healthcare

I’ve been in college.  I’ve been insuranceless.  In the past few years I’ve visited the campus health center a few times, particularly in the midst of my General Unwellness of 2009, until I realized it was holistically unhelpful.  Other than that, I’ve pretty well stayed on the personal side of healthcare.

But then my dad got back his insurance plan from work, and I graduated college, and I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to start off my adult life in verified good health.

Now, my Grandfather the Missionary Doctor has bestowed a good bit of medical wisdom upon me over the years.

Our version of Norman Rockwell's Doctor and Doll

Once, I called him from the bathroom floor of a Quito hotel room, undoubtedly facing my death at the hand of some Amazonian parasite.  I was delirious from fever and, as I said, propped somewhere between the tub and the toilet.  I choked an account of my symptoms into the phone, and in a slow, even tone he told me to sleep, and call him back in two hours, at 1am, with a status update.  “Our bodies are pretty well designed to take care of themselves,” he said, “but sometimes they just need a little help.”

And so I slept.

Lo and behold, by 1am I no longer felt as though my brain was the 10^th tier of the Inferno, and could keep enough crackers and water in my system to give me hope that I might actually see the morning.  When the sun came up that day I felt the Pit of 2009 bottom out and start the upward climb toward sea level.

At least a year before that, Grampi, M.D., was telling me some of his (incredible) field stories.  I won’t share the stories right now, but one thing he said has stuck with me ever since: “You know, people in a lot of parts of the world never know what it is to feel good, they never know what it feels like to be in good health.”

I understand what he was getting at, but as I get older I’m starting to think that most people don’t feel good most of the time.  At least, I usually have at least one minor ailment on my radar at any given time, and I consider myself a relatively happy, healthy person.

That being said, I went to the doctor 2 months or so ago with a short list of questions about mildly annoying but not incredibly worrying issues, and emphasized that I’d really like to avoid taking any medications if I could help it.  I just wanted to make sure I didn’t need to be particularly concerned about anything.

So, the doctor checked my ears, throat, height and weight, asked me a few questions and prescribed me a month of allergy meds and an antibiotic, “just in case” my symptoms were indicative of a bacterial sinus infection.  (She also mentioned that a lot of patients were appearing with sinus infections, but that unfortunately most of them were viral.)

There’s something wrong with this situation.

Somebody, please, show me a doctor who will talk to me honestly about my health, and more importantly about my life.

If this mythical doctor could manage his or her accounts efficiently and transparently, that would be a major selling point as well.  Because, to add insult to injury, I’ve received a bill for every appointment with pre-approved physicians, informing me that my visit was not covered by my insurance and demanding that I pay in full.  Several hundred dollars a pop.  For someone who doesn’t give a shit about me to write two pointless prescriptions I never planned to fill, and take my (eternally normal) blood pressure.

Although I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s nearing dangerous levels as I write.

Fortunately I have had some excellent customer service fix the billing issues and charge me only one-third to half of the original rate.  So that’s… positive?

I could wax political about the state of “healthcare” in our country/world.  I could rant about the inefficiency and unfairness of the billing system, about the moral erosion of health insurance under force of market competition, or about the myriad frustrations and limitations of healthcare and medicine.  I could go on for years (and in fact I have, to various audiences) about how overmedicated our society has become, about cultural hypochondria, about our skewed modern perception of health and illness, about pathological epidemiology and epidemic pathology.

But I’ll direct you instead to a great article that calls Americans “anxious wimps,” and move on to a more interesting/constructive discussion of health.  (I have a South American uncle who once laughed at me for freaking out about an obviously cancerous spot on my toe and said, “You North Americans worry so much.”

Point taken.)

And true to form, I’ll finish with my personal outlook on healthcare.  Aside from the fact that I need to get my wisdom teeth out, and the unfortunate side effects of missing a few days of work, taking medications, and shelling out a couple hundred for a procedure that doesn’t even pretend to be covered by insurance, I’ve basically decided to avoid most medical professionals for awhile. (Excepting gynecologists – for some reason I’ve had overwhelmingly positive experiences with that particular branch of medicine.  At least with the specialists.  Again, won’t speak for campus health services.)  The dilemma I’m faced with then is that I forsake the opportunity to build a relationship with any particular healthcare practitioner, but I’m mostly too disgusted to be interested in that right now anyway.  And then, if an emergency happens and suddenly some biomedics are saving my life, can I in good conscience accept their help having publicly shunned the profession?

So maybe I’ll hold healthcare at arm’s length and focus on self-care.  (Ha, ha!)  I’ve substituted long-distance phone calls, blogging, and journaling for my monthly chats with a personal counselor back at good ole Boe House.  I’m creating a lifestyle.  Lifestyle goals: Boost my immune system.  Be physically fit.  Foster healthy relationships.  Nurture my spiritual side.  Like myself.  Breathe.  Laugh.  Feel good.