Health Care Reform for This Dummy

Relive a day?

Yeah-no.

I don’t have any days I’d like another shot at, Mama Kat.

Because a)the days that suck are forgotten the EXACT moment they end, and b)as I’m arguably as close to perfect as you can get while still being human, I don’t make mistakes or have regrets EVER so yeah, I’m good.

Yeah-right.

Honestly, I can tell you way more about the days I DON’T want to relive, because they sorta stick out in my mind.

Like yesterday.

Because it sucked.

Badly.

Like, on a suckiness scale of 1 to 10, 10 being as sucky as a day can possibly be, I’ll say yesterday was a good strong 7.

Not the worst day ever, but so ridiculously far from the best it’s not even funny.

Okay, so maybe it’s a little bit funny (or I intend to make it seem that way), but still.

Here’s the bright side of this whole sucky-suck-day-from-sucking-Suckville, I learned something!

That’s right peeps, in the face of adversity and hardship, Dumb Mom got out her thinking cap and had herself a think.

And you know what I decided?

That health care reform is important, that’s what.

Now, I know that pBd is not the place to go for political debates, social consciousness, or discussions about morality, but you know what, today it’s gonna be.

Sorta (because you are not allowed to disagree with me or disprove my theories, I don’t like that so I’m forbidding it entirely).

Now that the ugly has come to call on Dumb Mom I’ve decided to get involved.

Well not involved, involved, more like involved-by-telling-you-my-story-because-I-want-to involved.

Because that’s what I do.

I don’t make posters (because I have the penmanship of a 5 year old), or join campaigns (unless they offer free babysitting!), or donate money (by I do donate my old shoes and handbags when I gorgeous new ones!), or go on exhausting freedom marches (holy walking Batman! These 4-inch-heeled boots weren't made for walkin').

I tell stories. About myself, because myself is awesomethat's pretty much all I know.

So how about I tell you one about how Dumb Mom came out of her self-centered cocoon of self centeredness and decided that there is a such thing as civic duty and social responsibility and, contrary to what she used to believe, it doesn’t start and end at that voting poll every four years in November?

Okay, so maybe sharing a story that I really just want to share because I’m peeved doesn’t actually qualify as performing my civic duty, but still, in the civic duty department it's all I got.

So, yeah…

Yesterday, actually three days ago, as I was chauffeuring #2 to school I felt something in my back.

A tickle. Not of the happy, fun sort.

It was the other sort.

The sort that tells you something may not be quite right. Not really time to panic, but definitely time to pay attention.

So I did, and it got worse, and then it got better, and then it got MUCH worse, and then I called my doctor, and then it got a little better, but then it got worse again, so I made an appointment, and I went in, and I peed in a cup, and they said they wanted me to have a CT pyelogram to check the old kidney and see if it was busted up.

And that is where the crap hit the fan.

Because that is when my health insurance had to get involved.

Now. Here are a few things you should know:

1. Dumb Dad is a professional. He doesn’t stand at one of those corners downtown and wait with a group of dudes for other groups of dudes to come along in pickup trucks and take him to a work site for a day. And, he doesn’t work for cash or get paid under the table or even with a 1099. Actually, he is an employee of our federal government so his job is W-2, 401K, 2 legit 2 quit.

2. Dumb Dad has been employed by his employer for a whole butt load of years. And, he’s in good standing at his job too. Not on probation or anything cooky like that.

3. We have health insurance, which is paid for through Dumb Dad’s employer. It’s not through the state and we don’t get it for free. We pay. A lot. Of cash.

4. We have had the same insurance carrier for 8 years.

5. We effing hate them and are convinced that they are trying to kill us. Mostly just me, but sometimes the kids too (Dumb Dad has been to the doctor twice in the past 8 years both times for hurting his ankle; his pretty much immune to every germ known to man. Plus when kids get sick around here he encases himself in latex and only touches them if ABSOLUTELY-FRIGGIN' necessary).

My main beef is that I see no reason why the insurance company should be allowed to decide if or when or how I should get my medical care.

I get that they need to be notified and kept up to date on my health related goings ons.

But, do they really need to “approve” a visit to urgent care? If I have time to stand around and wait for a referral, maybe the situation ain’t all that urgent!

Just sayin’. That’s why I go to the doctor, right?

I mean, if it’s really just up to the insurance company why don’t I just cut out the middle man and go directly to them with my ailment and they can tell me what to do for it?

Would be a huge time saver for people like me who don't have time to be doubled over in pain, sweating like I stole something sick.

Seriously. Because today, when my MEDICAL DOCTOR suggested that I get a CT scan, know-it-all-insurance-company-from-Hell said, “Are you sure she needs that? Today? Really? She can’t wait until, say, Monday? Why? Is she dying? Like actually dying?" Because if not…?”

And then, I had to hurry up and find someone to watch The Dudes and get my tail straight over to the CT scanning place so that they could take it today because if not then I’d have to wait. For days. Until the insurance company decided that I really need it.

And that’s not the first time this has happened.

They’ve done it with chest x-rays and prescriptions and visits to specialists.

And, I realize that “The Obama Plan” is not going to address this specifically, but it is supposed to address another problem that keeps me locked to this bloody-effing-insurance-company-from-Hell: “the end of discrimination against people with pre-existing conditions”.

Because as you all know I have one.

And because of my pre-existing condition I’m unable to ditch the crap-company-that-is-trying-to-off-me for one that will give me more freedom and access.

Because despite the fact that I rarely ever have issues with my kidneys, and that I am otherwise as healthy as a horse, no one wants to take on this land mine of a body because apparently it's about to blow.

So I’m stuck.

And that sucks.

Because, contrary to what some believe about people who are in favor of health care reform, we aren’t unemployed, and we’re not illegal immigrants, and we take care of ourselves, and we pay our bills, and we contribute to society, and we aren’t trying to get something for nothing, and I don’t want you to get less, but still here I am, sitting in pain, sucking down Tylenol, waiting to see what my insurance company my doctor is going to do next to figure out why my left side hurts so badly I can hardly breathe.

So yeah. That’s my story.

And it made enjoying #2’s official birthday pretty friggin’ difficult.

But I did it, because I love him and I wanted his day to be special and I secretly hope that one day he will realize just how awesome of a mommy I was and he will thank me for it (with a house, or a car, or a cruise, old people like to cruise).

I’m not gonna hold my breath for that one, because serving KFC and a Hostess cupcake may have gotten the job done, but I doubt that it will be winning me any mommying awards.

Lucky for me his standards are pretty low and he enjoyed it thoroughly.

Better luck next year little man!

Link your Thank Me Later Thursday posts here, I will visit and leave lovely comments on each and every one of them (which is not even hard since only a few of you do it anyway!)

Wordful Wednesday. St. Patty’s Day Boy

5 years ago today #2 was snatched out of my belly. Literally, yanked and pulled and wrenched from my insides, c-section style.

I wore green socks. He cried a lot.

He’s been mildly disgruntled ever since.

And, while #2 is most definitely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my most challenging, intense, and aggressive child, he is also my most affectionate, personable, and downright funny one as well (although #3 is giving him a run for his money in the humor department).

Every day is a surprise with him; sometimes good, sometimes, not so much.

But I can’t imagine life without him.

He’s got middle child syndrome like a mofo which apparently means he’s supposed to be an attention seeking brat with an inferiority complex.

Great! Because he is and I freakin’ love every single one of his screaming-louder-so-they’ll-hear-me-bones (only FYI #2, you don’t really have to scream because I hear you. I’m just ignoring you right along with the rest of ‘em!).

He is unique in every since of the word, from his obsession with couture to his desire to be in the circus, actually to own a circus, in which he is the star.

For years he has been quite interested in the idea of marriage.

I’ve written about it before, because it concerns me.

Not a lot. But enough.

What’s more concerning though, is the fact that as of late he has developed quite an attraction towards the opposite sex.

He says it’s because they (and by they he means all girls and women) are so “attracted” to him. Oh, and because, “grils have nice wong hair”.

Hubby finds his interest in the opposite sex encouraging.

I find it creepy. But as long as he doesn't feel anyone up again, I’m trying not to make such a huge deal of it in hopes that his remarkably-early-girl-crazy phase is replaced by an obsession with something a little more reasonable, like Matchbox cars or action figures (but not WWE. I friggin’ hate that crap. Unless The Rock is making a comeback. Then, I’m down. Seriously, I would watch that man eat Jell-O he’s that hot).

But, in case this is just a sampling of what’s to come when he hits puberty, I’m taking it upon myself to find him a suitable mom-approved mate.

It’s the least I can do.

And from what I hear it works!

The whole arranged marriage thing.

Here’s a little tidbit you may not have known: India has a divorce rate of 1.1% compared to a much, much higher rate in the US. Pretty impressive, right?!

Some argue this fact is directly related to arranged marriages.

While rational Dumb Mom believes other, cultural factors are involved, slightly-irrational-unnaturally-possessive Dumb Mom says that arranged marriage is the wave of the future.

I’m betting that come 2035, when I’m ready for #2 to get hitched, all the cool kids will be doing it again. You know ‘cause trends come back. Especially the good ones. I mean, just look at stirrup pants. Bet you thought those were gone for good, but here they are all happily hooked under your foot and tucked securely into your shoe. Point is they made a come back because they were sorta awesome and the same thing is bound to happen with arranged marriages and I intend to be a pioneer.

Besides, I’m certain all of us will be much happier if I get to pick The Dudes’ wives as it’s really the only way to ensure that I get to maintain creative control of their lives.

Might as well start with the most eager of the bunch.

Name: Keeps it a Secret for the sake of intrigue. You can call him #2

DOB: 3/17/05

Birthplace: Somewhere in Maryland

Address: Casa de Dummies

Interests: grils (aka girls), giraffes, video games, debates (aka arguing with his mother over bedtime, showertime, dinnertime, and the like), fancy socks, dressing like a pimp snazzy, UFC (aka battling with his older brother), dirt, peeing outdoors, the color blue, the letter W, number 26, chicken nuggets, French Fries, shakin’ what his momma gave him, watching contrails, roller coasters, lollipops, leaf collecting, Simon Cowell, carnivals and the carnies that run them, cucumbers, Ben 10, discussing fight sequences, Nacho Libre, Mexican stuff, heroes of the super variety, chocolate milk, Miley Cyrus songs, attention, and anything that smells like cotton candy.

Doesn’t enjoy: long walks, crying babies, venomous snakes, little brothers, scary stories, being blamed for stuff, pizza, being ignored, loud sounds, bad drivers, raw milk (aka white milk), bad guys, waiting in line, just waiting, the color brown, hamburgers, the unknown, schedule changes, people who don’t follow through, people who don’t RSVP, doctor’s offices, sucky goody bags, being framed, shirts for Christmas, barf.

His idea of a good time: running down the street to catch the ice cream man, buying an overly sugary treat he doesn’t eat and jumping in puddles. Bring your rain boots even if it’s not raining, just because.

He’d like everyone to know that his dad loves him so much it makes him sing, they enjoy coloring together and he thinks he’d fight off a wolf for him. His baby screams so loudly he could win a screaming contest. Brother has great ideas and he protects him from bad stuff. And, his mom cries because she loves him so much. That is all.

When he grows up he will be a teacher, and a car fixer, and a fireman, and a farmer, oh, and also a ninja. And, as previously mentioned there will be a circus; he will be the star.

If interested in pursuing a union between your daughter and my son, please send photos and background info to seriously_are_you_effing_kidding_me_you_freak@gmail.com.

I hope he finds the perfect wife one day, but for now I just want him to keep being my slightly-disgruntled-but-a-blessing-all-the-same five year old baby.

Happy birthday, Pickle!

Mom Tip Tuesday. Birthday Parties for Preschoolers

First ever Mom Tip Tuesday so I thought I’d do it right and officially introduce you to Dumb Mom!

I used to write a blog/column/random gathering of meaningless words on the site of my local newspaper. It was called Maybe Mommy’s a Dummy (detect a theme yet?).

Part of that column was Dumb Mom’s Guide to the Universe.

Dumb Mom is an expert on nothing who knows pretty much everything.

She is outsmarted by her kids on a daily basis (hence the name) but she does it in cute shoes, with a friendly smile, and a ridiculously awesome handbag.

She may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but she’s the best dressed.

Which is wasted by being inside of a shed.

Anyway.

She knows what she’s talking about for the most part so listen up and you will survive.

Motherhood never looked so easy, or cute, or fashionable.

You are welcome.

In light of upcoming events I’ve decided to make this week’s tip about birthdays for children.

Specifically, birthdays for a whole butt load of rowdy, hard to manage children who are not quite or just barely five.

Enjoy!

Dumb Mom’s Guide to Planning a Preschool Birthday Party

1. Face the facts. Fact one: you don’t really like other people’s kids. Fact two: even if you did like other people’s kids, you don’t like other people’s kids all at the same time. Fact three: you are crazy. It’s difficult to like children in groups because all of their unlikeable attributes are magnified. They are louder, and meaner, and more energetic than when you are with them alone. Plus, for whatever reason, when groups of kids get together some parents take that as the perfect opportunity to ignore their own horribly behaved difficult to be around even in small doses child. It’s like they assume the know it all mom whoever is in charge of the party is also in charge of their child. Get your mind right. It will suck, but you are crazy so in the end it will be worth it.

2. Buy booze. And drink it. Definitely before, if possible during, and immediately after the party. Just be sure to drink vodka or something else that won’t make you smell like a winery. You know how moms like to talk and before you know it you will be the Ms. Hannigan of the preschool.*

3. Bribery. Always works. Every situation. Believe me when I say this: money talks. Even louder than kids hopped up on sugar and life. This means that there are people who make their living hosting parties for hard to manage groups of children just like the one you have in mind. You can go to their special designed, brightly colored, kid-friendly place and they will make magic. You don’t have to make magic all alone. If you have cash you can hire people to make it for you. This is why I sell myself to anyone interested in buying work, for the necessities in life that people just shouldn’t be asked to live without.

4. Invite the whole class. I used to get all annoyed at this mandate some schools have in place. Before I had kids in school I was a huge get-used-to-exclusion-and-rejection-it’s-a-part-of-life kinda girl. But one of my children had the unfortunate experience of not being invited to the birthday party of his alleged best friend and then, he had to sit and listen while the confirmed best friends discussed the party in his presence. He was crushed. He had questions. And the only answer I could come up with was, “Well, Dude, some people suck and the fact that they do just makes us look more awesome.” Okay, I didn’t actually say that, but I totally wanted to. I still don’t think this is a necessary requirement for school aged children, but for preschoolers, in a classroom with only 10 children (only 4 of which were boys) would it have been so horrible to invite them all? Possibly I would have declined because the site of his mother made me ill, but still, my little dude would have been able to say that he was invited and couldn’t go because his mommy mysteriously came down with the shingles (or some other sudden, random, and completely faked ailment), as opposed to thinking, and feeling, and having everyone believe that he wasn’t invited because he wasn’t cool. Invite them all, the ones whose mommies are jerkwads probably won’t come anyway.

5. Say thanks. I know I skipped right over the actual party element, but that’s because I covered that in the first three tips: realize it’s hopeless, show up drunk, and pay some perky high school chick to do all the hard stuff. All that’s covered. It’s after the party that people tend to forget. You know, once you’re home and sobered up, and your hangover has worn off, and your kid has broken 65% of all of his new stuff. That’s the time that repeatedly gets neglected. And, I’d like to argue that next to having a banging cake, this is the most important element: the THANK YOU CARDS. Yes, your child needs to send them (or watch you send them) so that he understands that having a party and getting gifts is not compulsory. It is a benefit of mommy bribing people and having nosy friends who want to talk about her inability to make quality goody bags privilege. Every child doesn’t get them. Every person that came didn’t have to. And bringing gifts is optional (although just good etiquette). Learn to be thankful and people will love you, or at least pretend to.

Now, wish me luck at #2’s Super Sweet 5 Birthday Party we are hosting on Thursday (his actual birthday is tomorrow which explains the St. Patty's Day inspired header) Bounce-a-roo center in my hood. Should be a blast.

*Due to the bum kidneys I'm not a huge lush myself. I have my moments (which some of you have been lucky enough to witness first hand), but I'm not gonna be at the Oscars with my flask George Clooney style. The suggestion to drink is for those of you who turn to booze as an answer to your problems...you know who you are. Don't worry I don't judge.

Link up your favorite Mom Tip below and I’ll stop by for a look; I need all the tips I can get!

Make New ifriends Monday: Polycystic Kidney Dad

So kidney disease,

it pretty much sucks.

When I learned I had it,

I thought what the what?!

But I know now,

it’s much worse for others.

And, some people get it,

from their fathers or mothers.

Like my new ifriend Nate.

He has PKD.

He’s had a much rougher time than me.

But it seems right now,

he has reason to boast.

I’ll say no more, just read the man’s post!

Check out his kidney blog and his parenting one, Journey Through Parenthood (written mostly by his wife, Jenny it seems), too. Very authentic, poem worthy, and Dumb Mom approved.

Hey everyone! I guess I’m the second ifriend that Dumb Mom has decided to introduce you all to this March. And, in what may be a trend, I am both a male, and have a life-threatening kidney disease. She contacted me back in February and asked that I write up a quick something to "introduce myself" and perhaps even make you laugh (not that I’m that funny).

My name is Nathan. I am 32 years old and was diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney Disease when I was about 20 years old (during college). For those of you unfamiliar with kidney diseases, PKD is exactly what it sounds like: you have a bunch of cysts that grow on your kidneys. I’d do a good news / bad news story, but there’s not really a lot of good news. As PKD patients age, their good kidney cells are replaced with fluid-fill cysts. This increases the size of your kidneys, which should be about the size of your fist, and reduces your overall kidney function. PKD is a genetic disease, meaning that you get it from someone in your family line. According to the people that do studies, over 600,000 Americans and probably 12 or 13 million people around the world have PKD.

My particular type of the disease is Autosomal dominant (which means I inherited it from a parent). The other type is Autosomal recessive, and it’s actually worse. Most people (80%) with ARPKD (the second type) die as infants, and few live past age 10. With ADPKD (my type) you don’t typically develop symptoms until later in life (50+) and many patients may never require more than just adjustments of diet and exercise and maybe medications to control high blood pressure.

Not for me, readers! I woke up one night in college with a horrible pain in my back. It turns out that I had some kidney stones. The hospital (that I had to drive to by myself) said: "Sir, your kidney stones are small enough that you will pass them on your own. We will give you some pain medication to take home so it won’t hurt too much. Oh, and you should make an appointment with a nephrologist and talk to him about your kidneys." Yeah. So I went in, he said that I have Polycystic Kidney Disease, gave me a pamphlet, and sent me home.

I had one bout with kidney stones every year from 1998 to 2001 (not fun at all, let me tell you, like trying to pee out a pointy, sharp, point-sharp thing, and it feels HUGE). I finally got myself a real nephrologist in 2001 and they began to track my kidney function. I was told that I was at about 30%, and it kept going down every year I was tested. The doctor said I might be good for 10 or 20 years, and that I would not need dialysis until I dropped below 5%. He said that I could get on the transplant list once I was below 20% function, and that it would likely be years to come before I hit that.

If you are squeamish, you might want to skip the next paragraph and come back below this one. In late 2004, I was sick, sick, sick. I was peeing blood, vomiting, not eating, etc. I was sick from about November until May. I finally had to go to the hospital in an ambulance (expensive) and was found to be extremely dehydrated (duh, vomiting and not drinking anything) and had a VERY low blood count (yes, from losing all that blood in my urine). I wish the doctors had listened as I complained the previous six months or so. They put me on IV fluids and blood transfusion (or infusions, in my case). This would be good, except for a terrible kidney infection that led to my kidney swelling up to a whopping fifteen pounds and nearly 30 cm long. Yuck! I have a horrible picture, somewhere, but it’s not online, so you will have to ask me if you want to see it (for some reason).

Is everyone back now? Good! So, based on the info in the paragraph above, they had to remove my left kidney. It was NOT a good surgery, for me, and the recovery was very slow. I was in the hospital for a total of thirty days that summer (yuck). I had to start on dialysis in August of 2005, due to the sudden loss of half of my kidney function. By this time, I was now under 10% on kidney function. I had to do dialysis for 18 months, and that’s no fun at all. Fortunately, I received a kidney transplant (from a deceased donor) in January of 2007 and have been healthy since then.

My wife (who managed to stand by me through all of this) and I were told, unfortunately, that we would never have children. This was due to me, my disease, and several other issues I had. However, as a surprise, we had our daughter in December of 2009. Hannah is growing strong and is, of course, the smartest and cutest baby in the world (obviously). We won’t know if she has PKD until she is much older. We plan to have the doctors do routine check-ups on her without actually writing down "potential kidney disease" on any of her medical charts.

Dumb Mom asked me to link to a few of my favorite posts, but I’m not sure that I have any. If you want to read about how terrible dialysis is, or how many times one person can go to the emergency room in a year due to poor medical treatments, then there’s a lot of good posts. I’ve got several posts that are very popular on the search engines, such as the time I debated Restoril and Lunesta (http://nmccart.blogspot.com/2007/01/restoril-vs-lunesta-in-quest-for-sleep.html). I tried to tag most of my posts at least a little, so the blog is decently laid out. I don’t do photography, so there’s very little graphical interest on the site (all words, no pictures). I’m a computer guy, cut me a break.

So, as a father, I figured you all deserve at least one cute photo to say AWWW about:

And one of my wife and I with Hannah at Christmas:

Don't forget. Tomorrow is MOM TIP TUESDAY! Come back and link up your best mom tips (advice, recipes, craft ideas, DO-THIS-NOW-OR-SO-FRIGGIN-HELP-ME'S) . Not just because it'll be fun, but because I said so!

Cent Saving Saturday: Juicing

Chillax.

I’m not talking about Danny-Bonaduce-Jose-Canseco juicing.

Nor am I talking about that juicing for health business that literally makes me wanna gag tons of celebrities are into to make them look all skinny and perfect and stuff.

I’m just talking about going to the grocery store and picking up some Tropicana for the family.

Good old fashioned, pure and natural, squeezed from fresh fruit, preservative-less OJ (or one of their other flavors if OJ is not your thing).

Because not only is is delicious and all vitamin C-ey and stuff, but it’s also a great way for you and your family to save cash on other non-juice related products and activities.

Through Tropicana’s Juicy Rewards program you can earn points toward cool savings on things you love to do or want to buy.

I’m talking buy one get one free ticket deals, discounts at spas, money off clothing, shoes and other stuff.

They have discounts for EA Sports Active, Adidas, Coleman, and to the Kennedy Space Center. You know all stuff I personally wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole because, as you know, I don’t do exercise, outdoors or space unless it’s an official mandate from an authority figure (aka a doctor, a lawyer, a judge, a cop, or Mimi).

But, I’m all about getting discounts to take The Dudes to see a play or a puppet show. And, I can easily envision myself butt naked and greased up at the spa or hitting the high seas with Dumb Dad for a cruise on Norwegian Cruise Lines, all of which can be found in the Tropicana Rewards Center.

So you get money savings and no scurvy!

Can that even be beaten?!

And, it’s easy to earn the rewards. All you have to do is go buy a whole butt load of juice, sign up at the Juicy Rewards site, and then start searching for rewards in your area (or to be used at online retailers).

Easy peasy.

Especially if you’re like me and you have a house full of will-drink-whatever-you-bring-in-to-the-house-by-sundown little people which means that, in order to stave off the I’m-soooooooo-thirsties, you shop at Costco where you can get 10 gallons of the stuff for $5.98.

I came home with like 12 points just last Friday!

And the points are not just found on the OJ either. They can be found on all of the Tropicana products. So you can buy whatever it is your people like to drink already and earn discounts for other stuff you were planning to do already!

Can’t beat that with a bat!

But, know what you can beat with a bat?!

Your toddler’s intestines, that’s what!

Well, with a Fiber Gummies bat at least.

I can’t say the kid is “regular” but he's at least not done the whole Talkin’ Dirty After Dark business since last week. Fiber Gummies seem to be beating his psyche into submission and his sphincter is thanking me dearly for that.

Know who else should be thanking me…Jennifer from Momma Made It Look Easy because she too will soon be in possession of a regularly pooping child and there ain’t nothing dumb about that!

**Dumb Mom Disclaimer: Of course I have to inform you that I was paid in gift card for participating in this program as a Tropicana Juicy Insider. This is what they want me to say: "I wrote this review while participating in the Tropicana Juicy Insiders Ambassador program by Mom Central on behalf of Tropicana. I received 12 free Juicy Rewards points and a $50 Visa gift card to use in redemption of the points and to facilitate my review." I don’t like being told what to say so I will say this instead, “I got some free stuff and some cash, cold hard cash, in the form of a gift card to tell you all about something I like. Probably would have told you anyway, but chances are I might not have known about it if I hadn’t been approached to be a paid participant in the program. Of course then, neither would you. So, don’t let the fact that I got some money for telling you about the program’s existence weigh too heavily on how awesome the program is. Just think of me when you are enjoying your discounted hot rock massage, and remember it’s okay to thank me later!