Heartless Bastards

The American Health Care Act, a truly awful piece of legislation by virtually any measure, passed in the House of Representatives yesterday. Following this “victory,” the House Republicans were bused over to the White House for – wait for it – a beer bash and victory celebration. Forget the fact that celebrating after a sure-to-be-rewritten bill has passed only the House is like declaring victory in an NBA playoff game when you hold a one-point lead at the end of the first quarter. What really gets to me is the naked, crass lack of empathy for the weakest members of our increasingly broken democracy: our sick, handicapped, and poor. Tack on the party’s pathological focus on rolling back all of our meager progress on women’s health issues, and we have a party in control of both houses of congress, not to mention the white house, careening down a very dark road, with the accelerator on the floor.

Unfortunately, the gear is reverse.

A week ago, getting this bill passed looked like an impossible task. It was too radical for the moderate Republicans and too moderate for the radical wing known as the House Freedom Caucus. The compromise bill was only successful after strong-arm lobbying of individual congressmen by Speaker Paul Ryan and Vice President Mike Pence, and two amendments, one to please the moderates and another to appease the radicals. It is the shockingly cynical MacArthur amendment that deserves the most scrutiny as well as the most scorn. It is essentially a loophole big enough to drive the buses that took these guys to the White House through. It is both deceptive and utterly cynical. It allows the individual states to opt out of many of the key guarantees of Obamacare like coverage of pre-existing conditions and lifetime caps on insurance payouts.

As a veteran of advanced bladder cancer, both the pre-existing conditions and lifetime caps changes have a very real chance of affecting me personally. But don’t weep for me; I’m an old man who has had a great life. Weep for the child who is born with a serious disease, a child who may never be able to have heath insurance in her entire life due to this calculatedly cruel bill. Take ten minutes and watch Jimmy Kimmel’s tearful monologue about the heart disease and surgery that his newborn son endured. He closes with the question: Whether you are a Democrat, a Republican, or something else, can we not all agree that we must not let our children die because we disagree on how health care should be provided? Personally, I think Jimmy gives the Republican party too much credit. They are not disagreeing on how health care should be provided so much as whether it should be, for certain citizens at least.

My biggest fear is that the purveyors of this Faustian bargain will not be taken to task for their inhumanity, and that our apathetic and disconnected electorate will simply not care enough to get off their collective asses and send these devils packing in 2018. I feel physically ill when I view the images of their callous and tone-deaf victory beer party. Our beloved leader talks of improved care and lower costs knowing full well that his words are blatant lies. I gag at the sight of rich old white men chuckling about their supposed win, and seeing Paul Ryan’s twisted leer of a knowing smile is to look into the face of evil itself.

I ask you, the citizen, the potential voter: Will you rise above your partisan politics and call this travesty of a health care plan what it is? Will you admit that most of our Republican congressmen care only about their own monetary gain and political power, and not a whit about what is right for you and our country? Will you tolerate living in an amoral society where we allow the neediest of our fellow citizens, many of them innocent children, to die? Because that is exactly what we are talking about here, the death of our weakest. Will you look at these men and call them what they are?

They are heartless bastards.

Portland, OR
May 5th, 2017

A Timely Post From Shaun Mullen

From the award -winning journalist, author, and master blogger comes this brilliantly insightful essay on the changing role of the press and other news media in the new Trumpian era.


Portland, OR
January 25, 2017

Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain ...

Intelligence agencies should never have allowed this fake news to "leak" into the public. One last shot at me.Are we living in Nazi Germany?

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) January 11, 2017

Thousands of words have been written about this tweet, most focusing on the aggressive and inappropriate referencing of Nazi Germany. It has been deeply offensive to many. There is little doubt that his final sentence is inflammatory, not to mention egregiously incorrect, but I think it's shock value has caused most to overlook what is likely the scariest single sentence he has uttered, or Tweeted. Yes, I'm taking about the penultimate sentence: "One last shot at me."

If you read my previous post entitled The Last Gasp, you can see where I'm going with this. This sentence is more than a hint that after the inauguration this kind of "shot" at Mr. Trump will not be allowed. He is tipping us off that he is preparing to decimate or even eliminate first amendment rights when it comes to criticizing or calling to task the POTUS. And this is not even nearly the first time he has intimated as much, repeatedly calling for the weakening of freedom of the press and simultaneous strengthening of our libel laws. That this is a terrible direction in which to take our country is to me self-evident, but Mr. Trump does not care, his supporters care even less, and the docile and spineless congress may care but has not the will to act.

Our cherished democratic constitutional republic has never been more at risk.



Portland, January 13, 2017

The Last Gasp

One thing that the unexpected victory of Donald Trump in the 2016 presidential election has undoubtedly done is to remove the collective beer goggles from the American public. What was a blurry-edged image of where we are as a nation is now in perfect focus. But what does it show us?

We are looking at the irresistible force of our country’s changing population meeting the immovable object of our historical white privileged class.

The demographic march continues to erode the old norms. As the huge baby-boomer cohort of our population proceeds past the retirement home and approaches the graveyard, our country is becoming younger, browner, blacker and yellower. The historic majority of white America is on the verge of becoming a minority. To say that the older, white, conservative folks are unhappy about this would be the understatement of a lifetime.

The clear product of this situation is the commitment of the American right to do anything – anything – to perpetuate the status quo for one more election cycle. From flat-out illegal voting eligibility laws to direct appeals to foreign governments, we have seen an unprecedented effort to subvert the will of the majority of Americans. In winning the popular vote by almost three million votes, the young and our citizens of color voted overwhelmingly for Ms. Clinton, or at least definitively against Mr. Trump. The total number of voters who decided the key rust belt states’ outcomes would fit in a football stadium. The most astonishing statistic coming out of the results of the election is that 53% of white women voted for Mr. Trump. I think this is less an indication that a majority of white women want to be grabbed by the pussy as a deep-seated and mostly unearned hatred of Ms. Clinton. Who would have thought that we could overcome our nation’s legacy of racism and elect (twice) a black man as president but be helplessly unable to overcome our sexism and elect a woman, no matter how experienced and qualified?

I will not recite the litany of reasons why Mr. Trump is unqualified for the office of dogcatcher, much less president, nor will I list the absolutely unprecedented number of blatant lies and petty attacks he has spewed. That’s been done by a thousand outraged writers already, and likely in finer fashion than I could. So why Trump, and why now?

The aging white power brokers in this country are not stupid. They see the demographic tidal wave that is preparing to break on our shores over the next decade. They view this period as their last chance to change the rules of the game.  Make no mistake, the forces of demagoguery and, yes, fascism, are taking over our government in just a few short weeks. The only way they stay in power after this insane  - and likely unfair – election is to suspend the constitutional rights of citizens, crush opposition under the banner of “law and order,” limit the freedom of the press, and expand the already ubiquitous surveillance state. This is terrifying.

So we are about to hear a “last gasp.” The only question is, will it be the sound of the old guard submitting to the new realities of the new majority and all that entails: expanded individual civil rights, continued progress toward universal health care, movement towards renewable energy, and a less belligerent stance on law enforcement and foreign affairs? Or will the last gasp be the final death throe of our beloved democratic constitutional republic? We’ll find out soon enough, and I believe it will be one or the other.

In this sad case, there is literally no middle.

Portland, OR 

December 15, 2016

Dylan Wins the 2016 Nobel Prize for Literature

And it's for writing poetic lyrics like these, from the 1966 album Blonde on Blonde. It's nearly impossible for me to pick a favorite Dylan lyric, but this just might be it!

 "Visions of Johanna"

Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet ?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doing our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, tempting you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind.

In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the D-train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane
Louise she's all right she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost electricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place.

Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
Oh, how can I explain ?
It's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna they kept me up past the dawn.

Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower frieze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze
I can't find my knees."
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.

The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Saying, "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him."
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man."

As she, herself prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes everything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play, the skeleton keys of the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain.

A Thank You Note

It has been fifteen months since the publication of my book, Back To Life: A Bladder Cancer Journey.

So, I feel some thanks are in order.

First, I want to thank each and every one of my readers. The sales have so far exceeded my expectations that I am truly stunned and humbled.

Next I want to thank all of the bladder cancer patients, caregivers, and physicians who have reached out and contacted me through the email in the acknowledgments section of the book and through the book's Web site, www.bladdercancerjourney.com.  I have spoken on the phone with dozens of folks who are having to make some of the same decisions I detailed in my story, and actually met one reader in person for lunch when we both found ourselves in Las Vegas at the same time.

Special thanks to the 43 (and counting) readers who have put fingers to keyboard and published a review of Back To Life on Amazon.  Amazingly, 41 of the 43 reviews awarded it five stars!  Read the reviews here.

Thanks to the gallery owners, banks, and coffee shops that have hosted my book signings and readings here in Portland. I have met so many interesting people, and what fun they have been!

As always, I have to thank Dr. Sia Daneshmand, who not only saved my life, but also agreed to contribute the incredibly powerful Foreword to my book.

Mary Elizabeth Williams, who just released her own cancer story, A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles, was kind enough to write the back cover blurb, which is reproduced at the end of this post. She's a senior writer for Salon.com, and a storyteller extraordinaire. Thanks, MBW!

Lastly, I wrote this book not as a bladder cancer book, or even as a medical memoir, but as an adventure story. My thanks go out to everyone I wrote about in Back To Life, who make up this true story.

If you have read the book, please take a minute of two to submit a short review on Amazon.  A continuous flow of new reviews is the single best way to insure that one's book will appear high in the search rankings on the site.

And of course, if you haven't read it, now would be an excellent time to pick up a copy, either in paperback or Kindle e-book format.

Many thanks to you all!

The Author and Dr. Sia Daneshmand

"As a Stage 4 melanoma survivor, I found myself deeply moved by - and profoundly grateful for - Frank Sadowski's honest and enlightening account of what it's really like inside the cancer experience. But more than that, simply as a reader, I was enthralled with his effortless gift for compelling storytelling. Back to Life is full of humor, suspense, and grit, a medical drama that brims with heart and soul." 

-- Mary Elizabeth Williams, senior staff writer at Salon.com and author of Gimme Shelter and A Series of Catastrophes and Miracles: A True Story of Love, Science, and Cancer. 

Sous Vide ... or not Sous Vide?

That is the question.

About six months ago I finally broke down and used a gift certificate to a local cooking store to purchase a Sansaire sous vide machine and a vacuum sealer. Sous vide is a method of cooking food at very low temperature for extended time in a circulating water bath. The food is vacuum sealed in a special non-reactive plastic bag before cooking. After cooking, it is usually finished with very quick pan sear. Many chefs use a blowtorch for this final step.

Over the last few months, I've tried cooking almost everything except vegetables this way. The result is that there are some things that sous vide is absolutely perfect for, and others, well, not so much. Take chicken, for example. I bake skinless boneless breasts coated with a barbecue rub or Emeril's essence to slice for my standard workday lunch of Greek salad with chicken.  I've tried it sous vide and the chicken has a strange texture. However, due to its moisture-retention abilities, I have found sous vide the absolute ideal way to cook the same  boneless breasts when making chicken salad. It's perfect!

Chefs in fine dining restaurants have been using this method for years, and now that I am cooking with this method I can usually recognize its use. We had a thick king salmon filet at Bluehour, one of our favorite Portland eateries, a couple of weeks ago. I noticed that it was exactly the same medium rare all the way through, with a brown sear just on the top side. I sensed the blowtorch method!

We occasionally find top-grade Oregon Wagyu beef at our local farmer's market in Portland, sold by Pono Farms. The tenderloin filets are so amazing that overcooking them on the grill accidentally is a real risk.

Enter sous vide. Last weekend, Pono Farms' booth had the rarely seen certified A-4 grade Wagyu, the second highest grade of Wagyu beef available from US farms, according to the Wagyu grading system.

Here's how we cooked these incredible steaks. Here they are, patted dry with paper towels: (Check out the amazing marbling.)

Next, I sprinked the filets on both sides with fresh ground black pepper, added a pinch of dried tarragon leaves, and topped each filet with teaspoon pat of butter.  

Next I vacuum sealed them in the sous vide bag.

The sous vide immersion circulator "wand" was then affixed to the side of a very large stockpot and pre-heated to 127 degrees, and in went the bag of beef.

You have to experiment with cooking times to find your preferred duration. Since the water bath stays at precisely the same temperature, there is no danger of overcooking in terms of "doneness." A sous vide tenderloin steak cooked at 127 degrees will be the exact same perfect medium rare if it's cooked for one hour or four hours. What changes is the texture. For 1" thick filets, I like to cook them for just a few minutes over an hour. Here's what they look like when taken out of the bath just before they are removed and thoroughly patted dry:

Next, the steaks go into a very hot skillet with a light film of high smoke-point oil (I use grapeseed oil) just until a crust is seared into the beef, about a minute per side.

When you cook meats in a pan or on the grill, or even in a high-temperature oven like the big steakhouses do, it cooks from the outside in. While the center portion might be medium rare, the top and bottom will go from brown seared crust, to well done, to medium, and then to medium rare in the middle. A sous vide steak cooked as above is exactly medium rare all the way from top to bottom.

Because of the amazing quality and texture of the Wagyu, we served it without a sauce, just a little sea salt. We accompanied the beef simply as well, with fresh-shelled English peas, boiled and buttered and sea-salted, and sautéed shallot, garlic and chopped Crimini mushrooms. The chosen wine was a Mondavi cabernet.

Perfect.

Bon Appetit!