Health Care Reform: The Time is (Still) Now

What can I say about health care reform that hasn’t been said by millions of other people millions of times over the past hundred years? Plenty.

The thing I am definitely not hearing, not from the politicians, not from the pundits, is that this issue is not about the doctors, not about the economy, not about the accountants and their number crunching, not about the federal debt, although I know that all of these considerations will help to shape the ultimate bill should it be passed in Congress. No, this issue is about health care, and especially about the people who need it.

Why don’t I hear a great hue and cry coming out of the electorate? We should be outraged that once more, the people we voted in to office, our senators and congressmen, are following in that time-honored tradition of their forebears who diddled around while millions upon millions of people were denied access to even the most rudimentary health care coverage.

If the argument were made that public schools were just too expensive and that ultimately, they would bring our financial system to its knees, would we stand still for allowing our children to grow up ignorant and unprepared for the work world? I think not! We all acknowledge that some basic skills and literacy must be afforded to all of our citizens so that they can lead a decent life, and, as the Declaration of Independence states, so that they can exercise their right to “the pursuit of happiness”. Imagine our country without universal education. Try. It’s unthinkable. The implications would be enormous.

But at least, if there weren’t public education, it would not be an immediate threat to that other inalienable right – the right to life. But that’s what we’re talking about when we talk about healthcare. I don’t know whether anyone has bothered to take a census of all of the needless deaths that occur every year in this country because forty-six million people were denied access to health care. It would be hard to quantify since there are so many variables that come into play when you’re talking about illness.

The cost of even the most basic medical care has soared in the past fifty years. Unless your name happens to be Oprah Winfrey or Bill Gates, trust me: you can’t afford it. You may, like so many hard-working Americans, be forced into bankruptcy. You may lose your home. You may simply die an untimely death because you can’t even buy life-saving medicine. You might even experience all of these possible outcomes.

And don’t get me started on the so-called “underwriting practices” which are standard operating procedure for the health insurers. I myself am a two-time cancer survivor. Thank God I had coverage. (We were blessed to have a wise and compassionate insurance broker. She helped us to navigate the treacherous waters of the insurance providers). Many, many people are not so lucky. Should you be denied health coverage because you are or have ever been sick?

It seems to me that many of our elected officials are a bit too cozy with big business, and big business includes big insurance companies. It also strikes me that many politicians are more concerned about future elections than they are about the welfare of their own constituents. And then there is another class of politicians: The politicians who are hell-bent on destroying our current president – at any cost. They belong to the “let-them-eat-cake” school of government, and should be treated accordingly. (Figuratively speaking, of course!)

We the People are being sold down the river at the very time when we need the support of our government the most. We who are or have been sick are a silent and large minority whose civil rights are being trampled every time we are denied access to decent medical attention. We who have lost our jobs and therefore lost our insurance are being doubly victimized for our misfortune.

Pray for enlightenment on the part of the Senate and the House. It’s an emergency and the doctor is out playing golf.

FEAR ITSELF

FEAR ITSELF

Yesterday I was talking about “just in case” scenarios and how we spend so much of our time and energy (and money) preparing for the worst.

Then I remembered another one.

A couple of weeks ago, Art and I bought a car. We had done our “due diligence”, reading up on the various models in Consumer Reports, and we had settled on a car that got good marks all around, but especially in the category of reliability. Reliability was of particular interest to us, since our last car had been such a lemon. (Don’t ask – Suffice it to say that our last car was a luxury import from a country famous for its oom-pah-pah and strudel). This time around we went for a family sedan from a country famous for its sushi and Kabuki dancers.

In any event. In retrospect, I think they have something of a “good cop-bad cop” game going on at the dealership. The people who sold us the car were very sweet, very affable, and very friendly.

After we had negotiated our best deal, especially paying attention to the well-advertised low interest financing, we were feeling pretty good. The car was being spiffed up and prepared for us to take it home. Then they brought in the “finance person”. This was a woman who was very buttoned up, very straight-faced, and who was having no nonsense from us.

She started by offering us the famous “extended warranty”. Yes, for about an extra thousand dollars, we could have a warranty that goes beyond the standard three-year warranty. I was confused. Here, this woman’s colleagues had just finished assuring us that the car we had selected was the sturdiest, most reliable we could have chosen. We were congratulated on our good taste and our shrewd ability to discern between the wheat and the chaff, so to speak. But this martinet warned us in hushed tones that our chosen car (although it’s a good car, of course) does have a history of problems after the three-year warranty has run out. I wondered, “Which is true”? Thankfully, my husband is much more decisive than I am. He cut her off at the knees: “That ain’t happening!” he barked.

She then moved on to the special warranty pertaining to the paint. “The paint?” I repeated to myself. “What’s wrong with the paint?” I queried. Well, nothing, but after years of washing, normal wear-and-tear, and sun damage. . . “Nope”, quoth my husband, “Nevermore”. (We had to sign an affidavit stating that she had warned us about the paint, and we had foolishly rejected her generous offer).

She did manage to talk us into keeping the existing alarm system, which is an anti-theft device. Art had to go out to check on something, and while she and I were alone in the room, she told me that, even though she has the alarm system (which she said is a “deterrent”) and the Lo-Jack system (which nabs the crooks in the act), her own car (an exact replica of our car) had been stolen three times in the last year. She explained that the unassuming, low-profile car we had chosen was actually the second most stolen car in the country. When Art came back I tugged on h is sleeve and said, “Maybe we should get the alarm system, honey”. He grumbled and negotiated the price a little, but he acquiesced.

Finally, we left the showroom with our brand new car (streaming little dollar bills as the car’s value depreciated). We discussed the scene in the office of the “finance person”. Art told me that the reason he was so opposed to any of those extra protection warranties was that all of them were based on fear. He was right, of course. All of the “what if?” scenarios are based on our deepest fears.

If you watch enough TV news, read enough newspapers, peruse enough magazines, or indulge in enough cops-and-robbers movies, you can become convinced that the world is a pretty dangerous place, full of hidden pitfalls and malevolent forces. Call me naïve, but the sun is shining this morning, and I just refuse to believe it. To quote Franklin Delano Roosevelt, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself”.

© 2005, Robin Munson

JUST IN CASE

JUST IN CASE

Well, it’s come again. I can’t avoid it anymore. It’s the yearly clean up. This is the beginning of a process wherein I gather up all the papers from the past year, file them away in big cardboard boxes with labels like, “Bank Statements, 2004”, “Business Receipts, 2004”, etc., and then stack them up at the front door so that Art can take them down to the basement storage. We must have about 500 square feet of storage space already filled from the past seven years’ worth of records (which I understand is generally how long you have to keep your receipts just in case the I.R.S. wants to audit your tax returns). It’s kind of like the lotto in reverse. You know that your chances of being audited are slim to none (although, alas, not as slim as your chances of winning the lotto). Still, one must be prepared. The weird thing is – I think I just finished putting away our 2003 papers last week!

If you count up all the “just in case” things we do in modern life, you realize that we devote a great deal of time, energy, and money to the various gloomy hypotheticals that clutter our thoughts. There is insurance for every contingency. There is fire insurance, home or renter’s insurance, earthquake insurance (here in California, anyway), flood insurance, auto insurance, and of course, health insurance (even for our pets). There is business insurance in case your warehouse or office is destroyed by a natural disaster. There is even insurance to cover your mortgage, just in case you should slip on a banana peel and be rendered permanently unable to pay (or dead). Oh yes, that reminds me – There is burial insurance. Just in case you should die. There is vacation insurance (just in case your cruise is rained out). There is flight insurance, so that if your plane goes down your estate can sue the airline. (That’s just too creepy for me).

Oh, and then there are emergency supplies. We are constantly reminded to keep canned provisions and bottled water on hand – just in case. Duct tape. (There really are a million uses for duct tape, not all of them laughable). Then there are Band-aids, hydrogen peroxide, paper plates, flashlights, batteries, battery-powered radios and TVs, aspirin, extra toilet paper, propane stoves, generators, and of course, a bottle of whiskey (for medicinal purposes only). I also like to keep an emergency suitcase packed in case we have to leave our home in the middle of the night unexpectedly.

Then there are the things you do “just in case” you should get very lucky. I don’t know what the name is for this. For example, you might buy a Rolls-Royce key ring, just in case you do win the lotto. You might buy a formal gown just in case you should ever win the Oscar. You might learn French, just in case you should be named Ambassador to France. You might take up dance. just in case Broadway comes calling. Or in my own case, you might send a song to Reba (just in case she is looking for exactly the song you wrote). Notice that my list of “just in case” good stuff is a whole lot shorter than my “just in case” bad stuff.

My husband says I worry too much, and maybe I do. My therapist once told me that this was the result of Jewish ghetto mentality built up over thousands of years and, I guess, genetically imprinted on my brain. I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. But – what if I’m right? I’d better keep worrying, just in case.

Anyway, I’d better cut this short and run my errands in town. Just in case there’s a torrential downpour later that floods the roadways.

© 2005, Robin Munson