Looking at life. Age. Health.

I live in a major American city. I have very serious illnesses. Today is my 67th birthday. I never thought I would make it. I have been kept alive by the skills and resources of a major public hospital as the profit addicted insurance companies would not take me on. If it had been left to private medicine I would be dead. For the past week I have had to pick up some medicine at the hospital. I could have done it anytime over the past four days but I chose today because it is my birthday. Going to the hospital to see and hang out with my pals the other patients was my birthday present to myself. Let me explain.

The patients at the hospital are around 99% low paid working class. They are also over 90% black and latino. I am one of the very few whites. The result is that this race and class composition enriches everything about the hospital. And not only that. Once the black and latino patients are convinced I am not racist then we can have the greatest of chats. Much more than with any white workers in the US, including the Irish American. This is because as an Irish born person my experience is closer to the black and latino American worker. They know how they have been oppressed and kept down. They are up to every trick of the bosses and rulers trade. Just like the Irish. In this sense we have a common culture. I would like to point out there is a very big difference between the Irish culture and the Irish American culture.

Then there is how black and latino workers have tried to deal with their special oppression. This also they have in common with the Irish. Two elements at least are involved. They speak in their own slang and make up their own words to keep the "Man" from understanding too clearly what is being said. And they are very reluctant to answer anything or comment on anything directly. Again to keep as unclear as possible what is being said. As we say at home: "Whatever you say say nothing." Part of this is also humor. Trying to get out of any clear or direct comment/answer with humor. Too much direct comment can end the black and latino worker in jail very quickly. Again here we have a lot of similarities to the Irish in Ireland over the centuries. The Irish try and always avoid direct answers and also use humor as a way to obscure what is being said.

Then at this hospital there are the women. This hospital is run by the tough mostly black women clerks. They know where all the files are and they run the desks and appointments. They do not take any pushing around. One day recently a couple were in the crowded waiting room of one of the clinics and they began to shout at each other. The man was getting very aggressive. It was great. The women in the seats around, mostly Puerto Rican women all jumped up and started shouting at him, moving in on him with their fingers and fists pointed and intimidated him. When he was backed down these were some of the comments: "Aye, M...... F......., who does he think he is? She was doing nothing. F...... men give them an inch." It was great. I loved it.

But it was not over. The senior black lady clerk from behind the desk came out. She was in charge. This was her area you see. There would be no messing. She was not going to let things like this happen under her watch, women be attacked on her watch. She ordered the man to his feet. "You get up and get out. This is my area nobody acts like that here. Get out." She pointed her arm and finger to the door, she leaned forward to him in a very intimidating stance. You could see he had never been spoken to like this before. And she put him out with his tail between his legs. As you can see visiting the hospital today was my birthday present to myself. I feel a lot better already even though I have not taken any medicine yet.

I could go on and on about this hospital. About the man beside me in the ER one night who was tied to his gurney but conned the young orderly into letting him free but then realized he still had his catheter in. So he sneaked a plastic knife from a dinner tray, cut himself free and last I saw was his naked skinny ass peaking out of the back of his gown disappearing out the door.

Then the doctor who did my prostrate cancer surgery and I had a follow up appointment which happened to fall on my birthday two years ago. She called me up to tell me she was putting it back one week. She had seen in my chart it was my birthday. And she was adamant that rectal exams should not be imposed on people on their birthday. Imagine a private for profit hospital in this country doing this. Never in a million years.

And I learn so much there too. I was admitted in a serious condition once. Every morning a black lady in her late 50's would wake me and take my vitals about 6.15 am. After a few days I said: "You must have to get up very early to get here at this time." She answered: "I made a deal with my grandson. As long as he stays at school and gets the grades I will work these hours and put him through. If he ever stops then so do I." I think about this heroic woman everyday. When I do I bare my teeth at the racists who say such derogatory things about black people.

And as I say I always get a laugh at the hospital. One clerk has a joke printed out and tacked behind her desk. It tells of Mr and Mrs Johnston coming to see the Doc. Mr. Johnston is feeling very bad. They have a joint consultation then the Doc asks to see Mrs Johnston alone. Mr. Johnston was not happy but he left the room. The Doc said to Mrs Johnston: "Mrs Johnston your husband is a very sick man. You will have to pull him through here. Starting immediately you will have to help him out in every way possible. You will have to cook for him whatever he wants, of course wash his clothes and run his bath, you will have to give him a massage if he wants one, you will have to have sex with him whenever he asks for it. You will have to buy him flowers and do whatever he wants. If you do not do this Mrs. Johnston. Your husband will be dead in six months."

Well needless to say this was a bit of a shock to Mrs. Johnston. She had not expected this. But Mrs. Johnston was nothing if not a resilient woman and so she kept her wits about her and thought about the situation as she left the room and joined her husband. Naturally Mr. Johnston could not wait to hear what had been said. "What did he say? What did he say?" he asked. Mrs. Johnston looked up at her husband and answered very slowly and deliberately. "He said you would be dead in six months."

Or the one about the man who had a big doctor's bill. He was very ill and his doctor gave him only six months to live. The man came back again after six months and he was still alive but he had not paid his bill. So the doctor gave him another six months.

I am off here as I think I am abusing the blog telling jokes some of a slightly dubious character. Thanks to all for the happy birthday greetings.

Sean. .