Pre-Father's Day Dream

Last weekend I flew down to San Diego and got to visit both my sons Alex and Zac and Sally's daughter, Hannah. Zac drove down from Santa Barbara to join us. My role as Dad with adult kids is still new to me, though the twin boys are now 26 and have been making their own way for several years. I'm not exactly clear on how they see me now, what they need from me now, what advice or worries to voice, what confidences to share. But what remains crystal clear, is the pure pleasure of looking at them. I can still feel a sense of miracle at their being at all and my visceral connection to their lives, and theirs to mine. yummmm.......

We played doubles tennis with one of Alex's apartment-mates, Sean. At this point, my main goal is to make a few good hits and most importantly, not to keel over, or spoil all the fun with a heart attack. It worked out pretty well, though there was a rebellious muscle in my neck, determined to spoil my illusion of being a 20-something too. Within a half hour after we stopped playing I couldn't turn my head right or left and had to turn my whole body to speak to someone throughout the Padres game we went to see with Hannah and Heather. I was all of 56 years old for that event.

The first night I stayed at Alex's apartment and he stayed at his girlfriend Heather's. He gave me his bed and Zac slept on a pad on the floor next to the bed. Before waking up the next morning, I had a long, convoluted dream that I've mostly forgotten. But there was a scene in the middle of it where my Mom showed up. She's been dead almost 30 years now and I almost never get an appearance from her in my dreams. It must have been triggered by how connected and happy I felt with Zac and Alex close by.

When we woke up I told Zac that I had a rare "Rochelle sighting" in my dreams and that I remember asking her to come to my backyard and see the flowers I'd planted that were all blossoming. Then the dream evaporated - as they do - in the welcoming breeze of the new day.

It wasn't until last night that the dream came back and grabbed my attention. While I'm no dream-specialist, it is clear to me that I wanted to show Rochelle her grandsons Zac and Alex who are in full blossom at age 26.

Parenting Orbits

I got to spend a short, but ever so sweet, holiday visit with both my sons and their sweethearts at Zac and Erin's new apartment in Santa Barbara. Alex and Heather drove up from San Diego and I drove down from Palo Alto for an impromptu gathering. Though three out of four of them had to work at one point or another, we spent some relaxed, super-enjoyable time hanging out, making latkes, exchanging gifts, eating out, and watching movies and sports. It was my first time seeing them in Santa Barbara since Zac and Erin relocated from New Orleans in October.

I took a walk one afternoon and was flooded with the memories of my Mom's visit to me not too long after I moved to Santa Barbara from Illinois – about 38 years ago. (38 years!? Objects look so much larger in the rear view mirror.) I remember how nervous she got as we drove on a narrow winding road going upward from the Mission. And how we got high and giggled through a drive-in movie. My dad also made a weekend visit at a point when I'd just moved into a no-longer-standing cottage on State Street – furnished only with a mattress on the floor. To his credit, he held in his reactions and got me a used dresser to complement the mattress. As I walked along State Street, I felt the closure of a very long, elliptical, family orbit.

I remember feeling an awesome dual-sided awareness when the twin boys were born twenty five years ago. On the one hand, they were so vulnerable (4 lbs and 2 lbs) and were connected to nobody on the planet but me and Deborah. It was the deepest feeling of connection I'd ever experienced. On the other hand it was like these two beings had dropped from the stars into our care. That second feeling totally blurred during all the years of parenting.

Watching them as full-grown men making their own ways into the world of jobs, apartments, relationships, etc. I am again struck by both our deep connection and our separateness. I wonder if my Mom or Dad felt that duality during their visits to me? It's another orbit (or revolution) to mark in amazement and appreciation.

Broken Arm, Fractured Healthcare System

Last month, my son Zac and his girlfriend Erin left their jobs in New Orleans and moved to Santa Barbara. They found an apartment and then joined Alex (Zac's twin brother), for the annual group camping trip he organizes to Bass Lake, in the Sierras. On the second to last day, Zac calls to tell me he thinks he just broke his arm while wakeboarding. He'd returned to the campsite and was awaiting all the others who were going to continue wakeboarding for a few hours.

It reminded me of the night - when they were about 13 - that I got a call from Zac from the skateboard park in Palo Alto. He reported to me that Alex had taken a big fall, hit his head, and had trouble remembering much of anything. Zac asked if I could come get Alex and after a brief pause, asked if he could stay out later skateboarding.

There was one big difference from this medical emergency from all the previous ones he and Alex have accumulated. This was the first time there was no insurance coverage. It's Murphy's Law that this would occur during the interlude between Zac's job with Habitat for Humanity and whatever he will find in Santa Barbara. He intended to keep his coverage through "COBRA" - a law that allows people to continue their medical insurance policies for up to 36 months after leaving a job, but the COBRA forms had never arrived.

The next day, when he got back to Santa Barbara and went to an emergency room, they stabilized his broken arm with a splint and sling, but told him he needed to see an orthopedic specialist to determine if it required a cast or surgery. That's when he started his crash course on the failings of the US healthcare system.

1. The orthopedic specialist cannot see him without an insurance policy or cash up front.
2. Zac does not qualify for Medi-Cal. Having no income or significant savings no longer counts if you're not a senior, disabled, or a child.
3. The plan he was on in New Orleans was an HMO and the Orthopedic Specialist referred by the emergency docs does not take HMO patients.
4. The COBRA administrators couldn't figure out what plan he is eligible to sign up for in California. He had Blue Shield in New Orleans but "Blue Shield of Louisiana" is considered a different company than "Blue Shield of California."
5. There is no non-profit agency that gives advice to uninsured people who are trying to navigate the fractured U.S. healthcare system.

Finally we found a clinic that operates on a sliding scale basis. Zac will see an orthopedic specialist this Thursday - about 12 days after the accident. If he needs surgery, then we'll pay a Blue Shield doctor up front and get retroactive coverage from the Cobra plan when it kicks in. The COBRA plan is expensive though because (after repeated calls somebody came up with the information) his only option is to continue with Blue Shield of Louisiana and pay "out-of-network" costs. If he doesn't need surgery, then he will probably wait to get a job that offers medical benefits.

Hopefully, we'll see universal healthcare and a single-payer system before long. At least that promise gets a lot of traction in the Democratic campaign speeches. But dismantling the highly profitable web of insurance companies, pharmaceuticals, and doctor pay scales, may be as unlikely as dismantling the firmly entrenched "defense industry." It's probably as unlikely as me being able to order Zac and Alex never to wakeboard, skateboard, or any other kind of board, anymore.