...and the bills keep on coming and will for a while. So the anxiety, the fear and near shame of being uninsured, which started from the moment I became ill, has only worsened.
Unlike so many diaries right now, mine is not one of links and a call to action. No, unfortunately it is a story about the realities of our current health care system, a personal tale and one which I fear will end terribly for me and that in and of itself is enough of a call to arms I hope.
I have been coming to Daily Kos since the run up to the 2004 election, so I feel this is as good, if not the best forum, to tell my story. It thankfully isn’t one of ultimate medical tragedy; however it may well be one of financial ruin for me in the long run. What will seem to many like a rudimentary medical issue may well be ruinous for me I fear.
Shortly before Thanksgiving dinner, I felt a bit queasy. It didn’t strike me terribly that there was much more to it than a bit of a stomach ache. Within about half an hour the pain was noticeably stronger, and taking on a strange sensation I found quite unfamiliar. Being a quite lyrically profane Scottish family, I whispered in to my Dad’s ear as we were eating, "my fuckin’ stomach’s killin’ me". He laughed at first then seemed to notice that I was quite serious and in pain. Yet, I sat a while longer with my family and finished some food. But, as soon as I put my plate down I went straight in and lay down on a bed. Already I suspected the worst simply because the pain was like nothing I had experienced previously. I lay there for a couple of hours, telling my parents I was okay, while being almost completely sure that I wasn’t. At this point the pain was becoming excruciating. I waited another hour, the pain increasing, before calling a close friend who was in town from D.C., where he is a surgeon in residency at GW. He told me what I thought it may be: appendicitis.
He came over, leaving his own family for a while, to check me out. Of course, by the time this happened I was almost writhing in pain and with little looking over, he confirmed that he was almost 100% correct and that I needed to get to the ER as soon as possible. Why didn’t I go sooner?
Because I have no medical insurance.
So I knew a visit, even if it was to find out it was less serious was going to cost a pretty penny. This and other thoughts I had in the next few days weighed heavily on me.
But, while we were sure my appendix hadn’t ruptured, it had gotten increasingly more painful and he strongly suggested I leave for the hospital as a true ruptured appendix is not pain he recommended I experience.
A little history. Until about a year ago I have had medical insurance for most of my adult life. I’ve held down a job since the day I turned 16. In fact holding down two while finishing my middle years in college. After university I moved to Los Angeles to try a career in the film/t.v. industry. It took some time but I eventually did well and joined the cinematographer’s union and with that got first rate medical insurance. When I needed to, I took full advantage of that part of my union membership, and thankfully it worked extremely well. But then strikes came, work moved to Canada and eastern Europe and jobs dried up quickly. Unless you have lived and tried to work in the entertainment industry, it is hard to fully explain. Stories abound about actors and writers doing what they can and struggling to get by, but for many who are simply wishing to work behind the scenes, applying their knowledge and experience it is just as hard. You can get lucky (and be good at what you do) and get on a long sitcom or television drama, but those are few and for the rest of us it just became too much. None of this may be pertinent to HCR, but just to say that plenty of people struggle to do good work and circumstances make that difficult. So, I took a job at a small, boutique telecom company that serves that industry. It was a good choice at the time, I had just gotten sober (now 7 ½ years) and it then gave me health insurance. I fought tooth and nail with my HMO to get the best coverage and attention I could. Thank goodness for this, as a year into that job I was diagnosed with Temporal Lobe Epilepsy. But, my HMO covered most of what I needed and through a good friend who saw an opening I was able to get into the Cedars-Sinai medical group. It was first rate again. But it cost me plenty for my insurance.
I got sick a couple of years ago and by the time I was ready to return to work, the economy had taken such a dive it was now time for me to leave. I had to return to Florida and move in with my family for a while, and take some odd jobs while looking for permanent work. Then this happened. A small, vestigial organ in my body became inflamed and I had no choice but to seek medical help. From the moment I walked into the hospital to this very second, I have had either ruminating in the back of my mind or slap-dab up in the front, the constant worry about how much this was going to cost me. Now it will probably be over $25,000 by the time I get all the bills in from various doctors and the anesthesiologist. It made my 2 ½ days in the hospital so much more harrowing than it could have been. I found myself literally worrying each time pain medication or antibiotics were administered to my IV that my bill would be growing exponentially. It did and now I have no idea what I’m going to do.
It takes me back. When I said earlier that I’m from a Scottish family, I really meant it. I was born and raised in Scotland and left for the states when a teenager with my family. I know now that the many times I had to go to doctors offices, hospital and research institutions as a kid it had to do with birth trauma and what would then develop into my epilepsy. But never, in all those years, was it ever a financial worry for my parents or me. My family never sat in near anguish about the financial terror that any medical need would burden them with. But that is not so for me. As I tried to get better, feel better, feel good that I wasn’t in pain anymore while in the hospital I couldn’t help but be monumentally burdened by the bills I would be receiving. It is really sad to think of others in the same situation, people with far greater health problems than me, who with no insurance will face even more financially disastrous times ahead. I can’t imagine their pain. That their worst pain will be mental, emotional and ultimately monetary in guise is nothing short of shameful.
I could go into the true and most important defence of a National Health Care plan; a moral one, which proves both logically and then financially that such a system is the only solution for this country. But I’m tired and have written enough.
I have a small scar on the right side of my abdomen. The scar to my near future will be much greater and has already cost me nights of sleep.