Cooking Up Reform

Devon Henderson, a mischevious, always-smiling 5-year-old, was born with chronic hunger. His mother, Sharon lost her job last year and no longer has restaurant insurance. Devon's father walked out when Devon was born and never sent any money for support. Now Sharon cannot afford to provide Devon with the full course, restaurant meals he needs. “I’m giving him over-the-counter snack foods,” she says in a soft voice. “I don’t know how long that will sustain him.” When asked how she manages to afford the snacks, she looks off toward her bedroom, then quickly down at the floor. She doesn’t respond.
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President Obama addressed Congress yesterday and again urged them to pass food reform. “Twenty million Americans are without restaurant insurance and unable to get entrees, much less full course meals when they need them. We cannot let that continue. Every American has a fundamental right to affordable meals when he or she becomes hungry,” he stated. Repeating his campaign promise, the President emphasized that the controversial provision for public meal tickets should be a part of whatever bill is passed.
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Sharon Henderson spent four years at graduate school to get a degree as a cosmetologist, with a specialty in nail treatment. As a result of the recession, she was laid off from a highly paid position as an executive toenail cleaner. Sharon has an interview coming up for a job prescribing antipsychotic drugs; it’s an unskilled, minimum wage position, but one which would restore her restaurant insurance. “I will work for food,” Sharon murmurs, choking back tears, “but Devon’s chronic hunger is a pre-existing condition and will probably not be covered. It’s not fair; he can’t help being born that way.”
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Republicans responded to the President’s message, saying that they would not support “the socialized meal policies” the Democrats are proposing. Senate Minority Leader, Mitch McConnell (R-KY), said, “This is not ‘reform’. We currently have the finest restaurant chains in the world and the highest rate of hunger satiation for those who use them. Some have pointed to Canada as an example of a successful government meal system. The facts are that, in Canada, people going to restaurants are given pagers and forced to wait in cramped lobbies, or even outside, until they are called. In many cases people needing food must make reservations far in advance.

“If you get hungry in some place like China, you are afraid to go for treatment. Who knows what is in the food over there. Our free market system has allowed our chefs to develop complex meals; they are created for the rich, but eventually make their way to the mass market. The liberals want to turn us into a Communist collective, forced to line up at food cooperatives for government handouts. What’s more, the President’s food reform bill would force hungry people to go before government diet panels and face assisted dieting.”
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Some critics of the current system say it is not the restaurants or the chefs who need reform. “It the insurance companies,” explains analyst, Dale Martin. “ Their top people have lost sight of their mission and purpose. Insurance used to be the business of small mutual farms who would collect premiums from members and then use them to buy food for the unfortunate members of the group who fell victim to hunger. They provided against the risk of a devastating starvation. Now insurance conglomerates are all about investing and profit. They invest in the food banks and trade in ‘toxic food stuffs’, which are chopped up, mixed with filler, blended and sold as byproducts and flavor derivatives. The insurance companies, reluctant to part with their profits, reduce allowed services or institute prix fixe meals. That’s why we have a shortage of chefs and sous chefs in this country.”

Sharon Henderson has similar complaints about the services she was able to get for her son when she did have restaurant insurance. “One chef told me to give Devon 100% Angus beef, but the insurance company would approve only generic ground beef. They told us that they would not pay for emergency cafeteria visits but that I should take him to a drive thru or a mall food court if he had sudden hunger pangs. They wouldn’t let us try alternative Eastern food preparations. They said they were not proven. Supposedly Chinese food just temporarily relieve symptoms and an hour later you’re hungry again.” Sharon said she is considering “home cooking” despite the penalties for preparing recipes without a license. But her main hope is that President Obama’s Food Reform Act passes. “I’ve not even worried about those panels the Republicans talk about. I mean, sooner or later we all have to diet.”

A Simple Procedure

Watching hospital shows on television sets up too many wrong and undesirable expectations

The instructions they sent said I should arrive at the hospital at 8:30 A.M., but I got there at 8:10 because that’s just how anal I am about appointments. A sign on the door said that firearms were prohibited in the building. That was comforting.

I’d been to see the Amorous Doctor’s Husband and he was going to remove the fatty nodule from my breast. It was only because of the location that they wanted to take it out and check it. It would be a simple procedure.

It wasn’t an emergency so I was not expecting E.R. And I didn’t have a bizarre, undiagnosed malady so I wasn’t expecting House. All that was left was Grey’s Anatomy and I didn’t really want that. My surgeon seemed like a nice enough guy but I had no desire for an inappropriate doctor/patient relationship like Izzie and Denny.

Especially because Izzie killed Denny. It was unintentional, but he was still dead. A lot of patients die on Grey’s Anatomy. I was just having a simple procedure. I would be in and out. “Right. Remember when Meredith’s step-mom went in for hiccups and ended up dead?” I’m not sure who asked me that. My wife? Maybe I just asked myself. That’s the kind of out-loud internal dialog that happens on Grey’s Anatomy.

The doctor was just going to remove this small, fatty nodule from my breast. A tiny, benign cyst. When did it show up? A few years ago?. I think I finally went in to see the doctor because I really wanted to find out about it. How did it form there? Was it from Thanksgiving 2005 when I ate that big hunk of crispy turkey skin? Was it from inadvertantly swallowing a blob of gristle off the 2004 Passover Lamb?

It didn’t matter. It would soon be gone. A simple procedure. “Right. Remember when Meredith’s step-mom went in for hiccups and ended up dead?” Maybe that was the blobby nodule talking. That’s the kind of out-of-body hallucination Meredith would have on Grey’s Anatomy. “Shut up!” I told it. "You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

A sign on the door said that firearms were prohibited in the building. I went through the door to the registration desk. The woman signed me in and I sat in the waiting area. There was a flat screen TV for my family to monitor when I was “In Prep”, “In OR”, “In recovery”, “Having an affair with the doctor" or “Dead”.

I didn’t have anyone with me. It was just a simple procedure. My name came up on the screen. I was “In Prep” and yet I was sitting there in the waiting room. That was the kind of out-of-body hallucination Meredith would have on Grey’s Anatomy.

There was a sign in the waiting room that said, “Please don’t leave bags or briefcases unattended.” Isn’t that admonishing the wrong parties? Shouldn’t it say, “Please don’t take bags or briefcases that aren’t yours.” After all, the sign on the door doesn’t say, “Please don’t get shot by someone who brings a firearm into the building.”

The nurse came and took me to the prep room. She took my vital signs. She fastened a heart monitor clip on my finger. There was a single, continuous tone. I was dead. I had flat-lined and I was sitting there listening to it BEEEEEEEEP. That was the kind of out-of-body hallucination Meredith would have on Grey’s Anatomy. The nurse adjusted the clip and it went “beep, beep, beep …”

They took me down a hall and down an elevator and down more halls, going across the building. About two blocks away, we got to the OR. Three nurses were needed to get me ready. I was just having a simple procedure. They kept asking me if I was cold. People on hospital shows are always cold right before they die. I was warm. I was warm. I was warm… wasn’t I?

They had music on in the room. It was country music. Seriously? Wrong soundtrack!

The doctor came in and numbed my breast and cut out the cyst and sewed me up. The ride down the hall had taken longer. It was a simple procedure.

Now I have an ugly scar and a bruise. My breast is like that of a pregnant woman, nicely swollen and curvy, but too tender to play with. So, when I go back to the doctor for follow-up, I hope he doesn’t fondle it overly much like Mark Sloan would do on Grey’s Anatomy.