Most people opt out of politics unless there's a juicy scandal involving an intern, a bag of money in the freezer, or an escort.  Which really grinds my gears, because when a subject like health care comes up, we all need to pay attention.  The old saying goes "if you don't have your health ..." -- so I ask myself, how could anyone afford to ignore what's going on?

Here's the problem:  it affects all of us (especially those with arthritis) because we're the ones living with a chronic condition who rely on good health care to live a decent life.

If you've ever gotten a referral, been prescribed multiple medications, needed a test (like an MRI) or even a second opinion, you've likely had difficulty navigating the complicated mess of approval, authorization, and reimbursement that is health insurance benefits.

It's hard not to get angry at the thought of an insurance company denying a claim.  I remember way back when I was prescribed a Prilosec (proton pump inhibitor) to keep the other medicine I was taking from causing an ulcer.  That one little pill (back then it was prescription-only) was so annoying to get approvals for, it must have taken a dozen phone calls a month between the doctor's office, pharmacy, insurance company and my mom.  And why?  Because an MBA graduate at the health insurance company made a formula that kicked back costly drugs because there were other alternatives available.

Even then I never understood how an insurance company could challenge a doctor's decision to prescribe a certain medicine.  Why even separate the two?  If we're going to get screwed by the insurance company, why not take out the middleman and have Blue Cross open clinics for their doctors to tell us up front that the medicine or tests we need aren't covered, so we won't even bother.

Whichever "side" or whatever opinion one might have about the health care conversation, it's best to at least get involved and know more.  And know more doesn't mean learn everything from Fox News or even MSNBC.  It comes down to learning and thinking about some of the complexities that comprise the issue.  Boiling down health care into small sound bites or news stories (like disruptive town hall meetings) doesn't scratch the surface.

And it doesn't do us any good if we're going to actually get hooked up and stop being jerked around.

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Nothing is more entertaining than a good wipe-out in front of all of your friends.  Especially when you land face first in the water of a pool.

After the shock of "I actually just fell into the freaking pool trying to catch a ball" wears off -- and the hysterical laughter from the deck subsides -- a smile from embarrassment can quickly turn into a very painful grimace.  Trust me.

In the course of that little poolside trip, I did a little damage to my left knee.  I must have pivoted wrong and, in the process of tripping, I twisted my knee in a way that isn't natural and definitely not recommended.  That night, and the following five or so, I was kept awake by the pain in my knee, from every little move I'd make.  It was swollen (though kept pretty normal from all of my regular anti-inflammatories) and very tender to the touch.  I could put weight on it, but didn't want to go near it because every time I'd touch it, it hurt so much that I'd get a stomach ache.

I hate that kind of pain!  When you get nauseated from another part of your body hurting so much -- that's a sign that something is wrong and/or you are paying the price for an accident.

After about a week now, the pain is slowly subsiding and my initial self-diagnosis (partial tear ... sounds official, doesn't it?) is probably right.  I don't think there is irreversible damage because I wouldn't have been able to walk to the bathroom just now if that were the case.

My travel schedule and work these past few weeks have been so rigorous that I didn't have the luxury to go to the doctor right away (although I promised myself that if it didn't start to get better in a week that I'd have to haul my butt there).  Which, in retrospect, was a pretty dumb thing to do.  My doctor isn't a last resort -- I shouldn't have treated him that way.

And trust me, it wouldn't be the first time -- and it ain't the last -- that I came to him after doing something stupid or by accident.

Some people go to bed at night and dream of the open seas, green meadows, batting the winning run of the World Series, or driving a silver Porsche at top speed through their hometown.  Others -- dare I borrow the cliché -- are visited nightly by the man or woman of their dreams.  So to speak.

My dreams have been disturbing lately, especially because they're in such stark contrast to my thoughts and hopes during my waking hours.  Despite any vulnerability at a Freudian interpretation, I'll share my dreams -- because I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has experienced this before:

Last night, and a few nights ago, I had a vivid dream about who I was and how I felt in the future.  Sometime off in the distant future, I hope, because I sat still.  Unable to move -- stiff in every joint and frozen solid.  It was a window into my arthritis in 40 (?) years.

The feeling was unmistakable:  my condition had progressed past the point of no return.  My limitations were drastic and my world was passing me by.  I was helpless and it was very frightening.

I woke up this morning panicked and relieved at the same time.  I rarely remember dreams, but this one prompted me to get out of bed, put on my shorts and go to the gym.  There I'll do every sort of exercise possible while focusing steadily on driving a Porsche, with my dream girl next to me, to the pier of my boat.

It's all in my head.

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