Saturday, August 14, 2010
Three Days Without Rasputin
Aaron has been working seven days a week for months, but this weekend he took off on a camping trip with his new girlfriend. At the last minute, they decided to take Rasputin with them, so I've been sans dog buddy since Thursday afternoon.
Rasputin is so much a part of my life now that it is very strange to be without him. And yet for decades I survived somehow without a cute, little dog. How did I do it!
Yet Another Example of Dehumanizing Corporate Double Speak
Every two weeks I have to call Baxter, the dialysis supply company, to place my next order. About a month ago I noticed that there was a new recorded message that played while I was on hold:
"We want to process your order as efficiently as possible. If you are calling to stop or suspend your dialysis supplies or to request a cycler pickup, you do not need to provide an explanation or reason."
Whenever I'm confronted with such careful language, I wonder, "What is the subtext here?" Clearly, the only reason someone would discontinue supply deliveries and no longer need the dialysis machine (a.k.a. cycler) would be one of the following:
1. She received a transplant.
2. She switched to hemodialysis.
3. She died.
4. She is discontinuing dialysis because she can no longer take living like this anymore. She is in fact ending her life by discontinuing treatment.
So then the question becomes "Why can't the clerk hear this information?" If the patient did in fact receive a transplant, why wouldn't the clerk want to share in the patient's boundless joy? If the patient were switching to hemodialysis (the kind of dialysis that is administered at a clinic by technicians, not at home by the patient), that wouldn't require much more than a sentence of explanation. Hardly something that would thwart efficiency. So, it must be that the order clerks are uncomfortable with hearing reasons 3 and 4.
I asked the clerk who took my order about the new message. At first she talked of efficiency, but then she worked around to saying the same thing as I had thought, only putting the onus on the family of the deceased--they are the ones, not the clerks, who are uncomfortable.
Isn't it too bad that we live in a society in which we buffer ourselves from such basic human interactions! What a much healthier country this might be if we looked at death, not hid it away like it was an unforgiveable social stigma that we might catch! How wonderful if a grieving family or a hopeless dialysis patient could receive a kind word from an order clerk. Who knows, that little interchange of kindness could possibly give the patient a ray of hope and she might reconsider #4.
You never know how you touch people, but you must first touch. More and more we live in a world in which we build walls that prevent connection or make it incredibly awkward. That's why, at every turn, dehumanizing corporate double speak has to be called out, challenged, and recognized for what it is--dehumanizing.
"We want to process your order as efficiently as possible. If you are calling to stop or suspend your dialysis supplies or to request a cycler pickup, you do not need to provide an explanation or reason."
Whenever I'm confronted with such careful language, I wonder, "What is the subtext here?" Clearly, the only reason someone would discontinue supply deliveries and no longer need the dialysis machine (a.k.a. cycler) would be one of the following:
1. She received a transplant.
2. She switched to hemodialysis.
3. She died.
4. She is discontinuing dialysis because she can no longer take living like this anymore. She is in fact ending her life by discontinuing treatment.
So then the question becomes "Why can't the clerk hear this information?" If the patient did in fact receive a transplant, why wouldn't the clerk want to share in the patient's boundless joy? If the patient were switching to hemodialysis (the kind of dialysis that is administered at a clinic by technicians, not at home by the patient), that wouldn't require much more than a sentence of explanation. Hardly something that would thwart efficiency. So, it must be that the order clerks are uncomfortable with hearing reasons 3 and 4.
I asked the clerk who took my order about the new message. At first she talked of efficiency, but then she worked around to saying the same thing as I had thought, only putting the onus on the family of the deceased--they are the ones, not the clerks, who are uncomfortable.
Isn't it too bad that we live in a society in which we buffer ourselves from such basic human interactions! What a much healthier country this might be if we looked at death, not hid it away like it was an unforgiveable social stigma that we might catch! How wonderful if a grieving family or a hopeless dialysis patient could receive a kind word from an order clerk. Who knows, that little interchange of kindness could possibly give the patient a ray of hope and she might reconsider #4.
You never know how you touch people, but you must first touch. More and more we live in a world in which we build walls that prevent connection or make it incredibly awkward. That's why, at every turn, dehumanizing corporate double speak has to be called out, challenged, and recognized for what it is--dehumanizing.
So Much of my Life is Outside the Bounds of Small Talk
Yesterday I had my first date in about six months. Because I go on so few dates and in general have so few opportunities to dress up, I had fun getting cute for this deli date. A fitted black skirt, a robin's-egg-blue top, a diaphonous scarf tied about my waist, dangly abalone earrings, and black heels no less!
Martin is a psychologist working in teen suicide intervention. Before going back to school in the early '90s, he was a successful painting contractor in San Diego. I admire people who follow their heart and make a radical shift to fulfill their dreams. He sure seemed to draw a lot of meaning and satisfaction from his work.
Near the end of lunch, I congratulated him on his conversation skills. I told him that it is rare to meet a person who knows how to ask questions, listen for the answers, and yet reveal something of himself. Usually I meet people who either can't hold up their end of the conversation and I end up interviewing them or they monopolize the conversation and don't ask anything of me. It was refreshing to meet an exception to that rule.
Martin is a psychologist working in teen suicide intervention. Before going back to school in the early '90s, he was a successful painting contractor in San Diego. I admire people who follow their heart and make a radical shift to fulfill their dreams. He sure seemed to draw a lot of meaning and satisfaction from his work.
Near the end of lunch, I congratulated him on his conversation skills. I told him that it is rare to meet a person who knows how to ask questions, listen for the answers, and yet reveal something of himself. Usually I meet people who either can't hold up their end of the conversation and I end up interviewing them or they monopolize the conversation and don't ask anything of me. It was refreshing to meet an exception to that rule.
Throughout lunch, however, I was occasionally aware that I had to clip my answers so as not to reveal too much. Later, as I was driving home, I realized how much of my current life is outside the bounds of small talk. For example, let's start with a big topic of conversation on a first date--career. I can't say that I retired from Cal State last year because that would prompt questions of "Why?" and "Aren't you too young for retirement?" Honest answers to these queries would mean I'd have to say something about dialysis and heart surgery.
And I held back at other junctures too. Martin said he swims several times a week. I love to swim but cannot do so now, as the risk of infection at my dialysis exit site is too great. So I just smiled, nodded my head, and said something like, "That's fantastic."
Martin talked about his family of origin, then asked if my parents were still alive. I said they were not. He asked other questions, and so I told him that I had moved my mother here from Wisconsin to watch over her during the last two years of her life, but that, that had been difficult. I couldn't explain why it had been difficult though because that again would have entailed a discussion of my health. The stress and physical strain of moving her to California prompted a heart attack the very day after I settled her in at her assisted living facility. That was just the first in a series of dozens of medical emergencies I experienced while simultaneously caring for all her needs and her finances, working several jobs, and tending to my household duties. I really don't know how I outlived her.
I didn't get the feeling from Martin's parting comments that he was interested in seeing me again, so I won't have to be concerned about keeping dialysis, diabetes, and heart disease from him. And as I have so few dates, I may not have to face this sort of situation for another six months, maybe longer, maybe never again. I'll just have to find other opportunities to wear heels!
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