I've been on a steady downward spiral the last eight months which I had attributed to a back injury and the associated depression due to chronic pain. Yesterday I found out I likely have a parathyroid tumor and I definitely have a kidney stone.
The stone kicked up this morning, so I scooted back 275 miles across the state to the one hospital in the state where my Iowa Care card works in anticipation of being admitted for the stone, and now I am seeking a place to stay for the night.
This is the reality of "accessible" medical care in Iowa, and nyceve tells me I'm lucky to live in a such a kindly state.
First, a little background. A little less than a year ago I pressed $1,000 into the hands of one of Bill Richardon's staffers at a private fund raiser and I didn't miss it; business was flowing well. Not long after that I hurt my back and concurrently the parathyroid tumor took off, hiding under the smokescreen of the back injury all this time, stealing away my business and a good slice of my will to live. Looking back I'd say I've aged twenty years in the last eight months. My insurance ran out at the end of December and right on cue the symptoms picked up.
I heard about this Iowa Care thing and I went to check it out. My income had fallen to the point where I qualified - health care free for the asking ... with a few minor inconveniences.
As I got sicker I ended up living with my mom. Half was illness, half was the idea that I'd help her get the farm ready for sale, as its too much for her now. This puts me in the wind patch, way up in the northwest corner of the state. The Iowa Care rules allow people in Des Moines to use the hospital there, just 150 miles from home ... and everyone else gets the University of Iowa system. Its a great hospital, but 275 miles is a long way to drive with a kidney stone.
I had maybe $200 in checking, about the same amount in the form of old silver coins I've squirreled away, a couple of pieces of electronics and an old handgun I haven't shot in a decade - the sum total of my fortune after eight months of slowly liquidating while recovering from the back injury and progressing on the parathyroid tumor front. So ... this adds up to maybe $600, but I could be here for a week ... or two ... or more, while they sort out treating me.
I marched into the clinic at the hospital around 3:00 this afternoon and asked the see the social worker they'd offered the last time I was here for an appointment. As the child of a pair of depression babies this pains me more than you can imagine - bad enough I'm a Medicaid case before the age of retirement, but I was about to "go on relief" to boot. I figured they might have somewhere to put me.
However, I was saved that indignity ... because they have nowhere to house people even if they can make it here. My choices were a hotel with a hospital rate of $36/night or the homeless shelter. A very apologetic patient advocate pressed four $5 meal cards for the hospital into my hand and wished me luck.
Now I've got $200 in liquid funds, less the gas tank I filled, so I debated a while. I can just go to a hotel ... but only for two or three days before I'm broke and stranded. I really didn't want to put out someone in worse need than I am, but I thought this might be the time to try the shelter.
The shelter was much as expected - scary brown people, scary white people, a mob of both types smoking on the front porch, and a harried college kid in charge for the evening. The weather here is the usual for February in Iowa (see visual aid below) and the place is jam packed, so its overflow or not at all, which I learn after an hour of cooling my heels in the living room. Oh, but wait, you must ride their transportation to the location.
So ... I may need to scoot over to the hospital and I might get admitted for a couple of days due to the stone, and they want me to pay for an ambulance ride and leave my car untended in an area where it could be burglarized and with the snow there is alternate side parking, which means you move once a day or you get towed. This seemed like a nonstarter and I politely leaned on the kid. He said he would try to see if they can be flexible on this point. That was at 6:00, its now 7:00, and I won't be sure until 8:30.
Now I am triply blessed here, so lets review. The parathyroid tumor is a bit weird, but not cancer, treatable with a twenty minute outpatient produce, and they say I'll feel great once its done. I have a good working car, a laptop, and best of all I have a variable source of employment that needs only a coffee shop with wireless to bring in some money. I get just one job at the rates I charge and I can muddle through several weeks here without too much trouble. Thirdly I've got two college buddies in the area for an assist and one of them has a house on the market that is sitting empty. I should hear tomorrow whether or not I can get a four bedroom for the price of the gas & light bill for the month.
So ... my situation really isn't so grim, but I'm just flat horrified now that I see how this is done. Iowa has a program that is easy to get into ... but impossible to exercise unless you live in one corner of the state. How in the world would someone with a chronic condition and a job in a fixed location make use of this? And how in the world would a woman with child care issues handle getting here?
Tonight I am certain that as I write this there are thousands of Iowans who could be leading healthy, happy, productive lives, if only they could access the services here, but instead they face instability, disability, and an early grave.
Don't worry for me, dear friends, instead turn your attention to what is needed to make health care affordable and accessible for everyone.