Sen. Craig Thomas of Wyoming passed away on June 4 after an
eight-month battle with leukemia, and after two decades of service
to the Cowboy State, first as a congressman (1989-1995), and then
as a U.S. senator (1995-2007).
Senator Thomas had been reelected in 2006 with 70 percent of the
vote. He had received his diagnosis very late in the campaign, and
had spent Election Day in a D.C. hospital. He was beloved in
Wyoming; his forte being public lands issues in the West.
Thomas’s passing kicked into gear a bizarre selection process
for his seat (thanks to the Wyoming State Constitution), in which
the majority party in the state legislature (in this case the
Republicans) submits three names to the governor (in this case
Democrat David Freudenthal), who chooses one to hold the seat until
the end of the current Congress. The seat will be contested in
November 2008 (when Wyoming’s entire three-seat congressional
delegation will be up for grabs). And, of course, the governor
would pick the name thought to be most beatable by a Democrat.
Rather than bore the reader with the details of a two-week-long
convoluted process that involved a 71-member state GOP central
committee (Wyoming’s secular smoke-filled-room version of the
College of Cardinals) casting multiple rounds of votes in a process
of elimination involving 31 declared candidates (many themselves
members of the central committee), suffice it to say that Governor
Freudenthal ultimately chose John A. Barrasso, MD, 54, Casper
orthopedic surgeon and citizen legislator of five years
standing.
Dr. Barrasso is a pro-life conservative, and conservative on
most other issues as well. Although his legislative experience
consists of only five years service in the Wyoming senate, Barrasso
has been active in Cowboy State politics for over two decades. As a
doctor, he has a reputation for being well schooled on health care
issues. He was obviously — despite inexperience — politically
astute enough to have steered himself through the selection
process, most of his serious competition dwarfing his meager
resume.
ANY WYOMINGITE INTERESTED in public affairs knows that our local
solons are accessible. Here in Cody, Alan Simpson —retired, yet
influential — is listed in the phone book. I’ve shaken hands with
Big Al on scores of occasions: at the grocery store, at the post
office, and on Cody’s streets. I’ve discovered that shaking hands
with Big Al is a little like kissing your aunt: after a few times
it loses its magic. The same goes for his son Colin Simpson (alas,
one of those 30 political bridesmaids to Barrasso’s bride), who
represents Cody and environs in the legislature, and is a rising
political star in his own right. I always seemed to shake hands
annually with Senator Thomas at Cody’s Fourth of July “Stampede”
parade, and we’ll miss him this year. I’ve never shaken hands with
Dick Cheney on his many visits home. Maybe I can’t pass a Secret
Service security clearance thanks to my minor police record
accumulated during my drinking days twenty years ago. Anyway, I
have met John Barrasso.
It’s actually refreshing to have a physician serving in
Wyoming’s congressional delegation; in fact, it’s ironic, given
that a large portion of that 71-member central committee are — at
least part time — attorneys. One is reminded of the fact that
roughly half the signers of the Declaration of Independence were
lawyers, and it’s been downhill ever since. But I digress.
West Park Hospital in Cody used to sponsor a Health Fair
annually on a Saturday in April, first in the high school gym, and
later at the newly constructed Riley Events Center. It has since
discontinued the service. There were information booths devoted to
major illnesses such as cancer, diabetes, and heart disease, all
designed to terrify and edify hypochondriacs in myriad ways. You
could get a free five-minute massage or your blood pressure taken.
A local chiropractor had you stand with your feet each on a
separate bathroom scale, and in this way knew that your spine was
crooked, and that you should call his office the following week to
make an appointment. The local holistic crowd was well represented,
hawking herbs, potions, and exotic teas designed to cure everything
from halitosis to hemorrhoids. And there were off-duty doctors and
nurses available to answer serious questions.
Many people — myself included — took advantage of a discount
rate blood draw two weeks before, and the results could be mailed
to you or picked up at the Health Fair. There those learned
physicians — seated behind a couple of long banquet tables —
would help you decipher all those weird numbers full of decimal
points. And as I approached one table, there was Dr. John Barrasso.
I’m guessing that this was roughly five years ago, around the time
he was first elected to the Wyoming Senate.
Since Dr. Barrasso lives in Casper, some 200 miles from Cody, he
was probably in town for some sort of event or meeting, either
political or medical, and while here somebody at the hospital
lassoed him to work the Health Fair.
I got on a short line to his spot, and waited out a couple of
old-timers ahead me. These consultations reminded me of a Catholic
confessional. The folks in line can only hear from a short distance
the subtle murmurs of confessor and sinner (in this case doctor and
patient), knowing they will soon be next. When my turn came I sat
down across from the good doctor.
HE WAS ABOUT MY AGE, with black hair, and dark framed glasses that
gave him a scholarly look. I introduced myself, we shook hands, and
I handed over my blood test results. I told Dr. Barrasso that I was
a political junkie and well aware of his public service. He smiled
and said it was always a pleasure for him to meet people interested
in public affairs. Then he said: “Well, let’s have a look at your
numbers.”
“They look good,” continued Dr. Barrasso. “Glucose looks good:
no diabetes. Kidney function, liver function: both good. HDL: good.
Triglycerides: good. Thyroid function: good. The only one I’m
concerned about is your LDL, which is slightly elevated above the
normal range.”
“Can that be an indicator of future heart attack or stroke?” I
asked, always the well-informed hypochondriac.
“Yes it can, you should get it down,” said Dr. Barrasso as he
continued to scan the numbers. “A good exercise program can do
that. I wouldn’t recommend medication unless your HDL and
Triglycerides were also out of range, but they’re not, and that’s
good.”
“But I’m in good shape,” I protested. “I regularly hike in the
mountains and ride my bike around town.”
“Good,” said Dr. Barrasso. “Keep it up.”
“I try to eat right. Fruits and vegetables. And I take a daily
multivitamin.”
“Good,” laughed Dr. Barrasso. “Keep it up.”
All hypochondriacs know that it is important to make the most of
free medical advice.
“How does my PSA look?” I asked.
“Fine. Excellent, in fact.”
“I just had a digital at the prostate screening a few months
ago,” I said. “Dr. Christianson….”
“Good”, said Dr. Barrasso. “What did he find?”
“Uhh, slight BPH,” I said.
“How old are you?”
I told him.
“I’m a year older than you,” smiled Dr. Barrasso
philosophically. “Unfortunately, the game starts to change for us
now.”
“I’m tired of getting up two or three times a night,” I said.
“Do I need medication?”
“I’d stay away from it as long I could,” said Dr. Barrasso.
“Because once you’re on it, you’re on it. Try Saw Palmetto. See if
it works for you.”
I drink a lot of coffee during the day,” I said. “Could that
contribute to the problem? I’m a freelance writer.” I added this
last as an excuse, but Dr. Barrasso remained his old clinical
self.
“Coffee is a diuretic. Anything with caffeine. Tea. Soft drinks.
They will contribute to your problem,” he said, with some
finality.
I had the feeling I was close to exhausting Dr. Barrasso’s
patience quotient for dealing with otherwise healthy middle-aged
hypochondriacs.
“Okay, thanks Doc,” I said, as I got up. We shook hands again,
and he handed back my test results. Dr. Barrasso smiled and said:
“You’ll live to be a hundred.” He was already looking over my
shoulder at the next person in line, an elderly woman clutching her
handbag and medical paperwork. There was a trace of anxiety on her
face.
“Hi,” smiled the cheerful Dr. John Barrasso.
