Life in Boobburgh

What's Good for the Boob...

What's Good for the Boob....

By Kathy Reschini Sweeney

It's been awhile since I blogged.  This is because I simply cannot keep up with the bullshit.  If someone had told me - even two years ago - that we would be re-fighting about birth control, I would have laughed.  Now I grind my teeth and wonder WTF is going on.

Let me just say this to our Guv, and to all those other men who think they can be blase about what does or does not get shoved into a woman's body against her will.

Let's play a game.  It's a variation on pin the tail on the donkey, a favorite of children's parties for decades.

It's easy because all you have to do is close your eyes - and everyone knows once you close your eyes, it doesn't matter what's done to you because you can't see anything.  Kind of like when my sisters told my little brother he could go outside in his underwear, and as long as he closed his eyes, no one could see him.  What followed involved a lot of crying, and it wasn't my brother's tears.

Anyway, here's how we play - you go into the "doctor's" office - which might be a closet, or an alley but what do you care - you cannot see anything any way.  Then you drop your pants.  No peeking! Then your "doctor" shoves things up your ass and you have to guess what they are before they are removed.  

Afterwards, you can get your prescription for hard-on meds, or the results of your prostate exam, or your blood pressure reading, or any diagnosis that might require antibiotics, or painkillers, or any other non-OTC meds.  I mean - if you are dumb enough to let yourself get sick, then you should be willing to take one (or more) for the social order if you want to get well.  If you had just abstained from things that someone else knows are bad for you, you wouldn't be in this, uh,  position in the first place. 

Who is voting for these creatures?  

I thought the civil rights challenge of my generation was supposed to be LGBT equality.  Enough with the homophobia, people.  Get over it.  Time has illustrated that your house on the culdesac is safe from marauding bands of gay banditos in colorful minivans with the sole intent of ruining your marriage.  And for that fabulous visual, we thank you, Lewis Black.

Instead, there is a group of people who seem bent on setting women's rights - and all civil rights - back about a century.  And here is the scary part - other people appear to be listening to them!  Is it selective blindness or deafness?  Is it ignorance?  My favorites are the ones who claim to be constitutionalists.  Good grief - one of the primary purposes of our independence was to be sure our rights rested with the People - not the federal government.  Not even Jefferson or Franklin - who were well-known fans of inserting things at every opportunity - would be able to make sense of this kind of crazy.

Finally, let me just say something about the position of "Right to Life".  Because there seems to be some real confusion about what this means these days.  If, by right to life, your vigilance ends when a human exits its mother's uterus, then you are missing one helluva chunk of the "life" part.

Abortion is a heartbreaking issue.  Nobody gets up one day and says - hey, I think I will go about getting myself an unwanted pregnancy so I can have my reproductive system ripped up, along with my emotional health.  Most women who have to have medical assistance to end a pregnancy do so with great sorrow.  Did you know that if you have a miscarriage - through no fault of your own - and within the sacred bonds of marriage - even if you only had sex in order to have kids and you didn't even enjoy it - you have to have a procedure to remove the balance of the tissue before it becomes necrotic and causes an infection that could render you sterile.  This procedure, under most of these proposed statutes, is considered an abortion.  

If your baby dies in utero - and this happens - can you imagine the nightmare of this? If this horror visits your house, you need to have a procedure to remove the fetus- you know - the baby for whom you just finished painting the nursery.  The baby you wanted more than anything. This is also considered an abortion, and you can now double-down on the trauma by having to hear about how you are a baby-killer, complete with video.

And if you are raped, and you want to be sure that there are no permanent injuries to your reproductive system, or assure that you did not acquire some kind of disease, you say YES when the doctor asks you if you want to have a similar procedure.  This is also considered "murder" and therefore verboten according to these self-righteous asshats.

I would like to have about five minutes alone with anyone who thinks any of this makes any damn sense.  But first, they need to spend some time with women who have endured multiple miscarriages, or lost babies in utero, or survived a rape and still get out of bed every day.  I know all these women and they would be happy to speak with you.

And then, if you still think any of these laws are appropriate, we are going to play my new game. Would you like this blindfold on first?

 

 

 

The Killing Must Stop

The Killing Must Stop

By Kathy Reschini Sweeney

No boob jokes.  No snark.  I look like the same person, but inside I am a piece of fragile glass, teetering on the edge of stability and shatter.

Yesterday, in Pittsburgh, my town that I love, someone opened fire in a hospital lobby with a 9mm handgun.  Maybe two guns.  I know this happens all over the place, all the time.  But not here.  Not within a few block radius of schools and other hospitals.  

I'm not an idiot.  We have shootings here.  We have tragedies of all kinds.  They are senseless in their own way - gangs, violent crime, relationships gone bad.  We lose young kids here who get caught in the crossfire.

But this one got me.  Partially because my son and many of the young men and women he grew up with were on lockdown in their schools.  I understand the reason.  I accept that it is standard protocol in post 9/11 America.  But do you have any idea what it does to a mother bear to know that she is not only powerless, but forbidden, to protect her own?  Never mind that my cub has been taller than me for years.  Never mind that he has the brains and the strength to take care of himself.
Someone with a gun threatened what is mine to shield and cherish.

Upon reflection, I realize part of my reaction was based on the recent focus on Joseph Kony.  If you have a teenager in the house, you probably already heard about this - these kids have some kind of social media insider network and they were on top of this story a a full two days in front of the media - and in our days of 24-hour news, that is saying something.

Joseph Kony is a Ugandan war lord. For way too many years, he has cut a swath of terror in Africa by kidnapping children and turning them into soldiers or slaves to power his army.  I had never even  heard his name.  Now I see his face.  I see faces of kids who could be mine.  There is a 30-minute movie, and lots of other information out there.  I don't know enough about the organization to post it here (learned my lesson from the Komen Foundation) but I encourage you to at least find out about this evil man.  He needs to be stopped.

Tired of hearing "no" from the alleged powers that be, a group of people started a campaign to raise awareness.  They are calling it "Kony 2012" and their goal is to make this murderer a household name, giving him no where to hide. The International Criminal Court at the Hague has him listed as their #1 War Crimes Criminal.  I think it's a damn shame that I had to learn about his reign of mutilation and horror from my 16-year old, while every "news" source out there is more content to tell you who the Kardashians are fucking this week.  And it's an even worse shame that the only reason the politicians are paying attention to this is because it's an election year and they have a bunch of angry voters to appease. Nauseating.

WHAT THE HELL?

Maybe that is the answer.  Maybe we all have to start talking about guns and killing until we find some answers.  I freely admit that I don't want to talk about it.  Hell, I don't want to think about it. Denial is one of my people's greatest tools.

But this cannot continue.  We cannot abide the killing, on any scale.

We can no longer be content to pray for peace or hope for an end to violence.  We need to do something.  SOMETHING.  And life experience, as illustrated by the Kony 2012 program, tells us that our governments, left to their own devices, will do nothing.  

We need ideas.  We need a plan.  We need to come together to stop the killing.

I have no idea how to do this.  I am asking for help - ideas big and small.  Because alone, we are potential victims.  But together, we can be a force to be reckoned with.  The killing must stop.

New Sex Questions for Boobs

New Sex Questions for Boobs

By Kathy Reschini Sweeney, who (for once) had boring answers

Recently, I went for my regular OB/GYN exam.  After 40 years, they become routine.  A bit uncomfortable at certain moments (let's just say the cervix does not like to be disturbed, and leave it at that) but no big deal.  I have been seeing the same PA for years.  Love her.  We have similar backgrounds as well as builds.

This time, a new twist.  New questionnaires - and then they asked the same questions in person.  As a lawyer, I assume they are trying to impeach the witness (catch the patient in a lie) but I learned yesterday it has more to do with (surprise) institutional bullshit.  Because no one checks to see if you gave the same answer.

So here are the new questions:

1.  Are you sexually active?

2.  Have you had any new partners since your last appointment?

That's right.  Look out sluts, you are in for an interrogation.  Virgins, the frigid, and people who are such asshats that they only get off by flying solo need not worry.  I am looking at you, politicians - except if you were prone to tell the truth, you'd have to disclose the whores.  There is more than one form of currency that buys sex, so just because you all learned from idiot Spitzer who used his real credit card (but not condoms - whuh?!) doesn't mean we can't find out.  Remember that decimation of the 4th Amendment you nads called The Patriot Act?  Look into it, pigs.

But I digress.

The first time I saw the sex questions, they were on a written form. I do not make wisecracks on written forms. (See, Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism (USA Patriot Act) Act of 2001, Pub. L. No. 107-56, 115 Stat. 272 (2001) aka The Patriot Act).

I had to grit the good side of my teeth to answer them straight, but I did.

Then, because life is good, they asked me again in the exam room.  Let me point out that they wait until you are covered in the equivalent of half a dozen paper towels before they ask you any questions.  And because this is a teaching hospital, there is always someone else in the room.  This time, it was a computer expert because the office was finally going "live" - meaning they were officially taking all notes on the computer.  It was a mess.  Forget the actual physical exam, this was a logistical nightmare in real time.

And it provided me with my opening.  Because nothing challenges me more than the chance to make stressed out people laugh out loud.

 PA (frowning at the computer screen): "Are you sexually active?"

Me: "Like, every day?  Not since my boob was sliced."

PA (typing the answer and only half listening): "Not every day."  She looks over her shoulder at the IT person: "Is it every day?"

IT person: "No.  I mean, that's not the question."

Me:  "Okay then, I am sexually active.  I'm married."

PA: "Any new partners since your last visit?"

Me: "You mean, in real life?  Because you know, when I see George Clooney in a tux, I really can't predict what's going to happen when I fall asleep."

IT: Coughs to cover the laugh because the PA is still totally stressed out.

PA (Typing then looks over at me):  "Did you say George Clooney?"

Me: "Yes, but not in real life.  I am trying to be totally honest here.  There may have been others during the last year, but I can't tell if that's relevant or if this is like confession and I have to list them all."

IT (crosses herself and has to sit down.  She is obviously RC).

PA (giving me the full eyebrow arch and a smirk): "There's no place on this screen to list them, Kath.  But I would love to hear more about it over a margarita."

Me (to the IT):  "You know, you need more space for these answers if you want people to tell you the truth."

PA (to the IT, and finally starting to laugh): "Ignore her.  She's a smartass."

Me:  "Yes I am.  Is that another question?  Or do you want to know more about my sex life.  Because I am thinking of trying something new once my jaw heals."

Mission accomplished.  They both had to take a seat.  Just for good measure, I mentioned Stephen Colbert making margaritas with a transvaginal ultrasound wand, because if you can't kill that bit with an audience in an OB/GYN office, you don't want to try it at the church Fish Fry.

As a post-script, I learned from my young doctor friend (Happy Birthday, Doc E!) that the fastest growing population segment for HIV and STDs is the elderly.  This makes perfect sense to me because not only do they have no need to use birth control, but when the memory starts to go, every day is the opportunity for a new one-stand, even if it happens to be the same person.  After some awkward phone calls from senior centers regarding my great uncles, I thought this was just an Italian thing.  But with Viagra in the gum machines, everyone can get in on the fun.  But that's another blog.

So, my friends, how about if you answer the questions?  

 

 

 

Boobs With Pliers

Boobs with Pliers - I wanted to call it No Boobs Near My Teeth but was a bit sketchy on how that might translate if you put it into Google.

By Kathy Reschini Sweeney, 2 teeth lighter

First off - I was one of those unfortunate kids who had a dentist who didn't believe in Novocaine.  As a result, dentists still scare me - and I don't scare easily.

I love my Dentist - although his office is in deep shit today.  Finally got comfortable with him.  He referred me to another group and they did two root canals in the past three years which were painless and a real relief.

Then there was today.  As I mentioned on Facebook, this blog fucking wrote itself over the last four hours.

Problem #1: X-Rays

My Dentist's office was supposed to e-mail them yesterday.  I stood at the desk while it happened.  Turns out there was a SNAFU with the email address or whatever, and the oral surgeon's office didn't have them.  They just wanted to forget it and give me new X-Rays.  I said no.  I was nice.

Then I called my Dentist and stayed on the phone while they re-sent them.  Confirmed the address letter by letter.  This is me doing this, in the chair on my iPhone.  I was nice.

They sent the wrong X-Rays.  Because I have a small mouth (loud, yes: big, no - it confuses people) they couldn't get a good shot of the back teeth so I had to get an X-Ray on the big, more powerful machine that takes a panoramic shot.

Oral surgeon tells me no big deal, I just need to have another X-Ray.  I declined again.  Mentioned the cancer thing and directives from the oncologist (no unnecessary XRays).  I was still nice, but firm.

I called my dentist's office AGAIN.  They told me they couldn't find the other XRays and that they had been deleted.  Wrong answer. I explained that they were not permitted to delete medical records, at least within a 24-hour period, and that the XRays had to be there.  They promised to look.  I was civil, but determined.

Dentist's office calls Oral Surgeon's office to tell them they simply did not have the XRays.  Oral Surgeon says they have to take a new XRay.  I refused and explained why.  This time, I was more intransigent than determined.

I called my dentist's office AGAIN.  Directed them to the exact computer the tech used to take the XRays, reminded them of the time frame yesterday afternoon and told them to find the damn thing wherever it was misfiled.  At this point, nice is out the damn window, my blood pressure is going through the roof, and I am ready to rip someone a new one.  I did not do that, but I did make my displeasure evident. Without swearing.

Eureka!  Five minutes later they called me back.  Duh.  They found the XRays - exactly where I said they would be.  I kept them on the phone until the Oral Surgeon got the right ones.  Dentist's office is apologizing profusely.  I told them we'd discuss it later.  

Problem #2: Anesthesia

So - I was supposed to have nitrous oxide with a local anesthetic.  In that order.  This is because half the time the injections for the local are more painful than anything.  Getting a shot in the roof of the mouth is a bitch - no cushion there.

Oral Surgeon tells me there has been a mixup - no anesthesiologist there, so no Nitrous Oxide.  I called bullshit immediately because I know you don't need an anesthesiologist unless the do something that is injected.  Oral Surgeon tells me that it is their (UPMC - the Dark Overlord of Pittsburgh health care) policy.

By this time I am visibly shaking.  Can't tell if I am have a panic attack for only the second time in my rather eventful life, or it's just rage.  Either way, Nurse #1 notices and tells me I should not have the procedure done today.  I should wait and come back Saturday to have it done with real anesthesia. She shows me the XRays and explains why.  

Now THAT is the proverbial straw.  

Me: "Please bring the surgeon in here now."  Nurse #1 leaves to get the surgeon.

Enter Tech #1: "Well, I need to set up your tray, so are you doing this procedure today?"

Me: " Not until I talk to the surgeon."

Tech: "Well I need to know now.

At this point, I take off my sunglasses (the lights in there exacerbate the headache from the tooth, so I have had them on for over an hour) and give her a look.  I learned this look from my old man.  Tech actually took a full step back.

Me: " I know this is your job, but you need to listen to my words.  See this yellow paper (the informed consent form)?  Until I sign this, you cannot touch me.  I am not signing it until I get some straight answers.  I am sorry if it upsets your schedule, but this is non-negotiable."

Tech leaves to get Nurse #1.

Nurse #1 says the Surgeon is doing an exam and will be in shortly.  I hear her out in the hall talking to Tech #1, wherein Nurse advised Tech that she checked my chart and that, as they were beginning to fear, I am a lawyer.  I never saw Tech #1 again.

At this point, in an effort not to blow a gasket, I am on Facebook.  My status update: "The nice Kathy has left the building.  Advocate Reschini is here now."

I started doing every calming exercise I know. Lamaze. The breathing thing.  Praying the whole time. When I felt tears running down my face and couldn't keep my hands from shaking, I even called for the big guns, Michael and Gabriel, the Archangels.  I prayed for calm and not to hurt anyone.  It was a very bizarre sensation.  I could feel the rage building, feeding the fear and panic - the whole circular thing.  Scary - because my temper scares even me.

To make a long story tolerable, I will cut to the chase.

I had two teeth yanked out of my head with a local anesthesia only.  Non-fused roots.  I have the teeth, and it is a damn good thing I didn't see how big they were until after it was over.  

And just to show that Mother Nature knows what she is doing, I am sure the adrenaline from the rage helped me manage the pain.

Why did I do it this way?  Because I am not pumping my body full of unnecessary narcotics for two more days because UPMC is fucked up.  Because the pain was intolerable over 36 hours ago and getting worse, even with the painkillers.  Because I had no real alternative for treatment.  Why?

Because I live in a medical monopoly.  UPMC is the only game in town.  And frankly, they don't give a shit about patient care, or the experience of the Docs. You really want to know how the system operates?  Ask your Doctor about contract negotiations.  I got the inside story while I was in for my breast cancer surgery, and it will make you sick.  They are cutting salaries of experienced docs and surgeons so they can replace them with younger, less experienced docs because they can pay them much less.  As if UPMC, the "Non-Profit", isn't making record fucking profits that go up every damn year.

Shit - this is way too long. Let me just say one more thing.  This is why I never carry a weapon of any kind.  Other than my brain as connected to my voice.  I feel a little bad about being mean, BUT if a group of people -  who have a sworn and fiduciary duty to provide CARE  - are going to put me in a position where I am actually shaking with rage, then everybody else in the room is going to be shaking too.

ARRRGGGHHHHHH.