-Eat at least half an avocado every day if you can. There are few foods on the planet as good for your health. Now if I could stop eating five Trader Joe’s vanilla cookies a few minutes later!

-Buy them rock hard and let them ripen at room temperature. Soon as you can indent a finger about a half inch with semi firm pressure, move them to the fridge for storage. They will happily live there for weeks at a time.

-If you use half an avocado, make sure you remove the pit before you refrigerate the other half. Store in a zip lock. Don’t think it’s bad if it turns dark. You can easily scrape the dark stuff away.

-Avocados stored too long in the fridge that turn mushy make GREAT dip!

First, I am a born again health care reform proponent. To be sure, when I was under the spell of those fiscally conservative folks operating under the pretext of patriotism, I was all but certain the extension of health care benefits to all Americans would destroy my beloved country. But after being thoroughly educated by those on the other side of the argument, and after recently experiencing the health care conundrum first hand as an emergency room patient, and after recently attending a faith formation class where I learned I have a personal and moral obligation to promote and further “the common good,” I quickly switched teams.

Of course the most powerful catalyst for my conversion was my hospital stay. Even though we have insurance, the size of the bill we received was shocking. Had I been between jobs or something, or had my wife been incapacitated again with back spasms,  we would not have been able to afford my hospital stay.  In fact it would have wiped us out completely. That scared me straight, and forced me to accept the unacceptable chasm between the rich and the poor in this country, and the wanton disregard for the “common good” on the parts of those who are terrified of losing a single rung of material progress on the socio-economic ladder.

Expedient examples of the widening chasm: Jay Leno has a car collection so enormous he needs an airplane hangar to store the cars, yet millions of Americans can’t afford a cast for their kids’ broken arm. Tiger Woods is worth some billion dollars for hitting a ball with a stick, yet thousand of Americans will die this year because they are unable to afford treatment or prescriptions to keep them alive.

Sure, no one can be turned away from emergency room treatment, and that’s a GOOD thing, but why make any differentiation between an injury or condition that could take my life NOW, and one that could take it in, e.g. 3 months from now? If I’m dying, I’m dying, right?

What about THE COMMON GOOD, America? On the scale of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, how is health care (be it emergency room care or scheduled surgery) any different than, e.g., police protection….. or the right to a fair trial with a jury of one’s peers…. or the right to a fire truck when one’s house is on fire? It isn’t. The common good is the common good. It should not be time-bound, pre-conditional, or subject to any other fine print exceptions.

Health care is a BASIC NEED of a healthy society. Something MUST be done. If it stays like it is Jay, Tiger, and Oprah are the only people who will be able to afford it. And that just aint right, America.

While admittedly I have not supported health care reform in the past, a recent hospitalization reminded me of a few things: 1) How delicate and precious a person’s health is; 2) How important the jobs of our medical professionals are; 3) how downright scary it is to be checking one’s mailbox every day in anticipation of a hospital bill.

In today’s Bee article a doctor is quoted as making some–in my opinion–alarming statements that truly underscore the need for reform. Among them:

“[the doctor] said the public simply doesn’t understand how expensive it is to run a sophisticated emergency room and trauma center like the one at UC Davis”

Dear doctor: we, the public, don’t essentially care how expensive it is to run a sophisticated emergency room any more than we care how expensive it is to run a, e.g., sophisticated car repair garage. Frankly, it’s none of our business. Actually, it shouldn’t be your business (or burden), either. The truth is: it’s NOT ok that the minority of citizens who need your sophisticated emergency services are forced to pay for your equipment, your salaries, your operational costs, and every single item in the kitchen sink to keep your business afloat. I’m not pointing a finger, and God knows I value what you do, but the bottom line is that something MUST give because we, the public, can not afford your sophisticated emergency services any longer. Hence the cost of doing business is no longer important, because your business model is 100% unsustainable. Period.

“If he [Scott Hawkins] survived, we wouldn’t be even talking about the cost. We’d be saying: ‘That was money well spent”

Doctor, doctor, can’t you see we’re burning, burning.. our money? [80's pop music reference trivia]. Apparently not. Of COURSE we’d still be talking about it had he survived! In fact Scott himself would probably be writing a letter expressing his outrage over his own hospital bill, as millions of Americans do every month. Furthermore, if you really want to get down to brass tacks, the fact that he DIDN’T survive makes the $30,000 bill even more outrageous! That is, in most commerce circles, if the services rendered are not deemed successful, the customer does not get charged. (That is NOT to say anyone on your staff did anything wrong–or, God forbid–should be held accountable for Scott’s death in any way, it’s just to provide some contrast to reveal how illogical your rationale is).

“I think people are just uneducated about the cost. … If people actually knew what they were getting – yes, the cost is high, but it’s your only opportunity to save a life..”

Why do we need to be educated about the cost? Do I need to know how much it cost to run a Les Schwab tire store to get a flat tire repaired? Do I need to know how much it cost to run a Sam’s store to buy a cart of groceries? No. I just go to the counter and pay a FAIR price for the products received or services rendered. Then again Sam’s and Les Schwab are probably not analogous here because both have something you (emergency health care providers) don’t: competition.

Granted, saving a life is not realistically analogous to repairing a flat tire, but if your rationale holds any water, we would stand by and do nothing as the quality of an American life deteriorates simply out of  respect for the cost of saving one, and to me that is asinine at best. Consumers don’t need education about health care cost, what  they need is consumer protection from health care costs.

Another professional said consumers have the mindset of “We want it all, we want it now…And we don’t want to pay for it.”

Oh please! Forgive us for wanting emergency health care services to save our lives in an expedient manner, your excellency! Geez.  Not only is this person’s statement categorically FALSE, the caustic attitude that engenders it only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding (and animosity), and all but ensures it will prevail for the foreseeable future. MOST OF US don’t want medical services for FREE; all we want is a FAIR price, one that is commensurate with the hourly rates charged for labor in every other service related industry in America. Why is it that health care services are the only services in America that low to middle income earners literally must MORTGAGE to receive? Why is it that health care providers are the only service providers in the country that don’t have a price list to show us what we’re going to pay? This is a HUGE problem we as a country are facing, and attitudes such as the one on display in the preceding comment are NOT part of the solution.

At the end of the Bee article we’re told “There is little debate that the uninsured pose burdens to the country’s health care system.”

Um, the problem is NOT the burden of the people on the health care system; the problem is the burden of the health care system on the people! And that problem continues to mortify even the most optimistic among us.

I’ve changed my mind. The doctor who said people are not educated about the problem is absolutely right: there is a fundamental misconception at work here and it is clogging the arteries of progress. But the misconception is not about the average emergency room’s balance sheet as these defensive health cares professionals would have you believe; it’s about life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.. three things that are routinely and conveniently dismissed in academic conversations about health care.

God bless all those who cannot afford health care for themselves and/or their families at this moment.  Health care should not be a luxury only available to the wealthy, or those who are fortunate enough to work for a conglomerate corporation. Our country is only as good as its citizens. United we stand, divided we fall. That is the ONLY thing any of us need to be educated about.

Source: http://www.sacbee.com/topstories/story/2313228.html

By 5pm my wife and I had dropped our daughter off at choir practice and were watching Sunday night football together–in the emergency ward of a local hospital. Well, we weren’t watching it per se; we were more-less gazing upon it. TV seems so meaningless at a hospital, especially when contrasted against all the ill people and those who had accompanied them. The people around us didn’t speak to each other much. When they did, they whispered. Nervous smiles. Forlorn eyes. In almost all cases they touched each other. A husband’s hand on his wife’s leg. A mother’s arm draped over her daughter’s shoulders. A boy’s head resting on his father’s shoulder. My wife’s hand interlaced with mine. There aren’t too many places where the human spirit is more prevalent than an emergency room lobby.

In stark contrast to all the comforting human warmth around us, there was the cold of the hospital itself. For the money they’re getting you would think they could bring in a couple of cheap Wal Mart floor heaters or something? Now don’t get me wrong, I realize there are millions across the globe who would gladly await a doctor in any temperature, in any climate, for any amount of time, and I pray for all those people constantly; but where there are resources to treat the sick, like here in the U.S., it’s probably not a good idea to keep the facility so cold. We could almost see our breath in this room.

At one point a teen girl came in with her parents. She looked gravely ill and was shivering. The cold must have only exacerbated her symptoms because she started coughing pretty badly after sitting down.  When the clerk heard her cough he immediately called her parents over and pointed to a box of surgery masks on the front counter. We couldn’t hear what he said to the concerned parents, but it was obvious when we saw them fit their daughter with the mask, then usher her down the hall to another room. Cold.

Fortunately our wait wasn’t too long. They called my name, led me to another area where they took my ID, insurance info, blood, x-rays. They made me drink what seemed like a gallon of  barium contrast (so-called banana flavored). They put me through a CT scan. Then my wife and I sat and waited for the results. About 20 minutes later the doctor sauntered back into the room and sat down facing me. I was cold and scared and not sure if I wanted to hear the words he was about to speak.

Why was I so nervous? I have been a smoker on and off (mostly on) for the past 20 years. I have also been a fairly prolific beer drinker. I have also maintained a steady diet of food high in fat for most of my adult life. And while I had known all along that trifecta of toxicity could be disastrous to my heart or digestive tract, I guess I just figured it wouldn’t happen to me. After all, I reasoned, I’m only 40! I’m in good shape, I never drink to get drunk, I only smoke a half pack of cigarettes a day.. right? Wrong.  I was about to get a heaping bucket of cold reality over my head..

The austere doctor (visibly worn out from a long day of doctoring) sat in front of me with those unmistakably honest eyes and declared, “You have a condition known as Pancreatitis. Do you know what that is?”

“Kind of.”

“Your pancreas is inflamed” he stated soberly. “Do you drink heavily?”

“No. But I like to drink on weekends and so forth.”

“Do you smoke?”

“Yes.”

“Do you eat a lot of fatty foods?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm hmm,” he uttered with an air of familiarity as he jotted something in his pocket pad. “This can be a serious condition. Even deadly. The bottom line is that your body is working too hard to convert and digest the fats and alcohol and your smoking is inhibiting the process. The result is chaos in your digestive tract. You’re very fortunate because your triglyceride count is comparatively low, but we can’t let you go home. We must first find out what caused this. You will need to stay for another test tomorrow.”

But, but, but, I started. A lifetime of butts and bottles and fried chicken and all had to show for them was excuses. But  no excuses would excuse me from this situation. They checked me in at around11pm. A few minutes later I was being whisked through a maze of hallways. Corridors of drab curtains flowed past me like retaining walls on a freeway. Behind them were people in pain. Now and then I would catch a glimpse of one of them through a break in the curtains. I nodded encouragingly to the few I locked eyes with. One looked befuddled. Another angry. But most nodded back to me. One even flashed me a warm smile, which I soaked up and reflected back. Hope is infectious. Thank God. I needed it.

My first night at the hospital was rough. Spongy mattress was torture on my lower lumbar. Yes, I realize it beats a clay hut in the Philippines, but my back hurt so bad by morning I could barely stand upright.  About 3am my nurse came in and injected some morphine into my IV. That knocked me out until about 7am. I woke to the trickle of rain outside my bedroom window. I watched it drip off the enormous branches of a 100 year old oak tree in the courtyard.  I daydreamed of being somewhere else.. anywhere else..

After a few phone calls with concerned loved ones and more blood giving, it was time for more tests. When I returned from testing  I had a new roommate.  He told me he was 83 and had been married 63 years and running. He said that was bar none his greatest accomplishment. You could cut his pride with a knife. His testimonial was uplifting and inspired more hope. He referred to his wife as a “great, great woman..” as though she were a some sort of famous luminary. I suppose she was to he and his family. The world needs more great men and women such as these.

Shortly afterwards the doc came in and we discussed the results of my tests so far. So far, so good, according to him. He then departed and said he would be back with more info later. Whew. I figured things were looking good for me now. I thought he might even let me go home. But by 3pm my hopes were dashed when he returned and said while he was happy all tests were good so far,  he was now even more concerned about the potential presence of something more obscure–like pancreatic cancer–and he desired another test to rule it out. Dear Lord.

You would think a few billion pixels of my interior would have sufficed to identify any potential cancer in me, but nope. He wanted me to stay another night and undergo an “MRCP” scan at another facility the next day. I wanted to cry. Two days had passed, my family needed me at home, my business was halted, I had missed church and fellowship. My eyes welled up. Reflexively I blurted, “No, I need to go home. I will attend the test as an outpatient. I promise. And anyway, my stomach is feeling great now, and–” The doctor shook his head adamantly. He was not going to let me go home unless I left “AMA” (against medical advice–in which case my insurance coverage would be rendered useless). He urged me to call my wife. I called her. She said “You’re staying.” And that was that.

That night was the roughest by far.  Not because my lower back felt like it had been pierced by 50 knives; and not because I was living off an IV and having to drag it around with me everywhere I went (including the bathroom),  but because I was now facing the possibility that I might have cancer. If the “head” of my pancreas was diseased, the doctor had warned, I would have–at most–six months to live. I cried from my soul a few times that evening. Deep, deep down heaving of tears. But I wasn’t sad for myself. I was sad for my wife and kids and my loved ones. After I composed myself I talked to many of them on the phone. Everyone was hopeful, but obviously nervous.

I then read my Bible again, and it was then that total peace came over me. Specifically I read this in Acts 2:

David said about Him:

‘I saw the Lord always before me.
Because he is at my right hand,
I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will live in hope,
because you [God] will not abandon me to the grave,
nor will you let your Holy One see decay.
You have made known to me the paths of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence.’

I prayed mightily after reading that, and then read it again. My back pain seemed to lessen exponentially. My spirit was uplifted and I found myself rejoicing for the moment, unaware of the future, as though it didn’t even exist. I slept well that night and into the morning. When I woke my spirit was still uplifted and I felt completely prepared for whatever the day might bring. Anything. The rain was gone and the sun peaked through my blinds. I opened them all the way to let the light fill up my room. I basked in it silently until the EMT’s came to fetch me at around 11am.

Two nice, clean cut young guys. Full of life and energy. Cordial and extremely respectful. “Mr. Johnston..” Humbling– especially when you don’t know whether you’re going to live or die. They wrapped me up in blankets, strapped me to their gurney, and steered me through the hospital to their waiting ambulance outside.

One drove, the other sat in the back with me. The one who sat with me was a nice young guy who, upon departure, spontaneously informed me he was shopping for a ring for his girlfriend. His face literally beamed with joy. I was inspired and again uplifted. He told me a bit about her, and then began inquiring about my own marriage.  Despite everything that had happened to me and the uncertainty around the day ahead, I immediately knew what I was called to do, and I did it with all my strength.

I told him the secret to marriage is having the tools and training to be successful at it. I said millions of women and men are ill-prepared to be parents and spouses, even when they come from successful nuclear families of their own. I said the 50% divorce rate tells no lies. I used all 4o minutes of our ride to share everything I could possibly think of  to prepare him for his journey, including the need for extensive counseling prior to marriage that should include conflict resolution, financial negotiation, child rearing and planning, extended family agreements, crafting of the vows, et al. He embraced every word. At one point he said, “Geez, I had no idea about any of this.” [It occurred to me these things should be taught in high school, to everyone]. I praised the Lord for the opportunity to share with him all the things I wish had been shared with me 18 years ago.

As we spoke, I watched cars race past us on the freeway. I was shocked by how many people tailgated the ambulance. Some people were so close I could see the whites of their eyes. The looks on their faces were disconcerting. In fact I can not recall a single happy face. Most looked either angry or exhausted. It was noon. But I didn’t let them distract me. I was too enveloped in the conversation I was having with the EMT, and the enthralling feeling I was getting from riding backwards in a speeding vehicle commandeered by a 20-something kid. Talk about an exercise in trust.

We arrived at the hospital and a nurse–a woman I am convinced was an angel on loan to the world–was waiting for me. She escorted me to radiology.. or nuclear medicine.. or whatever department it was. There I met the radiologist operator guy who had me drink another vat of barium (this time it looked like maple syrup, and tasted vaguely like orange soda). He took me through the procedure step by step to help me understand what would be happening. In all candor you would have thought he was preparing me for space shuttle travel. I was too cold to be scared, and too hopeful to be jaded.

Into the chamber we went. The MRCP scan is the Stephen King version of the MRI. 50 minutes of pure horror. You know it’s going to be a scary ride when they strap you down and put earplugs in your ears. The nurse angel (I would later find out her name was Jennifer) accompanied me. As they slid me into the  YouTube of magnetic resonant imaging she stayed not far from the opening. God bless her. She stayed there throughout.

Breathe in…………………………….

50 minutes of claustrophobic  insanity later, I was done. In another 15 minutes I was back on the freeway in the ambulance headed back to home base with a different ambulatory crew. This time a nice lady sat with me and coughed into her shirt sleeve incessantly. She said she had been sick for several days after having worked a full shift in the storm last week. She said the company-issued (mandatory) jackets weren’t waterproof, and within 20 minutes of her shift starting she was drenched to the skin. I told her I was thankful for her and her dedication to her job. I wished her luck in securing better jackets for her and her co-workers.

Back in my room I talked to my roommate a bit more. I met his wife of 63 years. I told her he had referred to her as the “greatest woman ever.” She laughed it off modestly and joked he had lost his mind. They were adorable. My wife leaned over and whispered in my ear, “That’s going to be us.”  That gave me the chills.  A few minutes later a nurse walked in and said, “You want to go home? Your tests are all negative. Sign these papers and you’re out of here.”

Breathe out……………………

I was going home. Finally. Not only was I going home, I did not have pancreatic cancer.. at least from what all the tests had shown. What a RELIEF. I read the paperwork: No drinking alcohol. No smoking. Change diet–no high fat foods. This would mark a significant milestone in my life.. perhaps the most welcoming ever. I had wanted to be done with those vices of old that I didn’t need anymore so many times in the past, but was still attached to them out of mere habit. Finally I was being ORDERED to quit them. This is what I had needed all along.  Throughout the three days I was admitted I kept hearing ” the doctor has ordered this..” and “the doctor has ordered that…”  This time the doctor was ordering me to stop poisoning myself. And not just the doctor in the hospital. I’m convinced the orders were coming from a much higher authority. And I thank that authority with all of my strength for his mercy and love.

May someone who reads this story benefit from it. Pancreatitis is a very real problem that is striking people at a much younger age than in the past due to the garbage we have in our diets these days. Since the time I was diagnosed with it I have read countless internet stories about those my age and younger who have it from drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, smoking pot, high fat diets, high sugar diets, etc etc etc. It can result in diabetes, chronic pancreatitis and a host of other grave illnesses such as the pancreatic cancer. I am shocked I had never heard about this until now. The anti cigarette ads should show people in their 30’s and 40’s testifying about what smoking can do to the pancreas. Perhaps a shot of Patrick Swayze’s tombstone would be effective, too.

Trust me, this condition causes debilitating pain that many women have characterized  “as bad as child birth at times.”  I got an early warning. Many people don’t. Read this U.S. News study if you don’t believe me. http://health.usnews.com/articles/health/healthday/2009/03/23/study-links-smoking-to-increased-risk-of.html. If that doesn’t scare you straight, hopefully my experience will.

In closing, I wish every human being could receive the kind of health care I did during my hospital stay. It’s very sad to know many will not. I am truly blessed, thankful, and endlessly humbled.

Love,

Mark

© Mark Johnston, 2009, All Rights Reserved

“Sacramento ranks 12th best [Joe: or twelfth worst, depending on your politics] on a list of the average carbon footprint of residents in 100 major U.S. metropolitan areas. The study, by the Washington, D.C.-based nonprofit The Brookings Institution, estimated average emissions per person from transportation and residential energy use in 2005.

“The per capita average for Sacramento was 1.768 metric tons” [Joe: with the exception of Sacramento Mayor Heather Fargo who singlehandedly consumed 12 metric tons of fuel per year for the past two years in plane travel around the planet---ironically in a quest to thwart global warming] .

The first place prize went to Krispy Klean Honolulu with low emissions of 1.356 metric tons. Second place runner-up went to Los Angeles; followed by Portland, Ore.; New York City; Boise, Idaho; Seattle; San Jose, San Francisco; El Paso, Texas; and Oxnard. Stockton claimed a flatulent 19th place, and Fresno 22nd…

I’d be remiss if I didn’t state the good news: Sac is improving… slowly.

Source: Biz Journal