Remembering . . .

I've been seeing all sorts of remembrances here and there, observances and commemorations of those who died in service to their country. I've seen articles written by veterans, angry that people seem to use Memorial Day to mark the beginning of summer, and that's about it--a day to head to the beach or cook out. Here at my apartment complex they've opened the pool, which they do every Memorial Day weekend.

I'm not a veteran, and don't have any close friends or family who are veterans, but this day does strike a chord with me. Here's how I think we should honor those who died.

Remember what they died for. What they really died for. I'm not talking about the buzzwords the politicians use, like "freedom" and "security." Remember who was pounding the drums to go to the war in the first place, and how they've treated those who came back from it, and whose bank accounts have grown obscenely because of it.

Honor the dead by questioning the motives of those who want to start new wars. Look at who is in favor of it, and what their connections are to people who would benefit from a war--arms manufacturers and defense contractors. How are people who aren't so hawkish treated? During the whole Iraq fiasco I was shouted down constantly when I said that the people who seem to be so desperately in favor of the war would make tons of money off of it, and the evidence that Saddam was involved with al Quaeda was sketchy at best and I felt like we were being lied to. My patriotism was questioned and there are people who do not speak to me to this day because of that. Even though it's turned out I was right, and every day there's even more evidence that, if anything, I understated the case. It was much worse than I imagined, and I was imagining pretty bad.

Make sure, before you decide you support a war, that there is convincing--and I mean convincing--evidence that it's necessary, that we have definite goals in mind, and that we'll take care of the veterans who are wounded, psychologically as well as physically, when they come home. If the politicians and pundits say we can't afford to do that, then we can't afford to start the war in the first place, regardless of our motives.

In short, the best way to honor the dead, I think, it to make it harder for the politicians to start new wars to create more of them.

The suture removal story

I'm just going to leave this here so I can point people to it when I want to tell them this story. Because, while at the moment it's topical and amusing, it probably won't remain that way.

Okay, I had minor surgery a few weeks ago to remove a basal cell carcinoma from my scalp--see my previous posting about that little adventure. At the time, the doctor who performed the surgery told me that he had resigned from that practice, so when I came back to have the stitches removed it would be a different doctor.

Fine with me. Let's just get this over with.

So, three weeks later I return to keep my appointment to have the stitches removed. As I enter the office building where the dermatology practice was located I noticed that the doctor who had performed my surgery had his own practice in the same building. I figured, oh, that's why he resigned, to start his own practice.

I've worked in the health care industry for over a quarter century so I know that some doctors change practices as often as they change underwear. In short, no biggie.

I continue on to the other end of the building where my doctor's office was located. And they're closed.

Not closed for the day. Closed as in out of business.

So, I'm standing there, with these bloody damned stitches in my head, wondering how in the hell I'm going to get them removed. For a medical practice to just close without making arrangements for their patients or even letting them know is sort of the ultimate in uncool behavior.

I went back to the front of the building and dropped in on the doctor who had operated on me. He happened to be up front when I came in and he remembered me, and had his staff work me in. He also told me the other practice had closed a week earlier and they hadn't bothered to tell anybody. He was exceptionally nice about it. His nurse removed my stitches and he did an exam--no further signs of cancer, nothing to worry about--and we had a little chat about his former employers. He was as unhappy with them as I was.

So, I got extremely unlucky and got equally lucky right afterwards, which is sort of how things work for me.

So, if you came here because I mentioned the suture removal story and you wanted to know what it is, this is it.