As I turned on CNN this morning, I noticed radio talk show host Glenn Beck on the screen saying that he had no reason to live any more. I wondered what had provoked such a depressed state since he is usually quite hyperactive, to say the least, on his shows. He later told the interviewer that he had gone in for what was supposed to be a routine out-patient surgery only to have complications and have to be admitted to the hospital for several days. I think he was most upset about the treatment he received by the staff at the hospital and the long wait to get emergency medical attention (around two hours). He spoke of how famous he was and the shock he felt to realize that fame is not necessarily a respecter of persons in a hospital. I say, "Welcome to the real world, Glenn, and others who have openly made fun of Michael's Moore latest documentary Sicko."
My own shock to emergency room treatment came one weekend in New Orleans in 2004. Evidently, I developed food poisoning after eating at one of the famous restaurants in the French Quarter. I asked a cab driver to take me to the nearest hospital from the hotel I was staying. When entering the waiting room of this large city hospital, I noticed around fifty people. I looked down to see blood on the floor and, unfortunately, immediately had to use the bathroom nearby. It was filthy with paper towels strewn everywhere. The odor was sickening. After being interviewed as to my health insurance coverage, I proceeded through double doors to a sign that said "Fast Track" where I thought I was sure to get immediate attention--wrong. I, along with seventy-five or so people (many of whom were groaning), proceeded to wait several hours. After I noticed no one was ever being called in to see a doctor, I left, got another taxi, and went to another hospital for treatment. I often wonder if I would still be alive had I had a more serious ailment than food poisoning. At the second hospital, I was immediately placed on an IV.
We are all aware of the need to fix our health care system. Perhaps Glenn Beck's skeptical and mocking voice from the past on the subject can provide more awareness to the problem. Until that time, the prognosis for health care in the U.S. is bleak.
Showing posts with label health care. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health care. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Monday, July 9, 2007
The Best of Us and the Least of Us
I suppose it was inevitable that I write about the issue presented in Michael Moore's new documentary Sicko. While I was determined to go into the film with an open mind regarding the status of health care in the United States, I (and many of the audience as evidenced by the applause at the end of the film and comments such as, "Republicans, go right as you exit the theater") quickly joined in and acquiesced to Moore's viewpoint.
As typical in a Moore film (and I have been a fan of his since Roger and Me), he presents a number of people who share their stories with anecdotal evidence of their health care plight. Among the most poignant of these were two: a woman who pays over $100 for her medicine in the U.S. but pays only $.05 for it in Cuba and a couple who, after working years in separate careers, must sell their house and move in with a daughter. They now live in a room in the basement with the daughter, three children, and a husband soon to be deployed to Iraq living upstairs.
In regard to my husband's and my own budget for health care, we also fall into the group of people in the U.S. who are fully covered by health insurance but, nevertheless, are drowning in our retirement in health care costs per month. We pay out of pocket a minimum of $800 for Medicare coverage, supplemental insurance to cover deductibles, coverage for prescription medicine, my health care portion from my previous employer, dental insurance, cancer insurance, co-pays for doctors and medicine, and long term health care insurance. This figure amounts to around 30% of our monthly income.
The stats for America today says that an average man lives to be around 75 and a woman to 79.
I am not sure we can afford to live that long.
As typical in a Moore film (and I have been a fan of his since Roger and Me), he presents a number of people who share their stories with anecdotal evidence of their health care plight. Among the most poignant of these were two: a woman who pays over $100 for her medicine in the U.S. but pays only $.05 for it in Cuba and a couple who, after working years in separate careers, must sell their house and move in with a daughter. They now live in a room in the basement with the daughter, three children, and a husband soon to be deployed to Iraq living upstairs.
In regard to my husband's and my own budget for health care, we also fall into the group of people in the U.S. who are fully covered by health insurance but, nevertheless, are drowning in our retirement in health care costs per month. We pay out of pocket a minimum of $800 for Medicare coverage, supplemental insurance to cover deductibles, coverage for prescription medicine, my health care portion from my previous employer, dental insurance, cancer insurance, co-pays for doctors and medicine, and long term health care insurance. This figure amounts to around 30% of our monthly income.
The stats for America today says that an average man lives to be around 75 and a woman to 79.
I am not sure we can afford to live that long.
Monday, January 1, 2007
New Beginnings
On this first day of 2007 I am hopeful that the new year will be calmer than the past year. What began last New Year's Day was blissful optimism as I planned my retirement in May after thirty-five years of teaching and an additional six years as an insurance clerk. After the perfunctory round of retirement events, fondly labeled "lisapolooza" by one of my colleagues in the English department, I celebrated retirement. One of my first gifts was from my husband, Cindy Lauper's At Last cd, which I played relentlessly. A second very thoughtful gift was from my daughter Kimberly, a week's bed and breakfast stay in Hot Springs. The highlight of that week was getting to know our grandson Cole more since he was now officially a toddler.
The day after my husband's sixty-sixth birthday, however, we received a call notifying us that his sister Beverlea was in critical condition in Wichita with lung cancer. She lived just two days after we arrived at the hospital. We discovered in going through her papers that she had gotten a CAT Skan a year before but had failed to share with anyone in the family the seriousness of her condition, which evidently began as breast cancer. The summer was even more hectic as we buried Beverlea, cleaned out my father-in-law's house in preparation for an estate sale and real estate listing, and placed P-Pa, as the family calls him, into a nearby assisted-living facility.
Our family has repeatedly discussed the whys of the situation especially these: Why did Beverlea not confide in any of us as she confronted death alone? Why did she not seek medical treatment as most cancer patients do and get chemotherapy and radiation and surgery? My sister Judy tends to think she did not because she wanted "to go out her own way." I tend to think otherwise. You see Beverlea had only the smallest of AARP health care policies that would provide only a tiny payment each day for intensive care. She was sixty-four and not eligible for Medicare. She did not work at a full-time job any longer. In her mind probably she felt she was adequately covered until the CAT Skan was denied any payment by her insurance carrier. We live in America, and yet there seem to be few choices for those "caught in the gap" as we say. She lived with her aged parent, lived on her Social Security check, and had few expenses other than healthcare. My hope for this new year is for a new beginning--that Congress will truly work together to solve the health care crisis for those who must choose to die untreated.
The day after my husband's sixty-sixth birthday, however, we received a call notifying us that his sister Beverlea was in critical condition in Wichita with lung cancer. She lived just two days after we arrived at the hospital. We discovered in going through her papers that she had gotten a CAT Skan a year before but had failed to share with anyone in the family the seriousness of her condition, which evidently began as breast cancer. The summer was even more hectic as we buried Beverlea, cleaned out my father-in-law's house in preparation for an estate sale and real estate listing, and placed P-Pa, as the family calls him, into a nearby assisted-living facility.
Our family has repeatedly discussed the whys of the situation especially these: Why did Beverlea not confide in any of us as she confronted death alone? Why did she not seek medical treatment as most cancer patients do and get chemotherapy and radiation and surgery? My sister Judy tends to think she did not because she wanted "to go out her own way." I tend to think otherwise. You see Beverlea had only the smallest of AARP health care policies that would provide only a tiny payment each day for intensive care. She was sixty-four and not eligible for Medicare. She did not work at a full-time job any longer. In her mind probably she felt she was adequately covered until the CAT Skan was denied any payment by her insurance carrier. We live in America, and yet there seem to be few choices for those "caught in the gap" as we say. She lived with her aged parent, lived on her Social Security check, and had few expenses other than healthcare. My hope for this new year is for a new beginning--that Congress will truly work together to solve the health care crisis for those who must choose to die untreated.
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