posted the concern on facebook that we are being distracted from the core issue, that this country's people desperately need universal healthcare. At the end of this blog post, I'll come back to that concern, but first I want to share a very personal story of just one, middle-aged man; my brother, Jim.

My parents moved a number of times in the early years of their marriage, but settled in Indiana when I was just three years old. Jim by then was 13. Because of the age difference, I can't say that during those early years we really shared many memories, but I do know he was something of a prankster and a rebel. He was brilliantly mischievous, pulling stunts on classmates and teachers alike. A bit of a rebel, I remember our mom angry as hell chasing him around with a broom. As Jim easily danced out of her range, he shouted, "Why don't you jump on that broom and fly away, you old witch!" I rather wisely for my age kept quiet, but inside in that instant I was delighted and rolling with laughter.

Jim survived that night, and made it through high school. I was still pretty young when Jim married his first wife. They started a family very quickly, having two sons, but unfortunately their marriage didn't last. From my perspective, Jim seemed to pull away from everyone...we'd see him occasionally, and if my mom needed help with something, he would come around. I remember he had become an exterminator for a well-known company in that field. So when we had a hive of bees (rather aggressive, nasty ones at that) set up house in our little tool shed, Jim showed up to clear them out. That particular day, I found myself home alone when Jim arrived for this task. I remember my heart pounding with a dose of fear; I did not want my brother to get hurt! So I asked him, what can I do to help? Jim appeared to seriously consider this and responded, "When you see me come running past this window, open the door and let me in!" Today I can fully appreciate the humor, am laughing a bit even just writing about it, but back then I took it to heart, with my hand on the door, terrified for him.

As Jim did quietly pull away from us emotionally, he eventually did so quite literally as well...leaving Indiana far behind and settling in Texas. He and I did not maintain a close relationship; I'd hear the occasional update from another family member about him as most likely he did likewise about me. Very rarely, one of us would call the other. We never had a falling-out, but we just went on our separate paths.

I do know that Jim believed in hard work and responsibility. He took a job with a candy factory soon after moving to Texas, and unlike so many of us nowadays hopping from job to job; Jim stayed at that factory, working as a second-shift manager. He rarely missed a day, in fact often worked over-time. He tried marriage two more times, and I like to think he had some joyful days within those relationships, but eventually Jim settled into life as a bachelor. I visited him a couple times with my kids, and his door was always open, but he had in fact accepted for himself the definition of a 'well-adjusted hermit'. When his sons, now grown, visited or needed help, he always extended himself. A step-daughter from his 3rd marriage took Jim in heart as her dad, and he loved her in the same spirit, helping her as able. When our brother, Jay, needed a change in his life about five years ago, Jim welcomed him.

All this time in Texas, 20 years in fact, Jim worked, paid his bills, bought and maintained an attractive home. More than that, Jim saved a considerable sum through a 401K with his employer. I think now that as he lived this responsible, by all acounts average American life, Jim still had that rebellious streak, and that part of his nature contributed to him buying a motorcycle. Honestly, until last year, I didn't know Jim had a bike, and I guess there's no reason I would have known, considering how uninvolved we were in each other's lives. I hope and trust that bike gave him some joy, pleasing the playful side of him. As hard as he worked, he certainly earned that much.

But on October 25, 2008, the life Jim had labored to make for himself abruptly ended. Jay was home alone when the police came to the door with the news: Jim had been in an accident. He was thrown over 130 feet headfirst into a guard rail...he was alive, barely. Jay, and subsequently all the family, got our own crash course with terms like 'traumatic brain injury' and 'dysphagia'. The surgeons removed a portion of Jim's skull to both save his life and attempt to minimize the damage from his brain swelling.

As Jim survived those early days following his accident, the extent of the damage became obvious. Jim could say some words, but with the dysphagia he was unable to say the correct word, a condition often called 'word salad'. For instance, someone with this condition might be thinking, "I'm hot; please open the window", but when he speaks, all that comes out is, "...cup...". Jim, who had always been a confident communicator, found he was met with confused, worried stares whenever he tried to speak. I think just for a moment of what this frustration must've felt like to such an independent person as Jim, and I simply cannot bear it...I can and honestly do choose to push that thought out of my mind, but for Jim there was no such option. Partially paralyzed, unable to read, write or effectively speak, with the left side of his skull missing, this was his reality.

But, the doctors offered hope. With intensive rehabilitation, Jim could learn to walk again. He could relearn basic activities of daily living, regain some degree of communication skills. Jay, as Jim's brother, friend, and biggest advocate, took on the daunting task of speaking for Jim. Jay communicated with Jim's employer, and their insurance provider; a company well known to many but of which I'd never known about...Great West.

Great West began denying virtually all claims submitted for Jim's healthcare. Yes, he was covered. Yes, we still have unanswered questions about the denials...but the fact remains that Great West would not pay. Jay did everything he or anyone could, and he did his best to keep the financial concerns away from Jim. An excellent residential rehabilitation facility was chosen; and initially Great West approved this placement. But early on, the insurance company changed their tune, insisting that Jim was not a candidate for rehabilitation but rather should be institutionalized in a skilled nursing facility for maintenance-only care. His doctors protested, presenting the facts and statistics about how much progress can be made in the first six to twelve months post injury. Jay challenged and protested, as did many other advocates for Jim...but it all fell on deaf ears.

The apparent reason Great West advised Jim go to a nursing home is simple: Jim's policy excluded nursing homes, so once he was out of rehabilitation, Great West would be done with him. The rehab facility needed payment, and agreed to a reduced fee of an astounding $3,200 per week, payable every Friday, in order to continue treating Jim. We all kept thinking, the insurance company will have to honor the policy and will eventually relent, but of course they never did. Worse, Jim one day overheard staff speaking of this outrage (there was little wrong with his hearing or comprehension). He was devastated. Jim stopped cooperating with the therapists. He struggled to get out the words, "Old brain...gone. New brain...no good. Money--no pay". Jim lost hope, what little he'd managed to hold onto until then evaporated. In his despondency, he would weep, saying, "work...work...gone". Without a doubt, I know he saw clearly his life: He'd done what he was supposed to do, working and saving day in and day out for so many years...quietly hoping for the day when he could do some fishing, read, and rest, proud of his accomplishments in his lifetime. Instead, he would lose his home, his savings...headed for institutional care penniless, just waiting to die. Without the rehabilitation, this would be his existence.

Jim fell seriously ill in March, following a surgery to repair the missing section of skull. With intensive antibiotic therapy which took several weeks meaning a disastrous disruption in his rehab...a terrible setback, Jim did survive the infection. And still, Great West refused to pay for these services either. Truly out of resources and running low on options, Jim was finally transferred in late April, 2008, to a nursing home. Our sister, Becky, began arrangements for Jim to be brought to Indiana and stay with her at least temporarily, while we figured out what to do next. But Jim succombed to infection again, just days after finishing aggressive antibiotics. He'd been through such intensive antibiotic treatment just earlier, that we all understood Jim was not going to survive. His doctor supported the decision that Jim would go home with hospice care, telling us that Jim had maybe as much as three days to live. Those of us who could went to Texas for Jim's final days.

Jim, a tall handsome man at 6'3", had wasted away from 230 pounds to 136 pounds in just over four months. Sitting with him, I could still sense his strength. Throughout the day before he passed on, there was a storm brewing. Ominous, energy-charged clouds would gather, appear ready to burst...then dissipate a bit without so much as a drop of rain or a good windy gust. This promise of a storm teased 3 or 4 times that day. Finally, at 1:40a.m. May 16, 2009, Jim left this world. As he did, the power went out for a few seconds. Within the following hour, the storm hit, releasing all the tension that had been building...a cleansing rain our hearts and spirits surely needed as we grieved.

Jim to my knowledge never talked about the American dream, but by his life clearly he had believed that hard work and a good sense of personal responsibility would pay off in the end. Jim was employed with a company that provided what appeared to be adequate health insurance. Yet here he was, in the end a man who died not just penniless, but in debt. His savings and material assets only covered a fraction of the expenses. I hope and trust that he knew he had his family with him, that he was loved and admired by us, and will always be remembered.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned we're getting distracted from the issue of universal healthcare, and I said I'd come back to this. As we are surely headed toward some sort of reform, special interest groups are clamoring to be heard, to assure their goals are best met in any changes. Others (perhaps Great West) are calculating how any changes will dip into their profits. Not pleased with the figures, they are feeding our fears, filling us with doubt. I won't say here which special interests I personally hope are favored, nor will I talk about the fears. Instead, I just have a request: Look simply at your own history with healthcare, then at your family's experiences. Take it another step if you can and think of your friends, neighbors or larger community. Think of how many times you've dropped your change into the donation can at the gas station, with the picture of someone who needs medical treatment but can't afford it. I'm asking you to look at these very real, personal examples of what our current system is doing...or failing to do...every day.

I'm confident if we just focus on the real examples in our own lives, the distractions will lose their ability to confuse, anger or frighten us. We all need this reform, and must get that very simple, very real fact across to our political leaders.

short bit on joyful living

In the past half hour, I frantically searched for 2 books belonging to one niece, which upon reading I was to pass onto another niece. At first with confidence, I looked in my bedroom. Neither one was there, which pretty much stumped me (false memory that I'd found them two weeks ago and had my son carry them to my room). I cannot stand losing things, especially other people's things. Eventually, 1 turned up...thankfully it was the better of the two, truly worth reading (for anyone interested, it is Diary of a Psychic by Sonia Choquette). The other appears to have vanished. As my blood pressure rose, I nibbled on some dark chocolate and almonds, and brewed some green tea. The desired calming effect achieved, I thought more clearly. The simple resolution is that I'll employ my husband's help (he has incredible 'lost stuff finding powers') tonight. If that doesn't do the trick, a quick visit to the bookstore tomorrow certainly will. With this plan, I let go the last teeny bit of tension and thought about blogging.

Who knows sometimes what rapid-fire train of thought occurs to get one's mind from this point to another, but suffice it to say that in a snap two tiny memories came back to me. About 23 years ago, when my oldest daughter was about 2, we went to the ball park to root for her dad in a softball game. There was a pretty little hill covered in soft grass, and we sat there. Thinking like a child, I thought how fun it would be to lie in the grass and roll down that gentle slope. Thinking like an adult, I figured I couldn't get away with it...there were plenty of other adults around. So, I suggested it to my little girl. She gave it a try, giggled and repeated a few times. This was just about as good as rolling down the hill myself, her enjoyment was contagious. Nearby, a woman a little older than me with a daughter also about 2 was sitting, not directly on the grass but on folding chairs purchased no doubt just for such events as softball games. I heard the woman tell her child definitely to not lie down on the dirty ground, she would get grass stains on her pretty clothes. How sad.

I mentioned I had 2 memories; the other, older one is from my own teen years. I was 16 or 17. My best friend, Barry, was over. It was maybe July, as I remember school was out for the summer. This particular day my dad was home from work, either watching TV or reading a Louis L'Amour western. A good downpour burst from the skies, so heavy you'd expect accompanying thunder and lightning, but this time it was just rain. Barry and I laughed and ran outside. We danced and skipped around in the front yard, yelling at the top of our lungs for MORE rain! Don't Stop! It had been a hot day, the cool water felt great. Well, 20 minutes later it had slowed to a sprinkle, and we came in and toweled off a bit. Barry excused himself to run home and change, I went to my room and did likewise. Back in the front room with my dad, I exclaimed still exhilarated how wonderful that experience had been. My dad with adult tolerance and patience quietly said that as long as we weren't acting like that in our 40's, he supposed it was okay. I retorted that I hoped to be dancing in the rain well into my 90's.

Now I'm in my 40's. I haven't played or danced in the rain in many years, it seems like a lifetime ago. Today I remember these moments, can think of more easily, but the main point is that maybe we could seize these little pleasures, let go and dance or sing for just a bit...books will go missing as do remote controls and car keys, turning up later in the weirdest places, but who cares? So just for today I think I will breathe in and out, take in the sunshine and balance mundane duties or chores with the joy of a child.

Where did that come from???

My last blog shocked me, even as I was writing it. There is a lot of resentment in me toward a callous, finger-pointing society that pays lip service to wanting to help all citizens, but then says this group or that group brought their problems on themselves...soooo, we shouldn't be expected to help them. As an obese smoker, I've listened to and definitely internalized a lot of these attitudes. I'm obese because I have no willpower, I let myself go after landing a man, I don't care about myself...I'm lazy and don't care enough about the bad example I've set for my children. Smoking...same thing. Nobody should help me when my health deteriorates, just find me a rock to crawl under. On and on, the messages are all around. Even in a discussion group at a church I'd been visiting last year, the topic was what exactly should we as a society feel obliged to do for one another? And an elderly woman sitting across from me brought up smokers and obese people, driving up healthcare costs for everybody. I didn't say a word to her, but frankly haven't been back either. What can I say? I'm filled with mixed emotions about this, because I certainly do blame myself in many ways.



But at the same time, I question this line of thinking. Recently I remembered a couple things from several years ago. They're unrelated events, but I think there's a connection. First, when I was growing up, we never wore seatbelts. They weren't given the slightest thought by anyone I knew. When I became pregnant with my first child, however, I suddenly became so aware of the need to take care of myself in order to protect that growing baby inside me. I quit smoking, ate veggies and took vitamins. Once at work I refused to use a stepstool to get something off a shelf, because I worried I might fall and hurt the baby. And, I started wearing a seatbelt in the car. That actually concerned me, because I realized that the belt itself could hurt the baby in an accident. But, after thinking about it, I decided to wear it as low as possible, that the protection it afforded was worth it. Somewhere around this time, seatbelt safety became a public issue. Advocates for its usage were loudly exclaiming that healthcare costs were rising because people who don't wear seatbelts and get in accidents sustain more serious and expensive injuries. So insurance premiums must be higher than they'd have to be if everyone would just buckle up.



This sounded very logical. I talked my husband into buckling every time, and we raised our children to wear their seatbelts as well. But I wondered about those insurance premiums...has anyone out there noticed that they came down when the seatbelt laws came into effect? Motorcycle helmets are another example...again I started hearing about how expensive head injuries are to society and that sooo much money could be saved if people would wear their helmets. And now we have helmet laws, so I'm thinking there's been an increase in helmet usage, so fewer head injuries...and yet those healthcare costs keep spiraling out of control.



Also, in the early '90's, I took a sociology class. The professor talked about our society's tendency to blame poor people for their situation. And it's true, we do blame people. We think they could've done anything with their lives, they had opportunities same as all of us. They're probably milking the system just so they can stay on welfare and sit on their asses. I think this reasoning comforts us to some extent, because to look more closely would be to realize how any one of us could fall on hard times. My husband and I in fact have been in tough situations, where without the support of family who knows how we would've made it through.

May I say that immediately after the previous post, I envisioned a subsequent writing where I would look at how much our society actually depends on people who keep overeating, sitting on our butts, and smoking. Really, think about how many billions of dollars the diet industry rakes in every year. Not just the specific diets, but also in healthcare...bariatrics is advertised virtually every time I look at the tv. I know of several people who've chosen surgery for weightloss. This is a procedure I don't believe is done unless the funds are available, so isn't it actually generating income for doctors and all the associated staff? It is big money, folks. Well, I could go on quite a bit, but as I said, I only envisioned addressing this...I thought it could be quite sarcastic, funny and entertaining, driving home a message about how society thinks.

But, at the same time, another issue has been coming up for me. This is more difficult to explain, because it involves a lot of thoughts/problems I don't care to blog about. Suffice it to say that I've recently been having so many negative thoughts, it's been affecting how I treat loved ones and even strangers. Internally, I've struggled, wanting to be happy and positive but carrying the burden of these troubled thoughts. Discussions with dear friends and family members have had a theme, we each are responsible for the energy we generate. There is a true ripple effect for every action...what actions do I want to set in motion? Stories abound about positive minded individuals making really wonderful differences in the lives of those around them, simply by their uplifting perspective.

When all is said and done, this is how I want to live my life...generating/perpetuating love, kindness, generosity and hope. It truly begins within each of us, how we greet our loved ones in the morning, how we handle interactions through the course of each day. A professor once told me, 'fake it until you make it'. I believe if we make a conscious effort to smile, ask caring questions, be patient...all of this will become second nature. It very much has the power to create a 'pay-it-forward' mentality all around the world. I recall in June for my older son's graduation, we went to a late dinner. Service was slow. I reacted impatiently, gave the server a tough time and complained to management. My daughter Jessie was appalled at my behavior. I thought, she's young and hasn't fully learned how to stand up for herself. And still I could argue either way about whether a customer is entitled to pitch a fit when things don't go right...but, if I think to the topic here, how instead could such situations be handled? What if we thanked that server profusely for what she did do well, or laughed it off realizing, hey we're all here celebrating a joyous event, so what difference does it make if we have to wait a while for our meal? How about showing concern for the server, asking if it's been a long day, or how the business is doing in these troubling times? Well, this is all food for thought.

So, that last post full of sarcasm will hopefully be the last of its kind for me. I'm hoping anyone reading this will have a wonderful week, filled with hope and positive energy.

Healthcare...and who SHOULD NOT be covered

Okay, right now any news channel I care to watch is going to have something to say about healthcare. Just this morning, on MSNBC's Morning Joe, they were discussing smoking in the military. It was mentioned that smoking kills you. This costs society tons of money, as does obesity. I'm thinking, this is exactly right, and I say, enough!

Smokers get a myriad of health problems...chronic cough, asthma, COPD, heart disease, cancer. If a smoker gets sick, her weakened system will inhibit recovery, leading to more doctor's visits than a nonsmoker, more prescription medications, and costing more money than a nonsmoker. Now, hospitals and government are spending all kinds of money addressing this, taking out ads on tv to get people either to never start smoking or to quit smoking. Programs are available at no cost to the smoker to help her quit...but don't think the programs aren't costing society, because of course one way or another, they are. So, smokers should NOT receive healthcare. They are being reckless with their own health, then daring to expect treatment when they get sick as a direct result of their behavior, and this is simply outrageous. To hell with the smokers!

Obese people simply would not be obese if they all would stop eating so damned much. Overeating to this extreme leads to all kinds of health problems, doctor's visits, hospitalizations, prescription meds to treat the problems...and any healthcare system has to absorb these astronomical expenses. Obese people sometimes wind up unable to work, costing more money to society. If they do work, then because of their weight-related health issues they call off too much, which costs more money. So, obese people, having done this to themselves, should be S.O.L....cut them off, no healthcare for them.

What about anorexics and bolemics? I think this is just as heinous as smoking and obesity. People who don't enough, or eat too much and repeatedly induce vomiting, bring on themselves terrible health problems. They end up in the hospital or treatment centers, costing millions (billions?) of dollars, and it is all their own fault! They also have trouble maintaining employment, costing society even more money. So if you starve or purge, you are to blame...you should not receive one dime of healthcare money. Start eating, and do not puke it up. It's pretty simple, do you actually need someone to tell you this? Puhlease!

Addicts of any kind are an unnecessary burden on society. Again, free treatment programs, advertising costs encouraging these people to seek treatment, and all their health problems cost somebody (not the addict) a hell of a lot of money. An addicts who steal to support their self-indulgent behavior cost the insurance companies even more! So should a doctor or hospital treat an addict, who has done this to herself? Should society pay for treatment? Why are we even discussing this??? Of course we should not pay.

People with STD's cost tons of money, too. They CHOOSE to have sex, something we do not NEED to do...so really, who should have to pay for their treatment? How many millions have been spent already researching sex-related diseases, not to mention the cost of prevention education, and treatment? So if you get an STD, shame on you! All you had to do was either not have sex, or be smart enough to choose a healthy partner with values (one who won't cheat on you, catch something, and give it to you). Do you really think you deserve healthcare benefits for getting yourself into this predicament, one which YOU fully had the power to avoid?

Unsafe drivers, you know who you are! If you actually ARE clueless to how dangerous you are, either to yourself or the unsuspecting motorists unfortunate enough to be sharing the road with you, well there are signs you can look for...how many times are you flipped off during your commute when you tailgate or cut somebody off? Do you hear frequent honking or tires screeching? You are an accident waiting to happen, and who should pay for it? YOU, you idiot, that's who, and NOT your insurance company, not socialized healthcare. Buckle up if you're in a car, wear your helmet if you're on a motorcycle, and obey traffic laws. Do not expect society to pat you on the head, feel sorry for you and foot the bill. If you can't change your ways, get off the road.

Another group of people burdening us all are athletes. So, you think you can engage obsessively in the sport of your choice, which is after all completely optional, put yourself daily at an increased risk for avoidable injuries, AND you want healthcare??? This is absurd! If you have a job outside your self-indulgent hobby, who suffers when you cannot work? Your employer has to pay more money to hire and train a replacement. Too much of this nonsense, and she will be forced to charge more money for whatever service or product she provides. Costs go up for everybody, not just the healthcare issue, and for what? So you can play some stupid game?

This next group of people might be offended...but really, this is about MONEY, so their feelings are irrelevant. Anyone who has a chronic condition/disease which affects less than 10% of the population really needs to suck it up: These people are UNLUCKY. Trust me, I've known lots of unlucky people, and if we go ahead and pay for their treatment this time, they will only go out and get themselves a new medical problem and be back for another handout, and another after that. I say, weed them out right from the get-go. And who's to say these people really are innocent anyway? Sure, in THIS life maybe they did nothing to bring the problem on themselves, but what if in a past life they were not so perfect? Karma, folks!

We're often encouraged to go for annual physicals, those wellness checks where we hopefully find out everything's fine. What about these? People who go for these appointments are going to run up expenses for the visit itself, and all the tests that get ordered. If in fact after all that expense they get a clean bill of health, then obviously all that expense was unnecessary! On the other hand, if some health problem IS identified, well then a lot more expense is going to occur that could've been avoided if it was not discovered...the person could just not go, then drop dead from some problem he did not know he had: This is the most cost-effective approach. I do not support any healthcare program which promotes regular check-ups of any kind.

How many credit cards are you making payments on for a bunch of stuff you could either have lived without, or otherwise saved for a few months or years, then paid for in full? If this sounds familiar, you really cannot expect a healthcare system to pay for any kind of treatment for you. You could have taken your extra money and banked it, then paid for any health problems on your own. Because you indulge yourself, go into debt, and accordingly have no funds for healthcare, you have made your own bed and must sleep in it. Do not ask me or anyone else in this society to cover for you.

Senior citizens...so you're not feeling well? Think you need a doctor? What for??? News flash, you are near death, you are not going to feel so hot...go take a nap.

People who have children...you know full well that there are going to be medical expenses if you have kids: So, ask yourselves, can you afford all that? Will you further burden society? Most people cannot afford their kids and shouldn't have had them. Or, they shouldn't have any more. Their kids will, statistics show, probably wind up in the exact same financial status as their parents, so if you did mess up and have kids, at least teach your kids not to have kids of their own. While you're at it, tell them not to smoke, have an eating disorder, drive carelessly, participate in sports, run up credit debt, have any kind of addiction, visit the doctor for wellness checks, or get old. So just maybe there will be hope for the future.

One last group I'll mention today is a relatively small one: wealthy people. Wealthy people are the worst in many ways, because they absolutely could afford to pay out-of-pocket, but don't. They are insured already. They will go for those expensive physicals, and they're much more likely to go to the doctor for nuisance conditions the rest of us, who cannot afford it, simply live with.

The upside is, there are some people out there who do not burden our healthcare system...instead, they pray. Yes, there are those who will call for a prayer circle to treat all sorts of illnesses rather than see a doctor. If God doesn't cure them, then they know their faith wasn't strong enough. I hope at that point they do not give up and go to the nearest ER...I encourage them to re-examine their beliefs, and pray harder. One group believes that nothing we really think we are experiencing is real...all that truly exists is the Spirit. If things don't appear to be going well, they can simply connect with the Spirit and create a new "reality" for themselves. No pills, check-ups, hospital stays or therapists necessary, right? Presumably, these groups will not have any of the above-mentioned issues, certainly they won't grow old because some non-existent disease will kill them sooner than later. Of course, their burial is another expense we might have to address, but that's another topic.

parenting, aka 'winging it'

A few days ago, I had the thought to blog about parenting styles. More to the point, I've been thinking how great my kids have turned out--and taking all the credit. So, I began writing about this, and kept getting nagged by the little thought, "Jenny, you're full of crap!" Well, that was unsettling, so I wrestled with it, tried to put my oh-so-noble thoughts about the 'right' way to raise kids into words, but it was no use...I just couldn't bring myself to push the 'publish' button.

It's certainly true that I tried my best, that I'm pretty opinionated about certain aspects of parenting...but in writing about any of that, I just keep thinking about my kids, who they are, and how amazing they are. When a baby is born, she/he is a complete, albeit very young, human being. The baby already has a spirit and a personality completely separate from either parent. Sure, we contribute something, but basic arithmetic does not apply. A human being is so much more than egg + sperm. So, we do our best...which sometimes is dead-on exactly right, sometimes horribly wrong. In the end, this young person grows, develops and lives his/her own life...completely independent of the parents.

I'm not trying to undervalue my or any other parent's role...but I guess that just isn't what I want to say today. Instead, I want to say how very thankful I am for the opportunity these past 25 years have brought me; to have four incredible people in my life. They are unique, each choosing a different path. We agree about some things, disagree about others. Yet under all that is mutual respect, love and acceptance. I couldn't ask for anything more from a family.

Healthcare, MRDD population, continued

While it is obviously true that I haven't posted in just over a week, I have in fact been writing here, starting a few paragraphs with no sense of where I'm going, only to save and come back to it, deleting some or all of it and beginning again. The issue is, this subject is so near and dear to my heart, and covers eight years of my life. Were I to write chronologically, simply telling the story of the work involved, the people I came to know (residents, staff and management), what's working/not working with the system...well, this would be very tedious, both to any reader and even to myself.



So tonight, I'm determined to actually post something, almost anything, to move forward at least a bit.

I want to begin by looking back just a bit: In my last post I introduced Andrea, hopefully I conveyed the humor with which she handled my overzealous enthusiasm as a 'newbie'. Andrea became my mentor, a woman whose standards I try to live up to as best I can. Just by being herself, I learned to value people more deeply for themselves, to try and appreciate their perspective at a level I hadn't ever considered before. She is a natural-born teacher, able to relate her experiences, work ethic, and common sense to everyone without ever sounding over-confident, condescending or 'preachy'. To say that she and I became friends would be an understatement: We are sisters in spirit, something plenty of people cannot claim in regards to the siblings they were raised with.

As I said above, this post has been started and stopped several times. Already tonight I've written quite a lot, only to go back and delete most of it. Instead of jumping in about life in the group home, I'd like to ask anyone reading this to use her imagination for a moment....

Consider who you are, what your day typically consists of, what you like to eat (and when, and how much), and who you enjoy spending your time with...do you need lots of people around, or does the thought of no 'me-time' drive you up the wall? Do you occasionally call off work or miss a day of class just for the hell of it? Or do people 'like that' seem lazy? What kind of health concerns do you have? Medications? Think about your sexuality: do you enjoy sex (with or without a partner)?

Now, imagine that some nameless, faceless Powers-That-Be have decided that you are going to live with seven people, whom you've never met, maybe for the rest of your life. You'll be sharing a bedroom with someone of the same gender. You'll be able to bring a few belongings, space allowing. Maybe you enjoy music, and often play the radio all night while you sleep...well, your roommate simply cannot sleep unless it's absolutely quiet, so a staff you've just met smiles and 'asks', "How about you listen just for an hour, say between 9 and 10pm, OKAY?" Clearly, you will be expected to comply.

The Powers-That-Be have plans for you. Monday through Friday, you will be awakened between 5 and 6am. You'll be expected to shower (quickly! there are 3 other women in the house who also need bathing), dress in clothes deemed appropriate for work and weather, eat breakfast (note that if you're underweight and don't like breakfast, you'll be exected to eat it anyway, and maybe drink a breakfast beverage on top of it for extra calories; if you're overweight, you'll be firmly prompted to eat less). Check the chore list: you might have dishes to do! You'll take any meds you're on, and very possibly be asked day in/day out to recite each by name, dose, purpose and side effects (for your own good). All eight of you will have a sack lunch prepared the night before, load onto a van, and head to work. Depending on the day, there may or may not be any actual work for you...it just depends on things that no one bothers to explain. Much of the time you'll find yourself sitting, waiting for 2:30pm, when you and your new housemates will load on the van to go home.

Your evenings will be just as structured, right down to planned 'leisure time'. Mind you, if your preferred activities are not considered age appropriate, you will be frowned upon and grudgingly given maybe half an hour in your room for this pastime. Dinner will be family-style (sit in your assigned chair). Bedtime is 9pm. Did you used to sleep just in your undies? Now you have a roommate, so that is no longer appropriate. Your dirty clothes must be put in a basket in your closet, and you'll wear pajamas.

Weekends, a chance to relax! Right??? Well, someone may've said you can sleep in. After all, who doesn't enjoy a couple extra hours of sleep after the drudgery of working all week? Sounds good, but if you have medications, they MUST be administered between 7am and 9am, no exceptions. Oh, many medications just can't be taken on an empty stomach, so you'll have to eat breakfast (served at 6:30am). Since you're up, it's time to clean your room, do laundry and any assigned housekeeping chores. The Powers-That-Be want you to participate in your community, so staff will take you and your housemates for an outing (hope you like Wal Mart and McDonald's).

By now, something in all this will surely have rubbed you the wrong way, which seems very reasonable...even inevitable. So, hey, your first night in your new home, the house manager (who by the way really isn't YOUR boss, just the staff's boss, yet somehow it feels like you have to listen to her) explained that you have all these amazing rights...basically it sounded like you could pretty much say to hell with any part of this. So let's play that out.

You complied the first week, more from being numb with shock at the newness of it all, but come Sunday night, you're feeling pissed off. That so-called work you did was boring, you didn't like your supervisor, and the person across from you yells a lot and gives you a headache. So you make up your mind, come Monday morning you are NOT getting up. You fall asleep, pleased with your resolution.

At 6a.m., a staff whose name you still haven't learned tells you, "Time to get up!" You grumble and roll over. 10 minutes later, he says it again, adding, "You're going to be late for breakfast!" You figure if you lay really still he'll get the message. And in a way, you're right. But understand, no plan is in place for this 'noncompliant behavior'. You're making waves, becoming a 'challenge' to be managed. Prepare yourself. Prompts will continue. The staff may or may not try to keep a calm tone, but either way he'll keep at you. He may try to find out what 'the problem' is...so go ahead and tell him, you hate work! Well, he'll start selling you on the positives: "Hey, all your 'friends' are there, your supervisor said she really likes you, you get to earn some money, you WANT to be 'independent' don't you??? Independent people go to work!" Maybe you have real perserverence, and you stay in bed. The manager will be called, special arrangements will be made. You may find yourself seeing the doctor to rule out medical problems, or a psychiatrist who decides it's DEPRESSION, and presribes a new medication. Keep on resisting the program, and a behavior specialist will get involved. She'll identify the target behavior: Noncompliance. Maybe by now you'll have another target behavior, Verbal Aggression, because you're so damned irritated that you're cursing and threatening all these control freaks with their damned rules.

Thinking of this structured existence, I realize it's much like the square peg in the round hole for some people. Maybe in a group home like this, 6 or 7 people just take the routine in stride most days of the week. They'll get angry from time to time, but let it go as quickly as it flared up. But imagine the incredible patience each person must have? Say one man does enjoy his life, looks forward to many features of the day or week...but how does he feel when a housemate yells, threatens or even hits?

If that seems too extreme (sadly, it really isn't), just think of all the personality differences, not just among the residents, but also the staff (which keeps changing all the time).

That's all I have to share tonight...it's really late, 3:30a.m, 6/22/09. I'll try not to take so long to pick up next time.

Health care for people with mental retardation and developmental disabilities (MRDD) in Indiana

About eight years ago, my husband took a job in a small city close to Indianapolis, about four hours' driving time from where we were living. The managerial position he was taking came with plenty of promising talk about eventual ownership of the midsized company. His new salary was more than double his prior income. In short, this seemed a wonderful opportunity. In many ways, I looked forward to the change.

So in June, 2000, we made the move. I spent the summer lazily, getting to know the community, finding my way around and spending time with our kids. By August, as the kids started their new school, I looked for a job. Having worked with adults with chronic, serious mental illness, and also having an interest in psychology, I hoped maybe I'd find a job in that field. An ad in the local newspaper sounded interesting, about providing direct care services for people with mental disabilities. This wasn't exactly what I wanted, but the general idea of working with people was still appealing, so I applied.

The interview was conducted on site, a group home with eight adults. Entering the residence, I took note of the friendly atmosphere. Comfortable-looking furniture in the living room, nicely waxed floors and a cozy dining room, and dozens of photographs on the walls all contributed to a sense that this truly was a home, not some impersonal institution. Before entering the small office with the manager, three people approached me and introduced themselves. One middle aged woman gave me a hug. The manager asked her, "How do we greet people?" The woman laughed and said, "Nice to meet you". Later I would learn that great emphasis is placed on helping people with mental retardation and developmental disabilities to function in mainstream society, right down to 'proper' greetings, which do not generally include hugging total strangers.


The job sounded perfect: I would be helping the residents learn activities of daily living (ADL's), assisting with the maintainance their home, and assuring personal safety. The pay was low (I am still amazed at how our society undervalues the importance of caregiving), but I wasn't worried; my husband was earning a great salary and my income would be more of a supplemental cushion.

The company provided a week of orientation and training. I took classes in passing medications, documentation and crisis intervention. How upbeat those trainers were! What a caring, noble endeavor to provide quality of life for this population! We trainees were praised for taking on such challenging, but rewarding work. We spent a good two hours learning the clients' rights. They could be involved in determining their course of treatment, or refuse said treatment. They could seek legal counsel, change doctors...on and on, pretty much the people in our care could do what us so-called 'normal' people just take for granted, with one exception: Many of the residents had the legal status of emancipated adult. The rights apply to them. Other residents, a minority really, had legal guardians. In that case, the guardian makes the decisions for the resident.


Management promised their support and understanding, assuring us that as the 'front line team', we would serve as the eyes and ears for them...we were to come to them with any concerns or ideas that would enhance our residents' lives, because that's what we're all here for...right???


Call me naive, ignorant, or just plain dumb; but I completely ate this up. Maybe it's tied into a deeper personal need to define myself as a helpful, caring person...those being a couple of the qualities I admire most in others. At any rate, this pro-company 'we-love-our-clients' propaganda was incredibly effective on me. I was filled with enthusiasm, completely energized, and fully ready to jump in there and advocate for these folks. I remember having the slightest, fleeting thought of something being inherently wrong when one trainer stressed that the company was a privately owned, very much for-profit business. What a strange point to make, in the midst of all this pro-resident talk. It struck me, just briefly, as rather odd that companies could or should profit this way (see my point about being naive?)...and of course much later I would come back to this thought and see clearly that all of human health services as it currently exists in our country is very much profit driven. At the time though, I simply hadn't been faced with the multi-faceted and very troubling reality of what this fact entails.

My first day on the job didn't involve work at all, but included a staff meeting. Meeting my co-workers and learning a little about the people I'd be helping was very exciting. Imagine a grade-school child who is bubbling over with enthusiasm to the point that she is wriggling and fidgeting in her seat...that's pretty much a good picture of me right then. The house manager who'd interviewed me addressed a current concern: One client was having behavioral issues, being verbally aggressive toward his housemates and the staff. His QMRP (qualified mental retardation professional) had amended his behavior plan to address problem. The plan included the admonition that staff was at all times to remain very calm and unemotional when working with him. This advice I would learn in years to come is always the best approach, and also often one of the most difficult to follow. Staff after all are human, and when someone is out of control, screaming and cursing, even threatening violence...well try to picture yourself in such a situation and consider how you would respond. Another aspect of the client's plan was positive reinforcement. I don't recall specifically when he would earn his reinforcement, only that it was $1.00. A staff sitting across from me spoke up when this was reviewed. By her tone it was clear she in fact was very frustrated with this person and at her wit's end on what to do with or for him. She asked, "Is it okay to tell him he's not going to get his dollar if he keeps it up?" Without thinking first I chimed in, "We'd want to be very careful about how we said something like that, because it could have a very punitive quality to it which defeats the purpose of positive reinforcement." Who doesn't love a wet-behind-the-ears newbie know-it-all??? This staff, I'll call her Andrea, didn't change her expression and didn't look at me overly long. She just turned to the manager waiting for a response. The response was something like, "Oh right, as long as you keep calm and don't make it sound like a threat, it's appropriate to remind him of the reinforcer." She then suggested a little role playing for us to practice our approach with him.

At this point, Andrea jumped up. She firmly announced that role playing was a GREAT idea, and that she was going to play the role of the resident. She jabbed her pointer finger in my direction and declared, "SHE'S going be my 'staff''!" Right about then, the reality of what I'd done by jumping in with my two cents to a bunch of seasoned staff about two minutes after they'd ever met me hit me like a ton of bricks; immediately followed by the acknowledgement that now, I would pay. Inwardly, I groaned, well, I brought this one right on me. It struck me as inherently funny. I would eat my crow, and make amends later through hard work and respect.

I will not say exactly what the role playing entailed, because of that resident's right to confidentiality. There is a slim chance that details could be identifying enough for anyone who knew the resident to guess his identity. Suffice it to say, Andrea played the part to a tee, with a glimmer of rather wicked delight in her eye as she watched me squirm. As for me, I tried best as I could to take it seriously, flubbed up numerous times, and kept having short bursts of giggles...sort of a moderately uncomfortable yet strangely fun experience that lasted no more than four or five minutes.

I'll end this post on that note. This subject is near and dear to me, with stories that have touched my heart, and broken it many times over. Over the next several days, I'll try to share some of these here, as well as address the very real pervasive problems this field struggles with, considering the health system as it's currently structured.

Okay, so why not confront him?

When I wrote my first blog a couple nights ago, I didn't think much beyond that story and had just a handful of general topics in mind for subsequent posts. The story of Thomas, to me, stood alone. The feedback I received, however, begs a response. Basically, those who know me and Thomas responded with two supportive suggestions: One is, "Don't let him get to you." The other is, "You need to give it right back to him when he's being like that". Both are well intended based on consideration of my feelings. The first, not letting myself be upset, just isn't going to happen. Understand, I am not devastated and do not dwell every minute of every day on anything that is said to me; I simply may need to think about it a while, vent to a few close, understanding people, and then that is it. That leaves me with the other suggestion, to 'speak up' for myself.

These responses were interesting, but in a way also disappointing. After all, the point of that story was not to complain about Thomas, but rather to share what he means to me and how I value him. I hoped that anyone reading might take heart and think of similar relationships in their own lives and recall what those people mean to them. A new 'online' friend in another site actually did take the story that way...she wrote me a bit about her childhood and how she is coping with a family member.

I mentioned that someday maybe I would blog about why exactly it is that I do keep quiet when people say something I either disagree with or am upset about. Because of this feedback, now seems like the right time to discuss it.

There are a variety of interactions with people where I might want to speak up or disagree, so many in fact that this writing could easily go on, and on, and on. A cashier might be rude, a brother might be way off base, or a friend might simply have an opinion that's different from my own. I'll try to stay on topic here, from a general perspective and not get bogged down with too many individual situations.

The first reason for not speaking up has to do with my spirituality, or 'higher self'. I am a Unitarian Universalist (if curious, go to uua.org), an organized religion that has a set of principles, rather than doctrine, which I try to follow. These principles reflect the values I developed long before I ever heard of UU; mainly acknowledging and honoring the worth of every individual, and acceptance of one another. UUer's come in all shapes and sizes, with a wide variety of beliefs. A typical congregation may include atheists, agnostics, Buddhists, Wiccans, Christians, etc. What we all have in common are our shared principles. In order to practice these values, I do try to honor each person by listening and encouraging him or her. If something is said that I disagree with, I think, "well, it isn't about me...this brother/sister/mother/friend/acquaintance has a voice, has her own life story rich with experiences of joy and sorrow.

Add to this something I believe the Dalai Lama once said (forgive me if I'm mistaken, but I do believe it was him), that we should enter a room with the perspective that we are the lowest person there (paraphrased, hopefully not too butchered). To me, this means that in every possible situation and with every person I meet, I am the student and have something to learn from that person. If I become too involved in my own opinions or react to her words with indignance, anger or insecurity, well then how can I hope to learn and grow?

That is my highest aspiration, reflecting my spirituality. But of course, as an average person I do bring my ego with me when I interact with people. Accordingly, I do react internally. I frequently feel intolerant or impatient. I get offended or hurt. I may feel superior and think the person's a fool for thinking the way he does. Those are knee-jerk responses all mucked up with my own life experience and perspective. Why not speak up??? Well, I ask myself, what's my motive, and will speaking up satisfy that reason? If it is satisfying, will there be future repercussions, such as a damaged relationship, or within myself any guilt of conscience?

Any number of motives may apply: I may desperately want to change that person's mind, or if he has hurt my feelings, I may want him to know--and apologize! Maybe I simply feel strongly enough about something and want to be heard (and valued). Or it could be that if I feel slighted, damn it I want to lash back and make the offender feel like crap.

With those motives, why do I remain silent in almost every situation? Maybe here I do need to use a few specific examples. Let's pick on Thomas again. Just as I know he has opinions of me, I naturally have opinions about him. I believe Thomas is in a sense fragile: His self-identity is wrapped up in being wise, knowledgeable, thoughtful, above such base emotions as anger. Maybe more to the point, he deeply needs to be perceived this way. I can't recall him ever saying, "That hurt my feelings". Only insecure people get hurt feelings, and he is too mature for that. Thomas is very well read. He has over the years studied psychology and philosophy. He saw a therapist for about three years and has worked through many struggles. In short, he actually does have a lot of wisdom, interesting perspectives, and a great memory that allows him to support many of his views with facts.

So, if I want to change Thomas's mind, what are my chances? Slim to none! Well then, if that is the motive, I might as well say nothing. If he's hurt my feelings, what happens when I say something? In this case, I have over the years called on him to explain the hurtful statement. Every time, and I do mean 'every', I guarantee he has assured me that I have misinterpreted and taken whatever was said in the most negative possible way. He usually then explains that I've done this because of our childhood, that I am programmed to respond like this, and that he used to be 'where I am' but with introspection and therapy he has worked through and overcome this response. If he does apologize, it will be qualified: "I'm sorry your feelings got hurt because you didn't understand what I was saying." This being so, the motive is not satisfied, so again, I choose in most situations to say nothing. If my motive is to simply be heard (and valued), well it's clear to me that Thomas has an even stronger need to be heard. When this is the case, I know of course that I won't be heard even if I do speak up. So, I don't.

This leaves me with retaliation. When I've lashed out at people, I almost always regret it. It's hurtful, shallow, and definitely does not reflect those values I mentioned. I feel ashamed and guilty; it may be momentarily satisfying (Ha! Gotcha!), but what am I left with? Better to vent elsewhere as needed than to subject myself to the anguish I'll suffer indefinitely. Speaking from anger damages people, even very confident people. It damages the relationship. It is rarely (I deliberately am not saying 'never') worth it.

As one thought leads to another, I'm tempted to go down tangents...what about in the workplace involving co-workers or bosses? People I meet around town? If the above is all about why I don't speak up, what circumstances warrant an exception? But this writing is lengthy enough already. Basically, I try to uphold my values, not just in action but also in thought. When I can't manage that, then I consider my motives and whether I will get the desired response. If the answer is 'no', then there simply is no point in speaking up.

A trying relationship, and why I'm in it

A couple weeks ago, I was talking with my oldest daughter, a young woman now, whose insights and direct approach I value and respect. Our topic this time was one I periodically bring up...how my older brother upsets me. Typically, I'll call him, get upset to some degree, not say anything to him about my feelings, then vent, vent, vent. My daughter on this occasion said with a bit of exasperation, "I don't know why you let him get to you, why you worry so much about it!"

And so I started thinking about this, not really for the first time but more in depth. The easy answer I've had is, "He's my brother; I love him". A little deeper, and I'll say, "He's helped me out over the years, when I've needed support the most he's been there".

Maybe some other time I'll talk about why I don't speak up with him, it's really a different subject having to do with how I try to support and respect people in general. For now, there's just a little background I'd like to share.

I'll call my brother Thomas for more ease in telling this story. Thomas is 8 years older than me. I have as much a role in creating the dynamics of our relationship as does he. Basically, Thomas has assumed a role of "Wise One", and I...well, not so much. At best, I'm a "student", and not a particularly gifted one at that. I tend not to voice my opinions with him these days, because quite simply they will not be valued, will not influence him even a little, and may be met with a bit of ridicule, which I prefer to avoid whenever possible. A recent example...I had brought something up which I thought was kind of funny. In the course of telling him about it, I mentioned that I like rules. He nodded thoughtfully and said, "Insecure people like rules because they make them feel safe: You are a very insecure person." I said, "Okay" and tried to go on with my story, which involved telling him why I thought a particular safety rule was in place at a local state park. About 20 seconds into my opinion, with a good dose of impatience, Thomas shook his head and said, rapid-fire style, "Stop stop stop stop stop!" Five stops for me and my silly thoughts. Of course he went on and told me the REAL reason for the safety rule, and that it had nothing to do with anything I thought it had to do with.

Well, now I DO need to stop, because just retelling that simple example gets me upset again and brings to mind a string of similar interactions with Thomas. This, though, isn't about that, but rather why I value our relationship, what I see when I think of him.

In thinking this through while talking with my daughter, I flashed back to my earliest memory of interacting with Thomas. Remember, he is 8 yrs. older, so as kids we were in the same house, but just didn't have much to talk about or do together. What we did share was a small home with 8 of us kids, a stay-at-home mom, and a dad whose work kept him away for weeks at a time.

Our mom could be cruel, prone to rages that were expressed mostly through screaming, not infrequently through hitting us with hairbrushes and slippers. When neither of those items were handy, a stinging slap in the mouth would have to do. Once she chased another, particularly rebellious, brother through the house with a broom. Much to my horrified delight, he turned on her and suggested, "Why don't you get on that broom and fly away, you old witch!" My now-pagan sister may take exception with that phrase, but still it makes me laugh.

One day, when I was 12, my mother was putting away groceries. I must've been underfoot, really can't recall, but in any event, I remember she turned her hateful anger on me. Her exact words don't come back to me either, but I clearly remember how I felt: I was filled with the certainty that my mother would be happier if I were gone. This knowledge was like a punch in the gut, she might as well have hit me that day; it hurt so deeply. So, I simply left.

With no plan, no money, no food, and no destination, I started walking. I cried nonstop. The small city we lived in ran into the next city, and still I kept walking. After several miles, the road I was on led to undeveloped, more rural landscape. Along the way, there was one lone restaurant. I trekked diagonally toward it, which led me through some deceptively wet mud. My shoes sunk in a bit. I needed to use the bathroom. Teary eyed, I went in and tracked mud through the dining area. I vaguely can picture a few customers looking at me with startled expressions, but no one stopped me or said a word.

Well, I walked back to the road and just stopped. What was I doing??? It made no sense to go on, but going home and being unwanted felt just as impossible. Still, I turned back north, toward the familiar...not consciously admitting that I would return. Tears still ran off and on, and my legs had begun to ache, but I did not stop.

When I had just crossed back into my own home town, a familiar car pulled up alongside me and stopped. Thomas reached over and opened the passenger door. Defeated and worn out, I climbed in. He didn't ask what happened, just opened his arms. Grateful, I collapsed against him and sobbed quietly. After a moment, Thomas gently said, "Don't let her do this to you." He took me home, but with a profound change...I didn't feel so alone.

This is my brother, and these are the eyes I will always see him through. He has through the years helped me in other ways, at key moments when his capacity for great caring, quiet kindness, and sometimes practical, concrete action has been needed most.