Can we get one thing straight, as it were? Please?

So I'm reading the comments on a New York Times editorial about how men have become more accepting of gay people than women over the last ten years, or something like that, and one comment strikes me:

"I don't know what I'd do without my gay boyfriend! Every gal needs at least one!"

Every gal. Needs. At least one.

Like a "gay boyfriend" is a pet, or an accessory.

Or a Lay's potato chip: betcha can't acquire just one!

Or a Chia Gay! Watch him grow *fabulous* bangs!

Watch me reduce this person to a cartoon!

Gay men are not, and I can't believe I'm having to say this, things to be acquired. They are not cute little one-dimensional objects of amusement or unrequited crush or lust; they don't necessarily care if you paint your living room pink or blue or green. They may have worse taste in clothing than *me*, even. They are not there to butt-slap and help you accessorize.

Nor are they there to help you recover from every damn broken heart you have, or go shopping with you, or dance with you at the bar, or take you out for brunch (or whatever the convention is these days--has it changed since the mid-eighties?).

You can have your own personal Jesus, straight people, but you can not have your own personal gay. They might have their own lives, their own interests, and be sick to death of you. Your patronage does not do anybody any favors.

Gay people are not a commodity. Correction: gay men are not a commodity. I rarely hear straight women talk about how they'd love to have their own personal pocket-dyke around, to help them with plumbing problems and talk about how much other women suck. Funny, that, eh? Dehumanizing somebody is so much easier when they're portrayed as cute and nonthreatening in the media. It's much harder when they're threatening or invisible.

Friend Pens the Lotion Slut talks about her Gay Boyfriend David in a sardonic, tongue-in-cheek way. They're both born-again Christians who have a lot in common besides their relationship with their Christ.....but the people with whom they go to church see their deep and abiding friendship as just another straight-woman-with-gay-man-as-pet thing. Pens's use of Gay Boyfriend, with caps, is a dig at the veiled intolerance that she's encountered among the very people who claim to love everybody.

Because veiled intolerance is what it's about, really. As long as straight people see gay men and lesbians (and bi, and trans, and otherwise queer folk) as people that can be pegged into the best-pal, motorcycle-mechanic, crazy-drama-Nelly-come-apart role, straight people can keep a comfortable distance and not have to treat gay people as fully human. We straights can recognize one part--a tiny, stereotyped part--of a whole bunch of folks, and not acknowledge the parts that are complex, or sometimes point up our own failings, or make us think.

It's sort of like those people who insist they're fine, fine with gay people, as long as the gay people don't flaunt it. You know, like straight people flaunt it by wearing wedding rings. Or hold hands in public without fearing getting rolled and beaten. Or get myriad civil rights just by going through what's a very simple ceremony at bottom. Saying that gay people flaunt their gayness by being who they are with the people that they love means that you don't recognize your own privileged status. Either way, whether by having one-to-a-customer gay boyfriends or insisting people keep things quiet, you're contributing to inequality. You're refusing to recognize that folks, frankly, is folks.

I'm thinking about this tonight because I had dinner with two friends, one old and one new. They've had a solid, committed relationship for eleven years--longer without serious troubles than almost any straight couple my age that I know. One of the guys said the wisest thing I think I've heard ever about relationships: that the key to getting along for a long period of time is that the relationship is not on the table unless it's explicitly on the table. In other words, fights about who left the freaking toothpaste cap off this time are limited to toothpaste caps. You should never haul the entirety of your relationship into every. single. fucking. fight.

That stopped me dead, even after two margaritas, and made me realize what I've been doing wrong.

And I would've missed that had I been concentrating only on Rob's facility with show tunes or Adam's beaux yeux, and wondering if I could've gotten them to see Sex In The City with me. (In which case, you'd've had to have called the ambulance, because there was something toxic in those margaritas.)

It makes me sad, watching my otherwise well-meaning straight sisters and brothers screw this up. I have learned the best relationship lessons from gay couples, primarily because me and my ilk have made it so hard for them for so long. I've learned a hell of a lot about my own unrecognized privilege from gay, gay and biracial, gay and Buddhist, and trans women. Not to say that Gay People exist primarily as Teaching Moments, because they don't--who'd have time to go grocery shopping and mow the lawn if you were always Acting As An Example--but because I've paid attention, I've learned.

I've learned that love is too rare to be legislated against. Nobody should have to go through this life alone, and we shouldn't put barriers in each others' ways.

I've learned that people are not accessories. We should not reduce each other to the status of "betcha can't have just one".

I've learned that the crappiest situations mostly make for weirdos, but sometimes you get a jewel. And that I've been lucky.

We are all too valuable, and too valuable as we are, as we stand, to be reduced.

The morning after the nights before.

Holy crapping monkeys, as my coworker Kathy would say, it's been a week. Working four nights in a row leaves you in much better shape than, say, working two nights, being off for a day, and then working two more....but HCM, what a mess I was this morning.

I'm finding that I really like becoming a generalist. Though Sunnydale is primarily a neuroscience facility, we also see what are called "complex" patients. Those are folks with massive, complex medical histories that wouldn't normally be able to get the sort of surgical or medical care that we provide in the itty-bitty towns where they live. As a result, this week I've taken care of a patient with a neobladder (so freaking cool--hey! Let's make a new bladder out of this piece of intestine! How about it?), one poor dude with some whacked-out chest surgery, a woman with an incredibly complex breast reconstruction that involves moving some bits here and other bits there, and a couple of people with your average, every day, run-of the mill stuff like aneurysms and infiltrating sinusitus, who also have X, Y, Z, and Z to the X wrong with 'em.

My eyes still glaze over when I see an EKG rhythm other than normal sinus, but I *really* dig seeing fresh post-op patients and their various problems.

Sometimes those problems require more of a light touch than at other times.

I was settling in a fresh post-op last night whose angiogram had run later than we'd expected. They'd managed to coil the dude's aneurysm, but one of the coils had gotten loose and had had to be retrieved, which took a little longer than usual. He was fine--grumpy about having to lie down flat for six hours, but otherwise okay--so I was able to take some time between hourly neuro exams and chat with him.

He started talking politics. Now, regular readers of this blog know that I don't talk politics or religion with my patients. If they ask, I'm a Democrat, a conservative Republican, a Christian, or a Blorgian yak herder--whatever gets me out of the room and doesn't raise either of our blood pressures. So this time, as in the past, I kept my eyes down, my hands busy, and my mouth shut while Aneurysm Dood bloviated.

Health care, as it turns out, is not a human right. Nope, no sirree. Health care of any sort is one of those things that the deserving work for, by God, and no socializt preznit is going to tell *him* any different. Why, if you need something, you should just go to the emergency room, right? (I didn't say a word. I swear.) Nobody should get what they haven't earned; if they take something for free, like health care, they're nothing but a drain on the system.

(Parenthetical note: why did this guy assume that I would agree with him that health care isn't something that everybody ought to get? I mean, did he not realize that I see the effects of untreated hypertension and diabetes every day? I know, I know; rhetorical question.)

In fact, that's what *he* did. He had a terrible headache, and some vision changes, and drove himself to the hospital--no socializt ambulance for him!--where it was discovered that he had an aneurysm that was just about to go nucular, if you'll excuse the term.

Whereupon he was airlifted, on a two-hour whirlybird flight, to our fine facility. We called in the neuroradiology fellow, a couple of CNAs, the radiology techs, a nurse or three, and promptly coiled his aneurysm. We then moved him to the CCU, where I was busy dealing with his incredibly labile blood pressure.

Where, glory be to the Great Watchmaker and technology, he was well enough to bitch about socialized medicine and the takeover of our good, clean American society by left-wing radicals interested in running our lives to the nth degree. He'll spend the morning in the CCU tomorrow, then be ambulanced home to Teensyville, where he'll return to normal life, except for a checkup in six months.

I was glad we were able to help him out, even if his particular views were odious to me personally. I was even more glad when I saw his face sheet, with the code next to the financial number that means his care was paid for by the hospital as a charity case. Everything, from the airlift to his breakfast in the morning, will be financed by Sunnydale; it's part of our commitment to provide free care to one in five patients.

Those damn socializts. By which I mean us.

Unusually political:

The Network has also received many requests from women who received care from Dr. Tiller and from activists in the reproductive justice community to set up a Fund in Dr. Tiller’s name. In response, we have established the George Tiller Memorial Abortion Fund to assist the women to whom George Tiller dedicated his life. The Fund will assist women in the second trimester to pay for abortion care, as well as pay for travel and lodging en route to providers. To donate to the Fund in Dr. Tiller’s name, please send contributions to:

George Tiller Memorial Abortion Fund
c/o National Network of Abortion Funds
42 Seaverns Ave.
Boston, MA 02130

You may also donate online at http://www.nnaf.org/tiller.html

Eight years after I worked at the local abortion clinic, I am still getting harassed. Please consider donating if you have the money, volunteering if you have the time, or speaking out if you have the balls.

My new bumper sticker will read: "I'M PRO-CHOICE AND I RETURN FIRE."

Hee hee hee hee hee heee *gasp* /wiping eyes\ Hee hee hee hee heeeee!