Health Care Reform

My beautiful, perfect little son has been sick. For four days, he had an alarmingly high fever and was as lethargic as I had ever seen him.  When his fever would not respond to tylonol, his pediatrician recommended we take him to the ER.  Which we did. Without hestitation.  A couple of hours later, reassured that nothing was seriously wrong, we paid the $50 deductible and went on our way.  For me, $50 was an easy amount to pay for peace of mind; I didn't think twice about it.  Probably because health care reform has been so much in the news, it did occur to me, even as I paid it, that there is a large population of people that would not have been able to afford to unhesitatingly run to the ER.  I was saddened, in that moment, that some mothers might not have the means to ease their worries. 

It's been several weeks since we took our son to the hospital and this thought--that health care is not available to everyone--has been increasingly nudging my conscience.  Because I do not live under a rock, I've been half-aware of the raucous debate going on across the country.  To a large degree, I have tuned out the specifics, finding the "debates" to be mostly ridiculous posturings by angry people.  As Barney Frank exclaimed: "Trying to have a debate with you would be like arguing with a dining room table."  I was not engaged because: (1) I did not think of how it would directly impact me and, like most people, I'm inherently self-interested; and (2) I had other things going on.  Ok, bad reasons.  But there it is.  My trip to the ER changed that. Let me tell you why it has become clear to me that it is critical that everyone be provided access to some form of health care.  Open your mind, please, and imagine, first, that you are a new mother or father. (If this is beyond the realm of possibility for you, imagine that you are a caretaker for someone you love more than yourself).  Here we go:

You have a new child.  He is perfect in every way, precocious, funny and bubbling with personality.  You have been lucky; he's been healthy since the day he was born.  His vaccinations are up to date and everything's going well until, suddenly, you lose your job and, with it, your insurance.  Cobra is too expensive given the daily costs of living and, besides, everyone's pretty healthy in your family.  Then one day, your child's previously sweet disposition turns sour.  He's tired all the time and exceptionally cranky.  You, already stressed to the point of losing it, chalk it up to the terrible-twos.  It's not constant; there are times when you recognize that sweet child of before.  Eventually, the crankiness becomes the norm and you don't really notice it anymore.  Then, the bouts of diarrehea start.  You think, he's got a stomach bug.  True, he doesn't have a fever, but kids are like that.  More worrisome is that he's slowed down.  Where he was tired occasionally, now he's borderline lethargic.  He has stopped chatting at you all the time and doesn't seem to be learning as much as he was.  On the other hand, you have been busy looking for work.  Maybe he is just watching too much tv?  You consider taking him to the doctor, but decide that he is probably ok; rent is already late.  Then, the nighttime screaming starts.  Clearly, he is in pain.  You finally take him to the doctor--a clinic that provides free health care.  The doctors are harried and overworked.  They draw some blood, a horrible experience requiring you to hold your child down, and run some tests.  When the tests come back normal, they tell you: "He's just a kid."   Except now you are scared.  Your son's belly sticks out and he has stopped growing.  After yet another night of constant diarrehea, you calculate your savings and decide to take him to the ER.  The doctors run what seems like hundreds of tests.  Your poor little baby is tiny on that huge white bed and it is terrifying to see him hooked up to machines and wires.  After a night in the hospital, after the ER realizes you have no insurance, you are discharged with your sick, tired, scared little boy.  And no wiser.  You now have over $20,000 in medical expenses and no answers.

Fast forward: Your son has celiac disease.  The average time between the onset of symptoms and a diagnosis is nine years.  Think about that.  Think about what nine years means in the life of a child.  Now consider--if that child does not have health insurance, how likely is it that a diagnosis will be made? Frequently, the only way the test is run is if the patient knows to ask about it.  If you don't have health insurance, you may not get to that point--the point where you've run out of other answers. 

My doctors estimate that I have had active celiac since I was 15.  I was not diagnosed until I was 28.  And I've had fantastic health insurance that whole time.  A child who is suffering from untreated celiac can have serious and lasting health problems.  If a child is malnourished during critical growth periods, that loss of growth will likely be permanent.  A child who is malnourished will be unable to learn to their capacity, resulting in probably permanent scholastic disabilities.  For those of you who feel that the costs of providing basic health care to everyone are too high, I would submit to you--the costs of NOT providing it may be much higher.

Please, take a moment to contact your representative and tell them, we need health care reform.