Nobody Reads This Page - "Healthcare Conundrum”

 

c. 2024 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(12-24)

 

 

“Assassination: Murder by sudden or secret attack often for political reasons; the act or an instance of assassinating someone (such as a prominent political leader) or public figure. Also, a treacherous destruction of a person’s reputation.”

 

In my rural neighborhood south of the Lake Erie shoreline, no one would ever be said to have fallen to the nefarious act of an assassination. None of my neighbors are notable enough to carry that specific term to the grave. If any of them were to suffer mortal wounds and drop in their tracks, it would be with a description markedly simpler in nature. One that denotes a moment of finality and loss. Perhaps an exit from the realm of living souls over a gambling debt, or a tryst with a married spouse. Even a loud debate over philosophical differences, a drunken episode of misadventure, or the canon of a religious dogma. But certainly not as a toppled celebrity or captain of industry. On the crumbling streets in my community of mobile homes, there are no icons. No gilded citizens dripping with fame and fortune. No world travelers. No egghead scholars or influence peddlers.

 

Those of us on this patch of swampy, Ohio soil are geographically and socially invisible. Not valued by anyone except our kin.

 

Yet when I first heard that the CEO of United Healthcare had been shot down, I felt a personal connection that rattled my senses. Brian Thompson, a man of 50 years who held the status of a controller over this familiar company, was in effect, my provider for health insurance.

 

Like many Americans, I struggled to receive necessary procedures while using benefits provided by my employer. As a salaried manager for an independent Giant Eagle location, my coverage came through the UFCW, known formally the United Food & Commercial Workers International Union. Generally, this protection served my needs well. And made sure that employees under my supervision were represented fairly. But when my family doctor deemed a colonoscopy procedure necessary, due to chronological age and others in my bloodline who had been affected, they balked. The hospital visit was denied. When I called a claims administrator in Cleveland to discuss this refusal directly, a woman on the line literally laughed out loud.

 

“Don’t lie to us about bleeding or anything of the sort. It won’t matter! We aren’t going to pay!”

 

I was stunned by the futility of our conversation. But my uneasiness could not be matched by the silent rage that manifested when I related the incident at my next visit to a clinic in Madison. My regular physician went wide-eyed, and red.

 

“This is so common! I took years of schooling to become a medical professional, and in the end, decisions about care get made by an insurance adjuster, instead!”

 

I tried to ease this dilemma by positing that use of a basic procedure to check for cancer would be less expensive by far than treating the actual affliction. Yet this obvious bit of logic fell flat in the exam room. My healer explained that ultimately, it all came down to numbers on a balance sheet.

 

“Statistically, they figure you are more likely to be clean and clear. That provides a foundation for their reluctance to authorize tests. It is a game of probabilities!”

 

When I became unemployed after a business sale in 2016, the available options through COBRA and the Affordable Care Act were muddled. I ended up being unable to afford coverage, but also coming into the crosshairs of a government fine for not purchasing a plan. The result sent me into a tailspin. I burned through retirement funds, with a penalty being paid for that withdrawal, just to keep a roof over my head. Eventually, I landed on Social Security Disability, and through that status, became eligible for Medicare.

 

When it came time to choose a Part C supplement plan, I had little knowledge about the decision. Friends and members of our brood had varying opinions that offered little insight. So, I finally chose United Healthcare, the provider used by my parents who lived out of state. They were a large firm, known well and familiar to all of the professionals on my treatment team. The colonoscopy that had been treated as controversial and unnecessary, suddenly became routine. I had the procedure and was told that my visit came at a fortuitous moment.

 

I was literally on the brink of developing colon cancer, with 21 polyps that needed to be removed.

 

Accepting a form of government-run healthcare, with a corporate partner, was satisfying in practical terms. Yet it made me experience intellectual vertigo, in view of my own Libertarian bent. I could not escape the thought that I had joined the ranks of socialism. When I posed this rowdy thought to a conservative friend and adviser, she squawked like a soaked hen.

 

“NOT TRUE! NOT TRUE! I WOULD NEVER LET MYSELF BE USED IN A SCHEME LIKE THAT! BITE YOUR TONGUE, MISTER!”

 

After this initial foray into public care, I became numb to the methodology of my own support. Making a small copay every month, and occasionally spending a bit more for special needs along the way, seemed like a fair trade-off for being covered. I paid little attention to the voices of Senator Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren, when they advocated for a detour from private insurance. The mantra of ‘Medicare for all’ did not resonate in my brain. I figured, perhaps with a bit of laziness, that my own condition was unique. Not something that most residents of the nation would seek out for themselves.

 

The assassination of Brian Thompson immediately shattered my mood of willful ignorance, however. As I watched some openly profess sympathy for the alleged shooter, in a language of desperation and vengeance, I turned cold. Many on social media feeds where I was present expressed an open desire to see our entire system of coverage shredded in favor of a national health paradigm. One based on the uniformity of government edicts already used around the civilized world. Some boasted that all of the ills associated with insurance would disappear when the hand of federal authority intervened on their behalf. A claim that sounded optimistic and hopeful, though not necessarily supported by the prevailing evidence. Controlling costs in any environment means rationing care and adjusting guidelines. Those are stubborn facts. I would need more convincing to cement my faith.

 

Still, I was undeniably one who had benefitted from the existence of such a plan. Medicare was medically and metaphorically, my savior. Without it, I would have succumbed to the disease that felled both my father, and a cousin who was on that side of our family.

 

Pondering that the CEO of my health insurer perished in such a violent way has left a yield of raw and befuddling emotions. It will take time to process this event, and the aftermath. But for now, I will simply be grateful for the coverage I have. Something I attribute to the embrace of a loving creator.

 

However flawed, my United Healthcare membership is eminently preferable to cancer.