Posts tagged ‘dying’

An Open Letter to Ann Romney


Stop it.
Stop it right now.

Stop using your illnesses as a campaign issue if you’re never once going to talk about the need to further awareness or the need to raise money for research or for anything other than furthering your own selfish agenda — all the while denying you are doing anything of the sort.

It’s disgusting.
So, stop it.

Because what you’re using it to snag is the White House. And the White House is the residence of the most prominent public servant in the United States. But public service is most assuredly not what you are advocating with the Ann Romney Pity Party Road Show.

The ME ME ME interview-train you are steering into seemingly any and every station with a broadcast signal or rag with publication privileges has steered very clear of any meaningful discussion of what real illness really does to real people.

But then it kind of has to, doesn’t it, Ann.

Because you wouldn’t know about any of that.

Because your situation is not representative of what real illness really does to real people.

Trust me, I know.
Because I am a real person really affected by real illness and I’m tired of your act.

I am Multiple Sclerosis – each and every day since my diagnosis on May 15, 2009.

I am also married with a mortgage, a full-time (and then some) corporate manager, and I am in the game.
And I — like the mostly 400,000 other Americans living, dealing and coping with the real realities of Multiple Sclerosis — do it all every day without spinning my sad tale of woe to manipulate situations for my own personal gains.

Because that’s disgusting.
So, stop it.

“I want people to believe in their hearts that we know what it is like to struggle,” you said this past Sunday on NBC’s ‘Meet The Press’. ” … our struggles have not been financial, but they’ve been with health and with difficulties in different things in life.”

Ann?
If you can lament MS as your ‘cruel teacher’ yet have absolutely no comprehension of financial hardship that often goes hand-in-hand with long-term and/or incurable illness, then I once more must advise you to stop it. Stop it right now.

No one begrudges you — or your husband — your success.
That is not what this is about.

The dream, the promise and the hopeful realization of financial success is part of the very foundation of our country.
Congrats on making it.

What this is about is that you put yourself front-and-center and go on and on (and on and on) about your struggles with MS and how you “don’t know how much is it going to chew me up and spit me out?” … and you, like the rest of us wonder “How sick am I going to get? … Am I going to be in a wheelchair?” … and you, like the rest of us, know “It’s a very, very frightening place to be.” … yet you never once ever (ever!) talk about why all of that is why we need to bring the issue to the forefront, to make health care a true and meaningful part of a national discussion, to raise awareness, to raise money for research, to find a cure (because we could) — for it and all of the many other diseases out there for which there is no cure, little money, even less discussion and scant hope … and so on and so forth.

What this is about is that you, Ann, are in the perfect position to do just that.
But you never talk about the bigger picture.
You never speak of or to the greater good.
Ever.

Shame on you!


It’s just the never ending Ann Romney Pity Party Road Show.
A true story about Ann Romney.
Starring Ann Romney.
Talking only about Ann Romney.

So, do not attempt to class yourself with me or other folks like me when it comes to Multiple Sclerosis.
Ever.

Because ‘The Hug’, the skin flips, eye jumbles, pulls, seizures, spasticity, word fishing, fog, falling, paralyzing fatigue, constant pain, more than occasional Krueger Claw and all of the other ruthless physical and emotional realities of daily life with MS are but a part of the conversation that speaks to that bigger picture you don’t talk about.

That bigger picture that, for the rest of us includes things like:
The worry over what to do about work when you can’t walk or think.
::: You don’t work, so this is not something that weighs heavily on your mind. Why talk about it, right? That’s not your MS. :::

The fear your colleagues will find out and feel you’re suddenly ‘less than’ capable.
::: Your colleagues on the campaign eagerly have you play the victim card, so this is not fundamentally significant to you. Why talk about it, right? That’s not your MS. :::

The financial stranglehold imposed by uncovered insurance costs.
::: We all know that ‘financial struggles’ are not intrinsic to your way of life. Why talk about it, right? That’s not your MS. :::

And so much more I don’t need to get into here because why talk about it, right, Ann? That’s not your MS.

But it is mine.

My MS means nearly $4,000 every month for just 4 Avonex injections (that’s just a one-month supply, Ann).

My MS means as much as $5,000 twice a year for brain or cervical spine MRIs to monitor my progression.

My MS means feeling helpless and very, very (very) scared when people I know and care about die from MS.

People like Dan Aronie …

People like my high school classmate Clay …

Oh but that’s just my MS, Ann.

Not yours.

And I know you don’t concern yourself with those things not Ann Romney.
::: Choo Choo!! And the Ann Romney Pity Party Road Show MUST go on! :::

Ann, I don’t doubt that you do you understand a small smidge of the physical plight the rest of us MS patients endure, but you cannot even begin to understand what it is like to live with (and in spite of) the rest.

So do not try to ‘relate’ to me, girlfriend. ‘kay?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a working professional living with (and paying for) MS … and I approved this message.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

::: and I don’t really care what you think about it, Ann :::

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September 18, 2012 at 6:23 pm 8 comments

Off the clock


Today’s heartwarming holiday-time tale comes courtesy of  The City of Brotherly Love — where the caring and compassionate crew over at Aria Health’s Frankford Campus couldn’t be bothered to check on a man clutching his chest in apparent distress … then losing consciousness … then losing, well, LIFE.

Hospital security video shows 63-year-old Joaquin Rivera going to the window twice in the 11 minutes after he arrived on Saturday, complaining of chest pain – which you’d think medical types would take a few shades of serious, right?

Not in Philadelphia they don’t!

No one bothered to check on Rivera for almost an hour — even after he reluctantly released all responsiveness and apparently said a big ol’ buh-bye to breathing.

Well, no one, that is, except for the asshat who made a five-finger discount on the dying man’s watch!

Philly fuckery!!!

The cops have confiscated the tape and are planning a sweeping investigation of hospital neglect that will undoubtedly result in a scathing indictment of the facilities nincompoopedness and lead to stricter controls on patient care.

HAHAHAHA!!!!
Noooo.

They’re just goin’ after the watch ripper-offer.

Way to stay classy, Philly!

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December 8, 2009 at 10:51 am 1 comment

R.I.P Steve McNair


art.steve.mcnair.giSteve McNair and his girlfriend reportedly shot to death inside her Nashville apartment.

What.
The.
FUUUUUCK?!?!?!?!?

ACK! 

McNair, 36, spent 13 seasons in the NFL, the majority with the Tennessee Titans, before announcing his retirement in April 2008. He spent his last two seasons with Baltimore Ravens and he was the NFL’s co-MVP in 2003.

What in the fuckety FUCK is going on people?!?
Seriously — this is the last motherfucking R.I.P post I want to do for, like, EVER, ok?
Shit.

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July 4, 2009 at 10:13 pm

R.I.P City Stages


What a week, eh?

Ed McMahon. Farrah Fawcett. Michael Jackson. City Stages.

City what?


City Stages – ‘The best music festival you’ve never heard of’ if you’re not from ’round here, according to a Chicago Sun Times review.
‘Here’ being parts near or around Birmingham, Alabama.

The three-day, family-friendly, arts and music festival  run by the Birmingham Cultural and Heritage Foundation showcased the last of all performances for, like, ever this year after a more than two decade long run.
::: sadness :::

The event is credited with helping transform Birmingham’s downtown area from blight to bright – re-establishing it as a great place to eat, shop, work and – well, just be.

But dumbass scheduling mistakes around 2001 (move it to grainy rainy May — how’d THAT work out?!?) saddled the hugely popular (and previously rapidly expanding) festival with mounting debt – forcing organizers to scale it down to keep it going. And it did … until this year.

Carrying a debt of more than $1 million, City Stages’ president – George McMillan – said this week that his show, well, won’t go on. 

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DAMN THIS FUCKING WEEK!
::: Must regroup :::

KITTENSPUPPIESCOTTONCANDY KITTENSPUPPIESCOTTONCANDY 
KITTENSPUPPIESCOTTONCANDY KITTENSPUPPIESCOTTONCANDY
::: deep, cleansing breaths … :::

I close my eyes. I sail down a glorious rainbow of shimmery, shiny happiness. Wheeeee!!!!!!!!! I land on a cotton-candy puff in a land where I can sleep ’till noon on a weekday and my wine glass is never empty …. Ahhhhhhh

June 26, 2009 at 12:34 pm 4 comments

I … can’t …


I have really good shit to say about Mark Sanford breaking state laws to get his fucky times on with some ho in Argentina – especially after all the hypocritical blah blah he spewed about a certain other politician he voted to impeach for lyin’ about a bj …
Oh ho HO yeah!
Really. Good. SHIT!

But I can’t …
… because during my morning world news roundupapalooza I came across the very sad (and shockingly — for me at least — somewhat unexpected) news that my original girl crush, Farrah Fawcett, was given last rites last night.

I’ve been a gozillion percent convinced all along that the mega ‘this ain’t over, biatch’ side-eye Mizz Thang’s been giving the big C would pull her hotness right on through this mess!

A GOZILLION percent!

And so now I’ve lost the heehee because I’m just sad.
Well, sad and curious … Ed + Farrah = 2 … and, well, don’t these gloomies come in three’s?

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June 25, 2009 at 12:51 pm 3 comments



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