Back from the grave and through the rabbit hole

Photograph of President William Jefferson Clinton and Chelsea Clinton in the Study of the Chappaqua Residence in Chappaqua, New York, 11/07/2000 (Photo credit: The U.S. National Archives)

What a difference a few days make.  Do you ever have a few days that feel like a few years?  Yes?  That would be the week I am having.  It has been very strange, even for me, that it is hard to not be a bit freaked out.

One day last week, I was on my way to meet someone for lunch in Georgetown.  We hadn’t decided where we were going to eat but were going to meet up.  I was walking down Wisconsin and my last cogent thought was “Do I want Thai or Italian?”  The next thing I know, literally, I am entering a conversation with several paramedics about how they think I need to go to the hospital.  No big deal right?  Except, I had been actively participating in this conversation.  I wanted no part of them or their ambulance, which is the saving grace of this experience because it tells me that I had not lost all of my spunk.  The massive amount of blood I was losing from the top of my head convinced me they might have a point about me needing to go so I relented.

What happened?  I had a grand mal seizure and managed to bang up my knee, chomp up my lip and cut myself square on the top of my head.  The exact top.  Moreover, one of the paramedics stayed with me in the hospital until the doctor came into see me and it was then that I learned he had been called in because I was being “uncooperative.”  Yeah, that sounds like me.  After seven hours in the George Washington University Hospital, all my tests came back normal and I was sent home with a diagnosis of “recurrent seizures” and the advice to see a neurologist.

How did I get here?

I blame Steve Young.  You see, the NFL won’t have me, I am way too lazy to become a lawyer and as much as this makes me feel like a bad person, Mormons scare me.  If I want to be like Steve Young, concussions are my only option so I have racked up at least 12.  I am only counting times I have been hit on the head and knocked unconscious.   How has a mild-mannered PR person gotten so many?

1. What happens in Iceland…  When I was five I spent the summer with my mother on a sheep farm in Iceland.  I think it was called Holar.  A group of children and I were playing in a house that was being either built or renovated when a beam fell and hit my head.  I don’t know how long I was out but when I came to, it was getting dark and my mom was pissed when I got home.  Now, Iceland is known during the summer as “the land of the midnight sun” so if it was getting dark when I work up, I was out for a dang long time.

2. Attack of the killer shop projects.  It was a long time before my next head injury.  In the seventh grade I took wood shop.  One afternoon we all stacked our projects on a shelf in the closest.  By “stack,” I mean throw on top of the elevated shelf pile.  As I was the last to do this, my project dislodged them and they all fell on my head.  I could have moved out of the way but the collective weight of all of them hitting me must have been too much because my next memory is of my shop teacher laughing at me as he called the nurse’s office.  This would not be my only shop injury.  I also soldered my fingers together at least a few times.

3. & 4. Batter up!  Gym class was never my favorite.  One day during baseball, I was walking to get something when another student swung their bat and clocked me.  No strikes but I was out.  This would happen again a few years later.

5. Just take the 101… No youth spent in the San Francisco Bay Area would be complete without some driving mishap or another.  When I was about 14 I was with a friend, he was driving, when the car in front of us stopped short.  His breaks locked and into the vehicle we went.  My head went into the passenger window. (I was wearing my seat belt, I hit the window sideways.)

6.  She’s dead, Jim.  I was in the back seat of a friend’s car and had fallen asleep.  We had all been drinking (this was several years later) and my friends assumed I was dead rather than sleeping.  In an effort to save my life, they tried to get me out of the car to perform CPR but when they pushed me out they did not coordinate efforts and ended up shutting the door on my head.  Not dead but concussed.

7. Pizza movers.  I delivered pizza in high school and college.  On one perilous delivery, I left the road to drive on the sidewalk and was going a bit too fast for the staircase I was on.  As I had only been going through Kelly quad at Stony Brook so I didn’t have my seat belt on.  Anyway, I hit the brakes to avoid a pedestrian and my head hit my steering wheel.

8. & 9. Daddy dearest.  If you ever wondered why I don’t like my father, it is because he is a violent sociopath.  He tried to strange me twice in high school and once in college.  Two of these times he gave me a concussion in the process.  Thanks, dad.

10.  Chappaqua motorcade.  When I did advance for the Clinton White House, I often rode in motorcades in “camera one.”  That’s the first of the press vehicles and is typically a minivan.  On one trip to Chappaqua, NY, we prepared to leave the airport but were not yet loaded so I screamed for the driver to stop.  He did and the middle door closed on my head.  I landed in Mark Knoller’s lap.  If you have ever met Mark, you know, he has the lap you want to land in.  This is, by far, my favorite concussion story.

11.  You have my bag!  A few years ago I was mugged on Capitol Hill.  A man I didn’t know appeared at the end of my street and I knew he wasn’t supposed to be there.  If I had listened to that little voice we all have that alerts us to danger, I would have been in my building.  I didn’t.  He grabbed my bag, we fought over it, the strap broke and he got my bag.  Joke’s on him, I took off after him and being in the best shape (I was training to climb Kilimanjaro at the time) of my life, I caught him.  He hit me — probably with my own bag, I fell into the street and hit my head on the pavement.  Woke up a bit later in the street.

12.  Trippin’.  Slipped on my hard wood stairs while wearing socks and hit my head.  Not the most exciting way to round out my dozen concussions but there you have it.

That is by no means all the times I have been hit on the head.  I have fainted at least twice from anemia and have had more bumps and bruises than I care to think about but I am only counting times when I was knocked officially out.  I may have given myself concussion number 13 last week with the seizure, I mean I would be surprised if I did not.

Where do I go from here?  Not really sure.  If my doctors had their way I would never leave the house and if I did I would only do so when fully enclosed in bubble wrap.  As it is, I have been warned against driving, biking, stairs, escalators, my bed, baths, climbing trees, swimming, boating, balconies, ladders, windows, hills, roller blading, and a host of other things you encounter on a daily basis.  In my defense, I have told all my friends and coworkers about what has happened and asked that if this happens again, they call 911 and should not trust that I will go to the hospital on my own; I won’t.  In fact, unless I am bleeding, bathing or falling out of a tree, I don’t think 911 needs to be called at all.  We know what is wrong with me, let them use their resources saving someone else (seriously, this concludes our Alyson as a cooperative patient portion of this evening’s entertainment).  I know my doctors mean well but while they are experts on bodies in general, I have gotten to know this one pretty well and it seems to be ok.  It might not be ok tomorrow but right now, I feel pretty good.

So, I cannot promise what happened last week won’t happen again.  I cannot promise that if it does I will not fight as hard as I can to not go to the hospital.  All I can promise is to do the best I can to take care of myself to prevent it and to deal as best I can with it if it does.

It’s a simple question of justice

This week a number of people have been up in arms over California’s prop 8.  Honestly, I have always been a fan of democracy but even too much of a GOOD thing can be bad.  California proves that again and again.  Fourteen years ago they passed another proposition that was all about discrimination.  Prop 187 denied education, any social services and a host of other things to immigrants and their children.  (FYI the only federal aid they can receive money from the Women, Infants and Children or WIC fund.)  Most of it was struck down as being unconstitutional as the Supreme Court had already ruled schools cannot get funding should they deny immigrants’ children, who are legal citizens, an education.  The real problem was that it spawned similar referendums in other states.  It’s so easy to find a group to vilify.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proposition_187

 

Now it seems that one group we all feel we can oppose, legally anyway, is gays and lesbians. I live in an East Coast city where people don’t generally want to be considered homophobic but the undercurrent of homophobia runs through the capitol.  Some papers tried to ‘out’ Members of Congress by publishing ‘the list.’ ‘The list’ was a list of gay staffers on the Hill. The point was to show the hypocrisy displayed by politicians who claim to oppose homosexuality at home but then support it in Washington, DC.  No, it was not as scary a period as the McCarthy hearing days but people on the Hill were running around wondering will my name be on the list? Sounds ‘Orwellian,’ doesn’t it?  At the end of the day, the way our society treats those we view as not being ‘normal’ is draconian.

 

My position on the issue of gay marriage has evolved over the years.  Growing up in San Francisco (partially anyway) may have had something to it.  If you find love, you are lucky.  If you happen to find it with someone of the same gender, who cares?  I thought we were supposed to revere love and marriage?  I was always taught that marriage promotes stability in communities.  It is supposed to be a good thing.

 

Having said that, while I got in trouble with some for – and I swear on all I hold holy – being ‘too open minded’ in college (one year two women moved into my dorm suite and let me tell you the fur flew for months when we found one woman was openly bi and the other was a lesbian) the idea of gay marriage never meant much to me.  Being straight, it wasn’t something that impacted me directly so I just didn’t think about it.  Then I attended an event that changed everything.

 

My parents lived in Washington, DC and a few friends came to town to go to the annual Pride march.  The funny part of this story comes first.  We had another friend visiting from San Francisco, also for the march.  The catch about him is he always walks around naked.  The first time I met him he was naked and I was much more embarrassed than him, he didn’t care at all.  In any case, a caravan of women arrive at my mom’s house, most are lesbians who probably had not need a naked man in a long time, and that’s when our friend answered my mom’s door  in the nude.  What I would not give to see the looks on my friends’ faces.

 

But that’s just a funny anecdote.  The important thing happened later.  There was a mass wedding held in front of the Department of Justice.  I never understood the significance of getting up in front of the world – your family, friends and God (if you believe in one) and telling someone that you love them and want to spend the rest of your life loving them.  Moreover, the government treats married couples differently.  It’s not just the tax code or health benefits.  You become part of a unit.

 

My personal belief is that your sexual orientation is something you are born with, like your eye or hair color.  You can try to change it but you will get roots later.  I also wonder what threat gay marriage poses to straight marriage.  I have asked people who oppose gay marriage (and adoption) what it is they oppose, are they secretly gay?  Does the gay lifestyle (and I don’t actually think there is one ‘gay lifestyle’ anymore than there is one ‘straight lifestyle’) so appealing that should gay marriage be allowed everywhere that straight couples all over America will decide (in my head it is always in unison) Oh, my God!  I can legally marry someone of the same gender as me!  I am outta here!  Is straight marriage such a fragile institution that we have to limit it this way?  (Actually it might be very fragile, seeing as the American divorce rate I think tops 50 percent, making me think we should make it harder for straight people to marry.)  How are straight people hurt by gay marriage?

 

Prop 8 was a real disappointment because most of the nation thinks people out there are more progressive.  They are not but that’s what people think (Reagan was from CA as was Nixon).  I am glad people are protesting.  I am happy Steve Young’s (Mormon and descendent of Bingham Young) Bay Area home had signs opposing prop 8. Oh, FYI, there was a time when we owned slaves (well not me, I am a woman, women were also property), African-Americans & women could not vote and children were allowed to work.  Gay marriage (and adoption) will become legal.  It’s not a matter of when or if, it’s a simple question of justice.

 

http://abcnews.go.com/US/Story?id=6262989&page=2

 

Edited later…  I wanted to add something to this about Christmas, I know that seems random but random is part of what this blog is.  When I worked for Senator Feinstein we had a Christmas tree in the front office.  Christmas is my ultimate favorite time of year.  There are few things prettier that New York City (or Paris, where I was lucky enough to spend Christmas last year) in December.  The decorations (in December), the cheer, the goodwill…  Oh, how I adore the season.  For me, it was never about Jesus Christ.  He may be the ‘reason for the season’ to you but I was never baptized nor am I sure I am a real Christian.  My theological dilemma aside, I never understood it when people took issue with Christmas.  To be fair, even I think the season should start AFTER Thanksgiving. Xmas stuff before that date kind of make me puke.  Seriously, Christmas in August.  Keep it to yourself!

 

When a Jewish coworker brought up her discomfort at having a tree I didn’t understand what she meant.  Senator Feinstein is also Jewish, for whatever that may be worth.  Part of this all could be the commercial nature of it, do we need decorations in August?  No.  But for me, Christmas equals a thought process wuite differernt than believing Christ is your savior.  It marks a time of year when people just seem nicer.  And the world seems to glow.  Pepole talk to each other and say nice things.  For one month of the year the frost outside makes us warmer to each other.  I like that.  But I was raised Christian.  While the religiousness was lost on me, it is implicit in everything about the holiday.  Even if you are bothered, as I am, by the implications of Santa (what does he have to do with God?) the name makes it a holiday for one group of people.  Like with the issue of gay marria I never understood what it was like to be an outsider looking in because I never was in that position.  I was wrong.

 

The parallel between Christmas for non-Christians and marriage for gays is that it is a pageant for which some have been intentionally excluded.  That sucks.  That is not what our government is supposed to do.  We celebrate a day sends a distinct message: This isn't for you.  I still love Christmas but that is not right.

 

Our Constitution and our government were constructed to protect the minority from the majority.  As we enter the Christmas season we need to remember that a little more.  In fact those of us who celebrate this holiday because 'Jesus is the reason for the season' have a greater responsibility.  My very limited religious education taught me that even if he was not the son of God or a profit and that he was born in April, not December, makes me think if he were to have a birthday party, everyone — including his Jewish family, his gay friends and family and his friends of all other religions would be invited.  Best of all, you knew when Jesus threw a party, there was more than enough wine.

 

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No, John McCain is not Joe Montana

John McCain is looking for a serious Hail Mary here.  Last month he was in a similar spot.  His campaign was at 4^th and long and he threw one, we now just call her Governor Palin, or Sarah to her closest friends (aka all of Alaska or 670,053 people in 2006).  That play got him a first down but he‘s back at 4^th and long and with only a few weeks left and one debate to go he needs to do something.  Something amazing.  When has that happened before?  Being football season, I’ll go with a story from the 49ers.

In 1982 the San Francisco 49ers played the Dallas Cowboys in the National Football Conference championships.  The Cowboys had kept the Niners out of the playoffs three times before and things were not looking good.  Then with only 51 seconds left in the game and with the Cowboys leading by six  Joe Montana, a late third round draft pick (no touch, average arm) and seventh string QB pick at Notre Dame (almost took a basketball scholarship to play elsewhere), did the unthinkable.  He threw what’s now known only as ‘the catch’ to Dwight Clarke.  Montana had three Cowboys when he veered to the right and threw the ball high.  He said later he did not know Clark would be open just hoped his receiver would get to the ball.  Clark thought it was too high for him to catch but catch it he did.  In the end zone.  For the touchdown.  The Niners win and the crowd goes wild! (They went on to win the Superbowl that year, too.)  Joe Montana, the guy who almost didn’t play football at all turned out to  be the greatest quarterback ever.  (Don’t agree?  Don’t bother arguing with me on it.  Nothing will change my mind.  Nothing.  Ever.)

The problem Mr. McCain faces is he is no Joe Montana. That doesn’t mean McCain doesn’t have options.  He had options last month when he picked Sarah Palin.  He would have picked Joe Lieberman if his party didn’t threaten to basically implode.  He could have picked anyone who added substance to his ticket.  He should have gone with his gut, which has served him very well in the past.  Could have.  Should have.  Would have.  Didn’t.  Rather than pick someone he really liked and respected, Mr. Lieberman I am looking at you, he went with the political choice.  Was it because she was a woman and would appeal to bitter (and brain dead) Hillary supporters?  Was it because she was the quick shift to the right – like ‘the catch?’ Was it because she is a pit bull with lipstick?  Who cares?  He did it to please the base and energize his campaign.  The good news is it did both of course he got that much needed first down by doing the very thing he promised not to do months ago and swore during the convention he was not doing: He put his campaign before his country.

But enough with the negativity.  John McCain has a real change to set the ‘reset’ button on his campaign.  He can do this without putting out a new economic plan or changing his stump speech, though I know he has not done the latter.  He can do it tonight at the debate.  I propose he start the debate with the tone he claimed he wanted to be the hallmark of the campaign.  Now because I  think this is a good idea, I will win the lottery while being hit by lightening before this happens but this would make a great opening statement (or closing statement, I think he should start with it but that’s just me).

“First of all, thank you to the great people at Hofstra for hosting this important event.  Before we begin I would like to say something to the country.   Thank you to the audience here and at home, thank you for watching and giving us your time.  During the next hour and a half you will hear Senator Obama and I tell you why we think each of us would make the better president.  I should tell you that before we get to that I want you to know how much I respect the man who shares the stage with me tonight.  Senator Obama is a decent, patriotic American.  I have been proud to serve in the United States Senate with him and it is an honor to have him as my opponent.  A lot of things have been said about both of us over the course of this campaign and there is nothing I can do to stop that but I can tell you that you when you vote next month, I hope you vote for me because you think I am the best qualified candidate and have both the experience and best plans to lead our country.  This election is about a difference in opinion.  This campaign is about ideas and judgment, let’s keep it that way.”

My heart tells me he should also say something about how many new voters Obama has brought into the system and how that is a good thing – the upside for McCain is that it will make more right wingers go out and vote but it may be a bit much.  I know I get carried away with the rhetoric.  It’s kind of like a drug.  In any case that’s how he should open the debate.

For the record, Barack Obama is no Joe Montana either.  He’s more a Steve Young to Bill Clinton’s Montana.  Without the Mormon lineage and affiliation or concussions. 

 

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