The Sky Is Falling

Every time I see those people screaming and carrying on at town hall meetings it reminds me of the children's story about the little chicken running around yelling that the sky is falling, the sky is falling. They're so worked up I don't know whether to feel sorry for them or be amused by them.

I understand that they are doing this because they truly believe what they're saying. At least I like to give them the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure there are some who would be just as loud and obnoxious if the debate was over crunchy peanut butter or creamy, or should Obama wear boxers or briefs. And Oh, My, God, what kind of idiot would show up at one of these things armed? "Because I can" is not a good reason.

The problem is, from my point of view at least, feel free to disagree, they're worried about the sky falling. Ask anyone who's been in the military, or anyone who's old enough to really remember Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the government is already up to it's appendix in health care. Some of it's working out okay, some could use a little tweaking, but it's not like there isn't already a precedent.

And all this talk about "socializing" health care bugs the heck out of me. First off, what's wrong with wanting to work together, the strong looking out for the weak, the wealthy sharing some of that wealth instead of hoarding it all for themselves and their children? But aside from that, the idea of the government paying for a service isn't so unusual. If it was, we wouldn't have public education, transportation, or parks. You don't hear too many people complaining about the government paying for that stuff, but mention the government helping someone afford basic health care and people act like you suggested serving poached babies at the women's club luncheon.

And then all this talk about death panels. Good Lord. I just want to ask these people what would they do, no matter how old they are, if they went to the doctor and found out they had a fatal illness. Let's say you have an aggressive cancer, and the doctor says you have 6 months to live. You might be able to stretch it to a couple of years or who knows, actually beat the odds, if you're willing to spend the next 6 months having more tests and operations than you ever thought possible, undergoing painful chemotherapy and radiation, loosing your hair and control of your bowls. On the other hand, you could accept the diagnosis and spend the next 6 months doing all those things you put off. Learning to knit, buying that Harley you always wanted, taking your kids for one last big family vacation.

Which would you chose? How would you chose? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to talk about it with your doctor? I don't think some people even know they have a choice. The doctor tells you what treatments are available, and you chose one. The doctor's not going to volunteer a 'no treatment' option. Sure, he might mention how long you would live if he did nothing, but the last thing a doctor wants to do is nothing. Doctors are just so focused on healing, getting better no matter what it takes, they don't consider any other possible course of action. Mentioning the 'no treatment' option would be just so you could see how much longer the different options would give you, not to give you the option of actually refusing treatment.

My father-in-law died of lung cancer. He had chemo and radiation, but I think toward the end he regretted going through with it. It left him weak and sick, unable to enjoy the time he had left. Maybe if he'd been able to go to one of those 'death panels' he might have made a different choice. Our last memories of him might be of a strong, happy man, not a bald, shrunken ghost of the man he used to be.