Well, actually, I am Louise. I am not the Susan from proseandpromise's excellent diary. But I am another "Susan".
I am a middle-aged woman who had a stroke not long ago, and who lay in my home, terrified, unable to move or feel the left side of my body, for 24 hours after the event. My husband sat with me, looking worried, trying to figure out what to do.
And why didn't we go to the emergency room?
Because we do not have health insurance.
My stroke happened a little over a year ago. It started as just a patch of numbness near my mouth, which I in because I had experienced it a few times in the past weeks, and it had passed.
I didn't know that these were transient ischemic attacks (TIAs), precursors to strokes. I should have gone to the hospital immediately following the first one. I have been battling High Blood Pressure for years, the result of an automimmune disease. Drug therapy had been of only moderate help because I always opted for the cheapest choice available. (Did I mention we have no health insurance? So no drug coverage either.)
This time, the numbness didn't fade; it spread. It spread down my neck, my arm, down the side of my body, all the way to my foot, in the course of six hours. "Maybe it's a pinched nerve," I said. "Maybe you slept on it wrong," said my husband. But it didn't fade. It was just numbness, not weakness. I could move. The left side of my face didn't droop.
I didn't want to get into medical debt for a false alarm. So I didn't do anything.
Because we didn't have health insurance.
Late that night, as I was online (reading TPM, heh) I felt a sort of "pop" somewhere in my head. No pain. But I knew this was bad, because my left hand stopped working. I tried to stand up to get help. I fell right down on the floor.
As I lay there, stunned, I realized that I could die right then and there. Alone, no one knowing. Death could come just like that. I dragged myself out of the office and called for help.
Once again, my husband and I discussed what to do. "Perhaps it will get better," I said. "Do you want to go to the hospital?" "No, we can't afford it." My face looked normal; I could talk. I hadn't screamed and clutched my head like Andre Braugher in "Homicide." I didn't look like a shambling wreck like Anthony Hopkins in "Legends of the Fall." So it couldn't be a stroke, then.
I couldn't get out of bed all day. I couldn't feel my arm or my leg, and they kept getting stuck under my body and then I would have to move them with my other hand.
I called a friend for advice around dinnertime the next day. She left work to bring me to the emergency room.
If I had come within the first three hours of the TIA, I could have received clot-busting drugs that probably could have reversed the stroke's effects. The first thing the emergency room admitting nurse said was, "Why did you wait so long?"
Because I didn't have health insurance.
My husband and I had opened our own small business a few years before. We tried to get health insurance. Because I had a pre-existing condition, almost no health insurer would cover me. I got one offer of coverage, for $6,500 per month.
The people at the hospital were lovely. They didn't care that I was on charity care (that's what it's called when they have to admit you but you don't have insurance). One-half of the people on the stroke ward were on charity care. I was there for six days, received an MRI and a CAT scan, got my blood pressure meds working, and was taught to move around without the left half of my body.
Charity care doesn't mean that your coverage is free. It means that it's reduced to approximately one-quarter of the actual cost. The biggest bill so far is for almost $25,000. And that's on charity care. We can't pay it. We would declare bankruptcy, but we would lose our house.
Because I didn't have health insurance.
The past year of recovery is another story. I am "30% disabled," as the insurers put it. And I will suffer from Thalamic Pain Syndrome, perhaps for the rest of my life. I sleep too much, and my short-term memory is like swiss cheese. I take $300 worth of medications per month, and have developed my own at-home physical therapy regimen because we can't afford real PT.
Because I didn't have health insurance.
I still can't lift my arm above my shoulder. I can't give a big hug. I can't walk around a big-box store without exhaustion. I feel old, and I am only 52. I have a Master's, worked all my life, done everything "right," and will need to declare bankruptcy. I am what George Bush and the Republicans want us all to be.
Because I didn't have health insurance.
And I am very mortal, because I can end up on the floor again at any moment. Except this time, I would probably be much worse.
Because I didn't have health insurance.
We are in the middle of the most important election in my lifetime, and about all I can do is make phone calls from home. No poll-watching, which I loved. No GOTV activities. No phone-banking down at headquarters. I am too disabled to fully participate.
Because I didn't have health insurance.
You may not have health insurance either. You may skip prescriptions, or doctor's visits, or emergency room trips. But you shouldn't, because the result may be not only financially more catastrophic, but leave you disable and kicking yourself.
Please know the warning signs of stroke. They can be subtle, especially for women. And they can happen to anyone at any age; they are not a disease of the elderly. If you have had a stroke, it is imperative to get to the hospital as quickly as possible for treatment.
The emergency room has to treat you. If you have the medical need, they have to admit you. They'll treat you just like you had insurance. Worry about the bill later, after you have gotten well.
Obama's election means something to me very directly. It means I may get health insurance and get some regular doctor's care instead of the clinic. I can declare bankruptcy and be able to include my house in the work-out, rather than becoming homeless. The economy will improve for everyone, including our business's customers. I can have hope that things will change for the better. Hope is the most important thing part of work; otherwise it is just drudgery.
My son is 17. I want to be able to tell his children about what it was like when a American citizen didn't have a right to health care. And I want them to be horrified, the way we are when looking at photographs by Jacob Riis.
But for that to happen, Obama has to win. Everything can change if he does win. And it can change quickly enough to help us, right now.
Kossacks who can walk and pick up things and type, please leave it all on the road. Do it for Susan, and for me, and for all those of us who have lost so much. This is essentially a war between authoritarianism and democracy. Those of us decimated by illness and death and homelessness and job loss are the wounded and the fallen. We are not complaining, and we do not want pity. But we want you to pick up the banner and run forward in the fight for us. Because this is really a fight for the future of all of us.