Bad cop

I need to get this out of my system. As I've mentioned before in this blog, I do a great quantity of freeway driving. Today was no different. I left work at noon, headed to Sheboygan for my afternoon classes and while driving north on I-43 had a car nearly run me off the road and out of the left lane. I was passing a slower vehicle that was in the right lane, and was waiting for a comfortable distance before pulling back into the right lane. When I looked into my rear view mirror, I knew immediately that a police officer of some sort was the offending driver. I'm always suspicious of Ford Crown Victoria's, and this one was all black with various antenna's all over it; a sure sign of authority. I scooted over into the right lane and Mr. Nipper went flying by, without lights and siren, by the way.

This happened around the Port Washington area. The stretch of freeway from Port to Sheboygan is relatively flat, boring, and unremarkable, so I was able to watch Mr. Nipper and his lead foot gallop miles ahead. No lights, no siren, nothing to indicate he was on an emergency run. When I exited the freeway at Hwy. 28 in Sheboygan, whom do I see waiting at the red light? Yep, Mr. Leadfoot McNipper. He was in the LEFT right turn lane. You know, the one that has a special sign that tells drivers they can't turn right from that lane? Well, guess what Mr. Nipper does. Exactly that. And, as I watch him, he cuts across all the lanes of traffic to turn left on to Taylor drive. I get the green arrow and once again, find myself caught up with him waiting for another arrow to turn onto Taylor. I look over at him, and I am at a complete loss as to how this arrogant jerk gets to be the judge of other drivers.

If he had been on an emergency call, he gets to do pretty much what he needs to do within limits. But he wasn't on an emergency call and as such is subject to the EXACT same driving rules everyone else must obey. If I had done the exact same maneuvers he had done, I would find myself tonight with multiple fines and several points assessed to my license. And, I can't even report this yahoo because the car was completely unmarked, and had a regular license plate with no identifying organization on it. State Patrol? Ozaukee County? Sheboygan County? Milwaukee County? Any number of municipals? Federal? Who knows?? Which brings me to the point: How do you behave when no one can identify you? Do you barrel down on a 2007 Martrix with a police interceptor engine (I know this because it had a plate saying exactly that on the edge of the trunk) just because it somehow soothes your ego? Not much competition there. At 165 horsepower, I can barely merge onto the freeway at times, but it gets great gas mileage. Then, disobey the speed limit not only on the freeway, but through a construction zone and then ignore the posted traffic law signs. Yet, in the course of his job, this "officer" is going to write tickets to the public who have done exactly what he has willfully done without just cause.

I expect more from people who should be setting good examples. If a person freely chooses to become an officer of the law, I expect that while in the car the tax-payers have bought, doing a job the tax-payers pay for, and "should" be an expert in the area where the tax-payers need an impartial judgement of behaviors. Again, I ask. Would Mr. Leadfoot McNipper have let me do the exact same things he did this afternoon?

Snap! Sizzle! Fire Extinguisher!

Are the choices we make in life based on free will or the concept of free will? Consider the lowly light bulb. Basically, a hollow, glass globe that when electrified turns white hot producing light. Simple enough and since its invention it has basically stayed the same. There have been some advances in durability, the color and clarity of the light, and some different shapes. However, starting in 2012, this lowly device will begin to fade and disappear only to be replaced by compact fluorescent bulbs. My free will choice is to buy the traditional bulb because my experience with CFBs has been nothing but entirely negative and soon I will only have the concept of free will choice of which brand CFB I’d like to buy.

First, I hate the color of the light these bulbs give off. The sickly, yellowish harsh lighting is ghastly. My husband and I replaced five dining room lights and three kitchen lights with CFBs only to reel in disgust when we turned them on. We decided that we’d give them a try since all the propaganda, er, information on them tells us that they are the bee’s knees for the environment. And, slowly, as time went by, we no longer mumbled in disgust when we would turn the lights on.

Second, CFBs have mercury in them. Now, when the first bulb burned out, and more on that in a bit, I dutifully took it out and replaced it with another CFB and tossed the burned-out bulb in the garbage just like you would with any other traditional bulb. Then, several weeks later, I heard that they contained mercury and should never be thrown in the regular trash. WHAT? How did society go from using a regular bulb that doesn’t contain mercury – a substance that many businesses and facilities are trying very hard to eradicate from their practices – to endorsing the next best thing in lighting that actually contains what is a banned substance in many states? AND making the decision that the public shouldn’t have the free will to purchase whichever bulb they would like, but to make them purchase CFBs simply because traditional bulbs can no longer be made and sold?

Third, CFBs catch on fire. I know this because I have had three of them catch on fire. We have been incredibly lucky in that my husband, myself, or both of us have been home and standing by the light fixture when the bulb went on its little self-destruct mission. It begins by making a snapping and buzzing sound, quickly followed by wisps of smoke that come barreling out of the ballast part of the bulb and then, the God-awful stench of toxic ingredients of whatever those things are made of. It is enough to make me retch while trying to find a pot holder so that I don’t get third degree burns while trying to save my house from burning down.

On retrospect, I’m a bit befuddled why I gave the things THREE tries before I pulled them all out and put regular bulbs back into my fixtures. My free will however, is chosen for me because I won’t be able to buy the safe, traditional bulbs within the next few years. Why? Because we are saving the planet from safe light bulbs in favor of mercury containing bulbs of rage that want nothing more than to burn my house down and I no longer have free will of choice. What if we had left either light fixture on and left for a few minutes? It happened with both of my fixtures and with different sockets so there’s no real chance that it was just one defective socket or fixture. Besides, I never had this problem with the traditional bulbs. POP! And that’s it. No fire, no smoke, no hysterics, and no screaming for the fire extinguisher.

I hate the fact that I will no longer have the free will to buy bulbs that will not burn my house down or that I can toss in the garbage without worrying that I’m poisoning the Earth. Yes, I know all of the arguments about how much coal is burned (also releasing some mercury vapor into the air) to light a traditional bulb, but I’ve never had to worry that I would find my house a burned-out shell because I left a light on. Also, isn’t the same coal being burned to now light the mercury containing bulb that would have lit a traditional bulb? Doesn’t that mean there’s even more mercury being released into the environment because I seriously doubt that Mr. and Mrs. John and Jane Doe will actually go to their local country hazardous waste dump day to get rid of the CFBs? I want to know why free will of choice of bulbs can not be market driven. Why are laws being made and passed in favor of CFBs when the buying public is perfectly capable of choosing which bulb they would like? And where will those lawmakers be when my house is ashes?

As a society, we live by rules both real and implied. Some things are chosen for us because of real concerns or safety. You don’t have the free will to yell fire in the crowded place unless, well, a CFB is burning out and it is actually on fire. You don’t have the free will to walk around punching people without suffering repercussions: Either by law enforcement or by someone retaliating and punching you back. And you certainly won’t have the free will, in the years to come, to purchase a light bulb that will only burn out and not start your house on fire. That decision has been made for us. And one last thing: As my house burns to the ground, doesn’t that release toxic and greenhouse gases too? So, now I have mercury bulbs that will be even more toxic as I lose everything I’ve worked for. Yeah, sounds about right. I guess then, I will have the free will choice of finding a builder to do it all over again.

Terry

Left to right: Best man Mark, Jill, Terry and myself. Photo copyright Pat Goetzinger

I was Jill and Terry's matron of honor at their wedding on June 13th 1998. This past Monday, July 18th 2011, I attended his memorial and watched my best friend since the third grade greet people for almost four hours straight who had come to express their condolences. It was heart-breaking, but she managed to greet everyone with a smile and a hug while listening to the story they wished to impart to her. Knowing the entire story of his illness, I was amazed that Jill could still function enough to make sure that she greeted everyone and visited with them after the receiving line finally ended. Terry struggled for over two years with kidney cancer and Jill was his caretaker throughout the entire struggle. She had some help with Hospice a few weeks at the end, and Terry passed away at his home with Jill by his side.

Terry was a very popular person, especially in the Milwaukee music scene. He co-founded the band Those XCleavers in the 1980's and recorded a few records and had several hits that had national play. I know this because I helped Jill sort through the multitudes of news articles and band posters four days before he died. She was stressed about getting the scrapbooks in order for the "party" as she called it, and with mine and Natalie's help we got it done. We had five three ring binders filled with all of the band stuff from not only XClevers and a few others, but also his reggae bands Road Damage, Kojo, and his last band King Solomon. The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel did a wonderful article and obituary for him and here are the links:

http://www.jsonline.com/multimedia/photos/125667883.html

http://www.jsonline.com/news/obituaries/125673893.html

I knew Terry from a different point of view than most of his friends and fans. As Jill's friend, I knew him without the popularity attached to him. My husband Scott would often help Jill with her computer woes, and I would usually be in their living room watching tv and working on a quilt or beading project. If Terry didn't have a gig or band practice that night, he would plunk down beside me on the couch and we'd find something to watch. He often asked about the project I was working on, and even though I knew he may not have been interested in it, he would pay attention through my entire story and often asked questions about the project. On one occasion I was binding a quilt. He and I were watching tv and eventually we both fell asleep under the quilt. Hey, it was late at night, we'd both worked our day jobs (he was a VP at Educator's Credit Union) and it was a really warm quilt in the middle of winter. It was hilarious to all of us when Jill and Scott walked into the room and Terry and I were sacked out under the quilt.

One of many quilting nights at Jill and Terry's. The quilt I made for them for their wedding is behind our heads (backing material).

On a different evening, I got a detailed lesson on how to care for and repair an electric guitar. I am by no means an expert or even knowledgeable about guitars, but I do know the name Fender Stratocaster. Terry's was a red and white one that had seen many, many performances and he fixed the base area where the strings are attached on the guitar body with, of all things, the spring from a ball point clickey pen. Once he showed me all the parts, how they worked together, and cleaned everything I was privy to a personal concert of several of his songs.

To know a popular or famous person not for what they are known for, but because they are a good friend's spouse is a unique point of view that I never really realized until his memorial. There were several hundred people who showed up, and was certainly the biggest funeral or memorial I've ever been too. Jill had several monitors up and running that were showing his various band's videos, concerts, and gigs. She also had a few of them showing pictures of friends and family and the "normal" pictures everyone acquires in a lifetime. Family, friends, vacations, wedding, and candid pics. Scott and I were included in those photos and it was an odd reaction to see the people next to me, then turn and look at me and ask how I knew him and Jill when they never saw me at gigs or other "Milwaukee" events. I had gone to several of them, but schedules and distance made attending gigs somewhat difficult. Hence, other than the close friend and parent circle no one knew Scott or I, but we were elevated to the inner circle.

Terry was also a story-teller. He had plethora of stories that were incredible and entertaining. As I have that same tendency to "collect" stories, I loved listening to him relate an episode that was sure to have a really good ending. Because of who he was, he had many of them, and like all musicians, they are really good stories. So, thanks Terry, for the memories and the stories, I will never be able to look at another electric guitar without thinking of pen springs and the amp you made from a red plastic gas can. That was a very good story too.

Something nice

This past Tuesday night (May 3rd) I received an Outstanding English Student award from UW-Sheboygan Faculty. I was informed that I had been selected for an Honor about two weeks before, but the school kept it secret and only tells the students about their Honors on the night of the presentations. Ever since 2008 when I went back to school, I've never really had the chance to become really active on campus. A full time job, a house to run, a husband, friends, and lots and lots of studying somehow prevented my involvement. So, it was a shock to me when I was told it was an award given to me my by professors. I was stunned they even remembered me. I have no illusions that somehow every one of my professors remember who I am as they see so many students pass through that how could they? So when Student Services informed me of this, I first thought it was a mistake, then a practical joke, and then just shock.

I still have a hard time considering myself a "good" student. As I've mentioned before, my first year of college was well, not a full-blown disaster, but I was suspended for one semester for crappy grades. I just never went back until 2008; 20 some years later. My English 102 professor, Azor Cigelske had his class start a blog for weekly assignments, and even though I'm not a faithful contributer now that that semester has long ended, it does help with venting on the occasion and with keeping up my writing skills. At the presentation ceremony, he said very nice things about me and I'm still stunned that he would remember me after all the semesters of students coming and going. However, his class was one of two that were my first classes back, and it had been a very long time since I had written a college paper, or any paper for that matter. If I had done poorly in that class and the algebra class I was also taking, I wouldn't have continued on with my college studies. They were my litmus classes and thankfully I did very well in them and received encouragement from both professors to restore enough of my confidence to continue on. I seriously doubt that either now or at the time either one of them knew how much I had placed in their professional judgement of my work as to my "worthiness" to be a college student.

So, thank you Azor for not only the very nice things you wrote about me at the Honors Convocation, but for giving me enough confidence to continue on. It was a huge decision for me to go back, but ultimately I know that I will be very happy I did and am able to, albeit late, correct a life mistake that would have had me regretting and doubting myself forever.

Time flies...

So, it's been several months since my last post, but that probably doesn't matter as no one reads this anyway. I've just re-read my last two posts, and since then I've moved to my new office at River Woods and have quit working at the library. The move was sad, and working 44 hours a week was fine until school started. I thought I was doing ok with that schedule until I got a B on a test that I should have gotten an A on and realized that I wasn't studying enough and was slipping into a funk of apathy. Probably not the best combination. Apparently unwilling to cut my bonds with my old work life, I quit the library. This decision still bothers me and makes me wonder how serious I really am with changing jobs.

My office moved into a large work room that also has my boss in a smaller office sectioned out and a coworker from the in-house pharmacy on the other half of the room. I hate it. I miss my office at Columbia something fierce. My job requires a certain level of studying and reading Medicare rules and policies which, believe it or not, I prefer to have silence when trying to figure out if some of the government-speak applies to my billing or not. This past week, there were two technicians that were covering for the regular technician that decided they could watch downloaded episodes of "Sex in the City" on an iPad while on work hours. I have never known a job where that would be acceptable unless the person is a critic writing a review of the show. I personally have never watched the show although I do know of it just from popular culture and awareness of the show and movie as an entertainment venue. As I was sitting at my desk reading about the fascinating details of ICD-10 codes and modifiers to HCPCS codes, dialog and sounds that are best left to private moments of our lives was blasting throughout the room for all to hear. It was just annoying when it was the regular parts of the show blaring, but THOSE parts of the show blaring was just indescribable for a workplace setting. I thought for sure my boss would come out of his office and tell them to shut it off. He didn't. When I asked him about it later, he claims he didn't hear it.

How do we stand each other as a human race when we can't stand each other as individuals? These two St. Mary's individuals for a good portion of the day had a running commentary on how stupid and incompetent the Columbia people are. The full merger of Columbia St. Mary's happened in mid-October and since then it has been an "us versus them" mode of thinking. As a former Columbia employee, I took great offense at this running commentary and was mystified why they thought it perfectly acceptable to bad-mouth Columbia employees with myself sitting just a few feet away. After several hours of this, I finally reminded them that I was a Columbia employee and didn't appreciate their bad-mouthing us. I remarked that maybe if the tables were turned and they were the ones to be refugees, they might not feel so smug and content with their lot in working life. They looked as if I struck them with a bat and that the concept of them losing there secure work environment never once occurred to them. Yet, management would have us believe that we are one big happy family and that there is no "us versus them".

At what point do the decisions in life become easy, or easier? I'm still wrestling with my decision to get my Bachelor's degree. I really don't know what to do, what I want to do, or if I want to do anything. I recognize what the last of those statements mean, and it bothers me. I'm beginning to wonder if I should just stick it out and count the years to retirement? And is this all that there is? I keep asking myself the following question: With no barriers to block the way, and knowing that I could have an instant change with no consequences, what would I be? Just like asking a kid, only I don't have an answer. I really don't know. The same thought keeps coming back to my. What happens when a person gets what they want and it becomes the same day-in day-out routine that I have now? Will it just be more tolerable?

I guess that's enough life pondering for another Sunday night. After all, the same draining routine starts again tomorrow and I will no doubt be pondering the same thoughts as I sit down in my communal corner and once again try to decipher the wonderful world of billing and coding.

Indecisions

I find myself at a crossroads. I'm having a very hard time trying to figure out what I should do with my work, school, and life. When I started on the path to a Bachelor's degree, I was really sure what I wanted to do. Three and a half years into it, and I'm really beginning to falter in my confidence. I pretty much know no one reads this blog, so I'm typing this out to hopefully figure out what I should do without fear of judgement. As I've tried to discuss this with several people, they listen attentively and then say the same thing: You are the only one who can make that decision. It's a cop-out, and even though I do have the ultimate decision, I would appreciate a little input from the people I've asked. It's as if no one wants to give me their opinion, which means it must be contrary to what I'm doing.

Here are my dilemmas: My wish to get my Bachelor's degree is still strong, however, my reality is not. At part time, around 6 credits a semester, it will take me approximately another five to six years to finish it. I will be done with my Associate's at the end of the Fall 2011 semester, and I'll have 70 credits. But, that will have taken me four years. Next, the tuition for UW Milw is much higher than UW Sheboygan. Given my age, do I want to spend the time and the money when by the time I finish I will really only have ten to fifteen years to work until retirement and less if I want to retire early? Is the investment in UW Milw worth it? From a money standpoint, no. From an educational standpoint, yes. However, education won't pay my bills when I'm retired. The money I put into my education needs to come back in the form of a paycheck and the field I've chosen doesn't pay much more than what I'm earning now. So, why should I bother? It seems to me that I end up unhappy with either of my decisions. I dislike my current job, but am not sure I'll find much better when I finally finish school. And for those of you who then say, we'll you'll never know until you try, several thousand dollars worth of tuition is not my idea of a fun way to spend my retirement dollars.

Do I quit? I will get my Associate's. There's no debating that. I've come too far and paid too much money to not at least get that. Should I just be happy with that? Should I continue with my current job and quit the library? Should I keep both and quit school? I hate indecision, and I hate it in myself even more. However, making the wrong decision and then sticking with it just because that's the decision that was made is also a waste of time and resources.

I have no answers, and I suspect I won't anytime soon. I have no one willing to give me any suggestions either. And with that, I must go study. It's yet another Sunday night and the prospect of yet another draining week gives me no real hope that I will get an answer.

Columbia Hospital is moving

The first building that is Columbia Hospital, built in 1909. My office is in this building, just on the other side on the fourth floor. The Columbia College of Nursing is in the background.

Ariel view of Columbia Hospital from the 1950's. The original 1909 building is in the upper right corner.


I have mentioned a few times in this blog about my place of occupation, Columbia Hospital, or as it is currently known, Columbia St. Mary's Hospital, or CSM for short. I began work at Columbia Hospital on January 22, 1990 after being hired directly from MATC's pharmacy technician program. I had completed my clinicals at the in-house pharmacy and was very lucky to have landed a full-time job even before I finished school. I didn't know yet if I was going to stay there, but I knew that for the first time in my life I had a full-time job, more money than I had ever earned in my life and was getting married in six months.

21 years later, I have to say good-bye to the place that's been a second home (let's face it, 21 years of full-time work makes you feel like it's a second home) for me and like a home there have been good times and bad. I have a tendency in my life to form attachments to odd, inanimate things and as the move date for my office approaches on Monday Aug. 9th, I find that the prospect of leaving CH makes me sad and a little depressed. By Oct. 11th 2010, the new hospital building will be open and that will be Columbia St. Mary's Milwaukee Campus. I will have no problem referring to that building as CSM because it will have never been anything else. And, I would put a Vegas bet on the fact that at some point in the near future the word "Columbia" will be carved out of the name. How can you have "Columbia" when "Columbia" doesn't exist anymore? UW Milwaukee is set to buy the property as of this writing for 20 million dollars. They need the space and want to build a sports arena. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Columbia will be razed to make way for the progress of sports. And that, will be the end of Columbia Hospital's history in Milwaukee.

The Columbia College of Nursing at the corner of Newport and Maryland.

When I joined Columbia's staff in 1990, we were prosperous (as hospitals go), had a reputation for being THE place to go for excellent care, had management that was at least interested in what the employees had to say, and, like all other places of occupation had it's share of problems too. But, in 1995, when I got a letter at home that Columbia and St. Mary's hospitals would be "joining together to form a working partnership" I just knew at that point that the end of Columbia was going to happen. When the full merger happened in the early 2000's (funny how I can't remember that date) it was as if the "family" had suffered a death and would never be the same again. Things happen in life that fundamentally change our surroundings, even though we may not change. This was one event for me that left me feeling like an outsider in my own work space.

The ER side of Columbia Hospital. The parking structure is to the left and the main hospital is to the right and behind the ER dept.

I left for a year to work as a pharmacy technician at CSM owned Mequon Park Pharmacy and was sorry immediately. After seven years in the in-house pharmacy I was looking for a change, the commute was certainly shorter, and I needed some new experiences. Unfortunately, it was a mistake that I knew I had made the same day I started. But, I gave it a year and when the opportunity to move back to Columbia and become a billing coordinator for Newport Pharmacy came up, I jumped at the chance. I got the job and for the next 13 years (and counting) have had that job molded into what I'm doing today. One pharmacy has become three, and even though I don't enjoy the actual work, it's not the worst job in the world. But being back at the place where I started feels right to me, and I know I'm going to never feel like I "own" the place my office is in again. Maybe it's because where I'm moving to I no longer have an office. I have space carved out in the Riverwoods Outpatient Hospital in-house pharmacy. No office with windows, privacy, or even space that is the retail pharmacies space. It is the in-house pharmacy's space; this is akin to the DMV moving into the Courthouse. They are both government agencies, but very different depts.

So far all I've listed are complaints and gripes. I've had good times too, and that's what I'm going to miss the most. I met one of my best friends there (Hi Kathie!), met several friends there, when I was on second shift, Dennis, Jim and I made our way to the roof where we watched the July 3rd Milwaukee fireworks with a small group of other employees who had sneaked up there too, and then on July 4th made our way to the roof again to watch a 360 degree view of all the surrounding neighborhood's fireworks. Eight floors up on top of the roof watching fireworks with nothing but a thin guard rail is a fun experience if you don't have a problem with heights. Finding secret passageways and becoming so familiar with the floor plan that instant short cuts made getting meds to a dept in a hurry a valuable asset, being in a building 100 years old and knowing that there are fixtures and decor that are original to the building, and working in a living history of collective lives that will take the new hospital generations to begin to hint at.

As I pack up and contemplate my new space, I can't help but feel that a huge chapter of my life is over and so far I feel like I'm in the "crappy first draft" as my Eng 102 teacher once had us read a chapter on. It's where you put everything down on paper that comes into your head and then you can sort it out once you've got everything in print. Maybe it's because I'm now working part time at the Lakeview Library in Random Lake, and have dropped to point 6 at Columbia? This is a transition time for school too because I only have three semesters (part-time) left at Sheboygan, and although that may sound like a huge amount of time, it isn't. I need to decided if I really want to pursue an IR degree, if I really want to transfer to UW Milwaukee, or if I should be happy with my Associate's degree and work at both jobs until I figure out what direction I want to take. My parents would have said I'm fence sitting, and I really understand the analogy now. I have one foot in the past and one kinda in the future. I feel the closing of Columbia should represent something to me, a clue to me that I need to decide something and to try and not have both worlds.

The original building on right with the additions going left. This is the corner of Maryland and Hartford.

So, good-bye Columbia, thanks for the job, the memories, the friends, the good times, the history, the impact on our patient's lives, and for half my life a security that allowed me to live a life better than what I expected.