The Brexit Vote

Tomorrow, the UK is voting to leave or stay in the European Union.  This has been on the table since last summer when the Prime Minister agreed to hold a referendum about EU membership.  I bet he wishes he had never agreed to that when he was trying to get re-elected.  It is quite the gamble. Polls are showing that there is as much support for leaving as there is for staying.  

It is interesting to see how the different sides tend to align themselves very much like our own country.  The "Vote Leave" folks tends to be made up of older voters and, as in our own country, most are a a xenophobic group, if not down right racist.  They feel that immigrants are taking over their country and want to go back to "whiter" days.  The "Vote Stay" group is made up of progressives. Most are under 40 and have never known a UK that was not part of the EU. They grew up with diversity. 

This has been the talk of the town I live in. I have been stopped at the town center several times by both sides. Good thing that as soon as they hear my accent and I confirm that I can't vote in their referendum, they end their sales pitch. But I do enjoy listening to their take on what is happening or will happen.  Because, you know.  We all know what happens when you speculate - Much A Do About Nothing.

Battle lines have been drawn across the country, neighbors against neighbors. I can drive down a road and see the flags or signs to vote one way or another. At times, it has gotten nasty.  Both sides have been using fear tactics - fear of what could happen if they stay or if they leave.  Things took a tragic turn last week when with the murder of a 42 year old pro-stay Labour Party MP by a pro-leave radical. Both sides suspended campaigning.

Recently, I had a pleasant conversation with my stylist about the differences and similarities between our countries.  He is a young twenty something who told me he is voting to stay in the EU.  He made a very good point about how this was more about the burden of immigration on their system of welfare.  We have similar issues with our own benefit system in the US, but not on as large a scale since our welfare system is limited.  

Did you know that if you are a refugee or immigrant, you are given free housing, free healthcare, and welfare?  He said people can stay on these benefits for a long time and everyone is eligible.  This is why we also get to use the NHS for healthcare - it is open to everyone.  In the US, immigrants do not automatically get benefits until they become permanent residents. And even then, it is need based. They have to show that they are working on gainful employment in order to get it or must prove that they are disabled and unable to work.  Here, it is automatic. Take the ease of benefits and the strong pound sterling and its no wonder people are flocking to cross the English Channel.

Take the NHS. The few times I have sought care through the NHS I have noticed that 1) they have very good health care and 2) their wait times are very long. I was told that if I wanted to have my shoulder surgery via NHS, I may have to wait 2-3 years to be seen and get that scheduled.  Don't know if that is accurate, but I do notice that to get the kind of care I am accustomed to, I have to go private pay.  

Earlier this week, I met with a retiree who keeps Tigger while we are on holiday.  She asked me my thoughts and I told her I couldn't vote. She told me that she just doesn't know.  She said she feels it is her son's generation who should be required to vote while her generation abstains because this will affect his generation more than hers.  

I have spoken to other older adults here who tell me that people are just coming over here to take advantage of their welfare system.  Sound familiar? It makes you think that if that is the problem why not reform the system rather than vote to leave?

I think they will vote to stay just like the Scots voted to stay within the UK. Human beings do not like the unknown and leaving is a big unknown. It is exciting to be here during such an important vote. One thing is certain: it is going to be a nail biter.

All seriousness aside, take a look at John Oliver's take on Brexit.  He can weigh in.  He's British. Enjoy.

The Royal Ascot

Every country has a high society event.  The United Kingdom, with its Royal family, has many high society events, but none is more fascinating than the Royal Ascot.

The Royal Ascot is the Gold Cup of horse racing.  The Queen, an avid horse lover, holds court at the event with the Duke of Edinburgh every year for each of its five days of racing.  She is joined by different members of the Royal family each day.

The Royal Enclosure provided the best and least crowded view. You could watch from the stands or walk down to the track.

There are several enclosures available to the general public.  The Royal enclosure is open only to members (likely those with titles) and diplomatic missions who sponsor their employees in the enclosure. So it was that we received instructions to submit an application for the Royal enclosure this past April for one of the premier social events of the year.

We were not sure how it worked, but we put our application in the proverbial top hat for the chance to attend. I'm pretty sure security checks were run for everyone who applied and we had the good fortune to be invited to buy tickets.

Tickets to the Royal Enclosure are not cheap.  Adults are 150£ each.  Children are a mere 20£.  Parking is 30£.  These prices do not include the attire required to adhere to the strict dress code. 

You may have seen the pictures in the news from the first few days of the event.  The crazy hats/fascinators and outrageous dresses - that was NOT in the Royal Enclosure.  For one, fascinators were not allowed in the Royal Enclosure.

Hat Swap!

For the ladies and girls, dresses had to be at or below the knee.  Any straps had to be one inch in diameter.  If wearing a trouser suit, the material for both pieces must match.  All ladies must wear hats with a minimum 4" diameter base.  Girls can wear fascinators or head pieces. Heels were optional.

Men were required to wear morning dress - top hat and tails. Within the Royal Enclosure, the top hats had to be kept on at all times. Boys could opt to wear a suit and their hat was optional.

Optional or not, this is one of those once in a lifetime opportunities.  We decided to go all out. 

Hat, check! I went ahead and bought one. I plan to wear it to every event that I can justify wearing it. I have never been a hat girl, but the head band that ensured it would not fly off my head at any time. I loved it. I even wore it at work after the event. 

Dress for me and for my girl, check.  Morning dress for my dear husband and son, check.  Sensible shoes...that was the biggest challenge.  Everything I read, including tips from Pippa Middleton, praised sensible shoes since you are on your feet all day.  But, heels tend to be best with a dress.  In the end, the weather took that decision out of my hands. 

Royal Ascot commenced on what had to be the rainiest day and week of the year.  The rain started on the previous Sunday and continued off and on, but mostly on, for days.  By the time the first day arrived, the ground was very soft and flooded in some areas of the car park which led to some fantastic pictures.  The forecast changed multiple times over the week, but our chosen day of attendance, Saturday, gave us the best odds for no rain.

We arrived on a cloudy overcast day early.  We tried to caravan in since tailgating is allowed.  It pays to be in the Royal Enclosure as we were a short walk to the racecourse. 

It was cold rather than rainy.  I think we had a few sprinkles of misty rain and it was over.  But the soft ground was not over.  I stepped out of our car with my heels and began to sink into the mud.  That made the shoe decision real easy.  I pulled out my back up flats and didn't look back.

Tailgating at Ascot is an art.  Forget the tailgating you are accustomed to at a football game! This was high class tailgating.  People brought tents - the kind that you would see at an outdoor wedding.  Under the tents, tables with white table cloths popped up. Tables were topped with fine dinnerware, silverware, cloth napkins, candelabras, champagne flutes and buckets of champagne on ice. Some folks had their tents professionally catered.  We ate, we drank, we laughed and took lots of pictures for about three hours before we started making our way to the racecourse.

The Queen's horse drawn carriage procession begins every day at 2pm in the parade ring. This is a separate area opposite the actual racecourse.  We managed to get there just as the procession was getting underway and managed to snap a few shots of Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh, and the Prince of Wales and Duchess of Cornwall.  In case you are wondering, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge made an appearance on Day 2 and Prince Harry arrived on the first day.

As the procession concludes, members of the Royal family make their way to their box.  Spectators in the Royal enclosure have a chance to see the Royal family inside the building.  Levels 3 and 4 offer the best view, but make your way up the escalator early as it is packed. Once the Royal family is settled, racing begins.

The races are spaced about 30-45 minutes apart.  There are no assigned seats as you are expected to move about.  People place their bets on the next race and collect their winnings in between races. If you ever want to see a British man, decked out in a top hat and tails, lose all composure upon their horse winning a race, come over to the Royal Ascot. If you want to see the Queen all smiles as her horse wins the race, this is the place to be.

There are many bars, cafes and restaurants set up throughout the enclosure - for a price.  As I have said before, this event is far from reasonably priced.  Top chefs in Britain head the kitchens in these restaurants.  This is why so many people opt for the fancy tailgate.  The cheapest meal other than a cup of coffee and a piece of cake was 40£ per person for afternoon tea with other plates going for upwards of 500£. Wine and Bollinger Champagne was sold by the bottle.

This was our first ever horse race. The races combined with all the glamour made the day go by very quickly. When the races ended, we could not believe that it was nearly 18:00.  But the party didn't end there.  Following the races, there was a sing along in one of the other enclosures and then the place turns into a club for several hours.  Many people continued tailgating at their cars afterwards.

Do you remember being a child on Christmas morning?  All the excitement, anticipation, not knowing what gift to open first? That is what it was like attending the Royal Ascot in the Royal Enclosure.  As for the morning after?  It felt like 26 December too.

Welcome to your first Quaker Meeting, dear.

Every time my youngest finishes a historical lesson at school, they stage a performance with skits and songs depicting what they learned. These performances all take part during a Quaker meeting. 

I still have not figured all of it out. My observation is that each meeting begins and ends in complete silence. It seems to be a moment to reflect before and after worship. After the worship portion is complete you quietly shake the hands of the person sitting to either side of you (not everyone in the pew in front and behind you as I am accustomed). 

Quaker meetings can take many forms to include music meetings or celebration meetings like the one we attended today about Victorian England. It's strange but also the most fun. I go to these when I can because the kids receive their merit marks and certificates they have earned. Today my daughter received one for her writing and art. Unlike schools in America, these are earned and not just given to every student so I think she was very proud of her achievement. 

Today, her dad accompanied me to the celebration meeting. He thought that it was just a show and tell play about what they learned. So, when everyone automatically went silent, he found it odd. I mean, when else do children as young as 3 and up to 12 go silent on purpose for a few minutes without you having to tell them to be quiet? In response to his puzzlement,  I turned to him and said "Welcome to your first Quaker meeting."

Finding a loose brick

This past week I was unable to turn on the news or scroll through social media without mention of the war of words between Pope Francis and Donald Trump.

I won't rehash the debacle since the media has done so to death. But I do feel compelled to comment on some aspects about this wall business and immigration in general that are, quite frankly, an embarrassment to this child of immigrants.

The Wall around the Vatican

I have seen many Trump supporters calling then Pope hypocritical because Vatican City's border is a wall. It's pretty easy to make that statement without considering the history and the present state of Vatican City. 

Those walls have been in place since the 9th century and were built to protect the Pope against Barbarian invasions which were all too common in the Middle Ages. 

The modern Vatican retains these walls as vestiges of its history as do many cities in the ancient world. Europe is littered with remnants of wall from a time when they too had to defend against invaders.

There is a big difference between people trying to invade a country and people trying to emigrate to a country in search of a better life.

Vatican City today is home to about 500 people, most of them, employees of the Varican and diplomats. The Vatican employs more than 500 people. Many live in Rome.  The gates close in the evening, but the Vatican is a government complex and I don't know too many government buildings anywhere that leave their doors open all night.  

The point is that the Vatican is essentially an open border with Rome.  You do not need to get your passport stamped to enter or exit.  They can do that because it is that small.  You cannot compare the smallest country on earth to the second largest country on earth, the United States.  

The United States has never had a wall because our country was founded during the age of Enlightenment and "enlightened" people do not have a need for walls when establishing a free society.

Since our founding, America has been attacked by enemies both foreign (War of 1812, WWII, 9/11) and domestic (Civil War).  Yet, we never felt the need to build a wall around our country. 

Until now...

A Nation of Immigrants

Within the Statue of Liberty, there is a plaque with a poem by Emma Lazarus.  You can read the whole poem here, but the part that applies to the current immigration situation is this: 

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

America has always been a country of immigrants with the exception of the Native American people. Everyone I know - family, friends, politicians, and celebrities - are here because America opened its doors to my family and theirs.  Our co-existence makes it a messy, complicated melting pot at times, but it also is the one thing that sets us aside from other nations.  It gives us our "flavor" if you will.

Now we have a Presidential candidates proposing that we build a wall along our borders to prevent illegal immigration into the Untied States.  

And you have Americans who are falling for this rhetoric and denying why they are all in the United States in the first place.

Pot, meet Kettle

My family emigrated to the United States from Cuba in the late 60's, early 70's and beyond. My family emigrated legally to the US.  So has every Cuban living in the US.  But this is misleading. You see, it is impossible for any Cuban to emigrate to the US illegally.  

Cuban immigrants were pawns in the Cold War between the US and Cuba.  By instituting a Cold War policy giving Cubans special refugee status, Cubans would have no problem leaving the island. The US could then make the point to Cuba that "If your government is so great, why are the Cuban people flocking to the US?"

I have nothing against this.  I am an American because of it.  But if you take an honest look, if it were not for that policy, all Cubans would have had to get back in line with everyone else.  Without this policy, my family would have either emigrated much later, not at all or they would have found a away to make it over illegally, putting them in the same boat as every most central Americans or Syrians entering countries illegally.

I agree that we cannot have open borders in this day and age, and, I am all for the immigration laws of centuries past where people were examined and processed before being allowed to leave Ellis Island or local Miami airports for that matter.  

What I do not agree with is the hateful tone that is being taken to address this issue.  

Would you do it? 

The decision to leave one's homeland when faced with war and political/economic oppression is likely one of the most difficult decisions any human being can make. Think about it.  Why would anyone choose to leave the only home they know to face the unknown? I've done it three times with support and help from our employer and it has still been a challenge every single time.  I can only imagine what it is like when you have nothing but a suitcase full of hope. Also, while our reasons for moving abroad pale in comparison to those who risk their lives for freedom, I can say that leaving family and friends behind is hard for anyone who calls themselves human.  We choose to move abroad knowing full well that we can always come home again.  What if you left knowing that it is very likely you will never go back? 

Today, many Cubans Americans seem to have forgotten this part of their family history. They seem to have forgotten what it was like to be that desperate, to leave everything they owned behind because as part of their exit, they had to relinquish all their assets to the Cuban government.  I am sure that as they left for the airport, the sense of anxiety about the unknown and the thought of the family and friends they were leaving behind must have been overwhelming.  Again, who would do this if they had the choice to stay in their homeland? 

In spite of all this, Cuban immigrants had it easy compared to the wave of undocumented immigrants we have now.  The majority arrived by plane. They were processed at airports and were sent on their way to meet up with family in New York, New Jersey, Texas, Florida and elsewhere to start their new lives.  

Today's undocumented immigrants travel thousands of miles on foot or are smuggled in trucks across borders.  Many suffer unspeakable violence trying to make their way to the US. They leave poverty stricken countries that make our unemployment rate during the recession look great.  They are leaving countries where gang and drug violence makes it impossible for anyone to have a normal life. In the case of Syria, they are also leaving a war torn country where staying is kin to signing a death warrant.

It makes me sad to see that my people, who emigrated for similar reasons are throwing these groups under a bus because they seem to have the mentality that they are better than these immigrant groups or they make them out to be "not like us" all because of that special refugee status they enjoyed. It is dangerous when any people believe they are better than another.  Ask any Holocaust survivor how that plays out.

A Way Forward

This is a moral and ethical dilemma. There are many facets to be considered.  Tough, hateful talk on securing the border is the easy way to deal with it.  It is messy to see the human dimension.  It will make your heart ache when and if you do.  I used to view illegal immigration like many Republicans. Then, as a therapist, I met many undocumented immigrants. I got to know them and at the end of the day, they all want the same things all of us want: to raise our families in a safe environment and to provide for their basic needs.  These people changed me.  It is hard to go back to having a one dimensional view of immigration when you are exposed to another dimension.  

If you feel so strongly about securing our borders, do not contribute to the problem by spewing hateful rhetoric.  You can express your views without spewing hate. Our immigration policies leave much to be desired and you can't fault those who are already here for that. I liken this to the legalization of marijuana.  Its still illegal in the United States.  They just chose to look the other way.  The US chose to look the other way while millions of people crossed the border. Deporting millions of people, most of whom are hard working individuals who pay income tax and have no criminal history, is going to end up costing us more than developing an enforceable immigration policy and moving forward.  

Walls, as any Berliner from 1961 to 1989 can attest, divide people.  Breaking down walls comes down to finding the loose brick or loosening a brick. This is not about building a wall, but about tearing down the one you have put up around yourself.  

Top Ten Things I Love the United Kingdom

It's been 6 months since we arrived in the UK.  It feels much longer than that due to the learning curve, even if it was smaller this time around.  I thought I would pick 10 things I love about our new host country.  Some are quirks and others are little things that make me smile.

10. Queues

Not that I care to join a queue if I don't have to, but queues here are an art form.  And it isn't just getting line for a turn or for tickets.  Many roads in the country are one lane each way, occasionally opening up to two lanes.  While some people will get into the second line to skip ahead before the road becomes one lane again, this is more the exception than the rule.  If someone tries to skip in line, it is usually an unaware tourist or foreigners.

9. Pub Names and Ordering Scheme

You have to wonder where they come up with their pub names.  Popular names tend to include animals like the Red Lion, the White Horse, the Blackbird or Ye Olde Reindeer and others include the word an animal, person or location like King and Castle or Hundred Acres while others you have to wonder about like the Pickled Ploughman or the Hung, Drawn and Quartered near Tower Hill in London.  There is one in our area called the Crown and Tuns, more affectionately known as Pudding Face.  Why?  Because their specialty is pies. Not just sweet pies, mind you, but savory pies.  And they are huge!

While I am on the topic of pubs, I have developed a fondness for the pub system of ordering your food and drinks.  While not all pubs are the same in food quality and ambiance, many share a similar scheme when ordering food.  You walk in and find your own table which is usually equipped with menus.  You look over the menu and note your table number which is usually etched into the table.  You then proceed to the bar to place your order and pay.  They bring your meal to the table when ready and when you are done, you leave.  I love not having to wait for a check. And if you decide you want dessert, you repeat the process.

8. TV commercials

You think the Super Bowl has funny ads?  You have not seen those on British telly.  Sometimes we find ourselves enjoying the commercials more than the show. Take this commercial from Haribo:

Another meeting that could have been an email. 

Their sense of humor is well displayed in their ads. Their shows are pretty good too.

7. Cursing

Cursing is so common here that even my kids were taken aback when they noticed how much their classmates cursed.  Just take a look at this fine list of British slang. Now bugger on to the next item on the list.

6. Cadbury Creme Eggs and Clotted Creme Fudge

Like they do in Poland, it may be 2 things, but they are one category.

It's the small things, folks.

Yes, the box went from six to five and they changed their recipe.  But having come from a country that did not sell Cadbury eggs and being from a country where they only seem to appear at Easter, I don't notice care about these changes.  The fact that I can buy these nuggets of sticky gooey creme every day of the year is delightful.

Then, there is clotted creme fudge.  These little morsels of sweetness are basically dulce de leche in a small package. The liquid variety is what they put on scones and depending on the brand, it can also be sweet. Or not.

My waistline does not share this opinion on either item.

5. Road Rules

I find drivers here to be friendly, most often giving you the right of away even when you don’t have it.  Some of the things I found daunting upon arriving now make sense to me.  Like roundabouts.  I find them to be a brilliant way to keep traffic moving without the need for lights that back up traffic.

4. The People

The British are self-deprecating to a fault.  They apologize as if on automatic even when they are not at fault.  They are friendly and seem to have an innate ability for small talk which this introvert enjoys since I do not need to make much effort to join in conversations with them.  Their wit and sarcasm makes it a pleasure to have a conversation with them.

They may come off as being unemotional, but its more like being reserved and in control of their emotions. “Keep Calm and Carry On” is their national motto.

As in most societies, they do not all fit the mold. We have noticed that while they are very friendly towards Americans, they can be rotten to each other. But that is not my problem.

3. Geography

There are green hills and valleys, stunning sunsets, cliffs, extinct volcanoes, beaches, mountains and lakes.  Sometimes you even find a blue Police Box dotting the landscape.  It is so breathtakingly beautiful - when it isn't raining.

Pink Sunset on the Motorway

2. Location, Location, Location

Our location in the center of England places us about 2-3 hours from the east (Wales), west and southern coast (Dorset) of England.  Scotland to the north is about a 4-5 hours drive/train ride or a quick flight. London is at 80 miles away makes for a worthwhile day trip.

If you want to head into continental Europe, you can fly fairly cheap on low cost carriers, drive via the Eurotunnel auto train, or take a ferry with your vehicle across the channel.  Don't want to deal with flying or driving?  Hop on the Eurostar train and you will be in Paris in 2 hours. Locally, there are train stations every 5-10 miles and you can catch a train very easily arriving at the station about 5-10 minutes prior to boarding.

......and the #1 reason I love this country....

1. The History

Everywhere you turn there is something of a historical context to see, do or hear. There is royal history, literary history, scientific history, art and musical history.  Sure, other places offer similar, but British history is the precursor to our American history which is laughably short.  There is so much history packed within the city of London that you could spend several weeks there alone and not see it all. Once you get out of London, you see how vast and old their history is.  Stonehenge and Hadrian's Wall pre-date William the Conqueror by hundreds and thousands of years. And most of it has survived and is well preserved. Hence why, the best way to see this country, is to live here.

Stay tuned for the Top 10 Things I Hate about the UK!

Tigger's Sweet Sixteen Centenary

Our old dog turned sweet sixteen today.  And what a sweet life it has been! We got him in May 2000.  I remember that while he was made ready for us to bring home, my then boyfriend, Josh, drove me home and while he went back to pick him up, I ran over to Petsmart to stock up on everything dog.  

Tigger, 3 months old , enjoying his first dog bed

I never had a dog growing up.  I fell in love with West Highland Terriers from a calendar I picked up at a local mall when I was about 18. I think it was a law of attraction thing.  Every year, I bought a new Westie calendar knowing that one day, I would have a Westie.  Let's just say Josh scored major boyfriend brownie points.

We named him Tigger because when he got home, he never seemed to stop pouncing on things.  His favorite games were related to hunting things down.  He loved when we would hide things and he had to find them.  He was quite good.


Tigger was a stubborn puppy from the start.  Training him to walk on a lead and to signal when he needed to go definitely took more time than we anticipated.  It was prep work for the human children that would soon follow.

This was Tigger's favorite toy at the beginning.
He loved latching on to it and having us
spin him around in the air.

Tigger became a world traveler at 9 months old when we traveled to Germany to visit Josh's parents who were stationed there.  It was the first of many trips across the pond that eventually led to living abroad. While at home, he frequently joined us on local trips and on visits to Florida where the mother who never cared to give me a dog as a child, was delighted by him and his personality. She even kept him in her home when we went on our honeymoon in 2001.

It was in my mother's home with the help of my younger brother that Tigger developed several new habits.  My brother taught him how to bark and the wonders of being fed hamburger by hand.  See, Tigger missed us so much while we were away that he stopped eating. My brother began hand feeding him hamburger and that was the start of the daily circling of the table to see if we would indulge him in the better tasting food he had been exposed to in FL.

Tigger loved my mother.  My mother would speak to him in a high pitched voice that you would use with a young child.  This would get him so excited that we learned it was best that he greet my mom outside the house due to his related accidents and bring him in once he calmed down.

In those first 2 years, Tigger was our child. We played with him, fed him, taught him how to signal to us when he needed to go, took him to the dog park and took him with us to PetSmart on shopping trips. He developed a new favorite toy in the form of plastic soda bottles that he would play soccer with and chew on because he delighted in the noise.

Then this happened:

Tigger eagerly waiting for us to throw a him the ball.

Tigger did not know what to make of this person who was smaller than he was.  He was very nervous at first.  But he became Nicholas' greatest protector. We lived in an apartment at the time and our first of many blizzards in February 2003.  We had to clear snow from our cars that were parked right next to our son's window.  We took the baby monitor with us and left baby sleeping and Tigger on the bay window of the Nick's room   When Nicholas woke up from his nap, all we could hear on the monitor were gurgling sounds interspersed with barking.  He was alerting us that the creature had woken up.  He always looked after Nick.

We moved to Florida that summer.  Tigger now had extended family nearby and he was always so excited when people came to visit or when we brought him somewhere to visit.  He always loved when we included him. 

Then, this happened:

Mikayla was not the most gentle with Tigger,
but she was the most creative. Hair bows anyone?

Sadly, before Mikayla's arrival, and possibly due to hormones, I found another Westie that I thought would be a great addition to our family. We brought the new Westie home a few days before I found out that Mikayla was on the way.  Tigger did not share my thoughts. Never make a decision while pregnant, whether it is a new haircut or a dog.  

Meeko (another Disney animal) was not Tigger.  He was the bull in the china shop.  Tigger hated him.  If we were spending any individual time with Tigger, Meeko would break it up and Tigger would sigh and go elsewhere.  Meeko wanted to play Tigger was between 5-7 at the time and he couldn't care less about playing with Meeko despite playing with us every chance he got.

Tigger became an expat a few month later when we moved to Warsaw, Poland.  In some ways, life with the two dogs and kids became easier because I was not working and I had household help.  I could dedicate more time to everyone.  During this time, if they were not raveling with us, Tigger and Meeko would spend their holidays in my housekeeper's country home.  They loved it out there.  

All our crazies circa 2008 Poland after being separated
all summer.

We came back to Virginia in 2009.  Tigger was not doing well.  To be honest with you, I think he was very depressed.  He lost his appetite.  I returned to work and the kids were in school and there was no one at home except for this crazy Westie.  Tigger became aggressive with Meeko.  It was not a good situation.  We decided that it would be best to find Meeko a new family.  It was a very difficult decision, but we found a family with two boys who adopted him.

That week, when Tigger realized that Meeko was not coming home, he was ecstatic.  His appetite returned. The lesson learned was every dog deserves to be "the" dog and that two male dogs are not ever a good idea.

After a few years in the hardship posting that is DC, we headed out again to Austria.  Tigger was in heaven.  The Viennese may not have cared for Americans, but they loved their dogs and we were always stopped by someone while out for a walk.  Tigger had a field day marking his territory every few feet around the neighborhood.  There were that many dogs. 

Due to poor planning on our employer's part, we ended up having to move around the block from our first home in Vienna.  This was just a bonus for Tigger who was the only dog among the American children who lived there and they loved him.  Tigger would join the kids every afternoon after school while they played outside.  

Getting ready for the European Road Trip

But, he was slowing down.  While he still traveled all over Europe with us, we could no longer take him out like we used to.  He would tire out much more quickly.  Last year, we learned that we were heading to the UK. Tigger was turning 15.  We found it fitting that we would be bringing him to his homeland for his swan song (this breed is from the West Highlands of Scotland). 

We were lucky to find a family to stay with him while we went home to the States for the summer. The headache of trying to bring him back to the UK aside, we were concerned about him traveling in cargo at his age.  

He had an awesome time with his host family, but he was so happy when we came back to bring him to our new home.  And we could not have asked for a better place for him to spend his twilight years: a house with a large backyard and a hedge leading to a secret garden with an apple orchard.  

He spent all fall in that apple orchard getting his fill of apple snacks and rolling around in the grass and sometimes mud (more than I would have liked). 

This week, as his 16th birthday approached, he became sick. He had been sick before and usually with some rest, he would get better.  But, the next morning, he was barely moving, eating or drinking.  He could not walk.  We took him to the vet and he had a 105 degree fever and could not stand.  Our choices were to put him down, pump him full of antibiotics and IV fluids and hope for a marked recovery by morning, or run invasive tests.  We opted for antibiotics and IV fluids and prepared for the worse while hoping that he would be ok.  It was the saddest night of my life since the night my father died almost 27 years ago.  I cried myself to sleep for the first time in recent memory.

Yesterday, morning came and with that, the phone call from the vet.  Tigger made a recovery.  The treatment had worked and he was standing, walking, eating and drinking again.  We could bring him home.  He was wobbly, but walking and circling our dinner table once more that evening.

Today, he celebrates his 16th birthday in human years and crossed the threshold to centenarian at 112. We figured that at this point, he deserved a cupcake to celebrate what may be his last birthday.

Happy Birthday, sweet, loyal Tigger!  We love you!

Update: I'm pretty bad at math. 16 years is 112 in dog years even though Josh says dog years vary by breed. I didn't know that so I looked it up and there is a calculator. Looks like Tigger will be demoted back to 75. Maybe he can stick around a bit longer.

You can find out your dogs age by breed here: http://www.ajdesigner.com/fl_dog_age/dog_age.php

Private Hospital Care vs. NHS Hospital Care in the UK

So much for writing every week.  Life really does happen between the pages of a passport and it is a pretty busy existence.  

I sit here writing this in my post-surgical medicated fog, but I wanted to try to write while the experience is still fresh in my mind. 

We have been living in the UK for less than six months, but during this time, I have been unfortunate enough to experience both sides of the UK Healthcare system.  

In August/September, I experienced what I thought was a scratch on my cornea after removing contact lenses.  This had happened several times in the past year and usually resolved itself. But,   since I was in the process of registering for the NHS, I mentioned this to the doctor and was told to get an eye exam because I may have an ulcer.  So, I headed to the local Vision Express (like Visionworks or Pearle Vision in the US).  The optician found not one but 9 corneal ulcers at various stages (some scars others active) spread over both eyes.  

I was sent to the eye hospital at John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford early on a Sunday morning for an emergency eye clinic. The hospital was pretty modern, unlike other hospitals I had visited in other countries. I filled out a one page form with my name, address, birthdate and was asked to sit down. I did not have my NHS card yet, but they did not seem to care. I was seen within 10 minutes as I was the only one there on a Sunday. I went home on antibiotic drops and ointment and was basically told that my contact lens days were over. 

I had to go to eye clinics every week for a month to make sure the ulcers healed.  Every week I received a text message from the NHS with a reminder about my appointment as well as a letter reminder.  Every time I went, I took my appointment letter and put it in an acrylic file slot and waited for my letter to be pulled.  The eye clinics were packed, but I waited a max of about 30 minutes, usually less.  I think I spent more time trying to find parking than waiting to be seen. The care itself was good.  Each exam was thorough.  After 4 weeks, I was discharged from the clinic. I never received anything else from the NHS regarding my visits.  I did not pay a penny for any visit.

In October, I was referred to an orthopedic surgeon at the the private Nuffield Manor Hospital in Oxford.  This is where I began to see the differences between the two systems within the NHS.  The way things work here is that if your general practitioner (GP) (a PCP in the US) refers you to a private hospital, NHS will cover your treatment 100%.   However, I was being referred by my private doctor through my employer so I did not receive NHS coverage for the consult or the subsequent surgery. If I had to go through the GP, I would have had to get on a waiting list for surgery.  I was told to expect to wait up to a year or more to get the surgery scheduled.  Going private expedited the process. 

How do I know this?  Because the NHS has this down to a science.  The NHS website told me that if I went to my GP, it would take 24 weeks just to be seen by an orthopedic surgeon at John Radcliffe Hospital. The same process GP to Nuffield Manor Hospital would have been 17 weeks for an appointment. By going private, I got an appointment in 3 weeks and got to pick when I wanted to have surgery.

The only annoying part of the process was communicating with the surgeon's office. In the US, you can generally get a hold of a secretary. Not here.  I tried to get in touch with the office by phone and there was no voicemail to leave a message.  I was told that I was going to be getting a booklet emailed to me with information about the surgery.  Nothing.  I called and emailed and got nowhere.  If it had not been for my doctor's office who kept trying to get in touch with them, I would have never been able to schedule the surgery.  This was in keeping with the reviews on the NHS website - great care, but poor communication.

I received the invoice for the October consult in late November. 200 GBP about 300 USD. I don't know what it is about Europeans, but they have a very lackadaisical way about them when it comes to getting paid for their services. The surgeons office only accepted cash payment. The invoice said to contact the office for bank information since Europe runs on bank transfers.  Again, phone, email and no response.  Finally, while we were on vacation in Scotland in mid December, I finally received an email with the bank info so I could transfer the funds.  

I took that opportunity to ask about pre-surgical appointments in my response since we were now about a month away from the surgery date.  No response.  Finally, 2 weeks before surgery, after not hearing anything from the office, I contacted the hospital directly and received an immediate response cc-ing the surgeon's office.  That got the ball rolling and by the end of the day, I had my pre-surgery consult scheduled and an invoice with fees for the surgery.  

Believe it or not, it was wonderful to receive an invoice with fees for the hospital stay and for each doctor broken down as line items.  Hospitalization in the US is a crap shoot when it comes to fees. Doctors and surgeons rarely provide you with the cost of services and hospitals may have a chargemaster, but that book is rarely available to patients. It was so nice to see that the anesthesiologist charged 425 GBP about 600 USD for his services.  Do you know that when I had my first child, I only had a spinal anesthetic and I received a post insurance invoice for 1500 USD in 2002? More than double what this anesthesiologist charged me for a general, regional and local anesthetic in 2016. And the surgeon?  850 GBP/about 1200 USD for his surgical services.  It would have been twice as much in the US. 

I reviewed my US insurance benefits and was able to determine that I would have had to pay about 1500 USD overall if it were an outpatient procedure and only $350 if I was inpatient.  Where is the logic in that?  Since I was an inpatient and I have an added medical benefit at work, I ended up paying nothing.

The hospital care was excellent. I had a private room and the nurses were much more attentive than in previous hospitalizations in the US.  If I pressed the call button, they were in the room in about 15 seconds. My mother felt comfortable leaving me there overnight on my own because she saw how attentive they were. They didn't freak out that I went to the bathroom on my own, for example, and other than taking my vitals every couple of hours, they mostly let me be.  Despite having surgery, I had no IV put in unlike the US when that is one of the first things they do.  A physiotherapist met with me to go over some home exercises and explained that physical therapy was part of the package.  If I had physical therapy at the hospital, it would be free of charge.  Sweet! That would never happen in the US where they nickel and dime you for everything and insurance limits the amount of visits you are entitled to.  

In the US, you are usually kept on a morphine drip and after you are weaned off of this, you are given a 10 day prescription of Percocet to manage pain.  Not here.  I did not get heavy duty pain meds. I was given a cocktail of Paracemetol (Tylenol), Naproxen and mini Codeine pills. That is it. They also gave me the actual medications before I left the hospital instead of a prescription to collect meds at the local chemist.

When people discuss socialized medicine in the US, they are thinking in terms of the worse case scenario.  I have heard stories of places where families have to bring in their own supplies when they go into the hospitals.   In Poland, this was the case.  It was bare bones medical care consistent with a second world country.  Not so in first world Western countries.  I had linens on my bed, vitals checked on a Dinamap vital signs monitor, wound dressings provided by and medicines dispensed by the actual hospital. This is the kind of care you would receive in a US hospital.  Only it is generally free.  Do people complain?  Sure.  It is human nature to complain.  Does it sometimes take longer to get treatment? Yes, but there are options and even the cost of private pay is cheaper than in the US. 

Take medication. My son takes a medication for migraines that is not available in the US. Because I got a prescription from a private doctor, I paid about 65 GBP (about 100 USD) for a 6 month supply of this medication. That is about 16 USD per month for these meds.  No different than if I got something similar in the US through a co-payment.  I prefer going private because its an American doctor I am seeing, it is convenient for me to go that route and I can afford that.  But if that option was not available, I could go to the GP and the medication would be free. The GP via NHS is like an HMO that manages your healthcare while going private is like going to a preferred provider.

I think the biggest problem with the Affordable Care Act is its name.  It is not affordable unless you are poor and get your premiums subsidized. It is not affordable when you have a high deductible you must meet before your care is considered paid for. And the costs will continue to rise since the young people they planned on enrolling to support the sick are opting for the cheaper penalty.  

Rather than issue tax penalties to all those who refuse to join, they should have funded this as a payroll tax just like Medicare and cut out the insurance companies that only care about their profit margin.  That would have provided true universal coverage that everyone could access.  Would it be perfect?  No, but at least no one would go into debt because they can't afford healthcare. 

Maybe people like me are an anomaly because we have been able to experience the other side and realize that it is not the scary monster that it is made out to be.

Now back to my nap...