From apolitical to activist

When I won a green card in the lottery in 1993, I was suddenly presented with an unexpected doorway to a whole new life. I wrote about that in my memoir, Peeling The Onion, and I also published a blog on the subject here.

When I was growing up in Ireland, families tended to all hold the same political view, much like religion. I never really gave politics any thought. As soon as I turned 18, I voted in every election, never considering who or what I was voting for, just following the family tradition. I honestly had absolutely no interest in politics.

Moving to the United States was a huge change for me. I came to the US filled with optimism and I wasn't disappointed, at first. I had no difficulty finding work that I enjoyed. I was appreciated for my skill set, despite being female and in my late 40s. I won achievement awards at every company I worked for. I was very happy to be here, back then.

Quite apart from all the obvious differences, politics was a big one. It was a subject that most people avoided or had heated arguments about. And there were only two parties! But I wasn't a citizen, didn't have a vote and was still not interested in politics. So, it didn't matter to me. Then one day the phone rang, yes it was a landline. When I answered it, a voice asked me if I considered myself to be a Republican or a Democrat. I took a second to think about that, then I responded: "I have no idea, I guess I better figure that out." Then I hung up. 

That was when I started to move away from being apolitical to being politically curious. I asked everyone I met if they were R or D, and why—what was the difference? Most of the answers were unsatisfactory. To me, they all ranged from just a little bit subjective to downright fanatical. I wanted to be educated, not indoctrinated. Then one evening, the couple who were house sitting with me, Kevin and Anna, had a party. Kevin had just returned from a two week, in house clinical study. All the guests were his co-victims of the study. A whole new set of people to question. 

One young guy impressed me above all the others. When I asked the question, he got totally involved. It was very clear he understood where I was coming from. Complete ignorance and a need to be educated. I have often wondered about him since. I had no clue then and still don't know which side he was on. He gave me a very objective outline of what each party claimed to stand for. Then when I asked him more pointed questions, such as "Who takes care of the little man—the small businesses?" his answers were still objective and informative. That was 1994.

In 2000 I became a citizen and I have exercised my right to vote in every election since then. At first with some ignorance and too much influence from people I trusted, I voted R. Then as I watched more closely what the people I had voted for were doing. I switched to D. I continued to attempt to learn and understand. One of the biggest lessons I have learned is, to quote Rachel Maddow: "Watch what the do, not what they say." It's madness to believe a word a politician says when they are looking for your vote. No matter which party. They say whatever they believe you want to hear and if you look closely, you will see they are promising to do thing they can't possible deliver. 

Fast forward to 2025. It would appear that absolutely nothing that young guy told me back in 1994 still applies. Both parties have changed so drastically that neither stand for anything they used to claim. And sadly, they either don't know what they stand for, or they stand for personal gain at the cost of the American people. It would appear that most of those American people are throwing up their hands and saying: "What can I do? I voted." then sitting back and burying their heads in the sand. Each election is a choice of the lesser of two evils. And your choice depends on how much attention you have paid to what has been going on around you. 

This is me at the No Kings Rally
Marble Falls, Texas.
I'm the one on the right

I wanted to go home. Escape from this hell that Beautiful America, the Land of the Free, had become. For reasons I won't go into here, moving back to Ireland wasn't an option. That was when I decided I was not going to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I started listening to The Bulwark podcasts. What's educational about the Bulwark is that the majority of the people there are remnants of the original Republican party. They still hold dear all of the good things that party once stood for. But, because the Republican party has abandoned all that is good, they are now ex-Republicans but can't accept much of the non-conservative beliefs of the Democrats. 

The very best thing about the Bulwark is they tell it like it is, along with their honest opinion. They do not attempt to ram their opinion down your throat, so I get a glimpse of what used to be acceptable behavior for both parties and what is wrong about both parties. And, I get to decided for myself what I approve of and what I can't accept. I continue to be educated.

I still want to go home, but as I can't do that, I will not sit and watch this wonderful country get crushed under the feet of megalomaniacs and ditherers. I am now moving into my activist era. After all, if a bunch of 79-year-old geriatrics can run this country into the ground, why shouldn't a 79-year-old Irish woman stand up and be counted?

Read the Instructions

Don't just trust the doctors.

I mentioned my husband's battle to have his Parkinson's Disease diagnosed in a previous post. This post is to sound off about my own experience with what I consider to be seriously inadequate health care.

On Monday—it doesn't matter which Monday—I started to experience pain in my lower back. Not the usual sciatic pain at the very bottom of the spine. This was different, not like anything I had ever felt before. It was just above the waist, and to one side of the spine. I assumed I had pulled a muscle, took a couple of ibuprofen and waited for it to go away. It didn't. In fact, it got progressively worse. By Wednesday I was getting a shooting pain, like an electric shock, when I moved a certain way, stretching my arms, twisting or even just standing up from a chair. On Friday, I set an appointment with for the following Monday afternoon, with the physicians assistant; my doctor wasn't available at such short notice. By Sunday, I was barely able to move without the pain knocking the air from my body. It wasn't just excruciating; it was frightening. 

At first I suspected a kidney stone, then I thought maybe a herniated disc. Of course, Dr. Google does tend to feed us all sorts of frightening information. But in my eightieth year, and having lost both my parents to cancer in their seventies, I can excuse myself for being slightly hypocontriacial. My husband talked me into going to the ER. I didn't take much persuasion. So, I drove the 30 minutes to the nearest hospital in Cedar Park. Checking in at two in the afternoon and waited.

A doctor examined me and ordered a back X-ray. We waited some more. After the X-ray, we waited again. The ER was kept busy but wasn't too crowded. Eventually the doctor came and told me no broken bones. That thought hadn't occurred to me! She said it was arthritis and probably had been aggravated by something. We waited again. A nurse came and took us into one of their more private areas, applied a lidocaine patch and gave me one pain pill which she said was oxycodone and acetaminophen. She told me a prescription for lidocaine patches and a topical gel for the pain would be sent to my pharmacy. Then we waited some more. Finally, I was given a bunch of papers to sign—as far as I know, there was no mention of not blogging about my experience. I asked if I would get a prescription for painkillers and was told no. That was just as well, because CVS refuses to dispense codeine so I suspect they would refuse oxycodone too. Incidentally, that pill worked like a charm and I drove home pain free, stopping on the way to pick up the patches and gel.

I slept badly on Sunday night; every time I moved, the pain woke me. On Monday morning, a full week since the problem started, I showered and opened up the packaging to apply the gel. Luckily, before doing so, I read the instructions. I posted a blog a number of years ago, on how important it is to read the fine print. Fortunately, I didn't forget that lesson.

Not only did it specify to NOT use on the back, it also stated it should be used on only three areas at a time and there was a risk of heart attack if misused. Clearly pretty serious stuff. Unless of course, the intention was to cause a distraction from the pain in my back—that would work. Needless to say, I didn't apply the gel.

I got onto Amazon and ordered a back brace. That was at 6:30 in the morning. It arrived three hours later and supplied instant relief, helped by a couple of ibuprofen.I was still in pain, but it was very much better.

That afternoon I saw my doctor at 3:00. She agreed that I was correct to not apply the gel to my back, under any circumstances. She asked me if the ER had done any lab work, or given me a prescription for muscle relaxers or pain killers. The answer was no on all counts. She didn't even try to hide her amazement. Because of the location of the pain, she too entertained the suspicion that it could be a kidney stone. She gave me a referral to get a Renal CT scan, also physical therapy, a prescription for a muscle relaxer and a painkiller stronger than ibuprofen, plus she asked me to go by the lab on my way out and have a urine test.

The medication helped immediately. On Tuesday, the results of the urine test showed no issues. Early on Wednesday morning I had the CT scan.The results of that came in on Thursday afternoon. No kidney stones, no suspicious mass. Yes, some signs of diverticulitis, not infected. Conclusion, musculoskeletal. Recommendation: Physical Therapy. Unfortunately, my faith in PT is less than my faith in ER doctors, having had less than ideal experiences with various different PT clinics, on more than one occasion.

Silver linings—yes, I still look for and find these. Two weeks later, the pain is almost gone and I didn't put that gel on my back. I shudder to think what could have happened if I had.

I guess the moral of the story is read the instructions? I really don't know. But I'm learning to trust the medical profession less and less. I remember a time when doctors actually cared about their patients. With the exception of the physicians assistant, who did help, and did care. Now it's just a conveyor belt. And yes, I do understand that they are understaffed and overworked, and constantly being sued. I'm sure that takes it's toll. Hell, recently my husband asked to be referred to another neurologist, he was told there was a six to twelve month wait for an appointment with the only other available one in the area.