poverty in Cleveland, poverty in paradise

Here is the featured story in the Cleveland Plain Dealer today.

One in three Clevelanders live below the federal poverty level. Does that sound high to you?

Even better are some of the previous stories by Sam Fulwood III, like this one, which describes life as an urban poor person.

Of course the cities aren’t the only places where poor people live. There are many poor people in rural areas as well. They are practically invisible, as are all poor people. Mostly because no one wants to look at a poor person. Maybe poverty is contagious?

I don’t think I caught poverty from anyone. I grew up in a working class home, typical of its time. Dad worked at a factory in Cleveland, Mom took care of the kids, the house, the laundry . . . well, you get the idea. I graduated from high school and joined the Army, mostly to escape the small town (just outside of Cleveland), and also to obtain the means to go to college.

Things went wrong from the get-go. Basic training was strenuous, but strangely rewarding. In 1974 so many doors were still closed to women that I was thrilled to be able to do what the "boys" did, and to do it successfully. Then I was shipped to Fort Dix, New Jersey for AIT (Advanced Individual Training), and things went terribly wrong. How wrong I didn’t fully appreciate until years later.

I was assaulted. Sexually assaulted. By a "fellow soldier." Same uniform. Different goals and attitudes.

Wow. Nothing quite tells a person that they aren’t wanted like that. I continued training, somehow, until a few days later, when I was sent to the hospital by my training officer. I’ll spare you the details of my physical ordeal, but the after-effects were such that I was hospitalized for 40 days.

The end of that part of the story is that I was discharged from the service without any benefits. Yup. Later I discovered that I could get the benefits, and had the discharge changed.

I went to college and worked. I earned both a Bachelor of Arts degree and then a Masters degree. I worked, but I had problems dealing with other people. I didn’t get them, and they didn’t get me.

I discovered something I could do. I loved horses, and kids. I started teaching riding lessons, and training horses. It wasn’t much of a living, but I was independent and self-supporting, although still near poverty level. I managed to compete successfully in the local horse shows (including Chagrin), on a shoestring budget. I had a lot of talent, just no money or backing.

In the spring of 2002, more things began to go wrong. I came down with pneumonia, or what I was told was pneumonia. After rounds of antibiotics (I was poor enough for Medicaid, so I was lucky enough to obtain medicine), I was finally given some prednisone, which made me well enough to resume teaching lessons. The loss of my self-employment income during my illness really sent me into financial trouble.

But things got worse. I never really felt right after that. At the same time, I was embroiled in a conflict with the Veterans Administration over my PTSD compensation (for which I filed in 1998, and was finally awarded in 2003). During the course of my illness I had great difficulty making my farm payments, and was maybe a month away from foreclosure when the award of back disability pay came in. I used the entire (meager) check to clear my mortgage, thereby granting my two kids and me a place to continue living.

When I was awarded the VA disability of $800 per month I was cut off of Medicaid. This made me solely reliant on VA medical care, located an hour and a half away from my home. Sometimes I had an operational vehicle. Sometimes I did not. There are no buses here, and to get there I had to cross two county lines.

Anyway, I never felt right again. I had overwhelming fatigue, muscle pain and weakness, joint pain. The VA doctors said it was from my PTSD and that I needed more counseling. The bean-counters in charge of compensation said I was physically sick, so they wouldn’t increase my compensation for PTSD. Hmmm. Finally the doctors diagnosed me with fibromyalgia and told me all I needed was more counseling and exercise. I was unable to exercise because of the pain.

I gradually shut down my riding business. This summer the VA doctors finally diagnosed me with rheumatoid arthritis, a mere four years after I presented with all of the symptoms and lab work indicative of it. That means I have waited four years to begin to be treated for this chronic debilitating illness. I can’t help but think that I might have saved my riding business if I had been able to be treated earlier.

Such is the plight of the mentally disabled and poor. No one believed that I was physically ill because I had a mental diagnosis. Good health care was not available, although I was lucky to have any health care at all. Because I persevered, I was finally able to get treatment. Now I try to figure out how to get by with what I have.

To be poor is to be invisible. It’s sort of like the attitude of many people about rape. It had to have been avoidable. Because if it’s not avoidable it could happen to anyone at any time. And that can’t be, can it?

hop on the bus, Gus

Supporting the troops the Bush administration way:

For at least a year, the soldiers had survived one of the most dangerous jobs in the world: driving trucks on the violent roads of Iraq for the U. S. Army. Half the company had been at it nearly two years.

But when the 150 soldiers in the Massachusetts-based 220th Transportation Company, 94th Regional Readiness Command, arrived at Camp Atterbury in Indiana just after midnight Friday for demobilization, they were told they would have to take the bus home -- an 18- to 20-hour ride.

In. Fucking. Credible.

who takes care of the woman veteran?

According to the this article in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, women are the fastest-growing group of veterans. More than 1,500 women have returned from Iraq and Afghanistan and have sought help at veterans hospitals.

In this war without a front, female veterans, who still aren't officially allowed in combat, are increasingly placed in combat situations. And let's face it, no place in Iraq is safe. And women aren't exempt from PTSD, far from it.

Of course, women aren't safe even among their own units. Last January, specialist Suzanne Swift went AWOL from her unit rather than return to Iraq and be continually sexually abused.

You'll note that this case hasn't gotten much media coverage, while the alleged rape and consequent murder of an Iraqi girl and her family have. Both are wrong, but the sexual abuse and assault of female soldiers, who now constitute 15% of all military servicepeople, is not considered mediaworthy. After all, what did those females expect when they enlisted? Perhaps to serve their country with honor and respect? Nah! I see that not much has changed since 1974, when I was an Army service member, and subject to the same treatment.

You may wonder why I am not posting this information in regular veterans forums. The truth is that we veterans are talking to ourselves (nothing new there), while the general public remains unaware and untouched by what's going on "over there" and "to them." I harbor a faint hope that if the general public were aware of these issues that are fucking up the lives of so many people, they would call for 1) an end to the war, 2) a reform of the military, and 3) a reform of the veterans compensation and medical system.

Update: Learn more about Suzanne Swift at her website.

Agent Orange veterans victory

In a victory for former sailor Jonathan L. Haas, the U.S. Court of Appeals for Veterans ruled last week that veterans can be eligible for medical and disability benefits from the results of Agent Orange that occurred while they were at sea. Up until Wednesday, the exposure had to have occurred on land (Viet Nam). More here.

This ruling will affect many disabled Navy veterans who had been exposed to Agent Orange while they were in Viet Nam waterways. Hurray! Of course, the ruling has come how many years later? Conveniently, many of those affected are dead by now. Savings for the government!

What is the U.S. Court of Appeals for Veterans? This is the "court" where, if they are very persistent, veterans end up after a long ordeal of bureaucratic nonsense. First, if a veteran thinks they might be entitled to disability compensation and medical care for a disability that was incurred in service, they file a claim with their Regional Veterans Department. There the VA has a "duty to assist" in the development of that claim. Also, veterans organizations such as The American Legion, The Disabled American Veterans, and The Viet Nam Veterans of America can assist the veteran at his or her request. Most claims are denied at this stage, especially in certain states, like Ohio.

The next stage is to ask for a Decision Review, or to appeal to the Board of Veterans Appeals in Washington, D.C. At this stage the veteran can add information to their claim, and either travel to D.C., wait for a traveling board member to come to their city, or have a teleconference. The veteran cannot have an attorney with them for this hearing, but a Veterans Service Officer from a veterans group may assist them. Get the feeling this isn’t a level playing field?

At this point, if the claim is denied--and usually it will be--the next step is the U.S. Court of Appeals. Now the veteran can retain an attorney, if they can find one willing to take their case. Oddly, there isn’t a long list of attorneys willing to tackle the federal government. Those few attorneys who are willing to do so may pick and choose their clients, wanting to represent cases that have the greatest chance of winning. So a lot of veterans face the appeals court without an attorney, simply because no one wants their case. They invariably lose.

If the veteran should somehow prevail at the U.S. Court of Appeals, often their case is remanded, or sent back, to the Board of Appeals or the Regional Office for further development, which is to say for further delays.

Some veterans go through this trying process as much to set precedent and to pave the way for others to receive just compensation as for their own benefit. It’s an emotionally draining and time-consuming process, one undertaken when a person has little in the way of financial or emotional resources left. The process can take ten years or more.

So, we should all be grateful for the sacrifices that Mr. Haas made, both in Viet Nam and in the jungles of bureaucracy that is the VA.

no more smiley faces :(

Sure, this will work!

Researchers at the University of New Mexico's Health Sciences Center believe they have found a way to make patients less fearful of needles — decorate themwith butterflies, flowers and smiley faces.

Uh huh. I foresee a future generation that shrieks and winces at the sight of butterflies, flowers and smiley faces. Maybe that won’t be so bad. I hate smiley faces.

double murder

Two people were shot to death in Cleveland yesterday, apparently after at least one of them went to complain about someone blasting loud music in the apartment building in which they lived.

One of the victims was Masumi Hayashi, an internationally-known photographer and art professor at Cleveland State Unversity. Her website, at least for now, can be found here.

I had the honor of attending a presentation of Hayashi's a while back. She was a gifted photographer and a kind, gentle woman who would never harm a soul.

what's all this hoopla about PTSD?

What’s all this hoopla about PTSD, anyway? Here's the latest story about it.

Well, we have a lot of soldiers in a hot sandy country where they are not wanted. People are expressing their "feelings" with things like explosive devices and gunfire. Not all of the time. There are also the periods of time when the soldiers are waiting to see if an explosive device or gunfire will be coming their way.

The powers that be are all in favor of this oily war, and don’t mind giving lucrative contracts to their business buddies supplying the troops. But when it comes to treating the casualties of war, both physical and mental, the government (read military, Veterans Administration, and our elected officials), would rather pretend that there isn’t much of a problem, that the problem is curable, and that those who think it isn’t curable (like veterans who have had PTSD for, well, ever since their trauma) are worthless freeloading bums.

I guess I am one of those freeloading bums. As I am able to, I will attempt to provide information to show you how the system works (or doesn’t), as well as provide some information on PTSD and its mental, social, and physical effects.

Here's some information from our good friends at the United States Department of Veterans Affairs:

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, is a psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, terrorist incidents, serious accidents, or violent personal assaults like rape. Most survivors of trauma return to normal given a little time. However, some people will have stress reactions that do not go away on their own, or may even get worse over time. These individuals may develope PTSD. People who suffer from PTSD often relive the experience through nightmares and flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged, and these symptoms can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the person's daily life.

PTSD is marked by clear biological changes as well as psychological symptoms. PTSD is complicated by the fact that it frequently occurs in conjunction with related disorders such as depression, substance abuse, problems of memory and cognition, and other problems of physical and mental health. The disorder is also associated with impairment of the person's ability to function in social or family life, including occupational instability, marital problems and divorces, family discord, and difficulties in parenting.

I can attest that this is but a simple summary and does not give you a real idea of the impact that this disorder has on a person and those around them. It’s disheartening, because it’s forever. And whatever goes wrong in life, at some point the person with PTSD figures out that the problem is within themselves. All because they know the basic truth that the world is an unsafe place and really horrible shit can happen at any time to anybody.

I also believe that some of that horrible shit is avoidable. Sometimes all it takes is an informed public and an election (that’s me trying to be hopeful).

drug pusher found liable

From CNNMoney:

Merck was found negligent in the latest Vioxx case, as a jury in New Orleans federal court found that the drugmaker misrepresented the risks of the arthritis painkiller.

In a double-whammy, a New Jersey court judge tossed an earlier verdict that favored Merck in a separate trial, based on new evidence.

I'm shocked, shocked! I say, that a big pharmaceutical company would be less than forthcoming about the risks of one of its best-selling drugs. Why, it's almost as though they were putting profits before the safety of its consumers.

poisoned by dust

Thought that kids getting sick and worse from lead paint was a thing of the past?

Think again. As Lisa Rab points out in a story in this week's Scene, it's not just eating paint chips that puts children at risk, paint dust can be poisonous too.

compare and contrast

In a 2004 article in Salon.com, Paul Waldman wrote:

As the war with Iraq approached, [George W.] Bush became increasingly excited. According to the Washington Post, friends and lawmakers who met with Bush just before he launched the invasion found him "upbeat," "chatty," "cocky and relaxed" and "in high spirits." The most revealing moment came when he thought the cameras were off: Before he gave his national address announcing that the war had begun, a camera caught Bush pumping his fist, as though instead of initiating a war he had kicked a winning field goal or hit a home run. "Feels good," he said.

Of course, not everybody felt the same way. After all, some people actually had gone to war before, and they knew there was absolutely nothing on Earth to feel good about:

Former Army infantryman Richard Wittig, 83, of Berea, who fought through Italy, France and Germany during World War II, said he felt sad when the U.S. invaded Iraq.

"I felt the country let me down. I knew people were going to suffer," he said. "Frankly, I get so turned off by this thing that I deliberately try to avoid it. It just bothers me so much."

In an article in today's Plain Dealer, Brian Albrecht notes that veterans of past wars are increasingly reporting symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD.

In my nearly 50 years on this planet, I've met my share of mental midgets, psychopaths, and self-absorbed pricks. But I honestly don't think I've ever met someone who so totally embodies all three of those characteristics as the man who has sent, so far, over 2,600 American men and women to fight and die, to say nothing of the more than 40,000 Iraqi civilians who have also been killed.

Blood on his hands? He's soaking in it.

brain age

Besides complaining about the war in Iraq and our country's treatment of veterans, I play a few video games. Surprisingly, not the shoot-'em-up type, at least not usually the shoot-'em-up type.

A week ago I finally bought Brain Age for my Nintendo DS. Cute little game that is supposed to help us aging folks improve our mental capacity. What could be wrong with that? I've played it a few times and it's OK. In my case it may be hopeless, but that's another story.

The exercises include: simple math calculations, reading aloud, remembering a grid of hi to low numbers, stating the color of a color word, such as black, which would be red, reading aloud, counting syllables in sentences. Then there is my not-favorite, called Head Count. In this one you start out with a few little people, then a house covers them up, and people enter from the left, and exit from the right. You are supposed to keep a running total and correctly enter the remaining number of people in the house.

At first I was in Iraq mode, which wasn't good. So, you can imagine that having failed miserably at keeping track of the little people, I figured they were all a blight on society anyway, and well, it gets worse from there.

Then I started to think about who this game is intended for, which is an aging population. Now, if you live next door to a house where people are coming and going at all hours, should you be counting them or calling the police? Even in my neighborhood, that's known as a crack house. So, I imagine old people's houses being burglarized by crack heads while smiling seniors are busy counting the traffic instead of phoning the authorities.

So, go ahead, play the games, but remember, in real life those little people running in and out of that house may not be harmless stick figures.

more on the war and its effects

"It's all in your head," VA doctors told Herbert Reed.

Turns out it's in his thyroid too. And in his gums, and in his urine. Hell, let's face it, it's everywhere.

Depleted uranium is another issue that faces the soldiers, and the world.

OK, I'm sorry. I will post something funny soon. Really.

For those of you who are doubtful about whom to believe in all of the depleted uranium controversy, just remember, our government stated for years that there was no problem with the Viet Nam vets being exposed to Agent Orange. I believe they thought it was as safe as salad dressing.

government dishonesty

Hey, how's that for a start?

This is an old story, just being replayed. First, the government drafts, or nowadays entices, young people to join the service. To join one must pass a strict physical exam and background check, and must also be verified to be in good mental health (no comments from me on that one right now).

So, military service, especially, say, in a sandy hot country where everyone is shooting at you all of the time might be a tad stressful, eh? But never fear, the government is looking out for these fine soldiers.

Now check this out, from the Colorado Springs Independent:

The Independent also found soldiers were discharged at a rate three times higher than before start of the Iraq war for "personality disorder," which experts consider a rare condition. A soldier diagnosed with a personality disorder receives no medical retirement benefits from the military.

Now, a personality disorder is something that a person is supposedly born with. Hmm, presumably the military wouldn't be taking in people with personality disorders, right (no laughter here)? Personality disorders are not compensable under the veterans benefits system though, so they are a cheaper out.

On the other hand, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is compensable, and it results from things like being exposed to stress, like people trying to kill you.

Now this is something I have a bit of experience with, having been diagnosed by the military (unbeknownst to me) with something called "Transient Situational Personality Disorder." That diagnosis was used to prevent me from receiving veterans benefits. It's a ficticious diagnosis: one which has never existed, according to the American Psychiatric Association, and it's amusing to consider, since a personality disorder cannot by definition be transient, or situational.

What's not so funny is that the government is still doing this to military personnel today. Isn't it bad enough that that soldiers are being shot at by other soldiers in a place they don't belong? Does our own government have to shoot at them too?

let's try this again

Wow, I sure am off to a great start, being technologically challenged, and all . . .

Hi there. I'm supposed to be the co-something or other of this blog. But I'm having a rather low-tech kind of week. The usual not remembering how to log in, passwords, hell, I'm lucky I learned to type when I was really young and still remember how.

In terms of being a smart ass, I definitely qualify. I disagree with Anthony on sex with supermodels and athletes though. I say, why bother? At our age(s) it would hurt too much, I'm sure. Besides they get enough sex already. If they don't, it's their own damn fault. I say, have sex with someone who's disabled, and be nice about it. Oh, did I mention that I'm disabled? More on that later. It's nothing too unsightly, so no avoidance yet please.

introducing jaded

It has often been said that what the world needs now--even more than love, sweet love--is another blog run by a pair of cynical smartasses.

Thus jaded was born.

If all goes according to plan--and why shouldn't it?--this blog will enlighten, amuse, entertain, and somehow make its creators fabulously wealthy. Food will taste better, the air will be sweet and clean, and the world will be saved from the brink of nuclear destruction. We have to fine-tune the details a little, but that's our plan. And just wait until you hear about our "Guilt-Free Sex With Athletes and Supermodels" offer!

Of course, we won't be able to do any of this without your help. Keep reading, and more will be revealed as we go along.

(Note: jaded is not affiliated with, nor are its founders fond of, the Aerosmith song of the same name. It is well known that Aerosmith hasn't made a truly great album since Rocks, and that came out thirty fucking years ago.)