Thursday, February 26, 2015

Driving While Black

I'm going to to preface this post with a few random comments. First of all, if you know me at all or have read any of my other stuff, I think you would agree that I try to be a fair person. I try to have empathy for people, to consider the other guy's point of view. I'm much better at that in the abstract, of course. When I'm in the middle of a heated argument with my husband or kids, not so much. Hopefully you, the blog reader, will be able to keep that in mind as I take on a touchy subject, and trust that I am just trying hard to make sense of it all.

Secondly, prepare yourself. I call black people black. I call white people white. All of the black people I know well enough to have a conversation with call themselves “black;” All the white people I talk to refer to themselves as “white.” That being the case, I just don't see the need for all the euphemisms like “people of color” or "European American."  I strongly suspect all of those terms were thought up by some white people trying to get over their own discomfort with race issues. I'm not buying into it. Sorry.

Thirdly, WE HAVE GOT TO GET THIS RACIAL INJUSTICE CRAP FIGURED OUT! NOW! I can not say it emphatically enough. Seriously. We can split atoms, for crying out loud! We have had the ability to do it for like 70 years now. We use the power of that ability to police the world and intervene in all sorts of human rights issues. How is it that we, as a society can not figure out how to ensure human rights for every human being in our own damned backyard???

Now that we're on the same page, I want to tell you all a story. My husband came home in a crabby mood the other day. I was a little annoyed by this but, you know, spouses get crabby sometimes. The next day, he told me about how he had been stopped by the police on his way home the day before for running a stop sign. (Incidentally, that “stop sign” was a yield sign, but we're not going to go there. For the sake of conversation, we are going to pretend it was a legitimate traffic violation.) Now, in our neighborhood, it is pretty standard to see two police vehicles whenever someone is pulled over. Presumably, this is because there is only one officer in each car these days. I think it is fair to say that you will often see more than one car, regardless of who is being stopped. One officer will make the stop and soon after, another car will pull up; the second officer will usually stay in the car. For a routine traffic stop you will usually only see two police cars, although one or two others might drive past. The only times I've ever seen more than two cars or several officers out of their vehicles is when someone was obviously being arrested.

Maybe you should also know that in the 16 years I've known him, my black husband has been stopped at least a dozen times for all sorts of terrible traffic infractions like having a license plate cover, a dangling air freshener, or for turning around in a school driveway because he forgot something at work, two blocks back. One time he had three cops pull him over in front of our own house, but only one officer got out of the cars. Remarkably, his decade-long crime spree has only resulted in one ticket, for speeding. One. Twelve stops. One ticket. I, myself, have only gotten one “warning” in my entire speed demon life. When I get stopped, I actually get a ticket, and I have never had more than one officer on the scene.

On this occasion, upon seeing the lights go on, my husband pulled over, and rolled down his window. The white officer, told him why he had been stopped, then returned to his police car to run Hubby's license and plate. Predictably, a second car rolled up and stopped. Here's where it gets a little interesting. The second white officer got out of his car as third and fourth white officers rolled up and got out of their cars also. While my husband sat peaceably in the Honda, all three extra officers put their hands on their guns and surrounded the car. One of the additional police officers started interrogating my husband though the still-open car window: “Where are you coming from?” “What were you doing?” “Where are you going?” My husband, wisely, kept both hands in plain view on the steering wheel, only moving one—SLOWLY—as he told the interrogating officer, “The other cop has my information. I don't have to talk to you.” and rolled up the window. Eventually, the first officer returned my husband's license and registration, “letting him go with just a warning.” Wow. Someone is going to have to help me understand how running a stop sign is just cause for three police officers to threaten his life with firearms.

If you think I am being overly dramatic about the danger of the situation, I suggest you pull your head out of your butt and check in with the news outlet of your choice. This is how black men die. Exactly like this. Some thing happens. Some police officers get involved, whether justifiably or not. Someone escalates the situation until somebody gets shot. Or choked. Or beaten to death. A black guy gets killed over something a white guy would probably just get a traffic ticket for.

I have friends and relatives who are in law enforcement. I have friends married to cops. I have the utmost respect for men and women who are willing to place themselves in danger to protect me and my family, so anyone who is tempted to jump to the defensive and justify the actions of the officers—I don't want to hear it. I really don't. I'm not claiming that all cops are racist criminals. I know there are great cops. I believe there are more good cops than bad ones, but the simple, ugly truth is that my husband was threatened with death because he is black. There is no defense for that, and it has to stop. IT HAS TO STOP. Any reasonable person must be able to agree that it just has to stop.

Reasonable people surely can agree that the system has to change. The justice system must become more...just. But how? I don't have the answers. I just have a whole lot of questions, such as why are almost all the police officers in my city white? If white officers are so endangered by black men that an armed 4:1 ratio is required to ensure their safety, why don't we have primarily black officers in areas of the city heavily populated with black people? Is it racist to even suggest such a thing? Why are there so few black or Hispanic cops? Do blacks and Hispanics not want to be in law enforcement? Do they not have sufficient access to the education required to be police officers? Does the city not hire minority officers on purpose? Is it a weird coincidence? There are all sorts of programs to entice certain people to choose certain careers. I see TV commercials all the time to encourage girls to consider careers in math and science, for instance. Why can't we do the same thing to encourage blacks and other minorities to enter the fields of law enforcement and politics?

Why doesn't the public have access to the rates of minority versus non-minority traffic stops? We have statistics on everything else in the world that matters to us. Why don't we conduct standardized citizen satisfaction surveys on our community leaders and organizations, as well as our police departments and then base funding for these things on how ours compare with similar organizations across the nation? Some people think that's a good idea for funding health care systems, why not for police?

Why do we worry so much about using politically correct language to classify each other's differences instead of being honest about what's really dividing us? Why are we arguing about balancing the federal budget, and reducing national debt when we can't even agree on how to resolve the overwhelming moral deficit clearly seen in the racial injustices we all want to ignore? Who cares what some news anchor lied about when we are all lying every time we pledge allegiance to the nation of liberty and justice for all? When is enough going to be enough?  When is it going to stop?


Thursday, February 19, 2015

Happy People Don't Hate Other People. DUH!

It's not very often that I think, "Kudos!  I couldn't have said it any better myself," but that's how I felt when I read Joni Edelman's essay.  I love strong, brave women who aren't afraid to challenge negative influences and be true to themselves, so I would like to promote her ideas.  I also would like to congratulate any idiot who left negative comments on her essay for completely missing the point, and for making yourself look like a total moron.    

Being Thin Didn't Make Me Happy, But Being "Fat" Does


Wednesday, February 11, 2015

The Four Stages of Staycation

I have some vacation days coming up—a staycation.  I’m not going anywhere.  I plan to just stay home, rest, read my book club book, and get a bunch of stuff done around my house.  Of course, this is just an amped up version of the lie I tell myself every week, which goes something like this, “I’ll take care of it this weekend.  I don’t have anything to do so I’ll have plenty of time to catch up on my sleep and get a bunch of stuff done.”  Riiiiight.

As I’m making that mental list of important things to do, I've decided to be a little more realistic and prepare myself for the inevitable four stages of staycation.

Denial
I’m only going to sleep in and relax one day.  I should be able to knock out that book club book.  Sunday, I’ll make sure we all get up and go to church.  I’ll make breakfast before church and a big dinner that afternoon.

Monday, I’ll clean the house, reorganize the basement and office and clear out that storage area.  Monday afternoon, I’m going to organize all my tools and tool boxes for Tuesday when I’m going to fix all the lights in the living room and dining room, and install the new kitchen ceiling.  Oh, and cook dinner according to my fancy new winter meal plan. 

Wednesday is the day I plan to turn my antique upright piano into the new breakfast bar.  It only required two pictures on Pinterest, so it shouldn’t take long.  Then I’ll sand and paint those two dressers I’ve been procrastinating about.   And cook dinner.  Thursday is all about doors.  I have to change the direction of swing on the side door, and weather strip it, while I am at it.  I also need to replace the garage door.  And cook dinner.  Friday, I’m scrubbing all the walls and cleaning all the curtains.  A few of them need repairs, so I’ll do that, too.  In between loads of laundry, I’m sure I can clean out all the closets and make a quick trip to Goodwill.  I don’t have to cook on Fridays, according to my meal plan!  WooHoo.

Saturday will be just for fun; I will deserve it after all that hard work. Sunday, I’ll make sure we all get up and go to church.  I’ll make breakfast before church and a big dinner that afternoon.

Bargaining
Wednesday?  Huh.  Well, I’ll for sure make it to church next Sunday; I just need one more day to lie around.  Let me take a look at my to-do list. 
  •    Book club book (Where is that thing, anyway?)
  •    Cook dinner (Forgot about that whole grocery shopping thing)
  •    Clean house (It’s just going to get dirty again, anyway.)
    Reorganize basement, office and storage area (Shoving everything into the storage area counts, right?)
  •    Organize tools
  •    Cook dinner (Pizza sounds better!)
  •    Fix lights
  •    Install kitchen ceiling
  •    Cook dinner (Umm.  Yeah.  Still haven’t made it to the store.)
  •    Breakfast bar
  •    Refinish dressers
  •    Cook dinner
  •    Walls and curtains  (Seriously!?!  Who was I kidding?)
  •    Laundry (I’ll stop at Walmart and buy more socks and underwear while I’m out at Goodwill.)
  •    Doors
  •    Closets
  •    Goodwill trip

I still have plenty of time to get the important stuff done.  I’ll get cracking right after I take a nap and go to Hobby Lobby.

Depression/Anger
How is it already Saturday morning?  Where did all my vacation go?????  It’s hopeless.  I’m never going to get all this home renovation crap done.  NEVER.   EVER.  Or have a clean house.   I live with pigs.   Why bother with any of this?  No one appreciates my hard work anyway.  Let them all eat hot dogs on stale buns.  In the dark.  Ungrateful kids…they need more chores! I had a ton of chores when I was a kid!

Stupid to-do list.  I should just let the bank take this disgusting house back.  Then we could just rent a condo.   If I had a landlord, he’d have to do all this work!   Maybe I could just move Up North and live with my mom and dad…

I need to win the lotto!  Then I wouldn't have to do all this stupid work around here.  I wouldn't even have to get work done at work!  I could have a staycation every week!  Why can’t I win the lotto?  I deserve 250 million dollars!  I would invest!  I’d give to charity.  My new house would be perfect, and I would keep it organized from the very beginning.  Please, Lord, let me win the lotto!

Ugh!  I’m going back to bed and finish up those last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy.

Acceptance
Crap.  Tomorrow is Monday, and I have to go back to work.  I guess I’ll just have to knock out that kitchen reno next weekend.


Tuesday, February 3, 2015

A Three Point Sermon on Immunization

I believe in vaccination. Who cares, right? Whether you care or not, I'm going to add my voice to the din surrounding the vaccine debate. Or, as I like to call it, immunization fact versus fiction. I am so confident that this post is going to be hugely popular and widely disseminated (hint, hint) that I am going to take a moment to address my qualifications. For those readers that don't know me personally, I am a Doctor of Pharmacy (PharmD), as well as a Board Certified Pharmacotherapy Specialist (BCPS). Not to toot my own horn, but I am particularly proud of that BCPS part because I had to work very hard to get those four little letters. You know how Christina Yang is a Board Certified Cardiothoracic Surgeon? It's kinda like that, but with drugs. I'm a medication therapy expert. (You should now be very impressed and ignore the fact that I still use inelegant words like “kinda.”)

As I was saying, I am a medication therapy expert. In fact, I'm one of those lying, condescending experts who think they know more than regular people about vaccination. I hang with a whole bunch of other highly qualified medication therapy experts who also think vaccination is a super idea for almost everyone.  Like all experts these days, I get most of my current events information via the most reliable data clearinghouse in the history of mankind—Facebook. Just kidding.  But, after I shared some particularly thought-provoking (or maybe just provoking) posts on the anti-vaxxer movement, one of my FB friends challenged me very nicely in a private message. In short, this friend expressed concern that my posts had seemed more condescending than convincing.  What follows is an expanded version of my response. (I have not checked yet to see if we are still friends...)

First, choosing not to vaccinate, does not just affect a single family. It affects, potentially everyone that family comes into contact with, and who they come into contact with, and everyone they, in turn, come into contact with, and everyone....you get the point. Mind you, I am a proud American, and strongly believe in the rights of the individual. I believe individual rights prevail—right up to the point that they collide with ANOTHER PERSON'S individual rights. If I, in exercising one of my rights deprive you of one of yours, guess what! It is no longer an inherent right. I just can't for the life of me see why vaccination is any different than requiring a child to receive an education, or requiring parents to provide proper food and shelter. A parent's right is subordinate to the rights of children and society as a whole, on these responsibilities. That is the trade-off for living in civilization. Children have a right to the best medical care available to them, and every citizen has a right to be as safe as possible from preventable diseases.

The second point is this: the reasoning behind most of the information out there against vaccinating is scientifically unsound. Period. Taking the same arguments that are supposed to convince me that vaccination is bad, and applying them to something like using car seats illustrates that fact pretty clearly. Unfortunately, the average person does not have sufficient background in statistics, epidemiology, virology, immunology, genetics, biochemistry, infectious disease, and pathophysiology to fully understand how vaccines work, or how to interpret the research demonstrating that they do. Now I'm sure THAT sounds condescending, but I assure you it is not. Let me explain. I spent 6 years in school and over $120,000 getting a doctorate, worked my butt off every free moment for those six years learning to understand all of those things I just listed. Does that make me smarter or better than someone who did not pursue the same course of study? Of course not. It makes me fluent in a language that can not be learned in any other way—the language of modern medicine.

Most of us would not make a potentially fatal decision based on information presented in a language we do not know, nor would we trust the advice of someone who doesn't know that language any better than we do. I certainly would make damn sure the person I choose as an interpreter is completely literate in that language before making such an important choice. Why, then, do we suppose someone without proper training and experience has any right to advise us on vaccination?

I would want an EXPERT. Say it with me—EX. PERT. It is not a swear word. When in God's name did it become a character flaw to work hard at something, become an authority on that thing, and then share your expertise? It makes no sense. If you are 12 miles up in the air, don't you want to be in a plane that has been built by experts, maintained by experts and flown by experts? Is it then condescending for those experts to insist you to defer to their superior knowledge and experience regarding the care and use of airplanes? Or would you prefer to have the air traffic controller Google how to maintain the engine? It's the same thing, right? They both know about air travel. Ummmm. Not exactly.  The logic does not work.  It doesn't work with regard to immunization, either.  

My last point is that what you are perceiving as condescension, at least for me, is PURE FRUSTRATION, at being accused of nothing short of malfeasance by anti-vax proponents. I spend every single second of every workday, 50 weeks of the year doing what little I can do to HEAL people and PROTECT them from diseases that can kill them. When you have seen a dying person covered head to toe in excruciatingly painful shingles (as I have), or known a patient chained to a ventilator for life because of complications of the flu (as I have)—and I could go on and on—you become pretty passionate about making those things stop. Vaccines help stop them. End.  Of. Story. If your chiropractor thinks he or she can prevent a kid with the measles or whooping cough from dying, he or she is delusional. (Now don't get hysterical about chiropractors here. I have one that I love. I think he is the best person around to help me in his area of expertise—adjusting my spine and other parts of my skeleton.)

So you, and many people, don't like the idea that you should just take our word for it that vaccines are the way to go. I get it. I really do. But, we take “the expert's” word for a million things every day. That's why you wear your government-mandated seat belt every time you get in a car, despite the risk of injury FROM the seat belt. Some expert taught us that the risk of injury from the seat belt is lower than the risk of having your face removed as you crash through the wind shield in a car accident. If you are not a dumbass, you don't get online to see what some actor has to say about whether everybody is lying to you about seat belts. You don't waste time reading everything there is to read about the government's conspiracy to strangle us all with seat belts. You get in the car, put the damn thing on, and drive to work.

Let's look at this thing a different way. I don't know what really turns you on in life, but let's say you have always dreamed of having a certain really expensive car—a Jaguar. You save and scrimp and eat ramen noodles 6 nights a week for ten years. FINALLY you can buy the top-of the-line, loaded Jaguar you have always wanted. You LOOOOVE your Jaguar. You baby your Jaguar.  You wash it by hand every day, give it the best gasoline. You wax it every week. Where do you go for information on the best way to care for your Jaguar?  Do you ask your car wash attendant or the 17-year-old behind the counter at the gas station?  Do you ask the moped repairman who lives next door? Do you use a delayed oil change schedule and put off changing out your air filter and timing belt? Or do you Google it and do whatever it says to do on Wiki?  No. I'm willing to bet my left boob you take it to the dealership where you bought it every time you need an oil change. You get every recommended scheduled maintenance. On time. You're going to keep that Jag in tip-top shape. You protect it with top-rate insurance, even though you live in an area where hardly anybody gets in car accidents. If you want information about YOUR JAGUAR you get it from the people who made it. If your car needs service, you take it to a Jaguar specialist who is licensed by your state to provide car care, certified as a Jaguar expert by the people who make Jaguars, and an expert in the repair of Jaguars to see what it needs. And you take his word for it.