For My Own Entertainment


Sometimes I find it entertaining to review the reasons why people have searched my blog. Here are some of the favorites in the past thirty days, and my responses.

• The top seven searches, totaling 310, are variations of my name and blog title.
• Number eight is CPEP Syracuse.
• And then there are the social assistance searches, which are virtually endless. A partial list:
o percentage of second-generation welfare recipients
o facts about the percentage of welfare recipients multi generational
o average age of people on welfare
o percentage of black women on welfare that have never worked
o what is the ratio of young women to men on welfare and why?
o what percentage of people on medicaid are black
o 3rd generation welfare recipients
o how many welfare recipients are at least 2 generation
o how much does a typical welfare recipient
o percent blacks on Medicaid
o how many people are generational welfare
o the ratio of whites requiring medicaid in America
o ny generational welfare
o third generation welfare recipients
o welfare breakdown by age
o percentage of blacks on Medicaid

Some people simply don’t know and are seeking an education; I honor that. Most have a point of view that they want to substantiate. Some are racists. They make my stomach hurt.

A few years ago I asked the Post-Standard managing editor Stan Linhorst to assign a proper reporter and get this story out. He declined to do so. I have had over 7000 hits on my blog series about this, and the Post-Standard is steadily losing its circulation—there’s a reason for that: they are not reporting what the people want to know.

I reached out to Dave Sutkowy, commissioner of the Onondaga County Dept. of Social Services, and asked for the statistics. Him being one of my absolute biggest fans, instead of sending me a copy of the report his people gave him, he sent me the spread sheets with the raw figures. Melia printed them out, laid them on the living room floor and taped them together. Then she crunched the numbers, thus giving them a higher statistical validity than if I’d done it.

What we were looking at were figures for recipients of Welfare, Medicaid and Food Stamps in Onondaga County. What we found was that the largest group is white, female, young, and single parents of minor children. Women are taking physical care of their children; men are not taking fiscal care of them.
Other favorites:
• filing an ipro appeal: Don’t know, but I’m working on it. This week I filed for my first IPRO (Island Peer Review Organization) appeal. It goes to OTDA, the NYS Office of Temporary and Disability Assistance, which appears to be a free-standing office that reports directly to the governor. When I did an OTDA hearing (Medicaid transportation, not IPRO) about eight years ago, it took three months to get the hearing and another three to get the decision. Actually, I got a call from a lead investigator at the Office of the Medicaid Inspector General (OMIG), laughing and telling me that he couldn’t tell me but that I’d get good news in a few days. OMIG was notified before me that I’d won the case.
• my bladder had 2 liters of urine have had the catheter in for 27 days after taking it out i cannot pee why. I have no idea. Call your doctor. Seriously, urine backing up into your kidneys is a really bad thing and will damage your kidneys.
• medicaid office of professional medical conduct. Wrong. Medicaid and the Office of Professional Medical Conduct (OPMC) are two different divisions in the NYS Dept. of Health. Medicaid pays for medical care for poor people; OPMC messes with your doctor after he messes with you.
• rick and kathy urschel church. Whachou mean, Lewis? Kathy Urschel was an Olympic bicycle racer, and massage therapist, currently deceased. Don know nuthin’ about no rick or church.
• fear not christmas card. “Fear Not” is not a Christmas card. It is a Christmas blog I wrote and will re-post pretty quick.
• can my doctor fire a home health aide. Only if it is his. If he has some idea that something is seriously wrong—like the aide being fraudulent or abusing the patient—he can call the home health agency and get them to investigate, but he can’t outright fire an aide, and I’ve never heard of a doctor caring enough to get involved in an aide situation.
• ampligen or hemispherx. You’re looking for drug information on my blog? Now that’s funny, really funny.
• in malta,how much does a woman get in social assestance when the fater is unknown? The only Malta I know is an assisted living residence in North Syracuse for adults over 65. Once you pass 21, social assistance doesn’t care who your daddy was.
• does dr nasri ghaly treat anxiety. Yup. He sits real calm and quiet and listens to you. When you realize that someone is actually listening to you and paying attention then you stop being anxious.
• emergency room for apnea. If you are talking about obstructive sleep apnea, then absolutely positively do not waste your time in the Emergency Room. ERs only treat what they can see. Sleep apnea only occurs when you’re asleep, which ain’t hardly gonna happen in the ER, so they won’t see it and they’re not wired to observe it. Call a sleep doctor or pulmonologist during the day. For other apneas, I know nothing.
• what percentage of welfare recipients have jobs and collect welfare? There are a heck of a lot of working poor in our society. What that means is that they are busting their humps working full-time but being paid so little that they can’t support their children. These people usually get Food Stamps, HEAP or Medicaid rather than direct Welfare, but I suppose it’s possible. What nobody realizes is that when you cut Medicaid payouts, you are not only hurting the patients but also the workers who are paid by Medicaid, starting with a bazillion home health aides and one-quarter bazillion Medicaid transportation drivers. A lot of home health aides paid by Medicaid are getting subsidies for their kids.

About annecwoodlen

I am a tenth generation American, descended from a family that has been working a farm that was deeded to us by William Penn. The country has changed around us but we have held true. I stand in my grandmother’s kitchen, look down the valley to her brother’s farm and see my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother Hannah standing on the porch. She is holding the baby, surrounded by four other children, and saying goodbye to her husband and oldest son who are going off to fight in the Revolutionary War. The war is twenty miles away and her husband will die fighting. We are not the Daughters of the American Revolution; we were its mothers. My father, Milton C. Woodlen, got his doctorate from Temple University in the 1940’s when—in his words—“a doctorate still meant something.” He became an education professor at West Chester State Teachers College, where my mother, Elizabeth Hope Copeland, had graduated. My mother raised four girls and one boy, of which I am the middle child. My parents are deceased and my siblings are estranged. My fiancé, Robert H. Dobrow, was a fighter pilot in the Marine Corps. In 1974, his plane crashed, his parachute did not open, and we buried him in a cemetery on Long Island. I could say a great deal about him, or nothing; there is no middle ground. I have loved other men; Bob was my soul mate. The single greatest determinate of who I am and what my life has been is that I inherited my father’s gene for bipolar disorder, type II. Associated with all bipolar disorders is executive dysfunction, a learning disability that interferes with the ability to sort and organize. Despite an I.Q. of 139, I failed twelve subjects and got expelled from high school and prep school. I attended Syracuse University and Onondaga Community College and got an associate’s degree after twenty-five years. I am nothing if not tenacious. Gifted with intelligence, constrained by disability, and compromised by depression, my employment was limited to entry level jobs. Being female in the 1960’s meant that I did office work—billing at the university library, calling out telegrams at Western Union, and filing papers at a law firm. During one decade, I worked at about a hundred different places as a temporary secretary. I worked for hospitals, banks, manufacturers and others, including the county government. I quit the District Attorney’s Office to manage a gas station; it was more honest work. After Bob’s death, I started taking antidepressants. Following doctor’s orders, I took them every day for twenty-six years. During that time, I attempted%2
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