Health care is a basic human right, not a privilege. For some reason, we’ve allowed ourselves as Americans to be fooled into accepting that one must be blessed with “means” to actuate appropriate health care. As a nation we have failed to realize that our health care system is a barometer of our society’s value for human life.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Bus Ride #1 & 6-Days Post-Surgery
We began the day with seemingly endless conversation from miss peanut about how much she adores busses. In Gracie-speak this means simply: Busses scare the hell out of me and once said bus arrives, I will probably run away screaming. I suppose once you know how my little peanut approaches what she fears (and loves) you learn her lingo.
We kept things low-key that morning, fitting in random praise about how cool she is because she is of bus-boarding-age. Little miss gracie bought into the entire scheme, imagining herself free of fear bounding onto the mighty bus.
Bravado turned quickly into tears, screams and kicks once the grumbling bus arrived. And although she did not bound fear-free onto the bus, she was carried tears streaming and feet kicking into the bus by her loving friend Bob. She was not pleased at all to be deposited into the vastness of this scary machine, but she was greeted lovingly by a sweet helper who helped her take her seat.
Upon arriving home from "school" she did, in all actuality, bound fear-free off the bus. Thankfully there were no tears, only smiles, and many many tales about the trip she'd taken. Oh, and in case you were wondering, her bus is "really, really fast!"
In other news, today marks the sixth (or fifth, depending on how you count) day since surgery. I am still sore, and yes, I am still on pain meds. But every day I am able to walk a little farther. I never imagined there would be a day when I would prefer standing to sitting, finding more comfort on my feet than on my arse. Well, my friends, that day has come.
Bob actually took me to lunch today, at a place called Erbert & Gerberts. It is a sandwich shop. I chose to stand while I ate my soup and sandwich, setting my soup and drink on a wall that came up about halfway to the celing, around armpit height for me. Perhaps I got a few odd looks, and Bob thought I looked like I was hiding behind the chip stand. I just hope I gave the employees a snicker and something to talk about for the day.