Category: Health care

Crack me up

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 14 Comments
Have you noticed that cats rarely require chiropractic adjustment? Me too.

Bang, pow, zoom: To the moon, O’Grady!

OK, so it wasn’t quite that dramatic. But it wasn’t no honeymoon, neither.

What it was: I test-drove a new chiropractor today and after some exertion on his part (and some unseemly screeching on mine) I am feeling a bit more like myself. A barely upright lesser primate, in other words.

In professional parlance, I am “a mess,” which is no surprise to anyone.

But mess though I may be, at least I have not been caught lying to the press and to Congress. Now that’s a mess.

Whether anyone has the spine to treat this ailment, of course, is another matter entirely.

Don’t forget to put roses on my grave

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 11 Comments
This may be the last rose of the season. But this being Albuquerque, quién sabe?

Some of you may be secretly pleased to learn that after I got all smug about our lovely fall weather I managed to tweak my back just enough to curtail my enjoyment of the extended cycling season.

It’s an old problem that makes an occasional painful comeback, like herpes, malaria or the Republican Party. And it taught me the only thing I really learned in college: When delivering refrigerators for beer money, lift with your legs.

Anyway, from time to time some small movement not involving the relocation of refrigerators triggers a back spasm, and while this one is not as bad as some, it’s bad enough to keep me off the bike this afternoon.

I’m not in my basement room, with a needle and a spoon. But I did munch a little Advil to take my pain away.

 

Hellth care

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 18 Comments

It’s nearly impossible to live a normal life, or even one like mine, and keep an eye on all the outrages flying out of DeeCee like bats from a belfry.

The main one right now is what the GOP is cynically calling its “health care” legislation. Next to nobody knows exactly what’s in it — or perhaps “them” would be more accurate — or exactly when the Senate is likely to take up the motion to proceed.

But with John McCain saddling up to provide a key “yes” vote (yeah, I know, more Pinto than Maverick), it’s gonna be close.

The Turtle can only lose two of his bots on the motion to proceed, which is the precursor to actual debate on the legislation itself, whatever the hell that might be, and it looks like a few of them are teetering on the ragged edge.

I’d say that if you have the stomach for it, and even if you don’t, phone calls to your senators are in order. This mess needs to die in the waiting room before the GOP can get it into surgery.

Videocy (an ongoing series)

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 8 Comments
Just past the turnoff to Heartbreak Hill, the marquee bit in the Santa Fe Century.

Wrapped another video for Adventure Cyclist yesterday. I was sick of all my usual backdrops, so I went up to Heartbreak Hill off NM 14 and fiddled around a bit there.

Going up (but not very far).

And no, I didn’t ride the Co-Motion Deschutes there, thanks for asking. It would’ve been fun, but we’re talking a hilly 65-mile round trip from El Rancho Pendejo. Herself was serving jury duty, The Boo is very much not interested in being alone for several hours, and I had to edit the video and do the voiceover when I got home.

Also, and too, it rained like a mad bastard here yesterday afternoon, and had I been an actual touring cyclist, instead of merely playing one on TV, I’d probably have gotten caught in it. I hear you’re supposed to suffer for your art, but still, damn.

Speaking of suffering, I see the latest iteration of Trumpcare croaked on the table. Take a moment to cheer, by all means, but let’s remember the advice of kindly Doc Winston Wolf before we get too giddy. As Kevin Drum notes, the main reason the beast died is that it wasn’t tough enough on the poors.

Sticky fingers

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 7 Comments
A rose (grave not included).

The Senate’s Elefinks have released their double-secret “health care” bill, and it’s just about as bad as you might expect.

It boils down to: “Oi! You there! Sickies, crippies, olds and poors! Mind giving us a hand with this yuuuuuge sack of cash? We’re taking it over to the richies! Try not to sneeze or bleed on it, will you?”

The good news is, they won’t forget to put roses on your grave.

Oh, who are we kidding? Of course they’ll forget.