Medical Nightmares
By Cynthia Peters
August 15, 2015 "Information
Clearing House" - "teleSur"
- When I asked my Canadian friend to
guess how much the bill came to for my daughter’s 3-night stay
at a major Boston hospital, he aimed high. He’s no dummy. He knows
how expensive the U.S. health care system is. “$2000?” he said.
“That’s funny,” I replied. “Try again.”
“$5000?” he guessed incredulously. I couldn’t make
him keep guessing. It would have been boring to wait until he got to
the correct amount, which was $71,000.
Our family is lucky to have good health insurance
and a decent income, so my daughter’s injury did not cause financial
ruin as health episodes do for many families in the U.S. (In 2014,
the financial advice company, NerdWallet,
found that medical bills were the leading cause of personal
bankruptcy in the U.S.)
Even good insurance, though, doesn’t cover you for
certain irrationalities in the U.S. health care system. Before my
daughter went to the Boston hospital, she had made three trips –
twice in an ambulance and once in a taxi – to the emergency room of
her local hospital in western Massachusetts. The first time, she was
experiencing the “worst headache of her life.” They sent her back to
school and told her to take Advil and see her doctor at the
university health clinic. A couple days later, she experienced
left-side body numbness and took a taxi to the ER. This time they
sent her home with instructions to see a neurologist, and they gave
her the phone numbers of two that had practices nearby. One of these
neurologists had a permanent “out-to-lunch” message on the machine.
At least that is what the message said every time I called. The
other sent you straight into a voice mail labyrinth, the upshot of
which was that if you were a new patient you needed to fax about 10
different documents to them and then they would call you to make an
appointment.
How is this health care system supposed to be
effective or even navigable for the ordinary person?
The third time she went to the ER, she called 911
because the left side of her body was weak. The first responder was
a state trooper who came into her tiny dorm room and promptly asked
to search her boyfriend’s backpack. “I smelled pot in the elevator,”
he said, irrelevantly. He then forced her boyfriend out of the room,
removing her one comfort at the time.
You’re not supposed to have to fend off aggressive
armed police in your dorm room when you are having a medical
emergency, but through a combination of remaining calm and being
white, my daughter and her boyfriend tolerated/survived the state
trooper until the EMTs arrived. I spoke with the EMTs on the phone:
“Please don’t take her back to the same hospital. They have released
her twice without doing any imaging. Please take her to another
hospital more equipped to take care of her.”
“Sorry,” they said. “She is showing stroke
symptoms. We are required by law to take her to the closest
hospital.”
At the hospital, she was shaken up. The nurses and
doctors determined she was not having a stroke and told her to sit
and wait. When the weird seizure symptoms returned, she got up to
tell them. “Do you suffer from anxiety?” they asked. “Try not to be
so emotional.”
On the advice of her primary care physician, my
partner and I sped out to western Massachusetts, collected her from
the ER where they were about to release her again, and we took her
to a major Boston hospital, where they diagnosed her with a bleed on
her brain and admitted her to the neuro ICU.
About a week after she was released, my partner
fell off the truck at work and fractured his skull, and we were
right back in the neuro ICU of the same hospital. This one was a
Worker’s Comp. claim, so all his expenses would be covered, but
under Massachusetts law, he was only paid at 60% of his salary while
he was out of work. My workplace has a generous benefits package by
most standards, but I had to take vacation time to take care of him.
Once that was up, I could take unpaid leave (under the Family
Medical Leave Act).
To people in other developed countries, this
probably sounds like insanity, but in the U.S., this puts our family
at the top of the heap in terms of the social safety net. Many
workers have fewer protections than we do. One quarter of the U.S.
workforce gets
no paid vacation time. Almost 40%
of private sector workers get no paid sick time. And only 41%
are eligible for leave under the FMLA.
So, here we are – one family member just out of
the hospital and recovering at home, and another family member
facing extreme pain and a several-month recovery. You might think,
with our professional, salaried jobs, our good health insurance, and
our benefits, we’d be able to focus on healing. But, no. Everything
was a fight.
They released my partner from the hospital after
two days even though his pain was still very intense. “Call first
thing tomorrow
morning,” they said, “and get an appointment at the pain
clinic.”
Sounds like a great idea, but there was literally
no appointment at the pain clinic for 6 weeks. I am a trained
organizer with a big mouth and a middle-class white person’s sense
of entitlement, and I spent hours on the phone working it from every
angle, and even I could not find a single appointment at a pain
clinic anywhere in the Boston metropolitan area. So when his pain
was intolerable, we went back to the E.R., which we had to do two
more times.
Each time, I said, “Look, it’s not just his head
that hurts. He also wrenched his back during the fall. So he’s in
two kinds of very severe pain.” Every single time I raised this
concern, they said, “We’re only focused on his head right now.”
Okay, I get it. His head ranked higher on the
concern-meter than a soft-tissue back injury, but pain is pain, and
when you’re in it times two, and you’re in a hospital for chrissakes,
with medical professionals in every direction, why not give him some
relief for the second-ranked injury as well?
Why? Well, because it’s just too much to ask. The
specialist in charge of his care was a neuro-surgeon, who once, and
I kid you not, said it for me real slow: “N-e-u-r-o,” he enunciated
carefully. “That means the b-r-a-i-n.”
“Yes,” I wanted to say back, “And this is a
p-e-r-s-o-n.”
But the U.S. health care system is not really set
up to deal with p-e-r-s-o-n-s. It’s designed to turn a profit. As
more and more care is referred
to specialists and as lucrative
procedures take precedence over appointments for patients with
chronic conditions, doctors and hospitals make
enormous profits while patients suffer from lack of care.
And our social safety net is not really meant to
keep us safe. It is designed to keep us disciplined and on edge –
grateful for the crumbs and relieved not to be bankrupt.
Cynthia Peters is a freelance writer, activist,
and editor of The Change Agent (www.nelrc.org/changeagent), a social
justice magazine for adult learners and adult educators. She writes
about a wide range of topics including organizing, parenting,
marketing, feminism, racism, and gender politics.