Fourth Post

Apparently, it has been over two months since my last post, and quite a bit has happened during that time, in case you haven't been reading mommy's posts.

We found out that Gorthar is a boy, which made me very happy. I was thrilled that I did not have to feign excitement at the prospect of having a girl. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against all those baby girls out there, but boys seem to be much easier to understand and deal with (Amanda and I both agree on this). I am not sure I would even know what to do with a girl. I mean, softball can barely be called a sport! It's more of a social endeavor, much like bird watching or a scramble game of golf. It's fun to drink beer while participating in these activities, but there's no real sense of accomplishment at the end of it all... So, with the revelation of having a son, I have begun getting Gorthar ready for playing baseball. Several scouts are already interested, from what I hear...

We also decided to abandon the name, Gorthar, as it seemed a little too odd to keep calling him that. However, we both grew quite fond of the name and we--probably just me--were actually considering using it. If we kept it as a womb name any longer, it may have stuck. (I suppose he can still use it as his rapper name.) After many hours of fierce debate, arguing, tantrums, stormings-out, and finally compromising, the perfect name surfaced: Autonomous Rex. Unfortunately, Amanda did not share my opinion of perfection, so we continued throwing heavy objects at each other. (For those who would actually take that seriously, the above sentences are an exaggeration; Amanda is not allowed to lift heavy objects, so she threw light, aerodynamic objects...) Among the several names that made the finals were Vincent (Blech!), Victor (Pbblt!), Llewellyn (awesome!), and Rach Maninov (more awesome!). For some reason, I have an aversion to V-names though, and Amanda did not appreciate the awesomeness of my names. In the end though, we found a name that neither of us hated, and I must say, I have grown quite attached to it: Autonomous Rex. I mean, Sebastian.

So Sebastian Lawrence Schwartz it is; the "Lawrence" is after my late grandfather, who was the first of three Lawrences in the Schwartz lineage. As far as I know, this will be the first Schwartz of the fourth generation with that name, even though it is not his first name...

On the non-baby side of things, I had been busy purchasing and renovating a house, getting ready to go to Officer Candidate School, and playing with the cats. We purchased a home on April 28th, 2009, which we got a really good deal on. The previous owner, who ended up foreclosing on it, began about 23 different home improvement projects and finished none of them. Amanda and I worked diligently during the month of May painting, baseboarding, spackling, paint-stripping, flooring, wiring, exterminating, landscaping, tiling, decorating, staining, caulking, and rodent-chasing. Now we only have 22 different projects left, but we are getting there. The house is actually livable now and the cats have made friends with the rodents, so we are all happy. (We don't really have rodents... The squirrels that came with the house have taken up residence elsewhere.)

On May 21st, I departed the comforts of my home to attend Officer Candidate School in Quantico, VA. It was supposed to be a 6-week venture, fraught with excruciating physical exertion, constantly getting yelled at, and a general degradation of humanity. I was really looking forward to it. Upon completion of OCS, I would have only needed to graduate college in order to get my commission as a 2nd Lieutenant, so I was very anxious to get it out of the way. Unfortunately, the second day I was there, they found out that I had torn my rotator cuff in my right shoulder. Since I had only been doing about a month of rehabilitation, they decided to send me home. The doctors at OCS recommended I get an MRI, surgery, and an additional 6 to 8 months of rehab in order for it to be completely healed.

AN ARGUMENT AGAINST GOVERNMENT-RUN HEALTHCARE:

Upon my return to the Hampton Roads, I proceeded to set up the necessary medical appointments to take care of my shoulder. Despite the recommendations from Navy and civilian doctors at OCS for immediate MRI and surgery, I still had to navigate the red tape of a bureaucratized healthcare system.

The first step was to call an automated appointment line just to see my "Primary Care Manager," who, amazingly, has been a different doctor every time I have gone to get my shoulder looked at. Once the appointment was made (for a week later), I would be able to start my rehab. One week later, I saw my "Primary Care Manager"--a different one again--who, after explaining to her the problem, did A Few Tests on my shoulder to see if there was a problem. She explained to me that I would need an X-Ray before they could start treatment. So, she set up an appointment with the X-Ray technician for me. Once I got my X-ray, I would be able to start my rehab.

After the X-ray was completed, I was sent back to the "Primary Care Manager"--a different one again--who explained to me that the X-ray showed I did not have a torn rotator cuff. Fortunately, I had done some research on rotator cuff tears prior to my visit, so I was able to ask the following question: "Won't torn rotator cuffs only show up on an MRI?" The doctor replied with a bit of confusion, "Yes, I think you're right."

Despite this medical revelation, she refused to get me an MRI. Instead she assigned me to go to a Physical Therapist. She was kind enough to set up the appointment for me. Once this appointment was made--for a week later--I would be able to begin my rehabilitation. The next week I went to see my new Physical Therapist, who proceeded to do A Few Tests to see if there was actually a problem. Amazingly, he came to the same conclusion that every other doctor had come to (except for the doctor who looked at my X-ray), that I had a torn rotator cuff; however, to be sure, I would need to get an MRI. Finally, the recommendations from OCS were being heeded. Soon, I would be into surgery and it would all be fixed.

Wrong! When I asked the Physical Therapist when I could get an MRI, he stated that I would have to do 6 to 8 weeks of rehab first just to see if that worked. I explained to him what the doctors and Physical Therapists at OCS had recommended and even gave him the phone numbers for their office, but that was apparently not enough. So, he sent me to a Physical Trainer, with whom I was supposed to set up an appointment to begin my rehab. After seeing the Physical Trainer, I set up an appointment--for a week later--and would soon be able to begin my rehab.

Nonetheless, I will have to undergo an almost assuredly wasted 6 to 8 weeks of pointless rehab for the Bureau of Naval Medicine to realize that I need an MRI and surgery in order to get fixed. All despite the recommendation coming from doctors who work for, yes, the Bureau of Naval Medicine that I get an MRI and surgery immediately.

I understand that MRIs are expensive and they only want to use the machine if they have to, but when you consider the 8 weeks of paying the physical therapist, the 8 weeks I am unable to completely do my job despite my being paid at full salary, and the various other costs associated with rehabilitation, I am sure they are not saving that much money. Either way, I am not looking forward to surgery because they employ two echelons of surgeons at Naval Medical Center Portsmouth (Motto: "The bottom of the class needs jobs, too!"). The first echelon has the regular surgeons; the second echelon has doctors who fix all the botched surgeries that the first echelon performs... I am not making this up.

On a concluding note, our baby will be born in this very hospital, under this very bureaucracy, under these very doctors, and subject to this very inefficient and grossly incompetent government-run healthcare. Perhaps I will just do a YouTube search of "How to deliver a baby."