Cryo Kid

Despite my continued lack of diabetic test strips, this week is turning out well. A few days ago, I was tickled pink to discover that "Cryo Kid — Drawing a New Map" has been awarded finalist status in the Indie Next Generation 2009 Book Awards. Then today I unexpectedly received a beautiful Award of Merit for my "loyalty and commitment" in teaching a playreading class to a large group of seniors for the last five years. I call the sessions "Playtime." It was one of those happy moments that bring tears to your eyes.

Six weeks plus and counting and my diabetic test strips (prescribed and “pre-authorized” multiple times by my doctor) have still not been delivered by Prescription Solutions, the mail-order arm of PacifiCare. To read all about it, check out my daughter Janet Spiegel’s blog at www.genplususa.com. I am rendered speechless (as well as faceless) by unbelievably stupid healthcare bureaucracy.

Some good news about "Cryo Kid – Drawing a New Map" (www.cryokid.com). It's been named Finalist in the Women's Issues category of the Indie Next Generation 2009 Book Awards. I feel truly honored by this recognition for an independently produced book. I suppose it would have been even better to have placed as a Winner, but coming in a little lower on the Awards scale tends to keep a writer humble. No swelled head here — I realize that someone else's book was judged to be even better than mine. Did you know that the Hebrew bible (the Torah) starts with the letter "B" for "bereishit," which means "in the beginning." That's to show that "B" is just as needed as the letter "A," aleph. So evety finalist should appreciate the winner, and vice versa. They both have something valuable to offer.

Being a Finalist means that my book will be listed in Indie's catalogue of Winners and Finalists to be distributed widely at the New York Book Expo as well as on the Indie Next Generation website. I also get a Finalist's Certificate and some groovy gold stickers to place on my book's cover. So thank you, Indie Next Generation, Book Awards. You have made me very happy this May, 2009.

Kafka's famous literary work, "The Trial," could have been written about our present U.S. healthcare system. I certainly felt I was caught in a Kafkaesque world today. The trouble is, the sequence of bureaucratic hires to whom I have expressed these sentiments didn't know what I was talking about. They have never read "The Trial," the story of a man who feels faceless, powerless in an impersonal, bureaucratic society. But then again, these employees didn't exhibit much knowledge of anything other than the script they had been taught to parrot either.

EXAMPLE (please imagine Elaine May's singsong impersonation of a telephone operator in the days before direct dial): "I will escalate this matter to our Advanced Resolutions Specialist who will call you between 7 AM and 7 PM within 24 to 48 hours."

What did I want? My diabetic test strips. As a 14-year Type 2 diabetic required by my doctor to test my blood sugar levels twice daily, I have had no test strips for my glucometer for over a month now. I have been calling repeatedly to find out why my supposedly superior healthcare insurance plan (PacifiCare Senior Supplement)to which I pay $499 monthly (in addition to the $539.40 monthly I pay for the privilege of having Medicare because U.S. citizens who paid into the Canadian healthcare system most of their lives are not entitled to U.S. Social Security benefits) has been withholding my test strips from me for the past month. I use their highly vaunted mail order service in order to save money on my prescription drugs and diabetic testing materials (two different departments to navigate).

SAMPLE CONVERSATION:
Healthcare Employee: "Your doctor has not sent in the correct prior authorization, so we cannot send the test strips."
Me: "My doctor, who is a highly reputable endocrinologist, has already faxed in THREE prior authorizations for my test strips, and I have also mailed you his prescription three times."
Healthcare Employee: "We cannot work from the prescriptions. We can only work from the authorizations."
Me: "Well, you already have the authorizations."
Healthcare Employee: "I do not see three prior authorizations in the system."
Me: "Do you see one authorization?"
Healthcare Employee: "Yes, but in box seven, your doctor put "Type 2" and "Diet" as the reasons you need the test strips. Medicare now authorizes payment for only one test strip per day for Type 2 diabetes. It's not us. It's Medicare. Medicare is declining the authorization. If you do not have Type I diabetes, Medicare requires "fluctuation sugar control" or "hypertension" as reasons for two test strips per day. Otherwise they will not pay."
Me: "My blood pressure is already rising through the roof. You can put down hypertension AND fluctuating sugar control as reasons for two test strips."
Healthcare Employee: "Your doctor will have to fax a new authorization."
Me: "I HAVE NO TEST STRIPS, AND I AM DIABETIC. (pleading) Can you send me enough test strips for once a day until my doctor fixes up box seven?"
Healthcare Employee: "No, I cannot do that."
Me: "Will it be cheaper for Medicare if I fall into a diabetic coma, and my heirs inherit one test strip per day?"
Healthcare Employee: "I will have to escalate this matter …

PREAMBLE TO THIS CONVERSATION:
My doctor gives me a new prescription for two test strips a day for three months. It is for One Touch test strips, which fit my One Touch glucometer. I changed to this glucometer a few years ago because my healthcare plan switched to it. Before that I used other glucometers
(Accuchex, Bayers, etc). So now when I call my healthcare provider to ask why my test strips had not been delivered, I am informed that they no longer use One Touch, and I will have to get a new prescription for Accuchex, Lifestyle, Ascencia, or Bayer test strips plus a new matching glucometer. Since I already have an old Accuchex glucometer, I ask my doctor's office for a new prescription for Accuchex test strips (there are also different models, but I won't further complicate this story), which they mail to me, and I then mail the prescription to Prescription Solutions (a division that handles the drug and supplies service for PacifiCare). Nothing happens. No test strips. When I call to find out why, I am told that they don't "work from prescriptions." I have to get a prior authorization. I do so, this time for Accuchek test strips. Then Prescriptions Solutions informs me that, no, I will have to get ANOTHER authorization for ANY kind of test strips. I do so, and my doctor's office faxes it through that very day. To make a long story short, despite two letters and a series of phone calls, including one with an Advanced Resolutions Specialist, I STILL DO NOT HAVE ANY TEST STRIPS. This is the first time in fourteen years that I do not have test strips. As I write this, the situation is not resolved.

President Obama wants to reform the healthcare system. Never mind the trillions of dollars budget cuts over ten years. The first thing he needs to do is get rid of the bureaucratic nonsense that is clogging the system. And send me my test strips.

Although I couldn’t put down Michael Chabon’s “Kavalier and Clay,” the super novel about superheros — and how the comic book industry came into being in North America in the 1930s — when it was published in 2001, it’s a long time since I have really read a comic book right through (I’m not counting newspaper “funnies” that don’t seem so funny to me anymore). When I did read piles and piles of comics as a kid, my favorites were Archie, Al Capps’ creations (loved the Shmoos), Superman, and my all-time favorite, Wonder Woman. She was my fantasy heroine. Then, as I grew older, I followed “adult” comic stips like Rex Morgan and Mary Worth over coffee in the morning. I confess that I find the antics of Sponge Bob and the various aliens that my grandkids adore only mildly amusing. But, in an age when Flash Gordon’s lazer rays are fact, not sci-fi, adult comic books have become upscale, fashionable, and acquired a new name and popularity. They are now called graphic novels, and they have entered the realm of literature with panache.

Ivory Madison’s “The Huntress” is the first time I have actually read a graphic novel. Not only does it represent a sea change in my reading habits, but I was also surprised to find that her book has both literary quality and artistic merit. Now I have a brand new Wonder Woman to admire, both the author and her heroine.

In terms of visual appeal, the book is gorgeous, both the representations of the characters and settings and the color choices. The shades of deep purple (one of my favorite colors) add to the sense of mystery and intrigue, and the amber tones add an appropriate atmosphere for the tender scenes. The story line employs many flashbacks, and, at first, I was a little lost, but before long I was “into” the story and could appreciate its careful design.

The book’s introduction suggests that Ivory Madison’s Huntress (www.redroom.com) is the redefinition of an old folk story. Although I am unfamiliar with the original story, I certainly was empathetic to the situation of a little girl who witnessed the vicious murder of her whole family by Mafia gangsters and decided to avenge their deaths when she grew up to be a beautiful woman. Putting aside romance, she transformed herself into the Huntress to concentrate on this one goal. (There is an amusing interchange when she insists that an actress should be called an actor and a heroine a hero, that there shouldn’t be a sexual differentiation, but finally decides that she is a hero called the Huntress.)

I particularly enjoyed two strains that run through the story: one is the appreciation of opera by the Mafia “family” members, even as they commit violent acts, and the other is the constant religious devotion of the Huntress. Religious symbols and visits to Catholic chapels permeate the story. The Huntress sincerely believes that, as the Avenger, God is on her side, that she represents good as opposed to evil, even though she harms others in the pursuit of justice for her murdered family. “We all think God is on our side,” she muses. The Huntress also places considerable emphasis on the role of women. In Ivory Madison’s version of the old folk tale, women can empower themselves. They do not have to go through life accepting domestic abuse or ending up “dead inside,” and perhaps even literally dead, like the subjugated Mafia wives.

Towards the end of the graphic novel, the author playfully introduces other fictional female avengers made famous by the comics, superheroines like Batwoman and Catwoman, as they stake out their individual territories. Are they avengers or saviors? Is revenge justice? You’ll have to read The Huntress to make that decision. Kudos to Ivory Madison and her artistic team for a splendid accomplishment!

As I grow older, I am filled more and more with a sense of wonder. This week I visited the Los Angeles Planetarium, which I had not yet seen after its fairly recent renovation. The restored art work in the dome was, of course, fascinating in concept, but it is no Sistine Chapel in execution. What gripped me was the depiction of “The Big Sky” at the lower level. Although Pluto has been demoted as a planet (too small), it is currently believed that there are billions, not of only of stars, but also of galaxies in our universe. As a matter of fact, it is now thought that there are other universes, a concept so vast it is almost incomprehensible to our human minds. Why, I wonder, is it suspected that there other universes? Is one universe insufficient to encompass all there is? Do universes multiply like other manifestations of nature? Did the divine entity we think of as One God create all the universes? Are some of the universes male and some female? I feel like a little child again asking so many questions and at the same time like the adult who can’t supply all the answers.

I think that being a grandmother and experiencing once again the wonder of the grandkids growing around me stokes my own sense of awe, the “I believe” in me. As I write this, I am nibbling on some dark chocolate (good for your blood circulation but not so good for a diabetic like me). The comforting taste of chocolate may be very small in comparison to the infinite creation of the universe(s), but it is surely a work of wonder too. Who knows? Maybe all that so far unidentifiable dark stuff in between the billions of stars is really made of something that tastes like chocolate. Now that would be wonderful. That’s what we need to alleviate conflict in our earthly world — a healthy dose of seratonin.

A postscript to yesterday's blog flashed into my mind. When? In the middle of the night, of course. That's when I awakened to this disturbing thought: Our inherited genes are the result of the mating of our biological parents, right? So if science can potentially create a single person's biological child, with both egg and the sperm created from that male or female person's own reprogrammed stem cells to form an implantable embryo, wouldn't you — if you were that single person — be giving birth to your own sibling? In this 21st century, will we eventually end up being our own grandpas? Country music, here we come.

Give me biology with a slow hand! I was really taken aback to read in the Globe and Mail (Annie McIlroy,"The birth of the biological single parent," April 21, www.globeandmail.com)this morning that, while it's not yet possible, it may not be long before babies can be born (manufactured?)from one parent of either sex. The embryos will be made from sperm and ova created from the stem cells of a single person, male or female — reprogrammed stem cells — and then transferred to the womb or the mother or a surrogate mother. This will theoretically be possible even if the person who owned the cells is already dead.

Would the resulting child be a clone? Apparently not, because of all the mixing and matching of genes that would take place to create this future child.

Do we want biological single parenthood to become the norm? Can we predict what kind of non-clone child would result? Very scary to contemplate. Let's go slow, very, very slow, and take lots of time to deliberate.

I’ve become a fan of Netflix.com. I confess. Instead of writing my blog, it’s been constant catch-up on movies that I’ve missed over the last couple of years. What’s so addictive about it is that you can put on earphones and avoid disturbing anyone at all hours of the night and early morn. Then, when the movie (or two)is finished, I can catch the early-early morning news, say at 4 a.m., hear it repeated at 5 a.m., and finally go to sleep for a couple of hours warm in the knowledge that I am well attuned to the day’s happenings — worldwide. (Have you noticed that the same news gets repeated over and over again all day long ad nauseum?)

Time for discipline now that I’m becoming a little movie-saturated (I’m not a very dedicated addict). Time to put away childish things and enjoy the springtime. Now that’s an addiction worth savoring! That’s adult. Especially since my Vancouver daughter introduced me to urban poling (www.urbanpoling.com). Urban whatting? These are basically telescopic ski poles that adjust to various heights and sport springy rubber tips at the base. Hand in hand with the ski poles, you stride rhythmnically — after a little counting, the rhythm becomes normal — and conquer urban sidewalks, parks, and what-have-yous in a city environment. (In L.A., the what-have-yous tend to be cracks and hilly bends left in the sidewalks by our omnipresent little earthquakes.)Once you’re in stride, there is actually a sensation of gliding, of mastery. Shucks, it’s not a ski hill, but as a former skiier, I can tell you that it’s the next best thing. The young and hale among us can lengthen the poles and lengthen their stride. Aha! Now it’s power walking plus.

So, take a break from the computer, old literary mavens with your nose in a book like me, even a hip electronic book or one of the new, gory graphic novels about superheros! Save the repetitive stress syndrome afflicting your fingers for another day. Save Netflix for the appropriate evening hours. With urban poles adjusted to your own waist height, they’ll add balance and stability and the illusion, at least, that you’re a serious sports person enjoying non-bookish exercise that engages your arms as well as your legs. Have a fling with nature! Take a deep breath! It’s April.

We tend to feel good (don’t we?)when we read a book describing a societal pattern that we already know about, but it’s nice anyway to have company to confirm our experience. If, for example, you’re reading the just published “The Hourglass Solution: A Boomer’s Guide to the Rest of Your Life,” you can’t change being a baby boomer between the ages of (gasp!)50 or at the boomer’s tail end, 65. You just are, that’s all (I have long since passed wagging that tail). You were born in a generational epidemic of babies, and you can’t do much now about having been brought up in prosperity so that you’ve come to expect it as a fact of life. You can’t help your materialistic values which by now you’ve passed on to your kids if you have any. The authors, Jeff Johnson and Paula Forman, with two Ph.Ds between them, describe all that in comforting detail so that you’ll probably nod, uh huh, uh huh, that’s how it is with me. And then they go on to describe how all this has come to a short stop. A very short stop. Economic times are tough, and your job, your house, and your sense of entitlement have all run into trouble. Where you knew you were heading is stuck right in the middle of the hourglass.

But Drs. Jeff and Paula say that you don’t have to get stuck in the hourglass. As a matter of fact, this economic crisis may even be a good thing because, as a boomer who has already achieved all your educational and career goals (unless you haven’t), you may have already started feeling a little empty surrounded by all this prosperity and accomplishment. You’re not having the kind of emotional crisis people experience at 40, an age when you may look back at the past with regret for what you DIDN’T do. No, no, the neck of the hourglass at age 50 is different. It’s the FUTURE you’re worried about, and naturally, since you’re a boomer, you don’t see your reflection in the senior citizens that have gone before you, certainly not your parents. No one has REALLY experienced aging before baby boomers came on the scene.

That’s why, in the second half of the book, Jeff and Paula get down to serious business: How do you take the glass that is starting to feel half empty and fill it again? In entertaining little conversations with one another that occur throughout the book, the authors discuss very practically the steps boomers will have to take to ensure their futures. Since the economy has already tanked, forget finding a job, for one thing, if you’ve lost yours. If you do find one, it’s not likely to be at the same level in either rank or salary-wise. What to do? Unless your savings haven’t gone down the tubes and you’re planning to retire, be inventive and start your own business. After all, you’re a boomer. The world is your oyster. Re-energize!

“The Hourglass Solution” is easy reading, and there are really some excellent ideas that offer concrete possibilities and options to invigorate the second half-century of your life. At the very least, when you set out to meet this brave new world, you’ll have Jeff and Paula in your corner. Bon courage!

“The Hourglass Solution” is published by Da Capo Lifelong, a member of the Perseus Book Group.