Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Don't Care Health Care

It is a bit more than a year after my father's death.
He was killed by a system and a facility which didn't care about him.
He was alone, without adequate attention, in a bed he could fall out.
As a frail elderly man, with a touch of senility, he needed constant attention, which he did not receive.  Worst of all, he was separated from all friends and family.  My mother had been married to him for 65 years, and now, at the age of 89 suffering from physical weakness, he was alone in a cold institutional setting where he had no one to really talk to.  (Oh, yes, occasionally a nurse was there---but only occasionally.)
My mother would have gladly stayed with him, but the facility did not allow her to.
Moreover, she was sternly lectured by some sort of accountant and a so-called "social worker" who told her that they would keep my father in their facility until his insurance account was empty.  Oh yes, they used different words, but it came to the same thing.
My father was only allowed to return home because we have a lawyer in the family, and he threatened the facility.
My father died at home, but he never lost that feeling that he had been abandoned and was alone.  An uncaring facility killed him.
This was predictable.  If those who were supposedly caring for him did not take the time to think about it, if their hearts have become so hardened that they accept this sort of mistreatment as "normal", then that is an indictment of the system of medical (don't) care.
In fact, I wish they could hear the following story:  When I was in Slovakia I read the following story.  A man was about to be executed by the Communists.  The executioner turns out to be a friend from childhood:  "What are you doing here?", asks the man about to die.  "Well, it's hard to find a job; I couldn't find anything else."

Thursday, July 9, 2015

damned unpleasant

It's not pleasant to walk along a busy roadway, with cars screaming past.  An occasional motorcycle has ear-splitting sounds.  Some cars, too, seem to behave as if the driver thought he were in a race.  The sound, the speed, the stupidity of it all makes me want to retreat to a place far from what is so misleadingly called 'civilization'.

Then the bicyclists are impatient.  Ridiculous!  Some even have little bells.  What the hell does that mean?  Get out of my way!?  Why?  Why can't you slow down?  Twits!  Impudent jerks!

Sidewalks crowded in the most unpleasant way.  Waiting for a bus, bicycles come speeding. You must step aside or risk collision.  Worst of all, when the bus is about to arrive, and you see a speeding bicyclist coming towards you, you must calculate: can you safely maneuver to the bus door without a collision?  Because you cannot count upon the asshole  bicyclist to slow down or make room for you.

And then there are the rotund pairs, strutting amiably in the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to the world around them.....unaware that a bicycle is approaching.

Let the two fatties crowd the sidewalk at the same time two bicycles approach, from either distance, and then try to cross the sidewalk to reach your bus!  That's the sort of joy I enjoy in this place which dares to call itself a city.


Saturday, July 4, 2015

THE INTERNET IS CRAP

From time to time, I glance at the blog of a retired philosopher, from whom, I dare to say, I've learned a few things.
But I often find myself bothered by his tendency (occasional, to be sure) to be mesmerized by the possibilities of the internet.
I think there's a simple explanation for why I find his attitude unfathomable.
I've not got as much free time as he does.  So, when something goes wrong with my computer or with the internet--or if I simply fail to read a web page carefully--it's more of a problem for me than it would be for him.  (Not that he doesn't have occasional problems.)
But, on the whole my overall judgment is that the internet is crap, and it is getting worse.
Dealing with my computer is also crap because the damn thing is of low quality, and I am in no position to buy a new, better one.
So, it's the old problem of time and money.
Recently I misread a webpage.  Well, is that even the right verb?  The page had lots of information, and I failed to notice the bit which applied to me.  In my experience, that sort of thing occurs frequently.
Internet pages overwhelm us with colors and their flashing signs, and I don't like it.  It is rather like the familiar phenomenon of learning to ignore omnipresent advertising.
But note the difference between an old-fashioned phone call as a means of acquiring information and the web:  You can ask a specific question to a person at the other end of a telephone.  That is not possible with the Internet, and that's the source of many problems.
When I go online to find out the answer to a question, I am typically about to run from one place to another. If I make a mistake and get the wrong information, it has immediate unpleasant consequences.  I am sure that if I were retired, and not rushing about, I would have a different attitude toward the damn thing.