With all the strum und drang about healthcare, I thought it might be a good idea to take a fairly average health problem and look at it historically. No screaming and shouting, no sloganeering, no breast-beating, no turd-throwing. Just the facts. Mine.
I’ve got cancer and my case is typical of cancer patients. As my doctor said, “once you’ve got cancer, you’ve always got cancer”, so this is an ongoing tale — just as cancer is for 85% of those afflicted with Emperor of All Maladies. Oh, and as I haven’t died yet, there will be more to the story.
When my dad died of cancer in 1959, his treatment consisted of one operation then a bottle of painkillers and it took from July 1958 to March 1959 for him to die. Let’s compare dad’s case to mine.
- In 2000, I had the tumor shoveled out. Cost: $32,000.
- PSA tests for the next five years. Total cost: $10,000.
- Surgery for a complication. Total cost: $17,000.
- Surgery for a recurrence. Total cost: $12,000.
- Oncological visits for another recurrence. Costs so far: $550.
- Experimental diagnostic test. Total cost: $7,500.
- Visits with oncologist and radiologist. Costs so far: $900.
- Irradiation with a proton beam. Projected cost: $55,000.
- Immunotherapeutic vaccines. Projected costs: $100,000.
- More visits to the oncologist. Projected costs: $2,000.
- Hospice care. Projected costs: $5,000+.
- Painkillers and such. Projected costs: ?
- Final expenses – cremation. Projected costs: $600.
That, folks, comes up to $178,500.
So I have a question for the “I’m all right, Jack” crowd as well as the smug and callous folks who say “I don’t want my hard-earned money . . .”, and the question is: Can you take a hit like this?
Maybe you can, or maybe will you have to:
- Sell the house and move into a shit-hole.
- Trade-down from the nice, reliable car to a clapped-out unreliable beater.
- Liquidate your portfolio (you have one, don’t you?).
- Drain the kids’ college funds.
- Bleed usurious interest for payday loans when the bills come due.
- Beg. On the internet, at work, from the friends, from the family . . .
- And, finally, file a Chapter 7.
Of course, through all of this, there will be the strain of impending debilitation, pain and death. Those things will be watching over your shoulder 24/7/52. Don’t forget about them, for they will compound the worry over paying for it. Not to mention standing helplessly by as you, or someone you love Gets. All. Fucked. Up.
Sometimes the treatments will work and the poor afflicted soul will get some good years before the cancer resurfaces in some other place. Or, Providence be thanked, an actual cure might be achieved. Or sadly, in our retrogressing society, it could be like it was for my dad in 1959 — or like it was in 1917 where the patient was dumped in a bed, screaming, with wrists tied to the bed rails so as to not pull out the tubes.
But cancer isn’t the only grody disease out there. There are thousands and they can be just as taxing, just as harrowing and just as costly.
Now I’m 75 so lots of good rock-ribbed Americans will say, “Enough! You’ve had you life. Don’t be a drag on the public purse. Begone!” But what if the person we’re talking about isn’t an old goat like me but a baby? Or a high-school cheerleader, perhaps a young parent, maybe a 40-something who’s just hit his/her stride? Or you? It isn’t just old dudes who get sick, you know.
Well, dear reader, there’s only one cure for America’s terrible health care problem and we all know what it is:
Medicare For All