Sorry to be contrarian to nycve, and Jerome a Paris, but I have a positive story to tell about the American healthcare system from my recent and personal experience.
Avery is my 5-year old son. He is handsome, and bright. Very athletic and coordinated. He has a great sense of humor, laughs often, and hardly cries. He is our darling middle child, the others being 8 years old, and 19 months old.
Two weeks ago Avery developed what we thought was the flu. He had a tummy ache. He started vomiting. No fever though, so we thought that we would ride out the storm for a few days and he would get better. It didn't get better, it got worse.
Avery went a few days without keeping any food or drink down and we started to worry about him getting dehydrated. Meanwhile, Avery was not acting his usual self. he was coming up to our bed for the night. Sleeping with a bowl in case he had to puke some more. Thrashing around all night long. Not as responsive as usual. We called our family doctor who recommended some clear sports drink like Gatorade or Propel. Maybe some Jello. It didn't work, so on Thursday we scheduled a doctors visit, but they couldn't get us in until the afternoon. The doctor diagnosed Avery with the flu, only slightly dehydrated, but he noticed that his tummy was swelling, and suspected that he had a blockage. Sometimes with a stomach ailment, apparently your digestive system shuts down until things settle. Our doctor suggested a kids suppository to help things get started. We followed the directions and in a couple hours Avery did indeed have a bowel movement. "Whew" we thought, maybe now he can get better. Poor little Avery was sick as a dog. It is never easy when your kids are sick. You feel so bad for them, yet there is hardly any comfort or relief that you as the parent can provide. It is a depressing and helpless feeling, and the kids don't understand why, why their all powerful and capable parents can do nothing to help them.
After another fitful night Friday morning arrived bright and warm for a November day. Avery was much worse. I tried to give him some water to drink, he was so thirsty. It came right back up, and I am not kidding, in 10 seconds. I have never in my life seen anything so quickly and violently rejected from a person's body, and frankly, it scared me to death. I decided at that moment we were going to the hospital.
Now when we arrived with a pale, dehydrated, unresponsive child, we didn't even step foot in the waiting room. We were ushered back to a private room immediately and doctors and nurses were quick to get things started. After getting an IV started the ran an x-ray. All they could tell was that there was some type of blockage. At this point the hospital deferred to another hospital in town. The second hospital had a prestigious pediatrics ward, and rather than have a surgeon who worked primaily on adults make a diagnosis, they strongly suggested that we take Avery to their competitor. This made great sense to us, and I was thankful that they were putting the patients care ahead of some profit driven bottom line.
So with the IV stent still in his arm, we loaded Avery back into the van and drove 3 miles to the next hospital. We could have had him transported via ambulance, but I didn't want to traumatize Avery further. At the second hospital, Avery was seen very quickly by a great doctor. A very capable nurse, Pete, hooked up his IV, and gently and quickly got a tube down Avery's nose and into his stomach. Avery would live with that tube inside his body for the next six days.
The tube was used intitially to load some special liquid in his stomach so a cat scan x-ray could be done. This picture confirmed there was some type of blockage, but it didn't really indicate how, or why. At this point we were told that Avery would have to be admitted.
The treatments could be simply treating him with fluids to let the situation cure itself. Or it could be that by flushing his system using a barium enema, a method of flushing the system while taking x-rays and following the dye flush to, and hopefully past the blockage. Otherwise, it would be surgery for Avery, which also had a couple options. One was that the intestine could be manually manipulated, or straightened out. the second, more invasive, was to cut out a section of the intestine and put it back together. As you can expect, the harsher the treatment, the longer the recovery time for Avery would be. 7-10 days in the hospital for the surgery. We hoped against all hope that we could avoid surgery.
The barium enema was tried, and tried hard. The radiologist worked the proceedure through two bags of fluids and for about twenty minutes. The blockage moved, or so it appeared, but it did not go through. They suggested that we try again in the morning and maybe if his system relaxed, and they used the nose/stomach tube to drain the fluids from Avery's stomach, the next enema might go through. Avery was frightened by all the people and machines. Moved from table to table and having one tube down your throat, and another one up your ass, can't be pleasant. (Unless you are into that kind of stuff! ;) At least I was there with him the whole time, to gently explain what was happening, and provide comfort and guidance. To brush my fingers through his hair and help take his mind off what was happening all around and to him.
Fortunately we have a pretty extended family in town and our other kids were scooped up and were being cared for. My wife and I stayed the night in Avery's hospital room, but I can say any of us rested very well. I cried, and even though I am not a strongly religious man, I prayed like a motherfucker. I felt so, so very sad. Saturday morning the second enema failed to produce any further results, and we knew that meant surgery for Avery.
The pediatric surgeon was familiar with Avery's case. He had done a number of these proceedures before, and had been reviewing the x-rays, and watched the radiologist work. That afternoon, Avery was wheeled away into surgery. It was the only time we couldn't be with him. There were countless doctors and nurses, anesthesiologists and assistant anesthesiologists. We knew that he was in good hands, but still it hurt to see him go. While waiting during the 2 and 1/2 hour proceedure, a nurse called and informed us that a section of Avery's intestine would have to be removed. I didn't ever have any fear that he would have complications or that he wouldn't recover. Maybe my mind just wouldn't let me go there.
Finally they called to say he was finished and they were closing. Soon there after a nurse took us back to the recovery room. When I say my little boy on that table I got choked up again. My little baby who wa always smiling, had the saddest look, and deepest frown I had ever, ever seen. It was like to great weights were hooked to either side of his mouth dragging them down. It broke my heart.
But he was done! The proceedure was a complete success. The doctor explained that Avery had a balloon like pocket on the wall of his intestine that had somehow got sucked into the intestine tube and closed it off. The section had to be removed and it turns out it was probably for the best. Now we don't have to worry about this happening again, and wonder everytime he throws up, if the blockage was back. I had prayed for the least invasive treatment, and Avery had the most invasive treatment, yet I think it was a blessing in disguise.
So we stayed in the hospital another six days, until a full week had passed. Until his system started working again, the IV and stomach pump had to stay in. Finally Thursday he started processing again, and the tubes were removed. He had a liquid diet for dinner and the next day after he kept his chicken strips down for lunch, around dinner time he was discharged.
He is home now but still moving around like a little old man. Hunched and stiff. But he is better and recovering. His laugh is back during Spongebob, and I am so happy.
So I am very very thankful for our world class healthcare system. It worked when we needed it most. I am thankful for all of the doctors, surgeons, nurses, techs, and everyone else I may have forgotten. For the most part, I knew that they were all caring a capable people.
Now afterwards, looking back, I am very gald we have health insurance. This episode can really drive home the point of a lack of insurance. Out of the blue, we could have been saddled with a bill that I am sure will surpass $100,000...maybe $200,000. We would have gone bankrupt. So while I feel fortunate to be covered, I feel even more concerned about the 50 million Americans with no coverage. I feel even more concerned about losing our coverage and having a family health crisis. My story had a happy ending, but what about the thousands of other stories each day that do not? It is something to think about.