As a Native American, sure I'd like for Washington D.C. to change the name of its mascot and all the announcers to stop using it. There's a surprisingly long list of things announcers cannot say on air--just add the "R" word (amongst other 'R' words that can't be said). That would be a good public relations move. Advance your career. Get your name on the growing list of announcers who'll "refrain from the name" and watch your paycheck increase from all the talk shows you'll be on explaining how you "finally decided it's not a good idea to offend anyone."
Won't happen.
The team from D.C. will change its mascot's name when too much money is lost. Of course. Everybody knows that. Red might be the topic but the bottom line is green. He knows and I know he can call the team anything he likes. The owner also has an Ace up his sleeve. Bet he's thinking, "There's not many Native Americans anymore, right? There's not some 'National Association for the Advancement of Cherokee People' I don't know about is there? How many Native Americans are there? Not enough to matter? F 'em."
When I was a kid, the local TV station played "The 4 O'clock Film" every weekday. This was the late 60's, early '70's and civil rights were progressing. But every day at 4 p.m this station ran things from "The Creature from the Black Lagoon" to "Tarzan." Reportedly, everything from 'black face' to 'collecting scalps' played. Grandma wouldn't let us see it. Pretty soon protests and pickets came. Eventually, the only films deemed acceptable were"Cowboy and Indian" ones. They didn't even call them 'westerns.' Who'd care?
As for 'celebrity support' for the name, who'd want to cross Mike Ditka in his viral rant about the 'politically correct idiots' who dare think the name is offensive? You don't want Coach Ditka to think you're a 'pansy' do you?' The owner and his sports legend buddies make public statements on the 'stupidity of PC' and how we've gotten too soft in this country when it comes to offending people.' As a Native American, it's entertaining watching the white male broadcasters 'explain' why the name is some kind of honor. It comes across as "not a rich, white man problem? Then not a problem!" At present, no African-American broadcaster has tried to convince me in TV Land to 'get over' the mascot's name.'
Truth? The mascot name reminds me of being in grammar school, 'escorted' to the lunchroom where a teacher sprinkled flour on my face in front of everyone because she said I "just wasn't quite white." I think she got the idea from the movie "Billy Jack."
Blessings!
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
The Breast Lump Chronicles: Recovery Road Realizations
Almost two weeks ago, I had a double mastectomy. One minute I'm on the couch listening to my local news anchor talk about the importance of doing monthly breast self-exams and the next I'm waking up from anesthesia flat-chested and (hopefully) cancer-free. I was discharged from the hospital with about fifty staples across my chest protected by a layer of gauze and hospital tape with two bulbs--one for each side of my chest--that looked like toy hand grenades at the end of rubber tubing siphoning off any blood that might be left over from the surgery. A week later, all the staples and drains were removed, I officially became 'untethered' and free. Now, it is basically just the dog and me trying to resume 'activities of daily living.'
While I have been given appointments with oncologists and radiologists per protocol following breast cancer surgery, I have to admit that I feel strange. Maybe I feel strange about what I DON'T feel. I don't feel like going out and conquering the world because I had the diagnosis of breast cancer. Right now, all I want to do is feel comfortable. I don't like the feeling of a thousand paper cuts up and down my chest. I don't feel like 'playing through the pain.' I don't want to 'be nice' and stoic when my friends make unfortunate comments about how lucky I am now that I don't have to buy any more bras. I don't feel like I somehow let myself down for choosing a double mastectomy without immediate reconstruction AND I don't feel less female just because I no longer have 'boobage' though going from 38DD to nothing is quite a change.
I like not feeling I was singled out in the cancer lottery. Yes, it might've been easier to understand and accept my diagnosis had I any family history of cancer but no one ever said all surprises are good ones. I like how the world didn't stop 'just' because I had cancer. The house still needs cleaning, bills still need to be paid and the world is still a place of good and evil. Friends are still friends and I have no 'long lost' ones who suddenly decided to look me up because cancer was associated with my name. In the best sense, not a lot has changed for me. Some things have. I credit my mostly positive experience with Cancerland to a book by Madhulika Sikka entitled "A Breast Cancer Alphabet." I needed the author's everyday, matter-of-fact, 'girl-talking' words to demystify the disease and for lack of a better description make cancer "not THAT big of a deal."
Upon receiving my cancer diagnosis, I instantly stopped smoking. I needed to feel like I was being proactive in some way against the disease and putting down cigarettes for good made me feel like I was 'fighting back.' Pink has now joined black as one of my two favorite colors. I look great in both! I have to follow doctors' orders...all of them--not just the ones I want to follow. I have to 'check in' with my son. I'm letting him be there for me. I have to be open and honest about needing help. I have to accept help. I have millions and millions of sisters (and brothers) who've been where I am and to not call on them when I need to would be attempted martyrdom. No thank you.
At the end of the day when I'm getting ready for bed, I "take a look." Despite the remaining and temporary post-op discoloration, I have to admit I am ''diggin'' my new body. A post-op double mastectomy body CAN be beautiful. I am at my ideal weight and firming up on schedule. Little by little, I'm getting back in shape. If I keep this up, I'll have arms to rival Kelly Rippa! Worth a try!
While I have been given appointments with oncologists and radiologists per protocol following breast cancer surgery, I have to admit that I feel strange. Maybe I feel strange about what I DON'T feel. I don't feel like going out and conquering the world because I had the diagnosis of breast cancer. Right now, all I want to do is feel comfortable. I don't like the feeling of a thousand paper cuts up and down my chest. I don't feel like 'playing through the pain.' I don't want to 'be nice' and stoic when my friends make unfortunate comments about how lucky I am now that I don't have to buy any more bras. I don't feel like I somehow let myself down for choosing a double mastectomy without immediate reconstruction AND I don't feel less female just because I no longer have 'boobage' though going from 38DD to nothing is quite a change.
I like not feeling I was singled out in the cancer lottery. Yes, it might've been easier to understand and accept my diagnosis had I any family history of cancer but no one ever said all surprises are good ones. I like how the world didn't stop 'just' because I had cancer. The house still needs cleaning, bills still need to be paid and the world is still a place of good and evil. Friends are still friends and I have no 'long lost' ones who suddenly decided to look me up because cancer was associated with my name. In the best sense, not a lot has changed for me. Some things have. I credit my mostly positive experience with Cancerland to a book by Madhulika Sikka entitled "A Breast Cancer Alphabet." I needed the author's everyday, matter-of-fact, 'girl-talking' words to demystify the disease and for lack of a better description make cancer "not THAT big of a deal."
Upon receiving my cancer diagnosis, I instantly stopped smoking. I needed to feel like I was being proactive in some way against the disease and putting down cigarettes for good made me feel like I was 'fighting back.' Pink has now joined black as one of my two favorite colors. I look great in both! I have to follow doctors' orders...all of them--not just the ones I want to follow. I have to 'check in' with my son. I'm letting him be there for me. I have to be open and honest about needing help. I have to accept help. I have millions and millions of sisters (and brothers) who've been where I am and to not call on them when I need to would be attempted martyrdom. No thank you.
At the end of the day when I'm getting ready for bed, I "take a look." Despite the remaining and temporary post-op discoloration, I have to admit I am ''diggin'' my new body. A post-op double mastectomy body CAN be beautiful. I am at my ideal weight and firming up on schedule. Little by little, I'm getting back in shape. If I keep this up, I'll have arms to rival Kelly Rippa! Worth a try!
Sunday, July 6, 2014
The Breast Lump Chronicles: Mastectomy Monday
Maybe my journey is coming to an end. My dance with breast cancer. My experience with a disease that at one time was a death sentence. My brush with medical advancements. We've come a long way, Baby!
In preparations, I spent my birthday being 'pre-admitted' to the hospital. I'll be having my mastectomy Monday July 7th so paperwork, lab work and a chest x-ray were done a week in advance to make sure my surgery goes as quickly and easily as possible. No admission delays. That's standard now. Plan, check-in, arrive then cut. Wasn't how I had planned to spend my birthday but then again, it was definitely something different.
My 'check-in' time is for 6 a.m. My surgery is scheduled for 8 a.m. so by noon tomorrow I'll have been taken from the recovery room to my hospital room with 'two less things' to worry about health wise. I'll even have a new figure!
I wasn't a candidate for a lumpectomy so a mastectomy was my only option. That's just fine with me. Who needs breasts that will 'betray' you like mine have me? Well, actually the right breast is the 'offending one' but if removing both will reduce my chances of getting cancer again then get to it! Life is more important than trying to preserve a pair of double D's. Besides, I can always have reconstruction surgery. I could even get a two-for-one by having a tummy tuck and use the belly fat to create new boobs!! Oh, the wonders of science! A belly flat and a bra filled! Glorious!
Just between you and me, I want this over already. I wanted it over the day I went to my family doctor--who incidentally told me that my breast lump was 'nothing to worry about.' She was wrong. Cancer was in me and it needed to be gone! In my mind there are cancer cells bumping into each other in my right breast and right axilla nodes looking for other places to reside. Get 'em out! Get 'em out! At long last-they'll be out tomorrow.
Mastectomy Monday.
In preparations, I spent my birthday being 'pre-admitted' to the hospital. I'll be having my mastectomy Monday July 7th so paperwork, lab work and a chest x-ray were done a week in advance to make sure my surgery goes as quickly and easily as possible. No admission delays. That's standard now. Plan, check-in, arrive then cut. Wasn't how I had planned to spend my birthday but then again, it was definitely something different.
My 'check-in' time is for 6 a.m. My surgery is scheduled for 8 a.m. so by noon tomorrow I'll have been taken from the recovery room to my hospital room with 'two less things' to worry about health wise. I'll even have a new figure!
I wasn't a candidate for a lumpectomy so a mastectomy was my only option. That's just fine with me. Who needs breasts that will 'betray' you like mine have me? Well, actually the right breast is the 'offending one' but if removing both will reduce my chances of getting cancer again then get to it! Life is more important than trying to preserve a pair of double D's. Besides, I can always have reconstruction surgery. I could even get a two-for-one by having a tummy tuck and use the belly fat to create new boobs!! Oh, the wonders of science! A belly flat and a bra filled! Glorious!
Just between you and me, I want this over already. I wanted it over the day I went to my family doctor--who incidentally told me that my breast lump was 'nothing to worry about.' She was wrong. Cancer was in me and it needed to be gone! In my mind there are cancer cells bumping into each other in my right breast and right axilla nodes looking for other places to reside. Get 'em out! Get 'em out! At long last-they'll be out tomorrow.
Mastectomy Monday.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
The Breast Lump Chronicles: Biopsy
A week after I had the mammogram confirming there was a lump in my right breast, I was scheduled for a biopsy. Actually, two biopsies. One for the lump in my breast and the second for the one in my armpit. The second was so small that an ultrasound was the only way it would've been detected I was told. I consider myself very lucky.
Someone once sang, "The waiting is the hardest part" and it certainly has been for me. I want this condition seen, diagnosed, treated and done with already! Enough with the waits! But that's not realistic or healthy. Breast cancer is conquered one step at a time.
My next step was the biopsy. Ultrasound with a needle chaser! The idea is far worse than the actual procedure. You simply lie on your back with the 'questionable' breast cleansed with Betadine then it's draped with a thing that looks like a kid's 'Goodnight' pad with a hole in the middle and then the inside of your boob is onscreen. If you're lucky (or inclined) enough to have proper position, you get to watch the entire procedure. Once they numb you with a Lidocaine injection, you don't have anything else to do but watch--you certainly can't feel anything. Watching made me feel better somehow.
I watched as the dark space in the ultrasound was pierced with a device that took a sample of the mass in question and sounded like something at the dentist's office. Drill baby drill! Felt a little pressure but no pain at all. The lump in my armpit or axilla was a little deeper, a little harder to sample but the procedure was done properly and painlessly.
After everything was done, I was patched up with sterile dressings, given instructions to follow for the sites' aftercare and given two cute little discs that turned out to be mini icepacks. Now, another wait begins.
Only I could have scheduled a biopsy on a Friday! Why not? Wasn't I the genius who had a mammogram on Friday the 13th? But this was particularly maddening because my results would not be ready before Monday or "the next business day." CRAP!!!
I was given an appointment with a surgeon 'just in case.' These people specialize in this area, they already knew what the outcome was going to be and were being proactive.
My weekend was spent worrying about what could be. 'Imagine the worst,' right? I was prepping to restart a career--now that would have to be put on hold. Luckily, I found a remarkable book called "A Breast Cancer Alphabet" and it's been a godsend. It covers everything you can imagine in 208 pages and is written by a woman who writes as if she's known you all your life. Anything you can ask, she can answer. The author got me through the weekend. I'm ready.
Monday the news came.
I have breast cancer.
Someone once sang, "The waiting is the hardest part" and it certainly has been for me. I want this condition seen, diagnosed, treated and done with already! Enough with the waits! But that's not realistic or healthy. Breast cancer is conquered one step at a time.
My next step was the biopsy. Ultrasound with a needle chaser! The idea is far worse than the actual procedure. You simply lie on your back with the 'questionable' breast cleansed with Betadine then it's draped with a thing that looks like a kid's 'Goodnight' pad with a hole in the middle and then the inside of your boob is onscreen. If you're lucky (or inclined) enough to have proper position, you get to watch the entire procedure. Once they numb you with a Lidocaine injection, you don't have anything else to do but watch--you certainly can't feel anything. Watching made me feel better somehow.
I watched as the dark space in the ultrasound was pierced with a device that took a sample of the mass in question and sounded like something at the dentist's office. Drill baby drill! Felt a little pressure but no pain at all. The lump in my armpit or axilla was a little deeper, a little harder to sample but the procedure was done properly and painlessly.
After everything was done, I was patched up with sterile dressings, given instructions to follow for the sites' aftercare and given two cute little discs that turned out to be mini icepacks. Now, another wait begins.
Only I could have scheduled a biopsy on a Friday! Why not? Wasn't I the genius who had a mammogram on Friday the 13th? But this was particularly maddening because my results would not be ready before Monday or "the next business day." CRAP!!!
I was given an appointment with a surgeon 'just in case.' These people specialize in this area, they already knew what the outcome was going to be and were being proactive.
My weekend was spent worrying about what could be. 'Imagine the worst,' right? I was prepping to restart a career--now that would have to be put on hold. Luckily, I found a remarkable book called "A Breast Cancer Alphabet" and it's been a godsend. It covers everything you can imagine in 208 pages and is written by a woman who writes as if she's known you all your life. Anything you can ask, she can answer. The author got me through the weekend. I'm ready.
Monday the news came.
I have breast cancer.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
The Breast Lump Chronicles: Discovery
I'm watching our local NBC affiliate's news program when the co-anchor reminds viewers that "it's 'Buddy Check Day.' Call your buddy and remind them to do a breast self-exam." Nice public service statement. They do it every tenth of the month. Okay, I wasn't really doing anything anyway, I was alone so I thought 'why not?' I 'assumed the position' of left hand behind the head, right hand on the 'boobie' and circle the entire area with my fingertips. Nada. Nothing. Just as I suspected. As I began the same movements with my left hand to my right breast, something felt strange. Hey, wait a minute. Am I actually feeling a lump? No. Can't be. Probably just imagining it. Drama momma and all that. But dammit, something is definitely 'not right.'
The next morning, I called my doctor and in typical fashion I started with, "This may not be anything, and I'm probably just wasting your time but is there any way I could come and get a breast exam? I think I found a lump."
"Come right on in." the receptionist said. Wow, I thought, they must not be busy at all today--or they need the business. Either way, lucky me!
In the exam room, the nurse practioner asked me all the routine questions. No, I don't have any family history of cancer. Yes, I get a mammogram every year--well, not for the past two years but I'm pretty good about self-exams so not getting screened for two years isn't that bad, right?
After a rather prolonged and might I say thorough exam, the NP said, "I definitely feel something but I'm not sure. May not be anything but I'm going to schedule you for a diagnostic mammogram." Okay. No big deal. Any good doctor or NP would do the same thing. So I got dressed and waited at 'check-out' while the staff made my appointment. After about fifteen minutes the receptionist handed me a card and said, "You're scheduled for a mammogram at Tennova Imaging for this Friday." Great, I thought. I'm going to have a mammogram that could change my life on FRIDAY the 13TH! Wouldn't you know it?
Woke up that morning, did all the prep work I was allowed to do pre-mammogram (no lotions, powders or deodorant) and proceeded to drive--in the pouring rain--to the medical center. I arrived, checked in, gave all the routine info and waited in their lobby which just so happens to be named the "Peyton and Ashley Manning Center." For some reason, knowing the couple had made a donation to make a difference in people's lives made me feel better...and I'm a #18 fan.
The mammogram led to an ultrasound which led to the confirmation of a lump in my right breast and the discovery of one under my right arm so small it wouldn't have been felt in a self-exam for a long time. Wouldn't you just know it? What a Friday the 13th I was having!
On second thought, it might turn out to be the luckiest day of my life.
Next week, I am scheduled for two biopsies. My right beast 'gets a needle' and so does the area under my right arm. I'm a little scared. I'm also pretty much alone in this. Support from friends/family will be minimum at best and I know it. Besides, conversing about this with the blogging universe will give me all I'll need. Everything will be alright, right?
Now comes the first in what promises to be a series of "waits." I have to wait for the biopsies to be done, then wait for the results, wait for a consultation and so on. If you don't have anything else to do, want to wait with me?
The next morning, I called my doctor and in typical fashion I started with, "This may not be anything, and I'm probably just wasting your time but is there any way I could come and get a breast exam? I think I found a lump."
"Come right on in." the receptionist said. Wow, I thought, they must not be busy at all today--or they need the business. Either way, lucky me!
In the exam room, the nurse practioner asked me all the routine questions. No, I don't have any family history of cancer. Yes, I get a mammogram every year--well, not for the past two years but I'm pretty good about self-exams so not getting screened for two years isn't that bad, right?
After a rather prolonged and might I say thorough exam, the NP said, "I definitely feel something but I'm not sure. May not be anything but I'm going to schedule you for a diagnostic mammogram." Okay. No big deal. Any good doctor or NP would do the same thing. So I got dressed and waited at 'check-out' while the staff made my appointment. After about fifteen minutes the receptionist handed me a card and said, "You're scheduled for a mammogram at Tennova Imaging for this Friday." Great, I thought. I'm going to have a mammogram that could change my life on FRIDAY the 13TH! Wouldn't you know it?
Woke up that morning, did all the prep work I was allowed to do pre-mammogram (no lotions, powders or deodorant) and proceeded to drive--in the pouring rain--to the medical center. I arrived, checked in, gave all the routine info and waited in their lobby which just so happens to be named the "Peyton and Ashley Manning Center." For some reason, knowing the couple had made a donation to make a difference in people's lives made me feel better...and I'm a #18 fan.
The mammogram led to an ultrasound which led to the confirmation of a lump in my right breast and the discovery of one under my right arm so small it wouldn't have been felt in a self-exam for a long time. Wouldn't you just know it? What a Friday the 13th I was having!
On second thought, it might turn out to be the luckiest day of my life.
Next week, I am scheduled for two biopsies. My right beast 'gets a needle' and so does the area under my right arm. I'm a little scared. I'm also pretty much alone in this. Support from friends/family will be minimum at best and I know it. Besides, conversing about this with the blogging universe will give me all I'll need. Everything will be alright, right?
Now comes the first in what promises to be a series of "waits." I have to wait for the biopsies to be done, then wait for the results, wait for a consultation and so on. If you don't have anything else to do, want to wait with me?
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Mom's In A Home UPDATE
When Mom was admitted to the nursing home, it was as her aftercare rehab from a fall, heart attack and renal failure. As her condition improved, she was no longer covered by insurance because dementia does not qualify for "skilled nursing care." This meant her social security benefit of $708.00 a month would go directly to the facility for her 'extended care.' Basically, she is residing there because she can no longer live independently and has no family able to give her 24hr care.
The nursing staff have been great caring for Mom and even used the fact that she used to be a certified nursing assistant in their nursing care plan. For example, Mom "made rounds" and was given "charts" to fill out. This gave her a sense of purpose and a feeling of usefulness.
Mom fell one Monday morning on the way to the bathroom. Her injuries were nothing more than a scraped knee and a little embarrassment. The following Wednesday, she fell again breaking her right hip. She was hospitalized and required a right hemiarthroplasty. The procedure was simple and basic so Mom was able to return to the nursing home that next Monday. Unfortunately, she has fallen out of bed three times since she returned despite every precaution the facility and staff implements. At least she hasn't fractured or re-fractured anything.
Meanwhile, Mom's bill collectors are circling. While I have cancelled her phone, electricity, rent and mail, one group of bill collectors remain. Payday loan reps.
Mom fell for the payday loan folks who send elderly people checks through the mail. Living alone and slowly losing brain function enabled her to cash these checks then either keep it secret and/or forget the transactions altogether. Her total with interest comes to approximately $3500.00. But now that it's 'time to pay up,' I get about 25 calls a day from these companies.
I understand that there are probably people who take out this type of loan with no intention of paying back the money but to 'decide' that EVERYONE who gets a loan like this is trying to get out of paying is horrible. Calling me every day is also horrible. To be honest, sending these types of checks to a specific population like the elderly is also horrible. But she DID cash those checks...as their representatives remind me.
When this month is over, finances will be a lot easier. Mom's insurance has resumed covering her care and her monthly check will go directly to her bank account and can be used to take care of some of her outstanding bills. Even though she has credit card bills and payday loans none of us knew about AND no one but she is legally responsible for them, I have been trying to repay them--with little to no success.
It just adds another level of sadness to realize that there are businesses that send our elderly offers that are 'too good to be true.' I also wonder about my concept of responsibility and tendency to lean towards martyrdom when it comes to my mother. Why would I try so hard to take care of her bills when she never took care of me? Why should I try to do anything for the woman who tried so hard to forget all about me when she was younger and is finally accomplishing that through dementia and old age? All I can come up with right now is--why not?
The nursing staff have been great caring for Mom and even used the fact that she used to be a certified nursing assistant in their nursing care plan. For example, Mom "made rounds" and was given "charts" to fill out. This gave her a sense of purpose and a feeling of usefulness.
Mom fell one Monday morning on the way to the bathroom. Her injuries were nothing more than a scraped knee and a little embarrassment. The following Wednesday, she fell again breaking her right hip. She was hospitalized and required a right hemiarthroplasty. The procedure was simple and basic so Mom was able to return to the nursing home that next Monday. Unfortunately, she has fallen out of bed three times since she returned despite every precaution the facility and staff implements. At least she hasn't fractured or re-fractured anything.
Meanwhile, Mom's bill collectors are circling. While I have cancelled her phone, electricity, rent and mail, one group of bill collectors remain. Payday loan reps.
Mom fell for the payday loan folks who send elderly people checks through the mail. Living alone and slowly losing brain function enabled her to cash these checks then either keep it secret and/or forget the transactions altogether. Her total with interest comes to approximately $3500.00. But now that it's 'time to pay up,' I get about 25 calls a day from these companies.
I understand that there are probably people who take out this type of loan with no intention of paying back the money but to 'decide' that EVERYONE who gets a loan like this is trying to get out of paying is horrible. Calling me every day is also horrible. To be honest, sending these types of checks to a specific population like the elderly is also horrible. But she DID cash those checks...as their representatives remind me.
When this month is over, finances will be a lot easier. Mom's insurance has resumed covering her care and her monthly check will go directly to her bank account and can be used to take care of some of her outstanding bills. Even though she has credit card bills and payday loans none of us knew about AND no one but she is legally responsible for them, I have been trying to repay them--with little to no success.
It just adds another level of sadness to realize that there are businesses that send our elderly offers that are 'too good to be true.' I also wonder about my concept of responsibility and tendency to lean towards martyrdom when it comes to my mother. Why would I try so hard to take care of her bills when she never took care of me? Why should I try to do anything for the woman who tried so hard to forget all about me when she was younger and is finally accomplishing that through dementia and old age? All I can come up with right now is--why not?
Saturday, May 3, 2014
My "Sterling" Experience
When the initial reporting of the Clippers owner's remarks began, I was shocked. How could a man who owned an NBA team allow himself to think the way he does AND allow himself to be recorded making these remarks? It's 2014! The guy is a billionaire! What's wrong with the guy? He's in L.A. for Pete's sake--does the name 'Mark Furman' ring a bell, Donnie? When Johnnie Cochran got the detective to admit that he had used the N-word sometime in his life, Mr. Sterling 'shoulda took the hint.':
"Don't say nuthin', won't be nuthin.'"
As the days went on, certain 'news' organizations wanted to turn the focus of Sterling's remarks from racism to the issue of privacy. 'How could this woman secretly record this man?' 'Whatever happened to 'free speech'?' One news program quoted a certain billionaire NBA team owner as saying he, "doesn't want to live in a country where he could say something in private and lose everything he owned." Free speech does NOT mean free from consequences. These statements make me wonder what these people who are more 'outraged' at the taping than the remarks are saying privately. Their argument seems to be that "we all say things we don't want others to hear." But "we all" do not say racist things.
A few years ago, a physician in my hospital had a reputation for holding "certain views" about "certain groups." He was a white, rich son and grandson of doctors, did a lot of charity work and had his share of humanitarian awards so rumors of his real feelings towards women, minorities, etc., were written off as jealous people trying to damage a 'great man's' image. When he found out that I was Native American, he started calling me "Red" but he "didn't mean anything by it. Don't be so sensitive." I was told.
I had heard that he only treated white people, had settled a couple of discrimination lawsuits and was married but his mistresses were always African-American. I wondered how someone like that could be granted admission privileges at this particular hospital. Money? Power? Probably. No proof of his true self? Definitely.
That all came to an end when one of his "ladies" recorded the good doctor voicing his opinions in one of their conversations and made it public. In the recording, he 'explained' the physiological reasons African-Americans are better athletes than whites. He states that he 'preferred' white patients because 'having to wear gloves to examine Hispanics and African-Americans took too much time.' Far worse things followed. At one point the woman asks him how he could say those things about black people to her when she is black and he is heard saying, "The only color than really matters is green!"
The firestorm with Mr. Sterling reminded me of this incident because it was very shocking to hear a doctor reveal his contempt for and prejudice against minorities. Unlike Sterling, this man had taken an oath to treat all people with dignity and respect. Right? Maybe like Sterling, this man felt that his life, career, wealth and accomplishments entitled him to feel the way he did.
While the fallout was nowhere near that of Donald Sterling's fall from grace, it did show certain qualities and expectations the 'rest of us' project onto people of wealth and power and what happens when we are proven wrong. We may find out that we're wrong a lot.
"Don't say nuthin', won't be nuthin.'"
As the days went on, certain 'news' organizations wanted to turn the focus of Sterling's remarks from racism to the issue of privacy. 'How could this woman secretly record this man?' 'Whatever happened to 'free speech'?' One news program quoted a certain billionaire NBA team owner as saying he, "doesn't want to live in a country where he could say something in private and lose everything he owned." Free speech does NOT mean free from consequences. These statements make me wonder what these people who are more 'outraged' at the taping than the remarks are saying privately. Their argument seems to be that "we all say things we don't want others to hear." But "we all" do not say racist things.
A few years ago, a physician in my hospital had a reputation for holding "certain views" about "certain groups." He was a white, rich son and grandson of doctors, did a lot of charity work and had his share of humanitarian awards so rumors of his real feelings towards women, minorities, etc., were written off as jealous people trying to damage a 'great man's' image. When he found out that I was Native American, he started calling me "Red" but he "didn't mean anything by it. Don't be so sensitive." I was told.
I had heard that he only treated white people, had settled a couple of discrimination lawsuits and was married but his mistresses were always African-American. I wondered how someone like that could be granted admission privileges at this particular hospital. Money? Power? Probably. No proof of his true self? Definitely.
That all came to an end when one of his "ladies" recorded the good doctor voicing his opinions in one of their conversations and made it public. In the recording, he 'explained' the physiological reasons African-Americans are better athletes than whites. He states that he 'preferred' white patients because 'having to wear gloves to examine Hispanics and African-Americans took too much time.' Far worse things followed. At one point the woman asks him how he could say those things about black people to her when she is black and he is heard saying, "The only color than really matters is green!"
The firestorm with Mr. Sterling reminded me of this incident because it was very shocking to hear a doctor reveal his contempt for and prejudice against minorities. Unlike Sterling, this man had taken an oath to treat all people with dignity and respect. Right? Maybe like Sterling, this man felt that his life, career, wealth and accomplishments entitled him to feel the way he did.
While the fallout was nowhere near that of Donald Sterling's fall from grace, it did show certain qualities and expectations the 'rest of us' project onto people of wealth and power and what happens when we are proven wrong. We may find out that we're wrong a lot.
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