Y'know it's funny to think about the impact healthcare has had on my life. Most of my life has been spent around health care, and medicine. My dad was a neurologist who set up a practice in 1979. We did fairly well, in fact my dad flourished intially. Unfortunately, the 80s and early 90s did us in. Some of us, literally.
The first leg of my story follows the jump.
My mother's family has a history of mental illness. My grandmother suffered from manic depression back in the 50s, was hospitalized for it, received ECT (which they thought helped; it didn't). My mother was not unscathed by this, but she didn't have an organic disease like her mother did. My mother was just a kid whose dad did the best he could when her mom had a 'bad episode.' She moved on, met my Dad and they had their own family.
My Mom and Dad married in 1967, my older brother came along in 1968. I came along in 1971, my sister in 1973 and my brother in 1976. In the meantime, my Dad joined the Navy, did a tour around the Med, finished medical school in Pittsburgh and then moved to Florida to complete his residency. His specialty? Neurology. He opened the doors to his practice in 1979 when I was nearly 8 years old.
My Dad was a good doctor, and a good man. He saw people who paid in vegetables, also those who could only afford $5 a month. He felt it was his duty as a human being to care for those who needed care and he had a complete distate for the more mercenary of his colleagues. He probably could have made even more money than he did, but he felt that wouldn't be right. My, how things have changed. Too many doctors with business degress; too many with JDs, too. It literally changed the meaning of his profession.
Things were okay for a while, but when my brother was 16 (1984) something went terribly wrong. I don't know how personal too personal is, but why not lay out all the cards? He forged some of his grades in school to please my parents and was caught out. Instead of believing that they would forgive him, and coupled with what we know now was chronic depression, he decided the best course of action was to kill himself. So, he climbed the stadium at the University of Florida and jumped. I was 12 years old.
He didn't die right away. He was in the hospital for at least a week, maybe longer, before his body gave out. My memory of this is hazy now; I was only 12 when it occurred, my parents sheltered us from the worst of it (I never got to see him in the hospital, too damaged), and now he's been dead to me longer than he ever was alive. But, I remember this: His hospital bills were in excess of $120,000.00 and that was back in the 80s. He also had an enormous funeral, very expensive, with full everything - coffin, flowers, church, etc. No expense was spared, and that just added to the bill. We were fortunate, however, as a lot of what it COULD have cost us was written off. Many of the treating doctors were my parents' friends, so really it was just the hospital bill that was the $120,000.00. The hospital agreed to take payments and my parents made a good living, so yeah I guess that was best case scenario.
Except for the law of unintended consequences, right?
My parents went into a deep depression; my Dad barely functioned, barely worked. That made paying the debt that much harder to do. My sister also was affected; she was 11 at the time, and so traumatized by what my brother did that she was emotionally frozen at 11 for the remainder of her life. I didn't really understand what was going on; I was just a kid, remember? And neither did my little brother, but we had each other and we'd always been close since before he was born. We weathered that time, not great, but we did manage to survive it.
Some of my other family members were not so lucky.
My father never truly came out of his depression; the business slid, his health slid. He wasn't taking care of himself, his relationship with my mother was fraught with conflict, and we kids were pretty much taking care of ourselves. Then, came a problem with the business - one of the employees didn't file taxes and boom! The IRS swooped in. Another financial burden to add to whatever load my parents were already carrying. My father took out a second mortgage on our family home and did what he could to make arrangements with the IRS. But basically, we were barely breaking even at the time, and sometimes living off credit cards to make ends meet. (I didn't know this til after).
My father had a massive heart attack in 1992, which he died from. I think the cause was a broken heart, myself. After he died, we found dog-eared medical records of my brother's in his office. I don't know how many times he punished himself for not saving his own son, but from the worn look of those pages, I'd say it was a lot. He never forgave himself.
And then there was another medical debt, and of course a complete loss of income. After he died, we couldn't afford a fancy funeral. We had a memorial service, and he was cremated. My mother was forced to sell the family home to satisfy all the debts, and mortgages - and even all that wasn't covered. I was 20 years old at the time, in college. I had to give up college to help close his business for sale and to store/release patient records (I had worked off and on for him during summers since I was 14). My mother wasn't up to it, my sister was practically catatonic and my brother just didn't understand. So, I did what I had to do, with the help of an aunt and uncle. I filed the final insurance claims, copied and released records, etc, all from my parents' home while it was for sale. My mother walked away with nothing. And I mean NOTHING. Even the life insurance they had was eaten away by medical debt.
So, naturally, my sister gets worse - mentally. The first time she tried to commit suicide was only a couple of years after my Dad died. By that point, I was so numb with shock I could barely keep myself employed, let alone in school. I think she tried to kill herself 3 times before we were able to put her into a mental hospital for care. Of course, since we were broke, we weren't able to afford GOOD care - but, rather, the state run hospital that was subject to budget cuts and regularly got them. My sister stayed in that system for the remainder of her life.
In 1997, I had a daughter as a single parent. Some would say not the best choice, but I felt it was life affirming in the midst of chaos. I don't regret my decision to have my child; it awoke something in me I thought was long dead, a sense of purpose and responsibility and yes, corny as it sounds, HOPE. Something good, my mother said, after so much that was bad. Yes, it would be difficult but we managed. I had her on Medicaid because I was broke, never got one bill. I was on welfare a total of 6 months and got a full time job and never looked back; have been employed ever since, and 5 years ago was able to completely stand on my own feet for the first time - no childcare subsidies or food subsidies or anything like that. I have a good, unionized job working in local government. I have a mobile home I bought almost 2 years ago, a car that's paid for and I'm saving money. I'm doing okay.
To add to that, though, I had to take care of my sister. Caring for her took up as much free time as I had. Did she have food? Utilities? Clothes? Was the rent paid? I had to worry about all that. My mother did some, but as she was working full time too, we did the best we could. (By this time, my remaining brother had graduated and moved overseas. Who could blame him, really? Life here was hell.)
Finally, in 2003, after so many budget cuts, the hospital where my sister was receiving care decided that they would push her out into the community, even though she clearly wasn't ready. She couldn't hold a job, she was living in a supervised living community where a therapist and social worker would check on her regularly. She only had Social Security and food stamps for income most of the time. When they told her she had to move out, take a job and they wouldn't be able to help her any more, she flipped out. But finally, she made her peace with it in the only way she knew how. So, on January 20, 2003 (my dad's birthday), she took a small charcoal grill into the dayroom of the supervised living community, lit it and lay down to sleep. She planned it very thorougly, and was completely successful this time.
The worst day of my entire life was, after the detectives came to my work to tell me, having to drive to my mother's house and tell her. The look on her face was pure pain. And even though part of us knew it was probably going to happen, it still didn't lessen the blow. I'll never forget it. Ever.
We were all so broke, we couldn't afford a decent service for her. We did what we could, again. My brother flew back from South Korea, we spent $500 to get her cremated. Her lifelong dream had been to visit Japan, so on his return my brother detoured there and spread some of her ashes. The other half we put to rest in the same plot as my brother and my father. And then we closed the door on that chapter of our lives. Permanently.
My mother is a widow now, with no savings and no income. She has lost two jobs in the recession and she's nearing 60. I fear for her future. She recently moved in with her sister up North and they're helping to support her. They got her into a free clinic so at least she can get her blood pressure medication, and some sort of care. She had one heart attack at 37 (after my brother died) and she's a solid candidate for another. A public option would definitely help her. So would Medicaid, but right now, she's not eligible - and too young for Medicare. She falls right through the cracks in the system.
My brother and I help as best we can, from a distance. Neither one of us can afford to take on another person full time, unless they are able to work and pull their weight financially. Brutal, but a fact of life.
My fiance is from the UK, and he doesn't understand how Americans can be so compassionless. Health care is viewed as a human right in Britain; the idea of such a mercenary system in the US is abhorrent to him. When he's here permanently next year, he will be added to my employer policy so at least he'll have health care (along with the attendant costs). We're hopeful a public option will make life easier for us in that regard.
My daughter has chronic asthma. Thank goodness I had Medicaid for her until she was five and she wasn't diagnosed until she was on my employer's policy. She has monthly steroid inhalers and regular doctor visits. If I left my employer, that would be a pre-existing condition that would prevent her from being added to another policy. And we make too much for SCHIP, so she would be uninsurable.
Now you can see my many, many reasons for being a passionate healthcare reform activist and advocate.
It took me years of self-paid counseling to come to terms with my history, and I think I'm learning to forgive myself, and my family. But what is not in me is the capacity to forgive the system for failing us so miserably. A mercenary health care system, a mental health system that is subject to the whims of politicians. All of it.
What happened to my family is the reason I am a single payer supporter. It's the reason I support the public option. I will not lose one more family member to a system that only cares about money.
Had we had a single payer system back when my brother had died, it wouldn't have bankrupted my parents. We could have treated my Dad's depression and enabled him to learn to forgive himself and return to work. We could have nipped my sister's problems in the bud, and ensured she got much-needed care, good care - not the crappy state hospital system for the desititute.
All American deserve the basics of decent care; not care determined by an insurer, but real care. With a doctor. With dignity. With respect.
PS I know I've never been the easiest person to get to know, or to get on with, even on this site, but my heart is laid bare here. Maybe now, you might understand why?
UPDATE: I've been asked in the comments to edit out the method(s) of suicide as it seems I am giving people ideas as to how to take their own life. I will accept majority opinion on it. Please advise.