October 27, 2009

best week ever: a pennant and a public option

public_option_button-p145665537802481901t5sj_400It’s looking like a promising week. The Yankees are back and so is the public option. I hope.

A bill that includes a government-run plan is before the Senate, but whether it survives the next round of debates remains to be seen. Maybe it has a better chance of getting passed with the newly added opt-out option for states.

The fact that the public plan has been resurrected, though, is promising. After the insurance industry threatened to raise premiums a couple of weeks ago, and subsequent news polls showed that 57 percent of Americans back the idea of a government option, the Dems switched up their game plan.

Rather than worry about winning over the GOP, they’ve decided to push an agenda supported by their constituents. It’s about time, too. The Dems have gotten punked for far too long regarding health care reform. We’ll see if they follow up their words with action.

I’m really excited about the measure. I’ve been down for a public plan since the beginning. But there’s one voice that has been missing from the debate, one that I believe will further bolster support for universal coverage: people with insurance who rely on it regularly, people like me.

I have yet to hear the opinions of insured men and women living with health issues or chronic diseases such as cancer. Maybe it’s because they can’t rattle off sound bites. Or maybe because, if asked, they would make an incontrovertible case for why the government needs to step in for the 40 million uninsured in this country and the 38 million underinsured.

I often have discussions with the patients at the center where I’m being treated. And, as you may have guessed, health care reform is a popular topic. For the most part, the cancer patients I know are not only well informed, but they also support health care for everyone.

The reason for that is simple: When you’re facing  a serious illness, it tends to bring out a level of compassion you didn’t know you had, one that is desperately needed in a debate dominated by politics. Cancer survivors know what it’s like to be sick. And when your medical bills are in the six figures, you sure do appreciate health coverage. It’s nice not worrying about how you’ll pay for this week’s treatment or next week’s lab tests. The last time I checked, a CAT scan cost in excess of $7,000, and I’ve had two in the last three months.

Unlike the Tea Partiers, who—if they even have insurance to begin with—don’t want others to share in the health care spoils, cancer patients understand that universal coverage is a moral imperative. There’s something about walking through the fire that makes you want to help out the next person. You don’t want others to suffer or be denied care. U.S. Sen. Roland Burris of Chicago got it right. “It’s time to do it for the benefit of those who are uninsured,” he said about health care reform.

Last week, he came out publicly to declare that he has no intention of signing a bill that doesn’t include a government option. And although his primary motive is likely to land a spot on prime time, I’m not mad if he plays politics to promote the greater good. 

With all the media coverage of the return of the public option, the junior senator stepped up at just the right time. Folks had counted him out, but he’s clearly determined to play hardball. Just like the Yankees. If we can get universal coverage and win the World Series, this will turn out to be a really good year.

October 16, 2009

chemo brain or garcia gene?

chemovs gar sampl1

illustration by artist calida (www.artistcalida.com)

My family is the real-life version of the Griswolds from National Lampoon’s. More space cadet than rocket scientist. The kind of people who are really good at getting in their own way.

You’ve seen us before. At the rest stop wondering how we drove 40 miles in the wrong direction. At the movies bragging about how we’re smarter than everyone else with our store-bought sodas and garbage bag full of homemade popcorn. Hours late to all the events we didn’t RSVP for.

So, several months ago, when I started suffering from chemo brain — short-term memory loss and a decline in cognitive abilities due to chemotherapy — I wasn’t sure whether the drugs were to blame or my Garcia genes. Let me provide a sketch of the patriarchs of our family for a little context.

My dad, Joe, has belt-attached holsters that sit on both hips. One is for his cell phone and the other is for his glasses. That in and of itself is pretty funny, because my dad wears his pants so high that his belt is typically above his belly button. But the real reason I bring this up is because he purchased the special holders to keep track of his phone and his specks, which he loses all the time. Invariably, though, one, if not both, of his hip-slung carrying cases winds up empty, and helping him retrace his steps goes something like this:

Joe: “Did you see where I put my glasses?”

Me: “Nope. Where did you have them last?”

Joe: “On my face.”

Those older ATMs, the ones where you insert your card in the machine, were a cruel joke for my dad. For some reason, he never caught on that the loud, methodical beeping at the end of the transaction was a reminder to grab your card. I can’t count how many times he’d go out to get money only to return with no card, cursing under his breath, because the machine sucked it up.

And it’s not just memory loss that gets the better of the Garcias. We have an uncanny knack for offending folks just by being ourselves, getting all the family gossip wrong, and landing in the most bizarre situations.

Take my uncle Tony, my dad’s younger brother. He’s gotten peed on by a Tiger, once choked a cab driver in Italy he thought was trying to cheat him, and is convinced that a rooster on the farm where he and my dad spent their summers as kids wanted to kill him.

This is the same uncle who wears a one-piece adult-size snowsuit indoors during winter because his historic home in Germantown, Pa., is too costly to heat. Get Joe and Tony together and forget about it.

When my cousin Calida and I moved to New York more than 10 years ago, our dads volunteered to drive the U-Haul. Why this was even allowed is beyond me.

this is exactly what my uncle's indoor snowsuit looks like

this is exactly what my uncle's indoor snowsuit looks like

We’d just gotten the last of my stuff from my mom’s house and were ready to hit the New Jersey Turnpike for the 100-mile trip. My uncle, who thought he was in drive but was actually in reverse, backed the moving truck into my mom’s wooden fence. The damage was pretty bad, but instead of calling an expert or telling my mom, the Garcias spent an hour working furiously to straighten out the bent pieces and then drove off. To this day, the latch on that fence still doesn’t work right.

Considering that I share the same DNA as Joe and Tony, I immediately looked inward when I lost two sets of house keys in the same week and noticed I was having difficulty remembering what I was saying mid-sentence.

At first, I attributed it to chemo. Cancer patients almost always have long-term affects from the meds, a mental fog if you will. But then I remembered that I am a Garcia. We are, by nature, challenged individuals.

This got me wondering who would win in a battle between chemo brain and the Garcia gene. And by win I mean which one is likely the biggest contributor to my cognitive lapses. Here are just a few examples of the sideaffects of cancer drugs:

* Being unusually disorganized
* Confusion
* Difficulty multitasking
* Short-term memory problems
* Trouble with verbal memory, such as remembering a conversation
* Trouble with visual memory

Heavy stuff, right? Maybe for anybody else’s family.  I’m beginning to think that a matchup between chemo brain and Garcia gene might be tied. As Joe and Tony have passed the Griswold syndrome down to their progeny, the above symptoms  just happen to be things that now plague the rest of us.

And all of this will be on full display during the family trip that we’re planning for next year. God help us.

October 9, 2009

pink-and-proud players

tom brady in pink sneaks

tom brady in pink sneaks

NFL players in pink is a beautiful thing.

Every Sunday throughout October, your favorite athletes will be accessorizing in pink in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Pink gloves, pink sneakers. I even saw a pink ribbon on several pigskins. What an ingenious way to raise awareness.

The American Cancer Society and the National Football League joined forces to roll out the campaign. And it makes a lot of sense when you think about it. I’m sure almost all of the men in the league know someone who has been touched by the disease — a mother, a sister, an aunt, even other men. Of course they want to show their support.

It’s touching actually, to see all those big, burly guys rocking pink for such an important cause. Collaborative efforts pink balllike this is how you conquer cancer. It’s not always about promoting new drugs and treatments. Sometimes it’s about showing solidarity. Sometimes it’s about supporting from the sidelines (pun intended). Whoever came up with this idea needs to get a promotion. Go NFL.