Okay, so I wander out back onto the deck...guess you can see this coming.
Went out there with the dog, one fall morning in 2008, to get some fresh air and enjoy the exceptionally warm weather we were having that November. I happened to glance up into a walnut tree that stands in the middle of the little forest that marks the end of our backyard. Up on a broken off branch, sat a little squirrel. About a foot behind that little tree rat was yet another. Nothing too odd about that; our trees are always filled with the little nibble-heads.
Without provocation, the latter squirrel approaches the first. They make contact, exchange words, and I prepare myself for what looked as if it would be an epic battle...or even a chase! You know I don’t like the little boogers, but I will concede that their daredevil jumps at high speed can be first-rate entertainment. Instead of fighting, the squirrel in back reaches up, grabs a hold of, and starts doing something strange to, the front squirrel. Now, I'm no zoologist, but I can say, with relative certainty that these two were not…umm…"fighting." Nope, that was not fighting right there.
What is this world coming to? You wander out into your own yard, expecting a relaxing moment of communing with nature...and instead you're exposed to blatant and shameless rodent sex! My poor dog, Casey was clearly traumatized by the whole incident, and I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to explain it to her. She’s been fixed, and knows nothing of such things. Honestly, I wasn’t all that comfortable with it myself — and I haven’t been fixed.
After the disturbing display finally ended, the squirrel that initiated the encounter casually gathered his nuts, and wandered off as if nothing had ever happened — leaving his girl hanging out on a limb. This is so typical of these irresponsible creatures. You know, he probably didn’t even call her in the morning.
I can't be sure, but I would almost swear that a few little puffs of smoke drifted up from a nearby branch.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Health Care-less
This week, I want to return to a serious topic. I want to talk about…
…healthcare.
Okay, for those of you still here, I’d like to talk about something very frustrating that I learned about one of our local doctors the other day. It’s just another bit of evidence that an over-inflated bureaucracy does nothing but get in the way of its true purpose and stated goals.
This doctor uses innovative and somewhat non-traditional techniques in treating her patients. These people often have long-term illnesses and/or conditions. So the care they need, while aimed toward cure, is focused on daily life issues. It’s about making their life “today” better — while still working toward the possibility of cure, tomorrow.
The doctor does not ignore, in any way, the concept of ultimate cure. However, she understands better than most doctors, that the patient has to live in the real world. They need treatment that will help them live a decent life with their condition, as they strive toward ridding themselves of it. This “palliative” care is a concept that many doctors brush aside. This physician, however, listens to her patients, and becomes familiar with their day-to-day needs, desires, and goals. She takes the time to learn how her patient lives, and does all she can to enhance their quality of life.
Many of her patients have life-long issues, such as diabetes, amputation and various other disabilities. Treating these patients ( who often have chronic and persistent wounds), requires a pragmatic approach, which focuses not so much on ridding them of their malady, as it does helping them to live with it. This is her mission, and I can tell you without reservation, that she does it well, and her methods work!
The government, on the other hand: Well, they’re not so sure.
The good folks at the bureaucratic red-tape capitol of the universe, which we lovingly call “Medicare” have been hassling this good doctor, and refusing to pay her for her work. They’ve been drowning her in pointless paperwork, and generally giving her a hard time. Apparently, they feel bad that she’s been helping her patients to feel good. According to their various computers, data sheets and policy books, “feeling good” is not a billable service. I guess they don't consider quality of life to be durable medical equipment. It’s okay to try to cure your patient, but if you try to make their life a little more pleasant in the “now” —well, they just can’t cover that.
The pencil pushers claim her treatment methods are unproven, and unapproved. Yet they, in fact, are approved for other circumstances. And the scientific evidence clearly shows that the methods are also beneficial when used in the way she's using them. Her patients are a clear testament to the fact that they do work.
But Medicare can’t put a code on comfort, fill a spreadsheet with security, or pigeonhole peace of mind. So they shake their little fingers and turn up their noses. They can’t see past the end of their desks, nor do they even want to try. Thinking outside of the box is not in the Federal Register. So anything that comes along that shakes up their confined, mundane world is immediately dismissed and, if necessary, dispatched at all cost.
I won’t pretend to have any answer for this; but it seems like they could work the human condition into the equation somehow. Some value could be placed on living a good life — not just a long one. I understand that the government, and the taxpayers are averse to wasting money, and that’s as it should be. However, is it wasteful to provide comfort, dignity, and security to our neighbors for whom our tax dollars are meant to help? Is it unwise to ignore alternative methods, which might just help people? Is it good policy to let people suffer, simply because you can’t completely cure them within the confines of some arbitrary timeline? In the end, aren’t the increased costs of treating patients for complications, avoidable accidents, and illnesses brought on by years of misery, going to cost the taxpayers even more?
The folks at Medicare should sneak away from their paper cages and venture out into the real world. They should make an investment in finding out what really works well, and what people really need. I won’t begin to dive into the murky waters of the healthcare reform debate. But it just scares the hell out of me to think that the system may soon become even more bureaucratic, with exponentially more decision-making power given over to policy wonks and number crunchers. I don’t want my quality of life determined by some guy who flunked out of MIT because his solar robot exploded.
Next week: Another episode of “Yard Wars!”
…healthcare.
Okay, for those of you still here, I’d like to talk about something very frustrating that I learned about one of our local doctors the other day. It’s just another bit of evidence that an over-inflated bureaucracy does nothing but get in the way of its true purpose and stated goals.
This doctor uses innovative and somewhat non-traditional techniques in treating her patients. These people often have long-term illnesses and/or conditions. So the care they need, while aimed toward cure, is focused on daily life issues. It’s about making their life “today” better — while still working toward the possibility of cure, tomorrow.
The doctor does not ignore, in any way, the concept of ultimate cure. However, she understands better than most doctors, that the patient has to live in the real world. They need treatment that will help them live a decent life with their condition, as they strive toward ridding themselves of it. This “palliative” care is a concept that many doctors brush aside. This physician, however, listens to her patients, and becomes familiar with their day-to-day needs, desires, and goals. She takes the time to learn how her patient lives, and does all she can to enhance their quality of life.
Many of her patients have life-long issues, such as diabetes, amputation and various other disabilities. Treating these patients ( who often have chronic and persistent wounds), requires a pragmatic approach, which focuses not so much on ridding them of their malady, as it does helping them to live with it. This is her mission, and I can tell you without reservation, that she does it well, and her methods work!
The government, on the other hand: Well, they’re not so sure.
The good folks at the bureaucratic red-tape capitol of the universe, which we lovingly call “Medicare” have been hassling this good doctor, and refusing to pay her for her work. They’ve been drowning her in pointless paperwork, and generally giving her a hard time. Apparently, they feel bad that she’s been helping her patients to feel good. According to their various computers, data sheets and policy books, “feeling good” is not a billable service. I guess they don't consider quality of life to be durable medical equipment. It’s okay to try to cure your patient, but if you try to make their life a little more pleasant in the “now” —well, they just can’t cover that.
The pencil pushers claim her treatment methods are unproven, and unapproved. Yet they, in fact, are approved for other circumstances. And the scientific evidence clearly shows that the methods are also beneficial when used in the way she's using them. Her patients are a clear testament to the fact that they do work.
But Medicare can’t put a code on comfort, fill a spreadsheet with security, or pigeonhole peace of mind. So they shake their little fingers and turn up their noses. They can’t see past the end of their desks, nor do they even want to try. Thinking outside of the box is not in the Federal Register. So anything that comes along that shakes up their confined, mundane world is immediately dismissed and, if necessary, dispatched at all cost.
I won’t pretend to have any answer for this; but it seems like they could work the human condition into the equation somehow. Some value could be placed on living a good life — not just a long one. I understand that the government, and the taxpayers are averse to wasting money, and that’s as it should be. However, is it wasteful to provide comfort, dignity, and security to our neighbors for whom our tax dollars are meant to help? Is it unwise to ignore alternative methods, which might just help people? Is it good policy to let people suffer, simply because you can’t completely cure them within the confines of some arbitrary timeline? In the end, aren’t the increased costs of treating patients for complications, avoidable accidents, and illnesses brought on by years of misery, going to cost the taxpayers even more?
The folks at Medicare should sneak away from their paper cages and venture out into the real world. They should make an investment in finding out what really works well, and what people really need. I won’t begin to dive into the murky waters of the healthcare reform debate. But it just scares the hell out of me to think that the system may soon become even more bureaucratic, with exponentially more decision-making power given over to policy wonks and number crunchers. I don’t want my quality of life determined by some guy who flunked out of MIT because his solar robot exploded.
Next week: Another episode of “Yard Wars!”
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Yard Wars: The Acorn Strikes Back
Believe it or not — and you probably won't — it happened to me again. Less than a year after the frightening encounter that I discussed last week, I lived through yet another run-in with terroristic yard vermin. Here is my side of the story:
One July morning in 2008, as is my routine, I wandered out to our back deck, seeking a peaceful moment of alone time. The scorching sun was burning through its blanket of fog…but having no luck in clearing the fog from my brain. While I was sitting there, half asleep still, my eye caught a glimpse of movement to my left. It was…
…a squirrel.
He was sneaking down out of the tree, and onto the deck railing. At first, he approached slowly. But as soon as he saw me watching, he bounded wildly over from the side rail to the front rail — completely bypassing the more traditional route over the wooden gate leading to the back steps. This provocative gesture was clearly meant to intimidate.
Next thing I know, he’s no more than five feet away from me. At this distance, I was an easy target. Suddenly realizing the absurdity of the situation (and that it was happening again), I started to laugh nervously. My sudden lack of fear apparently threw the squirrel off his game, and he scampered back to the safety of the tree. But it wasn't over…oh, not even close!
Next thing I know, he's climbing across the wall of the house. He approached from my extreme left, clinging to the bricks like Spider-Man®. I think he was going for the wooden trellis I was sitting under, in hopes of an overhead, “banzai-style” attack. But I spied him, and quickly foiled his scheme.
Back to the tree, my furry foe scurried.
Moments later, it was déjà vu all over again. This guy was completely obsessed! He charged along the rail again, bounding wildly over the lamps, which were affixed to each deck post. He was trying to intimidate me with his jumping prowess. He landed, once again, right in front of me.
Thus began, a stare down.
I stare at him...he stares at me. It was like the YouTube video, “Dramatic Chipmunk.” Although in this case, I was playing more the role of the chipmunk than he was.
Suddenly, he made some very suggestive bounding motions, as if to indicate that he was fully prepared to employ his finishing move. At that point, I honestly thought he was going to jump right on my head. And you know, I'm thinking that wouldn't have been a particularly titillating encounter for either party. He likely would have found himself catapulted a considerable distance, before landing on the unforgiving concrete far below; and I would be on my way to the hospital...with squirrel rabies.
Can you imagine how hard it would be for me to get a date in that situation? I mean, if you've got bad breath — poor grooming — even a grating personality — you still got a chance with the ladies. But just once, mention that, “oh by the way,” you happen to have squirrel rabies. Well, that’s going to be a deal-breaker with most women.
Our grand standoff ended when the squirrel turned-tail and ran in a blind panic toward safety. Okay…okay. Actually, that was the human. But the commotion of my clumsy retreat scared the little booger enough to send him scurrying back to his lair.
Another frightening squirrel encounter had come and gone without casualties. But these near misses could only go on so long before something terrible happened. This constant ramping up of tensions would soon lead to collateral damage, casualties, and a coordinated ambush that would defy all previous biological theory on rodent aggression.
Stay tuned.
One July morning in 2008, as is my routine, I wandered out to our back deck, seeking a peaceful moment of alone time. The scorching sun was burning through its blanket of fog…but having no luck in clearing the fog from my brain. While I was sitting there, half asleep still, my eye caught a glimpse of movement to my left. It was…
…a squirrel.
He was sneaking down out of the tree, and onto the deck railing. At first, he approached slowly. But as soon as he saw me watching, he bounded wildly over from the side rail to the front rail — completely bypassing the more traditional route over the wooden gate leading to the back steps. This provocative gesture was clearly meant to intimidate.
Next thing I know, he’s no more than five feet away from me. At this distance, I was an easy target. Suddenly realizing the absurdity of the situation (and that it was happening again), I started to laugh nervously. My sudden lack of fear apparently threw the squirrel off his game, and he scampered back to the safety of the tree. But it wasn't over…oh, not even close!
Next thing I know, he's climbing across the wall of the house. He approached from my extreme left, clinging to the bricks like Spider-Man®. I think he was going for the wooden trellis I was sitting under, in hopes of an overhead, “banzai-style” attack. But I spied him, and quickly foiled his scheme.
Back to the tree, my furry foe scurried.
Moments later, it was déjà vu all over again. This guy was completely obsessed! He charged along the rail again, bounding wildly over the lamps, which were affixed to each deck post. He was trying to intimidate me with his jumping prowess. He landed, once again, right in front of me.
Thus began, a stare down.
I stare at him...he stares at me. It was like the YouTube video, “Dramatic Chipmunk.” Although in this case, I was playing more the role of the chipmunk than he was.
Suddenly, he made some very suggestive bounding motions, as if to indicate that he was fully prepared to employ his finishing move. At that point, I honestly thought he was going to jump right on my head. And you know, I'm thinking that wouldn't have been a particularly titillating encounter for either party. He likely would have found himself catapulted a considerable distance, before landing on the unforgiving concrete far below; and I would be on my way to the hospital...with squirrel rabies.
Can you imagine how hard it would be for me to get a date in that situation? I mean, if you've got bad breath — poor grooming — even a grating personality — you still got a chance with the ladies. But just once, mention that, “oh by the way,” you happen to have squirrel rabies. Well, that’s going to be a deal-breaker with most women.
Our grand standoff ended when the squirrel turned-tail and ran in a blind panic toward safety. Okay…okay. Actually, that was the human. But the commotion of my clumsy retreat scared the little booger enough to send him scurrying back to his lair.
Another frightening squirrel encounter had come and gone without casualties. But these near misses could only go on so long before something terrible happened. This constant ramping up of tensions would soon lead to collateral damage, casualties, and a coordinated ambush that would defy all previous biological theory on rodent aggression.
Stay tuned.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Yard Wars: Im Telling You This for Your Own Protection!
On this Independence Day, I feel it's my patriotic duty to warn you, my fellow Americans, about an insidious danger...lurking in our own backyard.
A certain, previously friendly, population appears to be taking a militant stand against the peace loving citizens of America. I fear it could signal an attempted world take-over, ala Planet of the Apes. We should all be very afraid! To prove my theory, allow me to relate an incident, which took place in the summer of 2007.
Here's what went down early that morning:
As I casually strolled out onto the back deck, I suddenly became aware that I was not alone. About ten feet in front of me, under a large over-hanging tree, sitting among the ceramic bears and squirrels, was a REAL squirrel — usually, not a problem. However, this guy had allowed me to approach dangerously close, and he wasn't moving away. I slowly approached, expecting the timid little forest creature to scurry away, as they always do.
Not this one!
This guy jumped through the air at me like Hulk Hogan off the top rope, and landed on the deck railing, not five feet away. Then he raises the ante by jumping onto the deck chair right dagone next to me! I’m thinkin’ the next stop...is my face!
I backed off. He wasn't moving, so I backed off some more. At that, he leapt back to his original position on the wall.
I slowly tried to again approach him, not sure why. This time, I avoided eye contact while pretending to graze on nearby vegetation, per instructions of Animal Planet's Jeff Corwin.
He attacked again!
Again, he sailed through the air in a provocative advance to the chair…adjacent to my facial area. He had a mean look on his little face, and I was sure he fully intended to eat me. And I'm not talking about any cute little nibbling here either. I swear he had his beady little eyes fixed directly on my jugular!
I retreated toward the patio door. He reciprocated — returning to the wall. Now we had a standoff on our hands. I was not about to sink to the level of being forced inside by a glorified little yard rat! So we just sat there, staring at each other — each afraid to blink.
I decided to resort to measures, generally recommended for anyone in imminent danger of consumption by lions, or tigers, or bears...oh my! I made myself seem as wide, tall, and ferocious as possible. Now I figured, with my girth, I already had "wide" pretty well covered, so I went for tall. I waved my arms, clapped, and launched terrifying roars toward the little monster.
Thankfully, these drastic measures were effective. He gave me that tilted head look, like a bewildered puppy, as if to say, “What the hell is your problem?” He then scampered back up the trellis and into the tree.
Aww, I didn't want to have to get tough with the widdle fellow; but he left me no choice. No, I wasn’t the least bit frightened, for even a second. Hey, I always shake like that after too much coffee.
Since that day, it’s quite likely our neighbors think I’m a raving lunatic.
A certain, previously friendly, population appears to be taking a militant stand against the peace loving citizens of America. I fear it could signal an attempted world take-over, ala Planet of the Apes. We should all be very afraid! To prove my theory, allow me to relate an incident, which took place in the summer of 2007.
Here's what went down early that morning:
As I casually strolled out onto the back deck, I suddenly became aware that I was not alone. About ten feet in front of me, under a large over-hanging tree, sitting among the ceramic bears and squirrels, was a REAL squirrel — usually, not a problem. However, this guy had allowed me to approach dangerously close, and he wasn't moving away. I slowly approached, expecting the timid little forest creature to scurry away, as they always do.
Not this one!
This guy jumped through the air at me like Hulk Hogan off the top rope, and landed on the deck railing, not five feet away. Then he raises the ante by jumping onto the deck chair right dagone next to me! I’m thinkin’ the next stop...is my face!
I backed off. He wasn't moving, so I backed off some more. At that, he leapt back to his original position on the wall.
I slowly tried to again approach him, not sure why. This time, I avoided eye contact while pretending to graze on nearby vegetation, per instructions of Animal Planet's Jeff Corwin.
He attacked again!
Again, he sailed through the air in a provocative advance to the chair…adjacent to my facial area. He had a mean look on his little face, and I was sure he fully intended to eat me. And I'm not talking about any cute little nibbling here either. I swear he had his beady little eyes fixed directly on my jugular!
I retreated toward the patio door. He reciprocated — returning to the wall. Now we had a standoff on our hands. I was not about to sink to the level of being forced inside by a glorified little yard rat! So we just sat there, staring at each other — each afraid to blink.
I decided to resort to measures, generally recommended for anyone in imminent danger of consumption by lions, or tigers, or bears...oh my! I made myself seem as wide, tall, and ferocious as possible. Now I figured, with my girth, I already had "wide" pretty well covered, so I went for tall. I waved my arms, clapped, and launched terrifying roars toward the little monster.
Thankfully, these drastic measures were effective. He gave me that tilted head look, like a bewildered puppy, as if to say, “What the hell is your problem?” He then scampered back up the trellis and into the tree.
Aww, I didn't want to have to get tough with the widdle fellow; but he left me no choice. No, I wasn’t the least bit frightened, for even a second. Hey, I always shake like that after too much coffee.
Since that day, it’s quite likely our neighbors think I’m a raving lunatic.
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