Health Care and Pre-Existing Conditions

I have shied away from the ongoings of the public health care debate. I deemed them too heated, too beliggerent to even give it a second thought – let it be and this too shall pass. An article on Newsweek.com that I happened to read a few moments ago, reminded me of the importance of vigilance when it comes to politics, most especially when it comes to health care. The article was about the need for the President to reframe his Health-Care debate, Obama needs to reframe health-care debate, and I quote:

“As the health-care debate rages, it’s the Party of Sort-of-Maybe-Yes versus the Party of Hell No! The Yessers are more lackadaisical because they’ve forgotten the stakes—they’ve forgotten that this is the most important civil-rights bill in a generation, though it is rarely framed that way.

The main reason that the bill isn’t sold as civil rights is that most Americans don’t believe there’s a “right” to health care. They see their rights as inalienable, and thus free, which health care isn’t. Serious illness is an abstraction (thankfully) for younger Americans. It’s something that happens to someone else, and if that someone else is older than 65, we know that Medicare will take care of it. Polls show that the 87 percent of Americans who have health insurance aren’t much interested in giving any new rights and entitlements to “them”—the uninsured.

But how about if you or someone you know loses a job and the them becomes “us”? The recession, which is thought to be harming the cause of reform, could be aiding it if the story were told with the proper sense of drama and fright. Since all versions of the pending bill ban discrimination by insurance companies against people with preexisting conditions, that provision isn’t controversial. Which means it gets little attention. Which means that the deep moral wrong that passage of this bill would remedy is somehow missing from the debate.“

“Sec. 111. Prohibiting Pre-Existing Condition Exclusions

A qualified health benefits plan may not impose any pre-existing condition exclusion (as defined in section 2701 (b) (1) (A) of the Public Health Service Act) or otherwise impose any limit or condition on the coverage under the plan with respect an individual or dependent based on any health status-related factors (as defined in section 2791 (d) (9) of the Public Health Service Act) in relation to the individual or dependent. ” – H.R. 200 (Health Care Bill as proposed by the Government on July 14, 2009).

 

The wonders of a 2-year old

Every day is a day of wonderment in our household as our little monkey continues to surprise us with something new. Today, this afternoon, as we were preparing for lunch he headed straight to the refrigerator door and demanded I open it for yogurt. He held onto the door handle with such might as his little hands could muster and I had to give in. I opened it, and he immediately reached for the baby yogurt perched on the second-topmost shelf. As he giggled away with the cup of yoghurt in his hand, I began searching for a spoon. Walking towards the utensil drawer I saw that I had been beat. There he was, our little baby, opening the utensil drawer, reaching inside, and pulling out a spoon. He handed it to me whilst saying, “spoon” as if I needed to be reminded that we need a spoon to eat the yogurt. I am still in bewilderment as to when this development began, when did he know where and how to find the spoon. We never openly taught him that as we thought it didn’t need to be taught to a 2-year old, maybe when he is 3. Resigningly I know that this may be just a freak occurrence, and might not happen again until he is months older, but the fact that it did happen shows to us, well to me especially, that babies are a heck of a lot smarter than we give them credit for and they all do develop differently and at their own pace, so there is no dire need to rush them to be able to do this or that just to “compete” with other children. Just give them ample space to explore their own natural curiosities and support their natural inquisitiveness. They will wow you in due time as all babies do, or should I say now, toddlers.

 

What’s in a name?

When I tell others of my little one’s name, I either get a lift of the eyebrow or a smug look. Both denote confusion at why I would give him such a name as I am 1.) Asian and 2.) Muslim. Have I been too brainwashed by American culture that I have to name my son such a Westernized name? Do I not love my culture, my background, my heritage?

What’s in a name, really?

I have heard that a name is a wish bestowed upon the child by his/her parents, a blessing with the hope that s/he will grow to be good and kind, or majestic and strong, brave and courageous, beautiful and feminine, all qualities of the child are thus dependent on the meaning of his/her name.

What if a name means “dog” or “green valley”? Would then the child become dog-like or green? Silly conclusions, I know, but isn’t wishing or hoping our child has the characteristics of a name-meaning also silly?

Our little one’s name is Noah.

Noah, though of Biblical and non-Asian origins, stands also for his great-grandfathers. The way we came up with it, may also bring about another round of raised eyebrows, but the practice is not so ridiculous for Indonesians. (Hey, if Southerners can traditionally give their children a last-name for a first name, then we Indonesians can do this too!) Before I digress further, let me explain.

I have always wanted to name my children after my grandparents. Having grown up without them, I have become too sentimental with their memory, and would like it to be passed on, albeit in a name. Memories, or names, cannot bring them back or establish relationships I once sought, but with the passing of their names, the familial connections can still continue on.

When my children are old enough to ask me what their names mean, I can share with them stories of their great-grandparents, of our ancestors, of our culture, instead of just saying that it came from a book or by chance (though there is nothing wrong with this either). I am enamored by history, fascinated by my own history of my own ancestors, and this fascination is something else I would like to pass down to them, especially since they are American by birth and attachment to their ancestral land dependent on our perseverance to keep it alive and fresh in our home and community.

Noah.

At first glance, images of the Biblical character are conjured up in our minds. “The patriarch of the great Ark who wandered the earth for 40 years after the Great Flood. All the world’s nations descended from his three sons”. A search of its meaning brings up “peaceful”, “comfort”, “wanderer”.

Noah to me also stands for: SoemarsoNO and Alwi Husein. Both were Indonesian war heroes, serving the island nation through the war for independence, now peacefully resting in Kalibata Cemetery, the final resting place of Indonesia’s brave. Both were men of strength, wisdom, and principle – preferring a life of honesty and simplicity in an era of corruption and collusion despite having access to a more comfortable living through possibly questionable means.

We don’t have allusions that our little one will be just like his great-grandfathers through his name, but we hope he will carry it well, carry it proud. As it is more than just a meaning, it holds a story – a story of great men; great men whose stories deserve to be passed down, whose memories should be preserved and kept alive. They may be long gone, just a name etched into the remembrance wall at the venerable cemetery, but not forgotten.

And that is how and why, Noah came to be – for us.

 

Susu, Milk, Bus, Bis, Bapak, Father

Noah can now say more than just a few coherent words. This morning he said “bus” when the all-too familiar bastian of school appeared on the TV screen. We were watching Baby Einstein. Yes, I finally caved in. Well I didn’t cave in, but being a full-time working mom now, I do not have much control over what my little one does at home with grandma or daddy. They are devious in their scheme to override my authority, and override they did, but he is older now so I have loosened up a bit. Plus, he seems to be interactive with it, and we try to make interactive so he won’t just be sitting dully in front of the telly as images scroll by.

Apart from his continued mastering of the English language, he is beginning to know a few Indonesian words. When we say “apa”, he will repeat it. He knows “bapak”, “minum”, “susu”. He was fond of the balloon song, “Balonku ada Lima” (I Have Five Balloons), but now he seems to have lost interest. His interest is also waning with many other Indonesian songs, issuing his disapproval grunts whenever we attempt to sing them.

Is this his way of letting us know that we are putting so much on him, learning two languages at one time, too soon? He is confused? We need to take it down a notch? He’ll do it at his own pace? I am leaning towards the latter, as our Noah has been stubbornly persistent on doing things his way, learning from his mistakes and mastering skills through trial and error. Whenever he bumped his head on the table, he now knows to watch his height if he is under there or makes sure he doesn’t run into it whenever he is on one of his running sprees. He has learned.

Now will he grow out of this disinterest phase? And trial and error himself through the learning of two languages, English and Indonesian?

 

Mommy and thank you’s.

Lil Bubba can finally say “Mommy”!

How it happened was he came downstairs with his Uwo (our version of “Grandma”), and his Uwo kept saying, “Bubba, there’s Mommy! Mommy!”. And little Bubba ran over to my side of the bed, his face lit up and smiling, and let out the word I had been longing to hear since he can say “Dadee”, “Maamee! Mammee!”

Oh bless your heart boy! If I wasn’t sick and dripping with germs, I’d kiss you all over and hug you like the teddy bear that you are!

Later on, he said “Thank you” as well.

I was holding the cell, and he saw it and motioned for me to give it to him. At first I was reluctant, lest he dial some long-distant number again or my manager (lol), but his gesticulations was just too cute plus he added that toddler grunt for “gimme gimme!” So I placed the phone in his lil chubby hands, and he stared at the black square object in his hands, opened it up to reveal the intricate keypad and mesmerizing screen, then said “Tanku” and walked away.

It was said so casually I almost didn’t catch it. But he did say it, albeit in the toddler way, but he said it.

Hearing him say those words makes up for my being sick and not being able to hold him. But then it is also bittersweet, as these are more signs of him growing up and becoming more and more a child than a baby.

He is becoming a boy, and I hope he will become a polite one.

 

Monkey-nesian Discipline

Two little monkey swinging on a tree
teasing Mr. Alligator
You can’t catch me, you can’t catch me
Along comes Mr. Alligator quiet as can be…

*Snap!* (tickling hands come down on belly)

As our own lil monkey twists and turns on the changing pad like a “beached whale”, I turn to this rhyme to catch his attention, and it works every single time. Others yell, contort his body further in an effort to have him lay on his back, clap their hands to get his attention, or give up and let him crawl away with smears of brown and tan on his tush.

Discipline, how we should do it and what methods to use, has been coming up more often as Noah is nearing that most dreaded of ages for all parents of toddlers: the twos–better known as: the terrible twos. Tantrums–often times marked by uncontrollable screaming, punching, kicking, and whatever antic toddlers have thought of to make their parents crazy–will be present in full force as they are coming into the realization that they are individuals with minds that can form opinions and judgements, not just babies who are coddled and need our ever present hand to guide them to do the most simplest of basic human functions. No, they are big kids, they know what they want, and for sure will assert that right every chance they get.

Now what if their assertion clashes with our own assertions of what we want for and from them resulting in a clash that brings out that dreaded toddler tantrum? What should we do then as parents, as observers of this fight for independence from our wee young ones? Throw a tantrum back? Punish them for throwing a tantrum using psychological or corporal methods?