Being a centrist can be very tough. Both sides of the aisle have pros and cons, and I’m stuck with an unpleasant outcome no matter who wins an election. It can really get one’s goat.

When I look at what’s happening at the border, I immediately relate to the conservatives. “Yes, something must be done immediately,” I say. The spending money on foreign wars when we have so many homeless. “Yes, something must be done immediately,” I say. The crime and drugs in large cities are escalating, “Yes, something must be done immediately,” I say.

Then, a reality check of what it means to vote conservative hits me like a ton of bricks. And it came from my aunt’s hospice administrator. You see, centrist readers, I’ve been helping her for quite a few years now, and we’ve put her in hospice because her condition will only get worse and won’t improve. What is Hospice? Well, hospice is there to help families navigate the end-of-life experience. Meet a family “where they’re at” is their mantra. They supply the drugs, doctors, nurses, and assistants, and Medicare pays for it. It’s meant to be a nondenominational experience. Here is the tricky part: they don’t want you to call EMS when one of their patients needs assistance, and they’re unavailable. So they request that the caregiver call hospice, and they will deal with the issue. 

Hospice wasn’t available one morning, and my aunt was not fecal incontinent, and she wanted to go to the bathroom. So the duty fell upon me. Unfortunately, I pulled a back muscle while helping her off the toilet. I could barely breathe. I was screaming and crying on the floor and then crawled up a steep flight of stairs on my hands and knees, looking for my phone. I rolled around screaming, and to that, there was a fear that I wouldn’t be able to help my aunt any longer if I was broken too. So, I called hospice as they requested. I spoke with a Social Worker who asked me to hold and tell the story to her manager. Now, excuse me, but when someone is screaming in pain, you don’t say, “Please hold, and will you repeat that to my manager,” and expect a joyous response. Instead, my response “Mother Fucker.” Not at the woman on the other end but about the radiating pain running down my back. I had to hang up and call EMS. I needed help!

When EMS arrived, they were accompanied by the police and the fire department. It was the cavalry. Good stuff. They helped my aunt off the toilet, looked at my back, and then proceeded to collect information about my aunt for insurance and billing. When the weekend hospice nurse called, she was asking questions, and when I was trying to answer, she was trying to control the conversation and continually interrupted my sentences. I got fuming mad and slammed on my phone, saying, “God Damn it,” and hung up. Excruciating pain, tearful sadness, anger, and frustration were WHERE I was and where they could have shined if they could just put themselves in my shoes and asked, “How can we help?” But that’s not how it went down.

The manager of the hospice team called me. She said they had a meeting and discussed respite for me. Approximately 30 seconds into the conversation, it turned into shaming me about my language. Now, my aunt has been my mother in many ways. If I’m not permitted to respond in a way that is natural for me at a time that is the worst experience of my life because of the hospice team’s sensitivity to swearing, there’s a problem. It’s been said that the hospice in this region prays for an hour before the day begins. That’s nice, and as a Catholic, I’m never one to say anything about that unless it crosses the line between religion and state. It appears that swearing was offensive because of their religiosity, and Medicare is a state-run organization, so I have a bone to pick. They are in a self-perceived position of power because of our current needs. This hospice manager took that moment to try to control and chastise me. In this situation, the goal was to point a finger in shame and attempt to wield power over us. Even if it was perceived that I was calling them names, which I was not, they are being paid to talk us through this challenging time. If they can’t take some swear/cuss words, how are they expected to deal with death? It is the most painful time in the life of a family.  

So, what does this have to do with me being a centrist and voting? The inability of conservatives to separate church and state. The righteousness and overstretching into personal liberties. If we hand over too much power to the conservatives, they’ll be telling us what to wear next, just like the liberals will say to us: we have to accept ten different sexes and everything in between. And if you’re laughing, don’t! Once, a state legislature attempted to put a law in place to stop young people from showing their underwear when their denim jeans were too low. Civil liberties, folks. Civil liberties.

So, on the flip side of this article opening, when I look at conservatives, I must ask, “Do you think you can tell me what to say and think and collect federal dollars?” “Are you serious about forcing people to listen to a group prayer in a workplace in the United States of America?” “Our military is laced in profanity. Will you hold them hostage and deny them hospice care when they are in need because they offend you and your sensibilities with their language?”

This is why I am a CENTRIST!  

Finally, I questioned whether or not I could have apologized to ensure my aunt was cared for by this so-called healthcare company. But the truth did reveal itself. This hospice tried to pick up my aunt’s hospital bed right out from underneath her on the first business day in the AM, and in so doing, proved to me that YES, I was correct in my assessment of their behavior. They are in it for themselves. Their way, or no way, and be damned the family in need.