Cat Insurance

This last week we spent a great deal of money to treat our sick cat.  She's a little over 13 years old and has been our child for as long as we have been married.  Her illness was serious and possibly life threatening.

After numerous tests, an ultrasound and cancer screening, x-rays, two tooth extractions and a major surgery, she's back home and is now fine.


Our vet is wonderful, but they did not keep us abreast of the mounting costs of her care.  When confronted with the bill, we had to figure out what we wanted to do to cover it.  Do we put it on the credit card and then pay the interest or do we dip into our savings.

Over the course of the last five years, we've been stashing money into an account for a trip to Peru, to climb to Machu Pichu.  Rather than pay interest (we tend to keep a very low or zero balance on our card) we decided to simply take it from the Peru account.

Almost all of it.

Now, understand there was no question.  You just do it.  Peru isn't going anywhere, barring some major catastrophe, like a giant asteroid of a major volcanic eruption... in which case we have other things to worry about.

We paid it.

She is now at home, shaved belly and all.  We couldn't be happier.

However, it got me thinking.  At the Vet was a brochure for pet insurance.

Pet insurance.

If we'd had it, in some form, we'd have had certain things covered.   But we didn't, so it all came out of pocket.

What if it were a child, instead of a pet?

What if we were one of the 40 million in this country who does not have health insurance?  We'd have to dip into our savings to pay the bills.  How long would that last?

Thankfully, we only dipped into one little savings account that had been set aside for a trip, but what if it were our "savings" and we had nothing else.

We are not people who abuse the system, we work, we pay our taxes, we contribute to the collective good.  We could quickly have nothing.

It was suddenly easy for me to see how so many families get into trouble.  They just can't make ends meet because of one hospital bill.  It happens every day.

I promised this blog would not get into politics, but with this issue I think it's deeper than a political divide that it has become.  It is about the lives of Americans.  Americans who are suffering because we have chosen to make our health a commodity to be bought and sold on Wall Street.

It's wrong.  We deserve better.

For everyone who pounds their chest and screams "America, love it or leave it!" or puffs up and defiantly proclaims "We're the greatest nation on earth" but has made the decision to fight against giving all American's access to health care - you should be ashamed.  Your false patriotism is sickening and counter-productive.  Your ignorance stands in the way of progress. 

I had a moment of "What do I do?" with a cat.  I can't imagine if it were my child.  No one should have to make a decision between feeding their families and paying a medical bill.  Between paying rent and paying for medicine.  Not in America.

Thinking we, as a country, are the best we can ever be leaves no room for us to strive for better.  It lets us all off far too easily.  It means we have nothing to aspire to, to work for...

But perhaps that's what some people want. 

Every person takes the limits of their own field of vision for the limits of the world.

Arthur Schopenhauer

Food!

I’ve long believed that food is love. 

Angie and I never had a conversation about the division of labor in our home.  Things just sort of fell into place.  We each have a different skill set and for some reason mine included a number of domestic skills. 

Blame my mother.

Or my grandmothers.

Or the numerous kitchens in which I worked to pay for my first car, prom, rent, drums, all the crap I accumulated in my twenties…

Angie’s skills - her patience, her tact, her singleness of purpose and focus, lend themselves to what she does.   I have not mastered these skills.

So… I happen to cook.  And as the stay at home pater familias, it’s a skill that should serve me well.

Unless Angie’s craving happens to be jelly beans.

Like now.  Nothing I can do about that other than hike to the bodega in search of jelly beans.  (Damn you “The Middle” and your jelly bean in the car storyline.

I jumped down to the farmers’ market today.   It’s a perfect fall day.  Heirloom tomatoes the size of soccer balls.  Fresh herbs.  Macoun apples.  (Some of which Angie will make into applesauce and some will find their way into a tart Tartine.)  I’m planning ahead for when we make our own baby food.

I’m finding that comfort food is something Angie craves.  Especially if you consider pastrami from Katz’ comfort food.  Which in NYC, we do.

I worked my special chili today.  No ground meat.  (The way we get our ground beef in this country should really be a crime.) 

We’re doing some tomato goat cheese tarts, the afore mentioned apple pie, I’ll be baking baguettes, Angela will be working the applesauce and we’re making granola.

What goes into your mate’s body also goes into your child.  We’re only doing whole foods; real food. 

And no high fructose corn syrup.   Guess she won’t be getting jelly beans after all. (Don’t believe the ads put out by the corn industry… the sugars in hfcs are a processed sugar your body doesn’t know what to do with.  It may just be a coincidence, but since we’ve replaced sugar with hfcs, rates of autism have risen as have rates of obesity…  would rather not risk putting that into my child.)

So, in the sense of community, I’m putting out a call for suggestions…  What do I feed her? 

Send your recipes!  I might share my magic chili.

You knew it was coming...

Sex:

It is possible to have sex with a pregnant woman.

I know this sounds like a no brainer, but it’s sort of scary to think about sex with your wife while a small creature is growing inside her.

It kind of freaks me out.

(Which is probably what my father in-law is doing right now.  You might want to skip this one, Mike.)

Apparently sex is not only good for the mother, it’s good for the baby… my wife convinced me of this when she told me, “It’s like a massage…”

Needless to say we had a good laugh over that one, too. 

See… sex can be both fun and funny during pregnancy.

How quickly things change

We conceived on the first try.

I understand if that's more than you needed to know.

It also happens to be true.

I wanted to start this web log with one true thing. 

How do I know this is one true thing?

I'd rather not get into the intricacies of it all, but trust me, it's one true thing.

I have made the shift from writing a poli-blog, where there are very few "true things" let alone one, to a blog  that is very personal and that I hope will be much more enjoyable to read.  After all, that is the purpose of writing, right?  To have it read.

I write a screenplay so it can be made, not so it can sit in my drawer.  I write this so it can be read.  If it gets a good following, them perhaps we turn it into a community, one where we learn together on this little ride.

So.

I'm about the be a father.

Not really "about" to be... it's going to take another six months.

But, I am the male in the equation, therefore, in six months, I'll be the proud father to a little VanDijk.  We don't know the sex yet, but my wife seems convinced, as does my mother, that it's a girl.

My wife, Angela, who pens the lovely blog, the actors wife, has not been sick.  (knock wood)  We have not had to deal with the dreaded morning sickness.

She's had other issues - she's always hot, which is not normal for she-of-the-wool-sweater-in-June.  And she was awake at midnight.   For those of you who know my wife, that's three hours past her normal bed time.

Things seem to be moving along swimmingly.

So, this is the first of many posts that will hopefully be as interesting and enjoyable to you to read as they are enlightening for me to write.