I don't like bringing up that I'm a combat veteran, generally; not because I'm ashamed of it though. Compared to the price some patriots have paid in service to our country that share that distinction, my service pales in comparison, and I'm not worthy to polish their shoes. God bless them. But, having said that, I do bear that label, and I have something to say about health care for all those who think ObamaPelosiCare is God's gift to mankind, let me tell you, you don't have a clue, and better wake up, and wake up fast and stop this socialist, communist crazy-train we are on before you find yourself in my shoes.
I suffer from many of the Gulf War Syndrome illnesses, including being a stage 4, aggressive non-Hodgkin's lymphoma cancer survivor, my third bout with cancer since my return from the Persian Gulf in 1991. If you think H.R. 3200, or any other "public option" is what you want, or that revamping our entire health care system with 1100 pages of bureaucratic, big government solutions is the answer, then I hope you have as much self-control as this combat veteran who is at the mercy of government-run health care.
Two days ago, Sept. 1, 2009, I had an appointment with my cancer doctor at a VA medical center, not just any old medical center, but one which can boast doctors and nurses from one of the premier medical training hospitals on the planet. The VA Medical Center in Durham, North Carolina is directly across the street from Duke. While I'll save my nightmare stories about the outlying centers that don't have Duke University Medical to lean on for excellence in patient care for another time, I am so mad right now about what happened Tuesday, 150 miles away from home, that, well... I'm fighting mad, and when I'm done spitting nails, I'm going to have some choice words for Congress that will make what the Communist Van Jones said about Republicans sound like a marriage proposal.
I won't go into the depth and breadth of my medical issues caused by my service to my country, it's academic to what I want to share. Suffice to say that I am by all qualifying parameters a combat veteran in a government-run healthcare system entitled to travel assistance, (travel pay) to assist me in seeing the specialists that are monitoring my cancer, which is in remission, that work at the VA Medical Center in Durham, N.C., 150 miles from my home.
Those of you who know what I do as the PatriotWatchdog, and as the National Director of the FIRE Coalition already know I do what I do for free, as my health, energy, and funds allow. On Tuesday, I had a 3:30p.m. appointment to see my cancer doctor, a specialist from Duke Medical School that sees veterans across the street from Duke at the VA Hospital.
Because I live 150 miles away from my "government-run" health care provider, the VA, and am basically indigent, with no source of income, I really need that travel pay just to make it back and forth for the plethora of appointments I have that I can't go see a local doctor, or local specialist to treat like I did when I worked at NASA, and had insurance I paid for through my employer, a contractor who worked for the government.
The way that the bureaucrats in big government run things, one hand doesn't know or care what the other hand is doing, and the red tape to fix even the simplest of issues the "free market" healthcare would NEVER allow to happen, happens all the time at the VA, and this shining example of government-run health care left me stranded, at the mercy of others, 150 miles away from home.
Here's the short version: My appointment ended at around 4:30pm, the same time the travel office closes. I knew I needed the travel pay to get back home, but I didn't cut my visit with my cancer doctor short to rush over to the travel office to satisfy the "red tape czars" so I could collect my "gas money to get home" from the cashier window before it closed.
I remembered a heart-warming sign outside the travel office window which stated that after 4:30, veterans with travel needs should go see the AOD, Administrative Officer of the Day, so I finished my consultation with my cancer doctor, reviewed the CT-scan, blood work, etc... from the previous week's trip, and discussed things that a patient discusses with their doctor in private, without bureaucrats driving the conversation.
So, when my consult ended about 4:32, and I went to the travel office to get the "gas money" to go home, the gentleman was finishing up with another veteran who was filing his travel claim, but paused long enough to tell me "We're closed." I looked over my shoulder, saw the cashier window was already shade-down and dark, and felt nervous. I was 150 miles from home. I had not approached my family this time for help on this particular 300 mile doctor's visit trip, even though they had offered before when my funds were short with enough funds to make sure I had "insurance" against something going wrong, and my not being able to rely on that "travel pay" to cover the costs of the 300 mile round-trip. I should have listened to my mother. Lesson learned.
When I found the AOD office, I found out that they don't actually take care of travel pay after normal hours the way the sign implied, they only did the paperwork.
By now, I'm starting to worry. How will I get home? I don't know anybody, or have any family nearby to call. What will I do? Well, the AOD, a very nice lady advised me that they did have a social worker on staff at the hospital, and advised me that she had an emergency "gas voucher" fund for such occasions.
I exhaled with a sigh of relief. I wouldn't have to sleep in the car, or stand on the corner and beg for help like I'd seen veterans in the past do at various intersections across the country holding up cardboard signs, their dignity in their throat, their hand out to an ungrateful public, like a homeless bum.
Now, if you saw me on the street, you'd have no idea what I go through to get the health care I was promised, fought for, blah, blah, blah, by politicians and slick-tongued devils who promote government-run healthcare to the public when they are campaigning for office, or trying to win the votes they need for the next greatest government-run program. You wouldn't know my financial plight, that I get no money from the government whatsoever, except for the gas money. My family, a typical middle-class American family takes care of its own, me, in my time of need. That I finally gave in, swallowed my pride and applied for a VA disability earlier this year is a whole other story, but looking at me, like many veterans, you'd never know just how dire my situation is unless you asked me, or knew me.
I'm not a whiner, or a bum. I don't have a retirement, because I didn't stay for 20+ years, but I AM a combat naval veteran, in a government-run healthcare system, and as such, I am at the mercy of those same government bureaucrats that are trying to sell the rest of America a pig-in-a -poke in the march towards communism that we are on. Back to my story...
I go see the social worker who has this "emergency gas voucher fund" almost in tears, because prior to getting laid off from NASA in the fall of 2005, I had always been self-sufficient, took care of myself, and paid my own bills. Now, I'm walking towards a social worker to ask for gas money to go home; me a grown man who just celebrated his 47th birthday three days earlier... a patriotic American, who believes in America, and the Constitution, and who, in his current situation still fights for what is right, fights for his country as a civilian, who remembers his oath of office didn't expire with his honorable discharge in 1994.
I swallow my pride yet again, and hold back the tears that are welling as I ride the elevator to the 8th floor because the first place I'd been directed was also closed. Damn, I thought, even the social worker is gone. What will I do now? What has happened to my country? My anger swells, and drives back the tears as I reach for the door the sign on the first floor social worker's office directed me to if no one was available. I had tried the door, but it was locked, and so was this one. A nurse saw me from down the hall and asked if she could help. I told who I was looking for, and she responded, everybody's gone for the day.
My heart sinks again. Okay, so I go back downstairs to social worker office #1, and knock again. This time, the lady opens it. She was with someone, and will be with me in a few minutes. I wait in the hall, feeling like a bum. A few minutes pass, and the door opens. I go in, heart in hand, and tell her my plight. She offers me a "gas voucher" as promised by the AOD, but then that second sigh of relief quickly evaporated when she told me it was only for $10.00.
"$10 bucks," I say. "That won't get me home. Can you make it $20.00," I asked? "No," she replied, "The funds are limited, and I'm only authorized to give a $10 dollar gas voucher."
"Can you make it $20 bucks, and deduct it from my travel pay?" I asked.
"No," she replied, "That would be double-dipping?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, swallowing my growing anger, and wanting to not take it out on her, thus, "killing the messenger" of bad news. It wasn't her fault.
"Well," she explained, "I couldn't get a gas voucher, AND collect my travel pay.", and she wasn't authorized to give me the $20 bucks and deduct it from the $107.00 I was supposed to receive for this 300 mile round-trip to see my cancer doctor at a government-run health care facility as a combat veteran in need.
"You'll have to give up your travel pay to get the gas voucher, Mr. Lewis," she replied.
"Let me get this straight. I have to take 10 cents on the dollar, to get help from the social worker the Admin Officer of the Day referred me to after the travel office closed before I finished my cancer doctor visit at a government-run health-care facility as a combat veteran," I thought to myself as my anger grew. I sighed, took a deep breath, and then told her "No thank you." I may be over a barrel, and at your mercy, but the bureaucrats in Washington who set up this government-run health care program aren't going to cheat me out of the travel pay I am entitled to as an honorably discharged combat veteran in dire financial straits caused by my service to my country. Not today. You may have me over a barrel, but that's the final straw. I'm done.
"Thank you. I'll figure something else out," and went back to the AOD office to pay homage to the red-tape czar so that maybe in 6-8 weeks I'd get the $107.00 bucks I so desperately need." I still have other doctor's visits to go to, and I hate having to keep asking my soon-to-be 80 year old Dad for gas money like a teenager wanting to go to the movies with my friends.
Not this time. Not ever again. I took the gloves off in the fall of 2005, and threw them away, and have been doing what I could do to fight illegal immigration... to fight the largest invasion in world history that was befalling my country that I care so much about. I took some skin off today of an empty out-reached hand-left-wanting two days ago, and the health care issues the nation is consumed with debating right now and other issues are moving to the forefront of the "good fight" I'm trying to fight for God & Country.
What put me over the edge to make decisions I made Tuesday afternoon was yet to come.
As I'm talking to the nice lady printing out my travel claim form so I can sign it, I'm asking her questions about how this could happen. No disrespect to her, but the absurdity of the answers she gave were compounded as the social worker entered the room and the conversation.
You see, the AOD and social worker don't work for the VA Medical Center in Durham, N.C. directly. They work for another government agency. I think they said it was HHS, Health and Human Services. Seeing how dejected, beaten, and hell, pick an emotion, I was feeling it... the social worker volunteered that she wished she could do more, but the "gas voucher" fund was from donations they receive, NOT from the government, but from other veterans, and citizens who are already in a government-run health care system, and know what veterans go through just to get the health care bureaucrats boast and brag about is so wonderful.
Now, I'm really mad. All this red-tape bureacracy bull crap, and I'm out of luck. I thanked them for their efforts, overwhelmed with every emotion any veteran who fought for this country ever felt when the country they put themselves in harm's way for lied to them yet again, and left them out in the cold. No other options were offered to me.
I went back to my car in the parking garage, said a few prayers, and proceeded to dig all the change out of my console, out from under the seats, in the crannies, etc... I had spent my last dollar buying a couple of cheese burgers at Burger King on the way to Durham. I came up with $2.60. That was it. I went to the BP gas station a block away and bought ONE GALLON OF GAS. Now I had about an 1/8 of a tank.
I got out on the interstate before I called my brother, a retired Air Force veteran. He lived about half way home, slightly out of the way, but at least I didn't have to call home, and worry my elderly "Greatest Generation" parents with my problems yet again. They didn't deserve this. They introduced me to God & Country. They didn't beat me in the head with the Bible or the American flag, but they sure did introduce me to them, and then walked the walk of their convictions my entire life.
They were why I was putting myself through all this personal sacrifice the past four years. Everything they taught me that was worth believing in was falling apart. I had to honor my father, and prove to him "I got it, Dad. What you believed in was worth fighting for." But that was then, four years ago, when I woke up from my apathetic coma and realized that my duty to God & Country wasn't done yet.
So I call my retired veteran brother, who, knowing I had been to see my cancer doctor at the VA Hospital, asked me "How'd it go?" I took a deep breath, followed by another sigh before I started explaining why I was calling.
"Well," I started, "When I get done spitting nails, I'm going to have a mouth full of (edited for decency sake) choice words for some people in Washington when I go there next week. This un-Constitutional, socialized "public option" health care bill and communist agenda the progressive socialists are Hell-bent on driving down the throats of the American people has just gotten a new vocal opponent."
"Well, good" he responded, knowing my resolve and what I've been doing in the illegal immigration fight for the past few years.
"I need your help," an embarrassed and humbled me began, as I explained what had just happened.
"Head this way. If you don't make it, I'll bring you some gas," he offered, one veteran to another, one brother to another.
The good Lord smiled on me, and I made it most of the way to Goldsboro, where my brother lives. In fact, the good Lord smiled on my brother as well, so my plight didn't pull him away from his family at dinner time but for just a few minutes.
I ran out of gas literally one mile from his home. I coasted into a parking lot, called my brother and within 5 minutes he was there, and before I even realized he had arrived, (being on the phone letting another compatriot know I had made it to a safe location, and help was on the way), he was tapping on my bumper, gas can in hand, asking me to pop my gas tank door.
He followed me to the nearest gas station, topped off my tank, and I went and had dinner with him and his family before driving the last 60 miles home.
The VA may have left me stranded 150 miles from home, and my car may have ran out of gas as I reached a safe harbor, but the blood in my veins boils as I type this. If you think government-run health-care and progressive socialist un-Constitutional big government is the answer. Think again.
I'm nobody, just a simple country boy who found himself a stranger in a strange land. I thought I lived in the land of the free, the home of the brave. And the second set of gloves, (the liners I guess) came off Tuesday, and the PatriotWatchdog is coming to Washington next week to talk about health care.
I now know many people in powerful positions in govenment now, Congressman, Senators, caucus leadership, staffers, presidential candidates, many on a first name basis because of the work I've been doing to fight illegal immigration the past four years. I've NEVER asked any of them for anything to help "Jeff." EVER.
I'm no Jimmy Stewart, or Mr. Smith, but if you're one those elected officials that know me who took the same oath to God & Country that I took, and you see me on Capitol Hill next week, I want to talk to you, and it ain't just about illegal immigration anymore with my usual Constitutional undertone.
I'm madder than Hell, and I need help for me, for all the other veterans in the VA Health Care system, and the rest of the American citizens who you swore you would represent. I don't care what your party wants you to say about the health care reform bull, I am demanding you keep your oath!
I am demanding here and now, before God and everybody, I don't care how well you "think" you've been upholding that oath prior to today, I'm going to demand you do more, and I damned well want you to know that I am taking "Not on MY WATCH" to a new level. If you're one of those Members of Congress that think you've been doing all you can to uphold the Constitution and protect us from foreign and domestic enemies, I've got news for you. With all due respect, it ain't good enough.
Whatever slack I've cut you in the past because I knew some of you were like chum in a sea of sharks, trying to do the best you could. It ain't good enough any more.
NO MORE EXCUSES!
God as my witness, your days in office are numbered if you don't start being statesmen, and honorable men and women. The PatriotWatchdog has had it!
If you're among the 2.7 million veterans who are also Legionaires and you've been sitting on your butts allowing this treason and insurrection to go on after you put yourselves in harm's way to keep your oath to God & Country, let me tell you, you ain't doing enough either. Your oath didn't expire. Your duty to your country isn't over yet. It still needs you, more now than EVER.
If leaving combat veteran cancer patients hanging out to dry 150 miles from home gives you a warm fuzzy, keep drinking the socialist koolaid. You'll get your turn once you learn to goose-step, but don't expect it to be any better than the current bureacratic-managed health care systems.
If you get excited about waiting in lines, then get in line behind the TWO MILLION VETERANS in line already waiting for their disability claims to be processed. I'm not asking to jump in line, but I am in line somewhere. See me? I should shut up? It's only been nine months?
Oh, and if you're in line at the Social Security office as a combat veteran who waited 3 years to file a SS disability or assistance claim only to have it denied because rather than jump at the first opportunity to slop at the public trough, exhausted all your personal assets FIRST before even applying and then only gave in under pressure from friends and family to swallow your pride, ask for the help you "earned" only to be told you waited too long, sorry can't help you. Yes, I'm in that line too.
But hey, what do I know. I'm just a simple country boy. I'm no lawyer. I don't have a PhD. but like Glenn Beck, I'm a thinker, and I can read, and my Constitution says a lot of things that 1,314,000 of my compatriots died to preserve over the past 233+ years are under attack by more domestic enemies than foreign, and that must end, before our country runs out of gas.
Confessions of a PatriotWatchdog
How to Save Your Country On A Shoe-String Budget
Spring, 2010