Not Only Is What You See What You Get, But What You Already Have Is What You See

"What you see is what you get" they say, usually meaning someone is genuine, exactly as they appear. Though don't necessarily take this as a compliment -- they may be meaning the person referred to is too uncultured, too gauche, too crass, to observe even the little social niceties that make life go so well.

I am fascinated by how often "What you already have is what you see" also, even moreso, seems to be the rule. Like, sorry guys if you can't identify here, but every mother will know what I mean, like how when you are pregnant (especially if you don't particularly want to be), or when you want desperately to be pregnant and it isn't happening, pregnant women are everywhere. I mean, everywhere.

I can't really believe that there were all that many more women suddenly pregnant when I was. But it sure looked like it. (Actually, there were all that many more women suddenly pregnant in one congregation I served, come to think of it. I got pregnant, then three other women did too, and our much loved organist resigned. Well, she already had four children, and didn't really want any more. She felt it was too dangerous to stay around! Three weeks later she was back. Not only had it been too dangerous, it had been too late. Thus it was one little congregation grew by five!)

Anyway, just as you see what you already have (the dishonest person lives in a world of only sharpers, the depressed person in a world of only tragedies, the way nastiest person on Design Star accuses everyone else of having a rotten personality, etc. etc.) - now I am seeing death.

My husband David got a call yesterday from his son. David's first wife had died suddenly and unexpectedly at home, with a neighbor calling the police when she hadn't seen her for several days. David has flown out to be with his son, their only living child, to be companionship in dealing with all that follows such an event.

And then I'm reading along, something light in a time of low concentration, and damn, I discover one of my favorite authors, Michael Dibdin, died in April, just before his sixtieth birthday. Damn, damn, damn.

As for me, I'm OK, just very very very very sore - my helpmeet is away, and while I can pretty well manage for myself when I have to, the pain level soars, too little rest, too much tearing of tendons by my inner Iron Maiden of osteophytes. Never mind, if I have to have death on my mind, I'm off the watch my tape of tonight's episode of The Closer. Love that woman.

Oh, sisters ... Oh brothers ...

************** This morning, as I deal with my non-problem of cleaning out accumulated crud ... I am thinking of my sisters.

My over 160,000 American women sisters who have been deployed so far to Iraq and Afghanistan. (Compared with the 7,500 deployed to Vietnam.)

Research into post-traumatic stress disorder has generally be done on two distinct populations: civilian women who have been raped, and male combat veterans.

But since a 2003 report financed by the Department of Defense revealed nearly one-third of female veterans seeking health care through the VA said they experienced rape or attempted rape during their service, 37% multiple times, 14% gang-raped, ::!!!:: it's likely we are currently generating a whole new group -- women who have experienced sexual assault and combat, many before they turn 25. Especially since a study after the Gulf War showed both sexual harassment and assault rise during wartime.

I think of the raped young mother of two, a crumbling wreck since her return, who did not report her rape ... "You don't expect anything to be done about it, so why even try." ... and all her sisters.

And the raped woman only six years short of receiving her military retirement benefits who bailed out after repeated incidents ... "That was my career, and they stole it from me. ... Why is the attitude always 'Just shut up and leave it alone?'"

The Department of Defense has made policy changes designed to address sexual harassment and assault. But of 3,038 investigations made in 2004 and 2005, only 329 resulted in the court martial of the predator. More than half were dismissed for lack of evidence.

The Iraq war has created tens of thousands of female war veterans. Female soldiers have flown fighter jets, commanded battalions, lost limbs, survived stints as PoWs, killed insurgents, and come home in coffins. And been raped. Many already experience the psychological fall-out. As of last April, the VA had diagnosed PTSD in 34,000 Iraq and Afghanistan veterans. (A good-sized town, that is.) 3,800 of these veterans are women. Given that PTSD often takes years to surface, these numbers will grow ... to be joined by those from new deployments.

Who, and how, are we going to be there for these tragedies in the wreckage of this war?

Here's Just How to Do It, Doc!

So the new, blessed, human, attentive Doctor comes into the room to give me the results of the X-rays, MRIs etc. on the non-functioning right knee. Well, to be correct, the now somewhat functional, limp short distances, pain there but under control, knee - thanks to what he has already prescribed.

And here is what he said. "You", he said, with a smile emphasizing the 'you', "You have a most impressive amount of intense severe arthritic degeneration in this knee."

He went on to point out that my ostephytes (bony bumps your bone grows trying to compensate for the pain by making more bone to help out), usually small bumps or the size maybe of a fingertip, are actually in some places the size of a whole half a finger to the middle knuckle, especially behind my knee, where the most pain is, and inside my knee-cap (patella), making my knee-cap resemble an Iron Maiden. Let alone the tear in the anterior cruciate ligament, and the resulting crumple in the posterior cruciate ligament.

Now that's the way to deliver the news Doc. With a smile, eye contact, why even though I have a condition f#$% all can be done about, I left that office proud and with a spring in my limp.

Gotta love a doc who can do that!

Ten Truths No One Ever Tells You: Part I

Ten Truths No One Ever Tells You

that have been on my mind today either for obvious personal reasons, or in conversations with friends (spoken or, hey, even unspoken)

1. Being in pain takes energy - you may not have much energy left for anything else. You may not like the situation, but you'd better accept its reality.

2. No painkiller works forever. A frequent useful pattern those of us on non-steroidal anti-inflammatory meds discover is to keep a chart. On it there may be, say, naproxen (Aleve), Celebrex, ibuprofen, Tylenol Arthritis (personally does nothing for me, but hey, if it works for you), Relafyn (nabumetone), Mobic (too tough on my tum) -- whatever. And every three months you might want to switch. Learned this from a sports injury guy (he has them, professional rodeo rider, not just treats them). Certainly true in my experience - they work for a while and either just quit, or the side effects begin to overcome the benefits.

(Thus, the first picture tonight is an aspirin molecule!)

3. Grieving takes a long time - and during that time, you may find yourself suddenly, many times, bursting into tears. Not because anything "reminds you", not because anything bad or sad has happened just now, you may even be sailing along pretty well, and bam! Floods of tears. No, you are not going crazy. This is how it is. Doesn't fit our society's "death of a spouse, hey, I can be generous, why don't you take the whole day off!" attitude, but it's the truth.

4. In non-grieving times, however miserable you feel when you are depressed, or feeling negative, or just grotty, "This too shall pass". I don't know why it is, but I am not alone in tending to feel, when I feel rotten, that it's just going to go on like this forever. Funny, I never assume that when I'm happy! I know that will end. Well, so will feeling terrible, usually, though I think grotty times, being depressed, just like pain, take energy. I don't seem sometimes to have the energy to believe things will be better. Mostly now I just decide to believe that.

(Thus the second picture, an elegant statue for all not in the best shape tonight.)

5. When you're with someone sad, you don't have to be sad too. It's OK to have your own emotional weather. I learned this from a funeral director I worked with many times in a town long ago. He always smiled with people. All the other funeral directors I'd worked with looked for all the world like they were attending their own funerals. Fred stood by the door with a big smile on his face. He told me that, after all, he was not grieving. I was about to speak to him about this improper behavior when the woman going through the door, whose husband had just died, said to him, "Thank you so very much for smiling. Everybody around me is keeping a grim face. Your smile reminds me, life goes on, and even I may smile once again one day."

Thus, just for fun, my favorite laughing horse!