I like to think of life in narrative terms: it has a beginning, middle, and end. But let’s take the analogy a little further. What if your life was measured according to the length of a popular movie? How far along would you be in the movie? Using Star Wars as my yardstick (natch) and assuming an average lifespan, I’m almost halfway through the movie. The Death Star is about to blast Alderaan into tiny pieces. But if I assume a shorter lifespan (let’s say sixty years, which still seems generous), then I’m at the part where Han, Luke, and Chewie are about to rescue Princess Leia.

It’s an interesting way of putting mortality into perspective. I take some consolation in the fact that I haven’t missed the Rebels’ assault on the Death Star. That part rules. 

I cut my landline a few months ago in favor of a shiny new iPhone. I still love my phone (nothing passes the time on a three-hour flight better than being able to watch a bunch of Firefly episodes), but I’m becoming familiar with the annoyances that come from having only a cell phone. One is rather trivial: remembering to silence the ringer before going into a meeting. I’ve been in at least one big staff meeting where I’ve forgotten to do that and everyone was treated to my undeniably dorky sci-fi ringtone.

The other annoyance is more serious. In the last week or so, people have tried calling me only to be kicked into voicemail. This is particularly irksome because I live in a secure building that requires people to call me to get buzzed in. I updated the phone’s operating system and things seem to be functioning normally now, but our cellular infrastructure still has a long way to go before it can match the reliability of good old copper wiring.

I’ve said before that health care reform is of vital importance to the disability community. To further illustrate my point, I offer the case of Ian Pearl. Pearl has spinal muscular atrophy, uses a ventilator, and received private duty nursing under his father’s small group insurance plan. Guardian, the insurer, cancelled insurance policies across the entire state to stop paying for high-cost beneficiaries like Pearl. One Guardian executive revealed the company’s naked greed when he referred to these beneficiaries as “dogs” in an internal e-mail.

Pearl lives in Florida, which doesn’t provide nursing care as part of its Medicaid program. His family is wealthy enough to continue funding his care for a few years, but that money will eventually run out. Pearl may eventually be faced with the untenable choice of entering an institution or moving to another state that does provide nursing care.

The bills under consideration wouldn’t force insurers to offer nursing care as a benefit, but it could prevent this kind of large-scale rescission as a cost-cutting measure. And at some point, the feds really need to look at creating a uniform package of home care services for people with severe disabilities that is largely or completely federally funded.

I realized today that I need to make an appointment for a seating adjusted. Over the last several months, I’ve noticed that I’m slouching to one side even more than usual and that the sweet spot of total comfort has become more elusive. The last straw came today when I was compelled to stick an empty bottle behind my back cushion in order to give me a bit of extra support. I have a bad habit of ignoring minor discomforts until I finally get annoyed enough to jury-rig a half-assed solution and wait for an appointment with a professional. Fortunately, I’ll only have to wait a couple weeks this time.

My seating system is over fifteen years old and has already been through a couple revisions, which makes me wonder how much more can be done with this old thing. It’s served me well, but I no longer have the body of a man in his early twenties. Well, relatively speaking, anyway.

We may finally have a proposal on the table that could provide a resolution to the war of attrition on the public option. Under the proposal brought forth by Delaware senator Tom Carper, states would have the ability to opt out of the national public option if they did not with to participate. From a policy perspective, it’s an imperfect but workable solution. Perhaps two-thirds of states would likely enroll in the public option immediately, giving the government a substantial customer base and corresponding bargaining power with health care providers. The downside is that some people–especially those in poorer Southern states–might not have the public option available for at least the first year or two after it goes into effect in other states.

I don’t like the idea of excluding some people from a public option simply because they have the misfortune of living in a state full of Glenn Beck acolytes and conspiracy theorists, but these states might be prodded to adopt the public option once they see that it’s working in other states (without an accompanying boom in communes and without any seizures of private property). Given the toxic politics surrounding this issue, this compromise might be the best way to ensure passage of a strong public option while simultaneously giving conservative the opportunity to realize the real-life consequences of their nihilistic public policy.