Gang Aft Agley

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
Robert Burns

or

The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

The best-laid schemes often go awry... even the best-laid schemes. And few of Man's schemes are well-laid at all.

The Founding Fathers had noble intentions. They proposed a government in which one man had one vote, so that each had equal interest and equal representation. Abraham Lincoln called it "government by the people, for the people, of the people," and vowed that it would not perish from the Earth. These grand sentiments were enshrined in well-laid schemes articulated in documents like the Constitution and Bill of Rights, the Gettysburg Address and the Emancipation Proclamation.

But even the best-laid schemes "gang aft agley."

In my lifetime, perhaps despite the best efforts of persons of good will or because of the apathy of the common citizen, "government by the people, for the people, of the people" has been replaced with government by the elite, for the elite, and of the elite. "One man, one vote" has become "one dollar, one vote," and whoever spends the most dollars wins. The wealthy elite have hijacked government "by the people, for the people, of the people," and even in some instances convinced some of "the people" that it was in their own best interests to allow it. The wealthy elite have purchased legislators outright, and the government serves their interests and no other.

The American Dream has become a pipe dream for the vast majority of common folk, even the most deserving and able. The dice are loaded, the game is rigged, and no matter how smart you are or how hard you work, you will be lucky to have as much as your parents did.

Banks and corporations are "too big to fail," so the government uses the contributions of common folk to bail those banks and corporations out. Corporate risk is underwritten by working Americans who receive no corporate profits, while the government dismantles the social safety net that once provided a soft landing for those same working Americans in time of trouble. A bank's bad decisions may land it in the sewer, but the government will ensure that it (and its officers) will come out smelling like a rose. Is the same true for a working American?

In George Orwell's dystopian novel Nineteen Eighty-Four the protagonist, Winston Smith, is told that "Two plus two equals five." He rejects the statement as false, but the assertion is repeated again and again until he begins to doubt his own certainty and finally comes to accept the false as true.

Likewise, citizens are likeliest to believe what they hear repeated most. Since the Supreme Court has granted corporations the same "free speech" rights as persons, corporations may now spend as much as they like in promoting their candidates and proclaiming their messages as often as necessary. Anyone unable to muster equivalent funding will find her or his message buried under an avalanche of advertising. This effectively multiplies the vote of those controlling the corporations in proportion to spending.

One dollar, one vote...

Government by the almighty dollar, for the almighty dollar, of the almighty dollar...

Thus dies the American Dream...

Thus dies America...

Gang aft Agley.

Incidental Finding

I'll admit, I'm a bit anxious right now; anxious to get the CAT scan over with, and anxious to hear what it finds.

Wait, that's not the beginning.

On Saturday, September 24, 2011, I injured myself. It was during the final open water session of my PADI Rescue Diver class and I was acting as a victim for one of my classmates, who was carrying me up the beach on his back. I breathed at just the wrong time, coinciding with my rescuer's step, and I felt a 'pop' in my ribs, accompanied by some meaningful pain.

The pain subsided, I finished my rescues without too much trouble, and all was well (or so I thought).

Within a few days the pain had diminished but not vanished. My students extracted a promise from me that if it hadn't got better by Monday (October 3, 2011), I'd get it checked out; they repeated to me what I've frequently said to them: "Take care of yourself! You're no good to anyone if you're unhealthy!"

Fast forward to yesterday. I got up, got ready for school, and by the time I arrived was in significant pain. Dammit... So I arranged for a sub and went to Urgent Care to keep my promise.

Doctor thought it was quite likely costochondritis, an inflammation of the ribs' junction to the sternum, but ordered x-rays to rule out rib fracture. No problem... until the doctor came in and told me that there was no fracture, but...

But... there was an "incidental finding."

It's an innocuous phrase, but my blood ran cold. An "incidental finding" on an x-ray of the chest region for someone whose dad died of lung cancer not quite 3 years ago is perhaps-understandably frightening. I controlled myself and paid attention as the doctor continued.

She described the "incidental finding" as a "nodule" in the region immediately above the injury site, and probably unrelated. She told me that she wanted to refer me for a CAT scan. What can a person say to such a thing? I said, "Okay."

I'm trying to keep my head about this—I'm aware that the odds are good that it's nothing to be concerned about—but sometimes fear gets ahold of me and I think about the years I smoked, or my exposure to asbestos when I was in the Navy, or the prevalence of cancer in my family. I know I'm a bit of a hypochondriac so I dismiss the worst of my fears as probably unfounded, but "probably" isn't the same as "certainly," and I can't say that they're certainly unfounded.

At any rate, the CAT scan is scheduled for Monday afternoon, and it shouldn't be too long after that that I'll know.

But in the meantime, I am anxious.

Funny thing, though; as I was thinking about writing this 'blog, I thought of a different kind of "incidental finding," one that would be just as disruptive as this one could be, but much more welcome.

People say that when you stop looking for love, that's when it finds you; love happens while you're looking for something else. Love is (or often is) an "incidental finding." You're looking for something else, you're doing something else, and WHAM; love.

It's strangely comforting, thinking of love in the same terms as whatever this damn thing in my chest is. Maybe it's good news.

Remember to Breathe

"The beatings will continue until morale improves" is a quote that has in times past amused me more than anything else. I understand the irony—I am an English teacher, after all—but thought of it as satiric hyperbole more than anything else; I'd never been in a situation where it was all-but-literally true.

Things change, however.

For the last couple of years, I've labored to maintain my native optimism in an environment where the beatings, though figurative rather than literal, were no less humiliating and no less demoralizing for the fact that they were figurative. I'm optimistic by nature and want to believe the best of everyone, so although insult after insult and injury after injury would drive me to the depths of despair, I would rise again and again, optimistic about people and their motives.

I'm still doing it, too. After more than two years of insulting, degrading, dehumanizing, demoralizing treatment, I still haven't learned to stay down; while I can be driven deep, I still pop back up like a cork in the ocean.

I'm not happy about that, though.

I'm tired. I'm tired of being treated the way I am. I'm tired of my comrades being treated the same way. I'm tired of optimism; as things stand I have no good reason for optimism in the short term. A big part of me wishes that I wasn't so irrepressibly optimistic—it would be a relief to give up, throw in the towel, surrender my dreams and ambitions—but in so many situations my optimism is a blessing. Lately it's a bit the worse for wear; it's gotten quite a workout keeping me "up," and I'm not sure how much lift remains.

It's a sad thing when one is so demoralized as to almost wish for an end to optimism.

I'm just grateful that I only feel this way in one part of my life. Granted, it's a big part—so big that changing my circumstances would mean a change in almost everything about my life—but it's still only a part of my life. In the rest of my life, I'm pretty happy and satisfied. My morale is high in other parts of my life.

I have an escape planned, should my ability to endure run out before circumstances change. It'd mean a big change in every aspect of my life, but I'm not afraid of change; I relish it. And knowing I have an exit strategy makes it just a little bit easier to endure the current situation.

In the meantime, "The beatings will continue" and morale will continue to decline. And all I can do is remember to breathe.