The other night, my eldest son, age 26, asked me if I thought he should see a doctor. “My eye hurts, Mom, like it’s bruised or something, but I didn’t do anything to it.”
My heart began to pound—right after it dropped from my chest. You know the feeling; shocking news, and you can almost feel blood drain from your face. And many of you reading this are wondering why his statement would cause such a dramatic reaction. But in that moment, two thoughts raced through my head: He got my bad genes, and he’s no longer on our insurance. You see, I was diagnosed with MS fifteen years ago, and my first symptoms were the ones he was describing. My eye was sore to the touch, and over the course of a month, I went nearly totally blind in one eye—which did clear up with expensive meds that I know my son can’t possibly afford. So when my son is describing his symptoms, I am barely holding it together as panic hit.
As a result, I did what any mom would do. I asked for more specific information. How long has your eye been bothering you? Where does it hurt? How much does it hurt? Then I asked the burning question: Do you have health insurance yet? It turns out he does—a high copayment, high deductible model through his work. He, of course, got to spend year 25 of his life back on our health insurance due to ACA, but he’d just changed jobs right before he turned 26, so his new employer required that he work there six months before he could qualify for insurance. His work provides this cheap model of insurance with minimal cost to him. Fortunately—I guess—he’s paying that minimal amount, even though he’s barely making it financially. So, hurray, he’s only a little screwed. It’s only money, right?
As only the universe can do, the next day provided a connected event to reawaken my concerns and add a layer of rage. I read the news that Jack Osbourne was diagnosed with MS, and I shook my head at life’s injustices. He’s the same age as my son (two months to the day younger, actually). This sucks for him, and I feel for what he’s going through. At the same time, I hope he understands how fortunate he is. He will get the best care this country can give him, but if my son has the same diagnosis, he may well be screwed. And it’s just another damned reminder that this country seems hell bent on making a two-layered caste society with the haves and the have-nots. A person shouldn’t have to be a rock star to be able to be able to raise one’s children in this country. An educator mom shouldn’t have to worry that telling her own kid to go to the doctor will have serious long-term financial ramifications for him. Why will Jack Osbourne get terrific healthcare in this country while I am afraid to have my son get checked out by a doctor for fear it will then be a pre-existing condition that destroys his ability to be insured in the future? Why is our country creating winners and losers based on our genetic health?
I know that the impending SC decision depresses the hell out of me. I have little hope that it will come down in favor of ACA. I am so pissed that nine judges, five of whom seem to be in the pocket of big-business, get to make a decision that really, truly, royally fucks the citizens of this country. And at the end of the day, I don’t know what to tell my son. Why should going to the doctor to tend to one’s physical or mental health come at the risk of destroying one’s current and future financial one?