Healthcare: My Private Politic

Almost three weeks ago my ear started to hurt. It began as a dull ache, which was ignorable enough, but that ache very quickly developed into a sharper throb, coupled with a minor deafness.

We tried the homeopathic route. Guessing that it was swimmer’s ear (I’d been in a hot tub earlier that week) we mixed vinegar with vodka, dripping the acrid solution into my canal. The odor was terrific and the glamor of DIY medicine quickly wore off.

My mother in law offered me some left over otic solution which I promptly preferred to my stinky cocktail.

I thought that the movie "Sicko" was a pretty entertaining way to learn facts about the current health care system (even if some examples in the film are extreme cases)

My auditory situation only worsened. At work, some days later, a friend suggested wax build up as the culprit.

“What?” I said. It was awfully difficult to hear at this point.

“Wax build up,” she repeated.

“Oh,” I said.

She offered me another medicinal solution–this one would help rid my ear of the proposed source of my pain. I took her up on her generous offer, switching medicines for the third time.

Finally, after almost two weeks of increasing discomfort, I found it difficult to function. I walked around teary eyed and mopey. I resolved to see a doctor, with or without health insurance (in my case, without).

I went to an urgent care clinic, because I do not have a regular doctor (too pricey!). As I signed in, I eyed the space saved for my insurance information. Big signs scotch taped to the reception window informed me that as an uninsured person I was expected to pay in full.

These signs only augmented my pain as well as my general grumpy demeanor.

“You realize you have to pay in full if you don’t have health insurance,” the secretary said dead pan, loudly.

I nodded hurriedly. Yes Yes. I glanced over my shoulder. I couldn’t help it. Blushing through my embarrassment as the other sick and waiting people looked on.

I had been the only one on the almost full sign up sheet to write N/A as my insurance provider.

The staff was friendly–they flushed out my ears with a mix of hydrogen peroxide and water and then handed me a sample of otic solution they claimed would last me the full seven days I needed it (it didn’t).

My mother use to call Hydrogen Peroxide "The bubbly stuff" -- but it is typically cheaper than champagne.

I smiled all the way to the cashier. Then I received the bill for over one hundred dollars. The doctor had spend less than ten minutes in my room.

Regardless, I was on my way to a pain-free skull and I took the financial hit with admirable dismissiveness.

It wasn’t until my condition got worse that I really got pissed.

You are truly at the mercy of the hospital when under their care. To steal an appropriate metaphor from NPR, being a patient at the hospital is a little like walking int o a K Mart in which the products lack price tags. If the nurses had informed me that my hydrogen peroxide flush was so pricey, I would have preferred to deliver the treatment in the comfort of my own bathroom.

I wanted a refund. I had purchased treatment that failed to work and I refused to go in to the clinic to give them even more money.

But that’s what I did when the pain got too much. Begrudgingly I signed myself in at the desk once again and once again the receptionist informed me in a loud clear voice that I would have to pay in full.

“Yes, I realize that,” I snipped.

My doctor this round was vague and dodgy when I asked him why my previous treatment failed and why he believed this new treatment would work.

Again the flush and a couple new (expensive) prescriptions.

The doctor scribbled his numbers onto my bill. Code–not prices–he informed me. I got out “cheaply” that time at fifty percent off: fifty dollars.

I’m on the mend so I cannot help but be grateful, but the whole experience has got me thinking about health care and glancing at the news, I suspect I’m in good company.

I try to keep my politics personal. I can wax rhetoric, repeating what I read in such and such and pretending to know more than I actually do; but I would rather keep it simple and reflective.

I searched online for a health insurance package that would help me and my family afford to see the doctor. I requested information at a legitimate website and suffered a bombardment of calls from different agents.

After hearing the prices:

“$211 is as cheap as it gets for you,” one agent informed me. “with it you get six doctor visits a year at thirty five dollars a piece. Generic prescription drugs are fifteen.” My mind wandered. The point of insurance momentarily evaded me. Wasn’t it supposed to save you money?

My agent was kind enough to explain. “Really, health insurance is a safety net for if you get really sick with cancer for example or if someone was in a serious accident.”

So health insurance is a gamble, a very expensive, serious, and socially accepted gamble. Either you save a lot of money or you spend even more.

It’s true, I’m envious of our Canadian neighbors with their socialized health care. Sure the taxes may be higher, but so is their life expectancy.

I was once hit by a car door while riding my bike. I landed in the street and blacked out. When I woke up I was sitting in an ambulance parked on the side of the road by the sc ene of the accident.

“Let me out,” I said, immediately (groggily)( sitting up, ignoring my bodily dysfunction and discomfort. “I can’t afford this. I’m uninsured.” It was the first thought to cross my mind as soon as I came to.

When I was a child, my father was diagnosed with cancer. His treatments, the hospital bills usurped all frivolity from much of my childhood. Our toy box was filled with clutter from yard sales. A dinner out was a dinner at McDonalds, which was always a special occasion. (Although I do not look forlornly onto my childhood. Our lack of fancy playthings only enforced a wild and handy imagination)

The way I see it, our current business run medical system, while making people well also makes them unwell. If it is a business, let there be price tags, sales, let’s be upfront about it–but really–do we want our physical health and well being to rely on the discount rack, or do we as citizens of a country that can supply it deserve better?

The average cost of a hospital stay usually trumps that of a tropical vacation.

I ask, if we have the means as a whole community to provide  it, is access to good health care such a bad thing? Or should health care continue to be a privilege of the financially endowed? A sort of Darwinian weeding: A survival of the strongest bank accounts.

While the insurance companies play god, deciding what and when and who they will cover, people young and old forgo treatments that could make them better, stronger, that could even save their lives.

After hearing how expensive and undependable health insurance proves, I told my insurance agent I wasn’t buying. Not just yet. I have my eyes on Capital Hill.

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