Most of my life I have not had health insurance. This hasn’t really been a problem. My mom was raised by a Christian Science mother and an engineer father, leaving her with a strong belief that we should take care of ourselves and save visits to doctors for only the most acute or persistent of ailments.
This has served me well. I learned early on to pay attention to my body and to assess what was needed on a daily basis. I know that appropriate exercise and eating well are key to staying healthy, and that the definitions of both exercise and diet change over time, which means I have to continually check in, learn, and adapt in order to stay healthy.
So, I don’t worry too much about health care in the sense of feeling I need western medicine all that much. However, I do worry about the increasing cost of western medicine.
When I was a young adult, I was referred to a specialist for an office visit and a small procedure. I had no insurance and was only making just over minimum wage. The whole thing cost $50 which translated to about 20 hours of pay for me, or two and a half days of work. That was a lot of money, but it was within my reach. I was able to pay my debt in full by making do with no entertainment and a little less food for the month.
Contrast this with a similar visit that I had a year ago. Once again I was referred to a specialist for an office visit and a small procedure. The total cost for this visit was $550, or 55 hours of pay. I would have had to set aside half of what I make in one month (about 30% of my gross pay) to pay this bill. This would mean not paying rent and some bills for the month. Or it would mean not paying bills and eating only Top Ramen for the entire month. Any combination I could come up with would mean the loss of an essential, not just the temporary loss of some fun extras.
My needs then and now are modest. I am good at budgeting and I take pride in paying all of my bills in full and on time. I value being financially prudent. I also value my emotional and mental health which, to me, means that it is important for me to have some beauty in my life—roses as well as bread. Even with this, I feel it is important to be fiscally responsible and I don’t let my entertainment spending go beyond the small amount I am able to fit into my budget.
What makes this all the harder is the knowledge that this is not how it has to be. Look at Canada, France, Denmark, and the list goes on. The people with the power and the money—doctors, politicians, HMO CEOs, etc.—could all work together to create a system that cares for those in need, simply because they are in need. Instead our system is based on the idea that making a profit off of other people’s illness and injury is OK, and that some people deserve a lot more reward for their work than others. I work very hard helping to raise other people’s children—shouldn’t that be worth at least half of what a doctor makes? The last year I was with my doctor ex-husband, he made $250,000. Last year, doing child care, I made $13,000. I am not even asking for fair, I am just asking for enough to live on. Or, barring that, prices low enough for me to afford to pay for my own medical care.
The summer before my $550 medical bill, I went to a neighborhood clinic for the exact same thing but in a different shoulder. The clinic had been formed by local doctors looking to combine western medicine with other practices, and to provide quality care for a low cost to the neighborhood. I paid $75 total for the exact same treatment that I received in the specialist’s office the following winter. Of course, this clinic went out of business, which is why I ended up at the specialist’s. Again, our system is set up to favor those making a profit, not those providing care for care’s sake.
I like to be able to pay for the things that I need. I like to be able to show my appreciation for and respect to those who provide quality professional services, and in our society this is done mostly with money. When I had to pay that $50 for medical services all those years ago, it felt good to pay it, even though it made for a rough month.
Medical prices have increased to the point where I can’t afford to pay for even this simple office visit. Not only have health insurance costs grown beyond my grasp, now basic medical care is also beyond my reach, not to mention the disaster even a simple surgery would represent. In the moments when I can get beyond feeling overwhelmed by this, what I am struck by is a profound sense of sorrow. I feel very sad knowing that I can no longer pay for even the most basic of medical care for myself.
This is not a tragedy in the usual sense of the word. My life is not in danger, I have not lost a loved one, or been crippled, or lost my home. On a day to day basis, my lack of health care does not affect my life at all; it is just a low-grade, niggling worry, an axe hanging over my head that could drop at any moment. My story lacks the emotional grab of a traditional tragedy. My story is all too ordinary, all too much the norm for those of us living in the U.S. And that is the real tragedy.
This has served me well. I learned early on to pay attention to my body and to assess what was needed on a daily basis. I know that appropriate exercise and eating well are key to staying healthy, and that the definitions of both exercise and diet change over time, which means I have to continually check in, learn, and adapt in order to stay healthy.
So, I don’t worry too much about health care in the sense of feeling I need western medicine all that much. However, I do worry about the increasing cost of western medicine.
When I was a young adult, I was referred to a specialist for an office visit and a small procedure. I had no insurance and was only making just over minimum wage. The whole thing cost $50 which translated to about 20 hours of pay for me, or two and a half days of work. That was a lot of money, but it was within my reach. I was able to pay my debt in full by making do with no entertainment and a little less food for the month.
Contrast this with a similar visit that I had a year ago. Once again I was referred to a specialist for an office visit and a small procedure. The total cost for this visit was $550, or 55 hours of pay. I would have had to set aside half of what I make in one month (about 30% of my gross pay) to pay this bill. This would mean not paying rent and some bills for the month. Or it would mean not paying bills and eating only Top Ramen for the entire month. Any combination I could come up with would mean the loss of an essential, not just the temporary loss of some fun extras.
My needs then and now are modest. I am good at budgeting and I take pride in paying all of my bills in full and on time. I value being financially prudent. I also value my emotional and mental health which, to me, means that it is important for me to have some beauty in my life—roses as well as bread. Even with this, I feel it is important to be fiscally responsible and I don’t let my entertainment spending go beyond the small amount I am able to fit into my budget.
What makes this all the harder is the knowledge that this is not how it has to be. Look at Canada, France, Denmark, and the list goes on. The people with the power and the money—doctors, politicians, HMO CEOs, etc.—could all work together to create a system that cares for those in need, simply because they are in need. Instead our system is based on the idea that making a profit off of other people’s illness and injury is OK, and that some people deserve a lot more reward for their work than others. I work very hard helping to raise other people’s children—shouldn’t that be worth at least half of what a doctor makes? The last year I was with my doctor ex-husband, he made $250,000. Last year, doing child care, I made $13,000. I am not even asking for fair, I am just asking for enough to live on. Or, barring that, prices low enough for me to afford to pay for my own medical care.
The summer before my $550 medical bill, I went to a neighborhood clinic for the exact same thing but in a different shoulder. The clinic had been formed by local doctors looking to combine western medicine with other practices, and to provide quality care for a low cost to the neighborhood. I paid $75 total for the exact same treatment that I received in the specialist’s office the following winter. Of course, this clinic went out of business, which is why I ended up at the specialist’s. Again, our system is set up to favor those making a profit, not those providing care for care’s sake.
I like to be able to pay for the things that I need. I like to be able to show my appreciation for and respect to those who provide quality professional services, and in our society this is done mostly with money. When I had to pay that $50 for medical services all those years ago, it felt good to pay it, even though it made for a rough month.
Medical prices have increased to the point where I can’t afford to pay for even this simple office visit. Not only have health insurance costs grown beyond my grasp, now basic medical care is also beyond my reach, not to mention the disaster even a simple surgery would represent. In the moments when I can get beyond feeling overwhelmed by this, what I am struck by is a profound sense of sorrow. I feel very sad knowing that I can no longer pay for even the most basic of medical care for myself.
This is not a tragedy in the usual sense of the word. My life is not in danger, I have not lost a loved one, or been crippled, or lost my home. On a day to day basis, my lack of health care does not affect my life at all; it is just a low-grade, niggling worry, an axe hanging over my head that could drop at any moment. My story lacks the emotional grab of a traditional tragedy. My story is all too ordinary, all too much the norm for those of us living in the U.S. And that is the real tragedy.
