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Hiking/Health Update

North_Mtn_Shaw_Butte_Preserve
w00t! Made it to the top of the mountain for the FOURTH time this week!

When I described this hike on April 14, I imagined I was clambering up North Mountain. That’s because SDXB and I have perennially confused North Mountain with Shaw Butte all these years. In fact, the trail I pictured and described in that post goes up Shaw Butte, a slightly higher promontory with an interesting history.

The Shaw Butte trail (about 2150 feet in elevation) can be accessed from several trailheads on the south and the north sides. From Central Avenue site, the round-trip hike is said to be about 5 miles (uh-huh…I’ll believe that when I see someone’s pedometer reading…I’d put it at about 3 or 3½ miles RT, but whatever…). You can get to it from the expensive-looking Seventh Street Visitor’s Center by following a trail that goes around and over the flood dam and intersects the upward-bound trail just above the dinky Central Avenue parking lot; I’d guess that trail is…ohhh…about a half-mile.

Yesterday, by peering off the side of the mountain, whence I had hiked from the Central Avenue parking lot on the north side of the hills, I figured out that a side trail probably led to the Visitor’s Center or someplace close to it.

So today I parked at the Visitor’s Center, which has a much more generous parking lot (I can park easily in the Central Avenue parking lot by taking advantage of my crip-space hanger, but…it’s a little embarrassing to park in a disabled space and then go bounding up the side of a mountain….) (I don’t use the crip space hanger unless a parking lot is practically empty, except when I’m in Tempe, where ASU commits a version of piracy in the public parking department) (and even in near-empty lots I rarely use it, because one of my eccentricities is a preference for parking on the far end of a lot by way of a) getting some exercise and b) parking my car in the shade).

(CHALLENGE: How many parenthetical asides can YOU cram into a single sentence?) 😀

Sh!t…where was I? I lost track…

Yeah, on the side of the mountain. Today’s trek was the fourth hike up the mountain since last Friday. I’d intended to do it tomorrow and make today’s exercise either a hike on the flat or a long bicycle ride, but one of my clients wanted to meet as dawn cracks tomorrow morning. It’s supposed to hit 90 degrees tomorrow, so I knew that by the time I shovel him out the door, it’ll be way too late for a journey up the side of a half-mile-high hill.

Saturday is the endlessly anticipated Oak Creek hike, the motivation for six weeks of physical therapy and all this mad conditioning-motivated hiking. The planned Friday conditioning hike obviated by the client’s demand, I decided to move it forward to today. That will make Friday into a day of relative rest (biking or canal-hiking planned for after the guy leaves tomorrow). This (a vigorous hike + a day of relative peace + vigorous hike + peace) is best, I’ve found, for building stamina.

So it was off to the Seventh Avenue Visitor’s Center as soon as I escaped from this morning’s wee-hours meeting of the Scottsdale Business Association.

It was late when I started, as in too goddamn hot to be climbing around: well after noon by the time I got back to the car. That notwithstanding, though, I reached the top with only four stops to gasp for breath. The first time up, honest to Gawd, I think I stopped to huff and puff about every twenty steps!

Useta be that when I would get out of shape, it would take three, count’em (3), trips up the mountain to reach the stage where I could hike all the way to the summit without stopping. Now that I’m old, however, I figure about six would be more like it. So far, I seem to be on target: this week I’ve made four trips up there. Hmm. Surely by next Friday, assuming I make three trips next week, I should reach the top without a pause.

Let’s pretend that the five-mile figure is correct (though I doubt it). I’ve been up the mountain four times this week: that’s 20 miles. And I’ve made two hikes on the flat of maybe a mile and a half apiece. Sooo…what do we have? Twenty-three miles? NOT FREAKING BAD, for an old bat pushing 70! (no, we do not mean 70 mph…)

IMHO, the distance up the side of Shaw Butte is more like three miles. So, if I could go up there three days a week and then walk the flat or the canal another three days a week (choir will obviate much outdoor activity now that the weather’s getting hot), that would give us…what?

3 three-mile uphill hikes = 9 miles/week
3 one-and-a-half flat hikes = 4.5 miles/ week
Total hill plus flat =13.5 miles/week

Well. That’s thirteen and a half more miles than the distance between the computer and the refrigerator.

I sure do feel a lot better. The cardiologist-doc was right in saying that a stint of sustained vigorous exercise brings a quick end to the anxiety attacks. Not only that, but the back pain is now almost 100% gone, with the exception of an occasional very mild twinge.

This is good. Very, very good.

Image: North Mountain and Shaw Butte Preserves. Jstuby at en.wikipedia. Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.

The Bargain Tax

Check this out:

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Translation:

Today I returned a lifetime supply of Roundup to Costco, because I couldn’t open the damn consumer-proof container and because on reflection I decided I didn’t want to open it.

I paid a penny less than $40 for it and expected to get that much back. When the guy said “That’ll be $33 back on your credit card,” I said “Huh?” He said, “You got a $9.00 coupon.”

Ohhhhkaayyyy….

But…look at the amount of tax they refunded, shown on the green receipt: $3.63

That tax is not on the reduced amount I paid. It’s on the full freight of the pre-“coupon” price.

See? I paid $29.99 for the stuff, and they charged me tax on a $38.99 purchase.

In Arizona our sales tax is almost 10%. So that amounts to an 84-cent difference.

Peanuts, you say? Well. Consider how much merchandise a single Costco store moves, to say nothing of Costco’s thirteen stores in the Greater Phoenix Metropolitan Area.

At this time of year, Roundup is a hot item in Phoenix. Every one of those 87 berjillion fake “desert-landscape” yards sprouts a bumper crop of wazoo-high weeds after the winter rains. Basically what it means is that just about everyone who lives in a house craves to buy Round-up. Last I heard, the Phoenix GMA was home to about two-thirds of Arizona’s population, to the tune of something over 1.5 million households.

Think of that. Let’s say a half-million of them live in apartments. That would give us a potential market, for the wee overcharge, of $.84 x 1 million, or $840,000. Not a bad profit, on a bit of bookkeeping sleight of hand.

Curry: Brain Food?

A friend in choir picked up on the speculation, which has been around for a while, that regular consumption of curry, the Indian spice, may stave off Alzheimer’s, or even correct it to some degree. Research has focused on one of the spice mix’s common ingredients, turmeric, which contains a supposedly brain-healthy compound called curcumin.

Personally, I’m skeptical — this rings of woo-woo. IMHO, a balanced diet and regular exercise stave off whatever ails you, not this herb or that vegetable. But what the heck? Curry is delicious and a great way to get veggies, fruits, fish, and meat down.

So, I offer recipes from the edge of the Persian Gulf, where we American colonists hired Pakistani and Goanese cooks and houseboys. These were the specialties of a man named Pedro, who cooked for a couple who were friends of my parents.

Pedro’s Curry

1 to 1½ pounds beef stew meat
½ package string beans
½ package canned peas
1 onion, chopped
1 large can tomatoes
3 or more teaspoons curry powder
salt and pepper to taste
1½ cups water or beef broth or chicken broth

Note that this original recipe, true to its 1950s origins, contains mostly canned ingredients. In those days, people ate more canned products because refrigerators were small and freezers were tiny, frost-choked compartments inside the small refrigerators. Also, in Arabia we didn’t get much fresh produce; what we could buy had to be soaked in dilute Clorox water before it could be consumed, a tedious process, indeed. Today I would substitute fresh or frozen beans, peas, and whatever else came to hand. Adding a little fresh spinach or chard at the last minute, so it cooks just long enough to blanch and wilt, would be nice.

Lamb or pork could be used in place of or in combination with the beef. We did not have access to lamb in Arabia, and it’s highly doubtful that our Moslem workers would have prepared anything with pork in it, even if they had no intention of eating it themselves.

Brown meat and chopped onions in a small amount of oil in a Dutch oven. Add salt, pepper, and curry after the meat and onions are brown. Stir well. Turn off the heat and let this stand for a while — anywhere from one to three hours.

Add water or broth. Bring the combination to a low boil, then turn the heat to “low” and allow to simmer about 1½ hours or until the meat is tender. Add the rest of the ingredients.  Let mixture stand for about another hour to assimilate the curry. Then heat to boiling point and serve over rice.

Curry dinners are traditionally served over rice and accompanied by many condiment-like side dishes, such as

Rice with raisins and almonds
Shredded coconut, browned gently under the broiler
Chutney
Papadoums, or, if you can’t find them in the grocer’s, Wheat Thins
Naan, or  you could substitute warmed pita bread
Waldorf salad, or sliced apples
Sliced cucumbers marinated with vinaigrette and sour cream or yoghurt

Rice with Raisins and Almonds

1 cup Uncle Ben’s converted rice
2½ cups water
About ¼ cup raisins (may be soaked in sherry for upwards of an hour)
About ¼ cup almonds

Spread the almonds on a cookie sheet and run under the broiler just long enough to brown.  Watch carefully—they scorch easily.

Place the water in medium-sized saucepan. Bring to a boil over “high” heat.  Turn heat to “medium” or “medium-low” and pour in 1 cup rice. Add the raisins and browned almonds.  Cover tightly and allow to simmer for about 20–25 minutes, until the water is fully absorbed.

Total cooking time for curry and rice: about three to five hours

Curry Puffs

Frozen puff pastry or phyllo dough
Ground meat (lean ground sirloin, or if you have it, ground lamb or pork)
Onions, finely chopped
Garlic, minced
A little vegetable oil (I happen to like olive oil, but anything will do)
A lot of curry powder
A dash of salt & pepper

These savory treats are incredibly delicious. When I was a little girl, the instant I got wind of a rumor that Pedro was going to cook curry puffs, I would show up at the neighbors’ back door, invade his kitchen, and hang around underfoot until he would give me snacks. Pedro used to make puff pastry from scratch, a two-day process. Fortunately, you and I can find it in the freezer compartment of a well-stocked grocery store.

Sauté the onions in oil until translucent.  Pour the cooked onions onto a plate.  Brown the meat in the remaining oil. If a lot of water cooks out of the meat and still resides in the frying pan when the meat looks cooked, drain the meat in a colander or sieve.  Place the meat and onion back in the pan; stir in the garlic. Sauté a couple of minutes to start the garlic cooking.  Then add a bunch of curry powder. Like, a LOT of curry powder.  We are talking THE JOY OF CURRY POWDER here.  Get enthusiastic.  Toss in as much curry powder as you can stomach.  In other words, “Add curry to taste.”  Season some more with a bit of salt and pepper.

Preheat oven to about 400 degrees.

If you’re using puff pastry:

Defrost the pastry overnight in the refrigerator or (carefully!) in the microwave. Flour a board and roll the pastry out fairly thin. Each “puff” is about 2 inches x 3 inches or thereabouts and is formed like a turnover. In cutting out pieces of pastry to form the puff, keep the math in mind. Thus for a 2 x 3 puff you should cut a piece 3 inches wide by 4 inches long, so that when you fold the 4-inch length over the filling, you end up with a rectangular turnover about 2 inches wide.

Place a spoonful of curried meat in the center of a piece of puff pastry and turn the top over it.  Press the edges together with a fork. Place puffs on a cookie sheet, far enough apart so that they won’t bash each other when they puff up in cooking.

If you’re using phyllo dough:

Defrost the dough in the refrigerator. Dampen and wring out a couple of clean tea towels.  Open the package and unfold the phyllo dough. Place a tea towel over the unfolded package of phyllo layers.

Work quickly.

Pick up a couple of leaves of phyllo and place it on your lightly floured pastry board.  Cut phyllo into pieces, as above. Lay the other damp tea towel over the pieces that you’re not working with. Form curry puffs with phyllo dough as described for puff pastry and place on cookie sheet. You may also want to cover the completed, unbaked puffs with a damp towel, especially if it looks like it will take you a while to finish forming enough to fill an entire cookie sheet.

In either event…

Bake about 15 or 20 minutes in a fast oven, until cheerfully browned and tasty-looking.  Keep an eye on the things as they’re cooking.

Private Fingers in the Medicare Pot

A thousand curses upon the craven politicos who decided that private industry should get its sticky paws on anything related to Medicare. What a freaking mess! And it’s like this not because of the “government” the right wing so loves to hate but because of the programs that are run by private insurance companies.

No amount of federal regulation stops these SOBs from putting the screws on the customers.

A quick refresher course in the complexities:

Medicare consists of five programs. Medicare Part A covers hospitalization, hospice, and (in very  limited circumstances) some nursing home and home-health care. Medicare Part B covers doctors’ visits, some other types of health-care providers, outpatient care, durable medical equipment, home health care, and some preventive care. Each of these programs pays 80 percent and the patient pays 20 percent. Medicare Part C is a scheme roughly equivalent to HMOs and PPOs that strictly limit one’s choice in providers — something that can be very dangerous if you think you need a high-powered specialist and some insurance clerk says otherwise.

Obviously, 20 percent of the bill for catastrophic care or for a serious long-term disease such as cancer, MS, Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, or diabetes would quickly drain the savings of most elderly Americans. And since we all have to die of something, if you don’t go in an accident or by your own hand, chances are very high that the medical industry sooner or later will pauperize you. In the case of a married couple, this will mean that by the time one person dies, the other will be reduced to the most desperate kind of poverty, no matter how faithfully they have saved to support themselves in old age.

So, you’re pretty much forced to buy extra insurance, issued by private insurance companies, to fill in the gaps presented by traditional Medicare. This coverage is called “Medigap” or “Medicare supplemental insurance.”

You also are forced to buy one of the newer policies known as “Medicare Part D,” which supposedly covers prescription drugs but in fact covers almost nothing. A Republican scheme passed in 2003 and shepherded through Congress by a Louisiana representative who soon afterward retired into a $2 million-a-year-job with Big Pharma’s main lobbying group, Pharmaceutical Research and Manufacturers of America, Part D is one of the biggest rip-offs this country has ever seen. It seems to exist solely to clip the taxpayers and old people. George W. Bush’s Medicare administrator, Thomas Scully — now a lobbyist for the health care industry and general partner of an equity firm that invests in health care — threatened to fire Medicare’s chief actuary if he reported how much Part D actually costs the government. Medicare is forbidden to negotiate drug prices, a strategy that saves the Department of Veterans’ Affairs between 40% and 58% on its clients’ drugs. Between 2006 and 2013, this caused Medicare beneficiaries to spend an estimated $332 billion to $563 billion more than necessary.

My Part D carrier disallowed most of the generic drugs my doctors have ordered over the past 18  months and would not cover the full freight on the rest. To fill a prescription, you have to get prior approval before your doctor writes the prescription.

Once you’re in a Part D plan, you’re pretty well trapped in it, whether you like it or not. You’re allowed to disenroll or change carriers under very limited conditions, and — get this! — if your carrier stops covering a drug you need to take,  you can’t change to a carrier that will cover it!

That 85 percent of Part D patients claim to be satisfied with the scheme proves only that you can fool all of the people some of the time and some of the people all of the time.

If you are not permanently “on” some drug — as, for instance, I happen not to be — the monthly $20-plus premium pays for air. I would have been better off without Part D, because I could have purchased the antibiotic for the bronchitis, the steroid for the bronchitis, the double-strength omeprazole and sucralfate for the GERD kicked off by the steroid, and the muscle relaxant for the back pain cheaper had I been able to enroll in Costco’s cost-saving plan. But I’m not eligible for it or for Walgreen’s similar plan because, in cahoots with Big Pharma, by law these plans have been made off-limits for Part D customers.

However,  healthy Medicare beneficiaries decline to enroll in Part D at their peril. When (not “if”) you come down with some serious, expensive ailment, the cost of chemotherapy or meds for typical old-age hazards such as Parkinson’s could easily bankrupt you. And if you do not enroll when you become eligible at age 65 but delay until you’re more likely to need the coverage, you are gouged a penalty for late enrollment, in the form of permanently inflated monthly premiums.

Part C, which is an option, rips off the taxpayer with élan, to the enormous profit of the insurance companies that run the plans. Part C plans, which operate like HMOs, appear attractive to Medicare beneficiaries because they offer services like vision and dental care that are not covered by traditional Part A & B Medicare plus Medigap, and because at the outset they provided prescription drug coverage (the advent of Part D canceled that). The payment formulas overpay Part C plans by 12 percent or more compared to traditional Medicare. By 2006, these HMO plans had proved far more profitable to insurance companies than projected, at the expense of administrative costs that are far higher than traditional Medicare.

In summary: Part A and Part B (“traditional” Medicare) pay exactly as advertised, with no hassle. Traditional Medicare is rather expensive: $104/month (almost five times what I paid for better coverage through my former employer); it only covers 80% of your costs; and it does not cover prescriptions or long-term care. To take in the slack, you have to buy additional coverage from private insurers that jack you around and charge you through the wazoo while collecting money from the government for the privilege.

Okay. Now for the rant of the day.

Saturday comes in the mail a notice from Mutual of Omaha, the outfit that carries my Medigap coverage, a notice that my premiums are going up “due to the rising cost of healthcare.” Yes. My Medigap insurance will increase by $400!

“Please be assured,” we’re told, “that you are not being singled out for this increase; the premiums for all customers with coverage like yours are being adjusted.”

There’s a story I’ve heard before: when I carried my own insurance for a time. If you make claims on a policy, your premiums go up forthwith. Companies get away with this, even though it is illegal to raise your rates or cancel your policy because you made a claim, by assigning customers to relatively small groups, so that if one or two people in that group should have a spate of illness, everyone in that small group gets their premiums increased. This allows the company to claim it’s being “fair” while dumping customers whose care is beginning to cost something.

This increase comes as President Obama caves to the Republicans by cutting cost-of-living adjustments for Social Security beneficiaries. Ducky.

So now I need to find a new Medigap carrier.

Finding reasonably priced Medigap coverage is an astonishing horror show.

There’s only one given: each of the fourteen plans (designated A through N) has to offer the same benefits, and insurance companies are not allowed to screw with those guidelines or to deny the services specified in each one.

Otherwise…it’s raw chaos.

Rules are different in every state. So different insurers make different plans available in different states, at different rates. Availability of plans and their costs vary by county. Companies charge what the traffic will bear, and so rates for identical policies can vary by as much as $150 to $200 a month. For example, in Maricopa County the lowest price for a Part F policy issued to someone in my age range is about $137; the highest is $338. And there’s no difference in coverage!

The only way to find the rates available to you is to access a long, incomprehensibly complicated document issued by your state’s insurance department. To find the cheapest plan available to Arizonans, you have to download a FORTY-EIGHT-PAGE BOOKLET. This PDF provides each company’s rates for each of the 14 plans in the various counties within the state. Some insurers offer some plans but not others. Some insurers offer certain plans in some counties and not in others. Prices in rural counties are usually lower than prices in Maricopa and Pima counties, where the cities of Phoenix and Tucson reside. But this is not consistent. Nor is it in any way helpful.

In Arizona, FIFTY-FOUR COMPANIES offer Medigap policies. Every one of them offers the same effing policies for different rates scattered over two pages of figures. To figure out which one is cheapest, you have to sift through 42 pages of figures listed 7 columns to the page.

Once you’ve parsed this out, then you have to find out

a) how the company is rated (is the damn thing about to go belly-up?); and
b) whether they’re even still offering the plan, because some of them quit after the booklet goes to press.

Then you have to track down a phone number for whatever outfit you select to provide this coverage. Then you have to make your way through the infuriating phone trees and jump through hoop after hoop after interminable hoop to find out what they really charge, which is different from what the Insurance Department booklet says.

Last night it took me four hours to identify the dozen companies that claim to offer premiums lower than the new gouge from Mutual of Omaha.

I’m now paying $128 a month. After the increase,  I’ll be paying $165 a month.

Here, on a preliminary basis, are the companies that charge no more than $165 a month but are likely to charge me, at 68, less than that:

2013 Medigap figures

Some of these providers are outfits that no one ever heard of. So, before you start calling insurance companies, you have to track down their ratings, to see if they’re stable enough to be around over the next year or two. To do this, you can go to one or more of various rating agencies, such as A.M. Best or Standard & Poor’s.

So we’re told. But in fact, to look up an insurance company at some these agencies, you have to be a member! At Standard & Poor’s, you can look them up and be damned — many searches return a “not found” message, and those that are rated have so many tentacles you can’t figure out which one you need to know about.

This means you have to call your insurance agent — if you have one — and ask him or her to look up ratings for a dozen candidates.

My insurance agent, who has been a godsend, does not deal with Medigap coverage…for obvious reasons! Another guy I know who does claim to address Medicare referred me to a woman who tried to high-pressure me into a Part C plan; when I told her I did not want a Medicare Advantage plan, she persisted, even to the point of trying to tell me things that are untrue and that federal law specifically prohibits agents from claiming.

So in addition to the mind-boggling complication, the whole process is a minefield of scam operators trying to take advantage of confused and frustrated senior citizens.

It is just a freaking nightmare.

 

 

Up North Mountain

I made it all the way to the top! Only figured to get halfway up — hauling an extra 20 or 30 pounds of corpus made the hike a little more interesting than it was the last time I climbed North Mountain. These “mountains” (some would call them “hills”) form an island park in the middle of the sea of houses that is Phoenix.

As usual, click on the photo for a bigger, clearer view.

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Parking lot’s right in a residential neighborhood.

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The lower trail looks benign enough…

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Development flows right up to the edge of the park.

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P1020223View to the north and east

P1020224Due north

P1020225There’s the summit

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After the recent rain, the ocotillo are in bloom

P1020230View to the south

P1020233Getting closer…

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P1020237We’re two-thirds of the way to the top here.

P1020240Downtown Phoenix rising from the smog

P1020242Nearing the summit

P1020253There’s the top of Shaw Butte, an adjacent hillock

P1020255Made it to the top!

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P1020261The price of progress

P1020262View from the summit

P1020269Headed back down

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 P1020273Backlit creosotebush blossoms and fuzzballs

P1020274Creosote is what makes the desert smell like rain

P1020275Watch your step…this is the trail!