Perhaps it' s a trite issue, beaten to death already by folks like Michael Moore and John Stewart, but I am disgusted by the health care system in America. How come every other country seems to have it worked out so their citizens aren't stuck without medical attention in dire situations or in debt because of one trip to the ER.
When I came across this article in the NYT, I immediately sympathized with all of the young adults willing to share their stories. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/18/nyregion/18insure.html
I am lucky. I know I am fortunate to be on my parents' insurance, at least for another couple months. So when I got sick this past Monday and had to make an unexpected trip to Urgent Care, I didn't think about it as much as one of my peers might have. Parked in the waiting chair filling out heaps of paperwork to ensure I did, in fact, have legitimate insurance, I sat, miserable, wishing the clock would speed up so I could just get home and pass out in bed. That's when a middle-aged couple slowly shuffled in.
The man walked what appeared to be his wife or girlfriend up to the front desk, arm around her shoulders, gazing lovingly into her eyes. She, however, appeared to be in immense pain, pursed her lips and squinted her eyes at the clerk.
"I'm having chest pains," she said. "Bad ones. I can't breathe."
The clerk quickly went back behind the magic double doors that seemed to let no one through in my half hour of waiting. She returned with a nurse who proceeded to take a quick look at the woman to make sure she would be able to remain standing.
"She's fine," the nurse proclaimed. "Well, she's not fine. But it's not dire." He went back behind the double doors again and left the woman, crumpled and writhing in pain, clutching her chest, alone in the waiting room with her companion.
She trudged over to the check-in desk and said she'd like to fill out the necessary paperwork. When the clerk asked her what her insurance company was, she wrinkled her face and said she didn't have insurance.
"That'll be $90 in cash then," the clerk retorted without so much as the blink of an eye.
"I don't have $90 in cash," the woman responded, helplessly.
"Then I'm afraid we can't help you," the clerk answered.
The woman, cloaked in an embroidered summer dress despite the cold February fog, fell backward, hysterical. Her partner consoled her gently, ushering her away from the front desk. The woman broke into full wailing, sobbing that her chest hurt and that she couldn't breathe. The sorrow splashed from her wounded eyes, tears dripping down her face as her escort slowly led her out.
I hate our health care system. It makes me ashamed to live in this country. This country that prides itself on equal opportunity where dreams are made possible every day. But isn't it time we scale it back a bit, so first we take care of basic human needs? Why don't we start there instead and focus on treating the sick, broadening health care access and dropping ridiculous policies like insuring only the top of the top?
I've recently become very interested in these issues and hope to continue writing about them. This summer, I got to try my hand at my first investigative series reporting for the Baker City Herald in eastern Oregon. I explored the health impacts of living in rural Oregon, the major differences from living in a bustling city, possible factors and personal stories that have shaped the Baker community.
http://tinyurl.com/c7fazn
http://www.bakercityherald.com/Local-News/Rural-healthcare-access-Certain-treatments-require-patients-to-travel
http://www.bakercityherald.com/Local-News/It-takes-a-village-to-conquer-cancer
Stay healthy. ~
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
The politics of politics
You have no idea what goes on behind the iron curtain. You only see the final product splashed across the front page of the newspaper in the morning. You don't hear the ethical decision making discussions that take place each time we are confronted with a life changing story, one we know is going to turn the subject's world upside down. You don't watch as we lose sleep each night contemplating and hypothesizing what could happen, what will happen, inevitably, as a direct result of the story.
You don't know the steps we take to get there. The 25 meetings, lunches, coffees, extracting, fishing, listening, digging, exacerbating, exhausting. You don't feel your own shoulders bunch up when you learn another reporter is onto you, onto the issue. You don't take the heat from everyone in your newsroom who tries relentlesslsy to convince you that yours is a trivial pursuit.
My investigative reporting class has really got me thinking.
It's the first class I've taken in awhile that I know will be directly applicable to what I want to do when I get out of school. Though, I'm not sure I have the stomach for exactly the kind of investigating we're learning about. We've heard from two amazing guest speakers so far (though I had heard them both already at SPJ conferences-- and you learn something new and brilliant every time you hear from people of this nature), and their line of work is much like an FBI agent or criminal investigator. Though as journalists our role is to seek the truth and inform the public, I can only imagine the amount of patience, long hours and dedication such an investigation requires. The Sam Adams story took the reporter nine months to craft. Nine months. That's a long time to let one story brew. But without that dossier, that thick and tattered file filled to the brim with revelaing documents, he wouldn't have nailed him.
We also discussed at length today the notion that there's no such thing as a secret.
Is this true? Can this be true? Because we all value our own secrets more than someone else's, are we always bound to tell, to trade information with someone else, a third party, in the unconscious attempt to know more? I certainly hope not. But journalistic integrity proves otherwise. No politician in the state of Oregon seems like he or she will be able to walk away untouched. With the spotlight on you, so comes the harsh realization that every reporter in the region is going to be holding you accountable for your past and present actions. When a rising political figure lets even bits and parts of his skeletons out of the closet, it's enough for any reporter to bite. To take the bait and run with it. And they always do.
Beware of your secrets. There's no such thing. A secret is always relative, and someone always tells.
There's a song I like by the Pierce's called "Secret" that goes something like this: "got a secret can you keep it/ swear this one you'll save/better lock it in your pocket/taking this one to the grave; If I show you then I know you/won't tell what I said/'cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.
You don't know the steps we take to get there. The 25 meetings, lunches, coffees, extracting, fishing, listening, digging, exacerbating, exhausting. You don't feel your own shoulders bunch up when you learn another reporter is onto you, onto the issue. You don't take the heat from everyone in your newsroom who tries relentlesslsy to convince you that yours is a trivial pursuit.
My investigative reporting class has really got me thinking.
It's the first class I've taken in awhile that I know will be directly applicable to what I want to do when I get out of school. Though, I'm not sure I have the stomach for exactly the kind of investigating we're learning about. We've heard from two amazing guest speakers so far (though I had heard them both already at SPJ conferences-- and you learn something new and brilliant every time you hear from people of this nature), and their line of work is much like an FBI agent or criminal investigator. Though as journalists our role is to seek the truth and inform the public, I can only imagine the amount of patience, long hours and dedication such an investigation requires. The Sam Adams story took the reporter nine months to craft. Nine months. That's a long time to let one story brew. But without that dossier, that thick and tattered file filled to the brim with revelaing documents, he wouldn't have nailed him.
We also discussed at length today the notion that there's no such thing as a secret.
Is this true? Can this be true? Because we all value our own secrets more than someone else's, are we always bound to tell, to trade information with someone else, a third party, in the unconscious attempt to know more? I certainly hope not. But journalistic integrity proves otherwise. No politician in the state of Oregon seems like he or she will be able to walk away untouched. With the spotlight on you, so comes the harsh realization that every reporter in the region is going to be holding you accountable for your past and present actions. When a rising political figure lets even bits and parts of his skeletons out of the closet, it's enough for any reporter to bite. To take the bait and run with it. And they always do.
Beware of your secrets. There's no such thing. A secret is always relative, and someone always tells.
There's a song I like by the Pierce's called "Secret" that goes something like this: "got a secret can you keep it/ swear this one you'll save/better lock it in your pocket/taking this one to the grave; If I show you then I know you/won't tell what I said/'cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Listening
What if someone you know needs help but is unwilling to accept it? What if she refuses your wisdom and advice and instead thinks she knows best? What if the one person you're most trying to reach out to doesn't want it? What do you do then?
Why is it so often the case that the one person we want cannot see us the way we wish he did? What would you have to do to change that? Risk everything? Put yourself on the line? Potentially sacrifice your ambitions? I don't think so.
What if the person you built up in your mind to be so amazing, carefree and inspiring instead turned out to be untrustworthy, chronically irresponsible and a complete liar? I'm not ready for the let down.
These are the various things I've overheard recently in my role as friend, student, mentor, sister, roommate and confidante.
It's amazing what you hear and learn when you just listen.
Why is it so often the case that the one person we want cannot see us the way we wish he did? What would you have to do to change that? Risk everything? Put yourself on the line? Potentially sacrifice your ambitions? I don't think so.
What if the person you built up in your mind to be so amazing, carefree and inspiring instead turned out to be untrustworthy, chronically irresponsible and a complete liar? I'm not ready for the let down.
These are the various things I've overheard recently in my role as friend, student, mentor, sister, roommate and confidante.
It's amazing what you hear and learn when you just listen.
Five weeks left
There are five weeks left of my college career. How did this happen? I continue to feel that this quarter has gone by both slowly and in the blink of an eye. I am excited to graduate and to face the new world of journalism that is emerging in our country today; but I am also hesitant to step out there and struggle to find a job in a profession many say is dying. I refuse to believe it. Yes, print is slowly fading into the background of this great industry, but just because the newspaper is no longer the central medium people turn to for news does not mean the world will no longer need us journalists.
Needing journalists-- as in watchdog reporting-- is the key theme of the investigative reporting course I'm taking right now. I love the class and I know I can dig until I find the answers I'm looking for, but what a different kind of journalism. Some investigative reporters spend months chasing a lead, pursuing a story and hounding their sources. You really need to have the stomach for it. Next week, we'll hear from the reporter who broke the Sam Adams scandal in Portland. What a kick.
Anyhow, little heavy for the first post, but I figured I had to get something on here.
Until next time...
Needing journalists-- as in watchdog reporting-- is the key theme of the investigative reporting course I'm taking right now. I love the class and I know I can dig until I find the answers I'm looking for, but what a different kind of journalism. Some investigative reporters spend months chasing a lead, pursuing a story and hounding their sources. You really need to have the stomach for it. Next week, we'll hear from the reporter who broke the Sam Adams scandal in Portland. What a kick.
Anyhow, little heavy for the first post, but I figured I had to get something on here.
Until next time...
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