Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Hospital Update: Don't Be Stupid

Nobody’s Opinion: Just when you think nothing in the world could surprise you---you’ve heard it all, you’ve seen it before, think again.

There is truly one thing that I am always shocked to find out has no bounds in my life, and that’s my own stupidity.

It seems I have an abundance of it.

My former preconceptions of human kind are forever having to be adjusted.

I can take cluelessness to a whole other dimension.

You might need some background on this. I'm clueless when it comes to hospitals.

Baby boomers are now taking care of their parents, and I was no exception. Both my parents had major strokes, and I spent a good part of my adult life in and out of hospitals…Stephen King had it right, they are bonifide nightmares.

If you have never spent any time there---don’t. Hospitals could kill you.

I thought I had seen it all, but this weekend, I must admit, it’s worse than I even thought.

You see, there is a very big hospital here…I won’t mention any names but, let’s just say it’s on the Top Ten list of the best hospitals in the United States.

So when my husband threw out his back last Monday morning, it was the logical choice to go there.

He got up out of bed at his usual time, and well, let’s just say---he didn’t make it off the sheets.

So, at four in the morning we painfully made it to the emergency room. Where happily, there were NO other patients there. GREAT…we thought.

This is more than good luck! I remember in the past waiting sometimes up to eight hours waiting for relief. Things were looking hopeful.

Actually, this should have been my FIRST clue not to go in.

So, I went in and found a wheel chair; got my husband in it, and when the attending nurses saw us come in the front door they looked at us as if we were there to book a wedding.

After they took our insurance card, we were reeled into a room, where we waited.

Of course, just our luck, they put us in one with no TV.

There were TONS of people walking around. But no one seemed to be doing anything but staring at their computers: playing solitaire for all I knew. We were outnumbered twenty to two.

If you looked at them, they never looked back, even though they KNEW you were looking at them.

After about an hour we saw a doctor, who gave him some heavy Rush Limbaugh pain pills.

But…no one ordered x-rays. None

Remember, we had no clue what was wrong.

I didn’t think anything of it, except that we were there four hours, for what? The hospital to collect money for use of a bed?

We could have gone to our doctor for drugs.

They should have paid us, for making them money...

Now, I SHOULD have known better because not to long ago I took my son to the same emergency ward, and we BEGGED them for at least an e-ray.

Nope. Nothing. Four hours. He was in pain for weeks before some doctor finally issued an MRI.

You see, it takes WEEKS to get into a specialist. Socialized medicine is already here.

And today we found out why no one looked at the probable cause of his pain.

After laying in bed (drugged up) for three days and knowing that he could only now take five steps instead of one, we went to our regular doctor who said:

Well, why did you go there? That hospital can’t take care of back problems because they have no doctors in the emergency room to look at back problems. They have lots of people there, but no doctors. You would have gotten an e-ray at such and such a hospital. Next time, don’t go there, to another place.

Now, you would THINK in an emergency room, any emergency room in a major city there would be a FRIGGING doctor to take a back e-ray!

Hospitals are run just like our Congress...there are no experts. It’s all smoke and mirrors. I swear, half of the staff are idiots.

Oh, you have some great doctors, but they are as rare as a banana in your pea soup.

They just don’t hang around the hospitals, they are somewhere in Africa I suppose.

And here’s another fact I learned from my many years in Hospitals….at least here in St. Louis….there are no doctors in hospitals on the weekend.

If you are going to get sick, DO not, I repeat, DO NOT have a car accident on Saturday or Sunday.

Your chances of survival just got cut down to zero. (unless of course you are a terrorist then you will get in before your victims)

I know. I once went room to room on all fifteen floors in a major hospital searching for one. The nurses tell you, "Well... we just call them if it’s necessary.”

By the time the doc gets there, you will be dead.

And that’s the point.

Either there is a BIG shortage of doctors in this country, or the plan is to let us all die.

Cheerfully drugged by staff hospital nurses, who will NEVER tell you, oh by the way, “We can not tell you what is wrong with you, who knows? It’s not OUR problem. Here take these, it will ease your pain on the way to heaven.”

So, now, I have to call up every hospital in the area, and find out just EXACTLY what trauma they CAN treat, since evidently they are all different.

I suggest you do the same.

And I thought I knew how bad it was…just when you think you know…

Nobody’s Perfect: Okay, maybe I’m being a little too rough on myself. Still, somewhere in my background I remember when you went to a hospital, you could actually, find out rather quickly what was wrong.

Shouldn't we at least expect service?

I never saw ER, but it seems from my observations spent in many an emergency room, the only people that get treated in the ER are gang related gun-shot wounds. You could be having a heart attack, or stroke right there in the ER, and the gun-shot drug dealer would take precedent.

Nobody Knows; Why they don’t tell you this stuff at the door.

They also don't tell you that no matter HOW fast the medics get to your door when you are having a stroke or heart attack, it might take hours to find an emergency room that will take you.

Nobody Cares; That’s my point.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Valentine Confessions

Nobody’s Opinion: Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, you couldn’t forget that fact if you tried. Whole industries are built on this one day of the year.

Young women, all over the planet are wondering, “What will he get me? Roses? Just a card? Candy? A friendship ring?

A diamond engagement ring?

Flowers of any kind are good. That usually means he likes the sex enough to at least honor you. A card means, he is not really sure if you will be more than just friends, so why waste the money?

Going out to dinner…means he expects most of the time to be paid in full.

What? Not everyone has this game of barter on their minds you say?

What planet are you living on?

But the biggest gift of all…is the diamond ring. For that, the man intends to get serious.

And I’m sorry---if cupid actually knew what I thought of his “diamonds” he would point his arrow and shoot out my eyes.

I’m probably one of the few women in the entire world that sees absolutely nothing special about a diamond.

Oh sure, put hundreds of them together and you have something, but only the very rich can afford that.

The only diamonds I’ve ever seen that I was impressed with was the Hope diamond.

There are so many stones much more beautiful than a diamond. Go into any store and you see blue, green, red, orange, stones of every color and hue…but a diamond…boring.

Well, Kings and Queens have killed for them. Not because they are beautiful in my opinion, but because the market says they are valuable, a good investment.

So, okay, buy the diamond and keep it in your safe.

The fake diamonds, in my opinion look MUCH better than the originals. I’ll take a Zirconium any day.

There is nothing that angers me more than when you see a diamond in a jewelry store and it shines brilliantly, and the minute you walk out into the sunlight, the sparkle is GONE.

I don’t care if you scrub it with tooth paste, dip it in twenty dollar jewelry cleaner... you would have to carry around in your pocket whatever special lights that they have shining on it in the store, and put the light on it every time you wanted to show it off.

Am I the only one who notices this? I always feel ripped off.

Having confessed this abnormality, I can only surmise that fortunately, God has not felt that I should be tempted to disappoint some poor man by not being able to hide my disappointment with his gift of a diamond ring.

The only diamond ring I have ever received was a gift from my parents. It sits in my safe, and I look at it once in awhile, in remembrance of how hard they worked to buy it for me.

No, I told my husband that the only thing that would convince me that a man loved me, (we were dating at the time) the only thing I ever wanted was for a man to carve our names in a tree, inside a heart.

If a man would take the time to do that, then, things looked promising.

So, he did. He went to his local park, and he said people were staring at him while he was using a huge mallet and chisel to write the names Bruce and JOY, and he picked the biggest tree in the park. It was so huge; you could see it from the other side of the lake.

He said the effort took five hours. Every year we go see our “tree.”

The tree has grown over the fourteen years. You can hardly see the letters anymore. But, it doesn’t matter.

So, maybe what I’m trying to say is, guys, if you can’t afford a diamond, or even roses, get a chisel, and a hammer, and go carve.

You might find a diamond yourself, one that really sparkles.

And save yourself a lot of money.

Nobody’s Perfect: Actually, the day is very lopsided. The girls really make out on this day. There should be a day for the ladies to treat the men. A day, where they had to do everything the man wanted, just for that ONE day of the year.

No money involved.

Nobody Knows; Being a woman, I’ve always wondered what men REALLY think of Valentines Day. Guys?

Nobody Cares; Wait, a man did give me an engagement diamond ring once. There was a big wedding planned, thousands of dollars already spent by my parents…invitations already sent out.

Then, one day, my fiancé just stopped talking to me. I went over to his parents’ house where he was living.

He ran into the bedroom.

I slipped his ring under the door.

Now, in my old age, looking back on my heartache, and not ever knowing why he changed his mind…since he was not honorable enough to even give me a reason for calling it off, I should have kept the ring, sold it, and paid my parents back for all they had spent out.

Ah HA! So that’s why you hate diamonds, Joyanna!

Nope---you’re wrong. I thought the ring was ugly; I didn’t miss it at all.

Like I said, what’s the fuse about, I just don’t see it.


Monday, February 12, 2007

The American Political Idol Polls---Obama

Nobody’s Opinion:

Who’s our new political American Idol America?

Barack Osama---Hillary is going to have it rough.

Simon is here.

Let’s fact it…America can sell anything. Anything.

From a pet rock to a politician with the same name as the enemy who killed over 3,000 people on 9/11. They can even sell the idea that America is a terribly big bully, a real meanie who just wants to take over the world. America is the scum of the earth and needs to be shut down.

Yes, our finest marketing minds are working on that sell, and doing a fine job.

They can market people so well that a politician who has the same name as a dire enemy of the United States wants to be President, and you think that’s really cool.

You would THINK he would change his name in honor of the innocent dead.

Tell me---if you loved this country, and you wanted to be President, but you happened to be born with a name that made mother’s and wives cry, due to the enemy that attacked it…might you not consider getting a name change?

I would be the first to file, and then call a press conference to announce it.

But why should he? According to him…all religions are good. All drugs were good at one time too. Why, he spent many years on drugs…but, that doesn’t matter now.

Barack Osama is a Muslim name, given to him by his father in honor of his Muslim grandfather. His own Muslim father left him and his white mother when he was two years old and went back to Africa.

Then, he was left by his white mother to be raised by his white grandparents.

Who did a better job as we see than either his natural mother or natural father.

And yet…he wants to carry the heritage of that “devoted” lost father, and honor his father’s Muslims grandfathers.

What a slap in the face to the grandparents that raised him.

And there he was, last Saturday on a cold day in February, standing on the steps of the Capitol of Illinois, making his announcement that he was running for President.

It was a very revealing moment in American history. Actually, I thought he presented himself better than Bill Clinton did, or ever could.

He hides his ego better: his words are more commanding and he looks more assured of himself. His clever use of the old politicians trick of “This can’t only be about me, it has to be about US,” were almost believable, that’s how good he is.

It was a real John F. Kennedy moment.

If you look at it from simply a politician’s American Idol moment, Osama won. His political science degree came in handy.

Hillary has a big worry. If put one on one with this fellow, she would lose big time. Not only is he a better speaker than Hillary, he is better with words and political platitudes.

Hillary, as we all have seen, is not even as sharp as Bush on his feet.

I watched with admiration at his abilities on Saturday. He spoke to an all white crowd. White people who obviously felt they were looking at the next John Kennedy.

I was wondering where all the black faces were? After all, they were trying extra hard to portray the man as a black man. Not half/white, but all black. Scrolling along the bottom of his speech were little tidbits for all of us to think about. Like…his father was from Africa (no mention of his religion), Obama was a Christian.

Some of the commentators started calling him Baaaa—ruk, instead of Baaa-rak. (I thought that was really funny.)

Evidently, his own polling was showing that he had to capture the African-American vote to get the nomination from Hillary.

So, this month he and his wife were on the front cover of Ebony.

And on 60 minutes, we got to see his wife Michelle, who is another high powered lawyer like her husband, in action. Hillary in black.

When Michelle was asked if she were scared that her husband, “the first black man to run for President” was going to be shot at she replied…

“Well he could be shot just going down to the gas station!”

Oh-oh, is this another Teresa Heinz in black disguise?

What if Rudy Giuliani‘s wife had said if asked the same question: “Well, Rudy could be shot just going into Harlem.”

And I’m…the typical white person out here listening to this, in my opinion, insulting remark, am not suppose to feel offended?... because once again…as we all are being told every single day of our lives---

All white people hate black people.

Unlike Teresa Heinz, who was doomed to be an idiot the day she was born…Michelle was trying to score a point with the black audience, at the expense of the maybe independent white voters listening that day.

All their comments are very calculated. The questions reviewed in advance: the interview choreographed.

Most of these moments are.

For instance, remember when everyone was talking about Hillary’s comment on how she handles bad boys? Many suggested that question was planted…planted to score with the millions of woman who were disgusted with Hillary for putting up with Bill in order to keep her power.

Tell me…just what did Hillary do to Bill Clinton after his Monica shame? What…she didn’t hold hands on a photo shoot? Real tough Hillary. Nice try.

And what did Obama say when his outspoken wife made the comment about he could be dead just because he’s black?

As if it’s a danger just to walk down the street in America if your black?

Nothing. He is no different than Hillary.

Then, I wonder how many really knew what Obama meant when he made the absurd statement in his speech about how smart the founding fathers were to make a Constitution that could be changed…

Say what? What founding fathers is he talking about? His African founding father?

Well, let’s just say I don’t know which statement made me madder. That he uses our great founders in a lie to tell you he is going to change the whole constitution, while at the very same time, standing on the words of Lincoln.

Or that he lets his wife make racist statements about white people just to get himself elected.

Aren’t you glad that Harvard Law School is turning out such fine “citizens of the world?”

But then, maybe if we made an amendment that no lawyers or extended family members of recent Presidents would be allowed to run for President, we might have a better selection of people.

Now the question from this nobody white girl from the Midwest is: Is Obama racist?

Well, if Obama wants me to vote for the All American Idol politician on my cell phone, maybe he should think about changing his name.

And I’ve got one for him: Trigger O’Reilly. It’s all in the pitch.

He might want to think about all the woman voters out there who hate Hillary, after all…even black woman don’t like a man who cheats, and a woman who forgives him.

But from what I’ve heard from the black woman comedicans, if Hillary had been a black woman, Bill Clinton would not only be divorced, he’d be banished to Africa.

Nobody’s Perfect: If you did listen to Obama’s speech, and tried to figure out just exactly what he would do as President, you would have no clue. Which means, if he keeps making speeches full of hyperbole symbolism, he might end up losing the vice-Presidency to Edwards. One thing for sure, he is for universal health care.

They all are.

Nobody Knows
; If Obama really intends to out maneuver Hillary. The only way he could possible do that is if Bill Clinton wanted him to be President instead of his wife.

Revenge can be a REAL bitch, in this case.

How do WE know what old Bill is up to?

Nobody Cares; Just the fact that he has to emphasis that he is a black African American, shows just how shallow they think we all are, and how sick of it we all are getting to be.

You want us to unit as one? Then stop calling yourself “African” unless you live there.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

The Monkette's Supposition On Anna Nicole's Death

Nobody’s Opinion;

While watching all the news today, about Anna Nicole Smith’s death, and even watching her longtime boyfriend, wanna be husband lawyer, Howard Stern, giving a press conference in order to put himself in a good light---I, along with the rest of the world was thinking, “Gee, for a guy who just lost the love of his life less than 24 hours ago, he sure acts like it’s just another day.”

Not less than 30 minutes later the news was released that you could go to his “blog” and gets his tearful testimony to his unending suffering.

If he is going to pull this off, he might want to stay off the drugs.

Well, heck…everyone in America was convinced that O’Jay Simpson killed his wife. Now, just about everyone in the world thinks the overwhelming circumstantial evidence of murders committed points to her “lawyer,” her best pal, the guy who stuck to her side like a dead bug sticks to your windshield…oops, sorry.

But in the real world of cartoon justice, where we watched in utter disbelief high priced lawyers free a guilty black man by turning the whole case into a racial farce, we have learned to expect that this is probably going to be much of the same.

That is if there aren’t others behind the scene with dibs on the final cash.

What we need is a real life detective, like Adrian Monk. (Okay, I love the show.)

He would go and interview the “killer” and then wander around the scene, hands up…come into all our living rooms on Larry King, face Howard Stern, and then say:

“Here’s how he did it.”

“Mr. Stern, you were just a two bit lawyer before you noticed Anna, and when you saw how much money she could stand to inherit, you worked out a “plan.”

You became her devoted friend, and used drugs to keep her from knowing what was going on from minute to minute. You convinced everyone and her that your every thought was about her welfare. But in fact, you were going to get the money the same why she got it…you were going to inherit it.

You were there to guide her every legal move…you even helped get the Supreme Court’s a favorable ruling in giving her a chance to get the money, by getting the help of the Clinton appointed Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg on your side, by convincing that J. Howard Marshall, the billionaire worth over 1.6 billion had actually given his estate to her as a “gift.”

You rehearsed her time and again on her testimony.

It was a brilliant defense. They ruled in her favor 9-0.

Nicole was easy to manipulate. All she really wanted was to be told she was the sexist and most beautiful woman in the world, and that you would make sure she would get the money, and you also did drugs with her, because you had to convince her she could trust you.

But you had a problem…her son. Also, she had a habit of sleeping around.

And when she told you she was “pregnant” you knew this was your chance. She couldn’t remember who the father was. After all, if she wasn’t drunk, she was stoned.

So you convinced her to move into a house in the Bahamas knowing that no court could have jurisdiction over either of you there.

But, her first son…well, he was a problem. He had to go.

You knew that her son took anti-depression drugs, and you knew you could not control him. So, you picked him up at the airport and gave him a strong dose of methadone…after all, he was depressed enough about the new baby, the kid was a carbon copy of his mother.

When he died in the hospital room, you waited 38 minutes before you called in a nurse. The autopsy showed drugs as the cause, and you threw the methadone that you had gotten illegally down the toilet. Later, you said you had gotten them from the boy.

She accused you of killing him, but you knew just how to soothe her, and convinced her he really did die of an overdose. She then went into a REAL depression.

Still, people started suspecting you, so to show you really loved her, you hired a nurse and a body guard who was a paramedic. You immediately arranged to get “married” on a yacht, convincing her, since she couldn’t remember herself who the father was, that you would be the father. Besides, you told her everyone would just be after her money, but not you.

I’m sure she suspected you, but you kept her so drugged up that she would just sleep.

Then an old boyfriend wanted custody of the new child. You had to do something, because you knew that it was possibly that he was the real father. If it was found out, you would lose it all…you had to quickly get rid of Anna.

So you went to a state that is notorious for covering up crimes, south Florida. The Hard rock Café was perfect. It was under INDIAN NATION protection.

You told everyone she wasn’t feeling well, she had stomach flu. You had given her something to upset her stomach for lunch two days before. Something you knew no one could detect. After all, you KNEW all the diet pills she had been taking, and all the drugs you had pumped into her. It would have been very easy to kill her, without a trace of it in her body. It had to be done slowly.

After the nurse found her dead the next day, she had strict instructions to call you first. You had been in the room. You were getting ready for your defense.

You will claim that your marriage was “real” with pictures from People magazine to prove it. Much like the “gift” that Anna got from her billionaire, you will claim that her “gift” to you was her daughter and her money.

You purposely kept the daughter in the Bahamas, your ace-in-the-hole.

It might work. You might have to stay in the Bahamas, but then again, Bill and Hillary Clinton have a nice place not far from you, I’m sure they will be good neighbors.

(Wait…Bill Clinton, Anna Nicole?)

But you killed her. Oh, yes. I don’t know how, but you did.”

Adrian would then smile, the cops would come in after finding the evidence, and Howard Stern would be put away for life. The grandchild and the mother that her mother made posing for pictures would go live with grandma, with a trust fund set up for her that NO one could touch until she became of age.

J. Howard Marshall’s fortune would go back to his own family so THEY could fight over it.

Now, wouldn’t life be simple if like our TV programs we could just solve the case and get it over with?

Don’t try an innocent man in the public you say?

Well, since there doesn’t seem to be any such thing as a “fair” trial anymore, what does it matter?

Personally, I bet the DNC ends up with it, and it goes to Hillary’s campaign. You don’t think that all those Federal Judges that were appointed by Bill Clinton aren’t going to stick together do you?

Anna Nicole Smith is finally, drug-free, but the rest of us are in for a year of tabloid slush. I can’t wait for the movie.

Nobody’s Perfect: You’re right, I have NO idea how she died, any more than you do. All we can do is go by our guts….which is not always wrong.

Nobody Knows; This guy Howard, even had her mom fooled...who is supposed to be a cop. Also, did Anna grow up without a dad in her life? Anyone got that news?

Nobody Cares
; While this entire tabloid stress alert was going on, the socials plans to move our 3- year-olds into state nanny care was quietly being talked about and implemented in several more states.

Not to mention the grand movement by the Democratic Party to get rid of the Electoral College, thereby changing all elections in favor of democrats forever more.

One thing you have to give them credit for: they have GREAT timing.

Nobody’s Fool: To the great writers of the fabulous series MONK, I humble apologize if I have offended anyone. You could have done this much better; in fact…I wish you would.

UPDATE: Monk just found O’Jay lost black glove in Howard Stern’s possession.