I am writing this from a place of exhaustion: the kind of exhaustion where it feels as if every cell of your body has imploded, collapsed into black hole status. If I was a heavenly body, I'd be swallowing whole galaxies with my negative charge right now.
Last night, I spent the night next to my daughter's bed in the emergency room. And as usual, because I cannot see the forest without noticing the trees, today I reflect on her health crisis last night and how this might have all been different if I was like the 45 million Americans (including my parents) who have no health insurance.
The Center for American Progress puts the number 45,000,000 in perspective:
45 million uninsured Americans is more than...
- All Americans age 65 and older (35.9 million)
- All African Americans (37.1 million)
- All Hispanic or Latino Americans (39.9 million)
This is my daughter, Saoirse(blonde) and her best friend, Nina, in front of the Women's Rights Memorial in Seneca Falls, after they had completed a basketball game.
Last night, Saoirse came home from softball practice and told me that her side was hurting. When Saoirse, who regularly takes hits in soccer, or tears all the skin off her legs sliding into a stolen base--all without uttering a word of complaint--says that something hurts, chances are it really hurts. By 9:45, she was nearly immobile, and finally confessed just how much she was hurting. A friend who is a doctor told me she had all the classic signs of appendicitis. Off to the ER we went.
Stepping through the door of the ER: $275
Saoirse was examined by an ER doctor who agreed that yes, she had many of the symptoms of appendicitis, but he wasn't quite convinced.
Having the ER doctor walk through an exam room door to look at you: $184
He ordered full blood work, a CT scan, and the insertion of an IV in anticipation of surgery. He also gave her a narcotic painkiller so she could get some relief.
The ER was full. Luckily for Saoirse, the dilaudid knocked her out, and she was able to sleep. We were in line for the CT machine, and she needed to drink chemicals that would light up her insides on the scan.
Estimated costs (based on past experiences) of these tests:
CT scan with contrast $700
Blood work $200
Radiologist's fee $200
Misc. $200
I'm also assuming that since the ER doc gave her a more complete exam, his fees will be significantly higher.
At the end of a very long night, the CT scan revealed a lot of fluid in my daughter's lower pelvis. The poor baby had a ruptured ovarian cyst. No surgery was required, and she will be sore for days and will not be allowed to play sports until she recuperates.
I'm estimating that when all the bills have been gathered, this 7-hour stint in the ER will cost close to $2000. Costs to me? If my ex has the same structured insurance policy that I do, probably a $50 deductible.
Am I lucky? Damn straight. Am I grateful? Of course.
But I think about a single mother without insurance faced with a similar situation. Would I have taken my daughter to the emergency room at 9:45? Or would I have waited for hours, hoping and praying that the pain she was in would pass? And if I had taken her, would I have listened to the doctor explain all the tests he needed to run and spent the hours next to my daughter's bed wondering what my family would do without for the next year while I paid off the hospital bill? If I had been an uninsured parent, would I have sat there and wondered why, despite the fact that I worked 40 hours a week, my employer didn't offer health care?
As I watched my daughter writhe in pain, and watched the relief drip into her IV bottle, would I have done the devil's calculus of trying to figure out how much my child's pain was worth?
As I sit here today, I reflect on how lucky I am. But I rail that I live in a country where we do not consider health care to be a right. Health care is still a privilege. Relief of excruciating pain is a privilege. Making sure that you're not going to suffer septic shock from a ruptured appendix because a trip to the ER was too expensive, is a privilege.
We consider education to be a right, and we pay for it. We consider traveling on superhighways to be a right, and we pay for it. We consider the military to be a national priority to protect our rights, and we pay for it. But we do not consider life to be a right. We do not consider the health of the human body to be a right, and we do not pay for it.
And as the number of uninsured grows every year, eventually, we will all pay for it.
UPDATE:
I owe everyone who has posted a 4. But I'm so frickin' tired, all I can do is read and feel such gratitude to you all for being willing to share your stories.
A couple of things:
1. I had a severe neck injury years ago--it's what led to my addiction. Total medical costs were over a quarter-million dollars. I was still married and our crappy insurance paid 80 percent plus had these "allowable expenses" exceptions. We wound up with $70,000 in medical debt that we stupidly put on credit cards and loans. Wound up declaring bankruptcy. I now work for a state university, and the best part of my job are my full benefits. EVERYONE should have what I have in terms of those.
2. IRONY ALERT. I went to the pharmacy to pick up Saoirse's (seersha) prescriptions, and got into a conversation with the pharmacy clerk who I chat with regularly. We start talking about how much the trip to the er probably cost. She nodded. Then she said that the company she worked for had denied her benefits. Full-time is 32 hours, she averages a little over 31 and so has lost health insurance. She worries about how to pay for her required meds every month. Here's the kicker: She says, "I'm a Republican, and I know this sounds bad, but why can't we offer benefits to everyone in this country?" I put my jaw back in place. I didn't want to ask her why she was a Republican. I was too tired.
Thank you all. Know that I'm nodding my head in agreement with all of you, but I'm too tired to participate and too over-tired to sleep.
P.S. Saoirse says it's okay to talk about this.