SHOPPING FOR A HEART SURGEON, BY MATTHEW LUCAS BECKETT
I couldn't believe it, I was only forty-one. But there was no arguing with the excruciating pain in my chest. I was having a heart attack! A Heart Attack, at forty-one.
The emergency vehicle rushed me to the hospital where I was stabilized and the immediate danger averted. However, that was just the beginning of my troubles and where my story really begins and gets interesting, and complicated.
“You have a rare deformity of the heart,” my doctor told my wife Jenny and I. “If not corrected, there will be more heart attacks and eventually one will be fatal. However, it is such a rare condition, there are few surgeons able to do this operation, and I don't even know of one to recommend. But you should start shopping for one as soon as you get out of the hospital, because if this condition isn't corrected soon, it will prove fatal, no ifs, ands or buts about it.”
A week and two days later, when I was discharged from the hospital, Jenny and I did as my doctor had suggested and went to the Health Care Mall on 3rd Avenue to shop for a surgeon who could correct my heart condition.
“We'll try the bottom floor first,” I suggested, since things on it were the least expensive, and we were far from wealthy.
“Although we do have Insurance,” Jenny pointed out. “But I agree let's try the first floor first.”
We searched the shops until we found one that indicated it dealt with heart problems. However, once we explained my problem to the merchant surgeon, he sighed.
“That type of surgery is far beyond my ability sir, I'm afraid. In fact, I've never even heard of this condition. How did you say it again?”
That was the response we got from all of the heart merchants on the first floor, except that a few could pronounce my condition. The last one we talked with was one of these, and said that as far as he knew no one below the thirteenth floor of the Health Care Mall was even half qualified to perform the kind of surgery needed to correct my exact problem.
We left his shop discouraged and a bit distraught. “Our insurance plan will only cover things through the tenth floor, and. . .” I began, but then felt that pain in my chest again and knew no more.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in the hospital, and my doctor and Jenny were at my side. I could see the tear tracks on Jenny's cheeks and I knew the news was not good. A nod from my doctor when I glanced his way confirmed this.
'Without this operation, you've got another month at most,” he said, clearly holding back tears himself, for he had been my doctor since I turned eighteen.
“The Insurance company said shop where permitted only, and I've been on every bit of floors two trough ten in the past two days, and none of the heart surgeons/merchants there are qualified to do the operation you need, dear,” said Jenny, starting to sob even as she spoke.
“I did meet a surgeon from the thirteenth floor yesterday,” my doctor said. “And she said that she is qualified, and if we can sneak you up to her floor, she'd do it on her own dime, but every time we tried to get you up there during the week you've been out, the elevator froze and your insurance card went black and buzzed every time we tried to go higher than the tenth floor, and this surgeon says the equipment she needs to do the surgery can't be brought to a lower floor because the same thing happened when she tried that several times before.”
“So to live I need to reach the thirteenth floor of the Health Care Mall” I say. “But our insurance won't pay for anything higher than the tenth floor of the mall.”
“That sums it up,” said the doctor. “And believe me we've all tried to reason with them, but they say anything above the tenth floor is not a cost effective way to manage your health.”
“And my dying would be a cost effective way to manage my health,” I say sarcastically. “Well, I suppose for them it is cost effective. . .”
“But it rather sucks for the human element,” Jenny screams.
“The human element doesn't matter to them,” says my doctor. “Money is king.”
“Well,” I say. “Let's get the kids down here, I want to see them one last time before. . .”
Before I can finish, Jenny bursts into tears and runs from the room.
We try sneaking past the money security lock beyond the tenth floor a few more times over the next couple of weeks, but are always thwarted, and when the card threatens to terminate all coverage for both of us if we try again, we stop at my insistence, for Jenny will still need coverage when I'm gone., even though she says if they let me die she'll tear up her card and never use them again. So shopping for a heart surgeon qualified to fix my heart ends in failure, and as I type these words I feel a pain my chest worse than any before and then everything goes black.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Dear Mr. McCain, McCconnell, Boehner, Abbot, Mr., Ms., Mrs. And Miss Every Other Republican in National,State Wide or Local Elected Office,
You're DAMN right I'm angry. As an American with a preexisting condition, I'm angry that it took this long to get anything done on this American Home Front Humanitarian Crisis. I'm angry that you all think I don't count, which you clearly do since you think banning insurance companies from denying coverage to those of us with preexisting conditions is a bad idea. I'm angry that because of concessions to your side insurance companies can continue to deny coverage for adults with preexisting conditions like myself until 2014 rather than there being a blanket ban on the practice immediately. I'm angry that the final plan includes no alternatives/competition to private insurance to ensure that they don't go back to their old ricks. I'm angry that you think more of scoring political points against a Democratic and democratically elected President than you do about ensuring that all Americans get a fair and equal shake, and this despite numerous concessions to your side that make the new law, while a vast improvement over the old system, not as effective as it could be . I'm angry that all you can think about is GETTING the other side, rather than working to solve what has for many of us been a very real problem since turning twenty-five and thus no longer being eligible for coverage through our parents during which time our preexisting condition was not an issue but became an issue when we had to attempt to purchase insurance on our own and prevented us from doing so. I'm angry at your callus attitude towards and total indifference to the children and adults that die every day in this country of treatable conditions because they can't get insurance for preexisting condition or other reasons, or must sacrifice food and or shelter to pay medical bills out of pocket, which is of course also detrimental to health. I'm angry that you think a health care system that puts profits above people is okey and needs no change and are plotting various political and legal actions to seek to prevent those of us with preexisting conditions or other hindrances to decent, affordable medical care under the old system from reaping the benefits of the new system. I'm angry that you place THE LOVE OF MONEY at a igher value than relieving human suffering. I'm angry that you've forgotten that there are real human beings affected by and suffering and even dieing under the profits before people system. I'm angry that some of your supporters are threatening those in Congress who actually understand what compassion means and there is not public renounciaion of this from every single elected Republican in the entire country. You're damn right I'm angry, and I'm not the only one, and we too will be at the polls in November, and we too won't forget who forgot about us, and our numbers will increase as people see the benefits of this new system and realize the evils of the old system.
Sincerely,
Matthew Lucas Beckett, Writer
You're DAMN right I'm angry. As an American with a preexisting condition, I'm angry that it took this long to get anything done on this American Home Front Humanitarian Crisis. I'm angry that you all think I don't count, which you clearly do since you think banning insurance companies from denying coverage to those of us with preexisting conditions is a bad idea. I'm angry that because of concessions to your side insurance companies can continue to deny coverage for adults with preexisting conditions like myself until 2014 rather than there being a blanket ban on the practice immediately. I'm angry that the final plan includes no alternatives/competition to private insurance to ensure that they don't go back to their old ricks. I'm angry that you think more of scoring political points against a Democratic and democratically elected President than you do about ensuring that all Americans get a fair and equal shake, and this despite numerous concessions to your side that make the new law, while a vast improvement over the old system, not as effective as it could be . I'm angry that all you can think about is GETTING the other side, rather than working to solve what has for many of us been a very real problem since turning twenty-five and thus no longer being eligible for coverage through our parents during which time our preexisting condition was not an issue but became an issue when we had to attempt to purchase insurance on our own and prevented us from doing so. I'm angry at your callus attitude towards and total indifference to the children and adults that die every day in this country of treatable conditions because they can't get insurance for preexisting condition or other reasons, or must sacrifice food and or shelter to pay medical bills out of pocket, which is of course also detrimental to health. I'm angry that you think a health care system that puts profits above people is okey and needs no change and are plotting various political and legal actions to seek to prevent those of us with preexisting conditions or other hindrances to decent, affordable medical care under the old system from reaping the benefits of the new system. I'm angry that you place THE LOVE OF MONEY at a igher value than relieving human suffering. I'm angry that you've forgotten that there are real human beings affected by and suffering and even dieing under the profits before people system. I'm angry that some of your supporters are threatening those in Congress who actually understand what compassion means and there is not public renounciaion of this from every single elected Republican in the entire country. You're damn right I'm angry, and I'm not the only one, and we too will be at the polls in November, and we too won't forget who forgot about us, and our numbers will increase as people see the benefits of this new system and realize the evils of the old system.
Sincerely,
Matthew Lucas Beckett, Writer
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The System Some Say Needs No Reform
This is the story of Mark McCall, a boy who at the age of eleven began to experience kidney failure. He was on the donor list, but was a difficult match and so in the meantime he went on dialysis. His parents had insurance and had never been even one day late with a payment. Nevertheless, after six months of treatment they denied any further treatment, and he died shortly after the dialysis stopped. But why the treatment coverage was stopped, that is an interesting and disturbing and even sinister tale, and that is the story of
IN THE INSURANCE BOARD ROOM.
The five insurance representatives of our policy is profit and five representatives from “Doli the sheep, one better” walked into the board room, the insurance representatives looking somber and the scientists angry, and took their seats at opposite sides of the table, the scientists glaring and the insurance agents looking nervous, except for the head of “Our Policy is Profit”, who always looked calm and collected, and did so now as he took his seat at the head of the table.
“Well gentlemen,” the had of the company (insert name later) began. “This is a most unusual meeting of Our Policy is Profit’s board of who lives and who dies. Normally, it is an elderly patient or an invalid who can no longer contribute to society or perhaps never could whose fate we must decide, and that is not a difficult or complicated decision.”
“This shouldn’t be either, if you value our funds,” interrupted the head of Dolli the sheep, one better “Our clone will only be viable for another week at most without a heart. The boy’s heart is fine, you say?”
“According to his doctor, yes” said the head of our policy is profit with a heavy sigh. “But the boy’s mother still holds out hope that a donor will be found, and so...”
“Are you going to deny the claim for further dialysis and give us his heart or not,” shouted the other.
The insurance agents scooted their chairs back at the fury they saw in the eyes across from them.
The only one who remained calm was the head of our policy is profit. He sighed again, growing slightly impatient but trying to hide it, for Doli the sheep one better was a big donor to the company. “We value your business greatly, it’s made us by far the most profitable insurance company in the country, for taking care of people, especially sick people, is far from profitable. But the denial must be worded carefully, simply saying that we deny coverage to an eleven year old boy because it costs too much to keep him alive will not do PR wise at all, and we need the PR to stay good.”
His colleagues nodded vigorously.
“So, we must find some other reason deny coverage, something that his mother can’t take to the media.”
The scientists faces all turned from scarlet to ghost white in an instant, even their vocal leader.
“Oh no,” he quickly said. “We definitely don’t want the media involved in any way.”
Then they were all silent for a time, the scientists still white as sheets at the mention of the media, the insurance agents trying to think of a way to deny further dialysis to the boy with failing kidneys but a quite viable heart.
“I know,” one said. “He’s got a very unusual blood type and is hard to match, so we could say that the current course of treatment is unsustainable long term and the chances of an alternate course of treatment are so remote that he will undergo sustained pain and suffering for no foreseeable good outcome.”
The headed nodded, encouraged someone had at last spoken. “We can at least use parts of that as part of the reason, but we need more, think hard.” He glared at the scientists. “If any of you have any ideas, feel free to chime in at any time.”
‘”He’s not viable long term,” one of them offered at length.
“That’s good,” said the head of our policy is profit. “But it’s similar to what has already been suggested. We need something bigger, something air tight so that no one can suspect anything untoward.”
They were silent again for a long time. Finally, a different scientist than the first to speak offered a gold mine. “The effects of a lifetime of dialysis have not been studied in one starting so young and other studies starting later suggest that such a treatment would lead to adverse effects, including the possibility of a slow and painful death before adulthood is reached. This is a shorter and less painful and thus more merciful way for him to die.” The scientist paused. “I can get the studies,” he added.
The head of our policy is profit nodded. “That’s good,” he turned to the aid on his right. “Right it all up, putting the point just made in the most prominent place.” He turned to the scientist who had spoken. “If you could get him the studies before five o’clock, we can have this done by noon tomorrow and you’ll have your clone’s heart maybe by the end of work the following day, certainly long before your clone’s remaining week is up.”
The head of Dolli the sheep, one better nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. As always, a pleasure doing business with you.”
The two men with urgent business rose and hurried from the room, and after handshakes all around the rest also left the conference room.
“NO!”screamed Mrs. McCall when the insurance agent informed her that her young son was to be allowed to die, and Mr. McCall collapsed in a dead faint.
“With his type of kidney being so rare,” the agent said with mechanical indifference, “he is not viable long term without a lifetime of dialysis, and life long dialysis has not been studied in one starting so young, although studies with people starting slightly older suggest that adverse effects could occur, possibly including a slow and painful death before he reaches eighteen. This is quicker, easier and kinder. I have the studies here in this file, if. . .”
“I’ll take it,” said the doctor in a rather irritated voice. “I think you had better leave now.”
The agent faltered. “But, ...but I need her, or him, to sign the paper agreeing...”
“Do either of them look like they’re up to signing anything right now?” the doctor asked, pointing at the unconscious man and the collapsed and sobbing woman. “If he wakes up and you’re still here, I think you’ll be lucky to be leaving this room on a stretcher.” The doctor’s face reddened, but then he forced himself to calm down. “Just get out of my patient’s room, before I do or say something we’ll both regret, you more than me.”
Looking into the doctor’s eyes, the agent handed him the file, then turned and fled, only stopping running when he reached his silver cattelak.
Back in the room, the doctor stood mute and in a rage until the mother had sobbed herself out of tears and the father had come around. Then he put a comforting hand on each shoulder.
“If it were up to me,” he said in a sincere and choked voice, “I’d keep treating your son until a donor matching his kidney type is found or I drop dead myself.” They nodded appreciatively, although their faces showed that they knew there was more to come. “Unfortunately, the hospital will not wish to go against the insurance company. We could fight them in court, but Mark needs another treatment tomorrow, the day after at the longest, and we couldn’t even get a judge to issue a stay in that short a time. I’m so sorry, I wish there were something I could do, but once the insurance company has decided, in our system, that’s pretty much it,in fact entirely it. I’ll give you some time alone, but I’ll be right outside if you need anything. I’ll cancel all of my other appointments for the rest of the week, none are urgent.”
The pair nodded as he left and softly closed the door.
The two looked at each other. “How...what are we going to tell Mark?” Mr. McCall finally asked.
His wife stared into nothing and just shook her head in despair and helplessness.
Mark died just before noon two days later. Since had there been an available kidney donor that matched Mark’s rare kidney type he would have gotten a kidney, they decided to pass on the sentiment and donated all of his organs except his eyes and brain, which they could not bare the thought of burying him without. The both sobbed all through the funeral, along with many family members and friends, the latter both of theirs and of his.
His harvested organs were transported to the appropriate sight and most were donated, except that the organ transport driver said that when he arrived at the location, he was told that the heart had sustained too much damage from the poisoned blood due to no kidney function or dialysis and so would have to be destroyed. When questioned on this later, however, the company could find no record of Mark’s heart having been destroyed or even having ever been at their building, and an internal investigation turned up nothing and so it was labeled as ‘lost in transit’, and that was the end of it.
“LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS”.
WHERE ARE MARKS “LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS”?
IN THE INSURANCE BOARD ROOM.
The five insurance representatives of our policy is profit and five representatives from “Doli the sheep, one better” walked into the board room, the insurance representatives looking somber and the scientists angry, and took their seats at opposite sides of the table, the scientists glaring and the insurance agents looking nervous, except for the head of “Our Policy is Profit”, who always looked calm and collected, and did so now as he took his seat at the head of the table.
“Well gentlemen,” the had of the company (insert name later) began. “This is a most unusual meeting of Our Policy is Profit’s board of who lives and who dies. Normally, it is an elderly patient or an invalid who can no longer contribute to society or perhaps never could whose fate we must decide, and that is not a difficult or complicated decision.”
“This shouldn’t be either, if you value our funds,” interrupted the head of Dolli the sheep, one better “Our clone will only be viable for another week at most without a heart. The boy’s heart is fine, you say?”
“According to his doctor, yes” said the head of our policy is profit with a heavy sigh. “But the boy’s mother still holds out hope that a donor will be found, and so...”
“Are you going to deny the claim for further dialysis and give us his heart or not,” shouted the other.
The insurance agents scooted their chairs back at the fury they saw in the eyes across from them.
The only one who remained calm was the head of our policy is profit. He sighed again, growing slightly impatient but trying to hide it, for Doli the sheep one better was a big donor to the company. “We value your business greatly, it’s made us by far the most profitable insurance company in the country, for taking care of people, especially sick people, is far from profitable. But the denial must be worded carefully, simply saying that we deny coverage to an eleven year old boy because it costs too much to keep him alive will not do PR wise at all, and we need the PR to stay good.”
His colleagues nodded vigorously.
“So, we must find some other reason deny coverage, something that his mother can’t take to the media.”
The scientists faces all turned from scarlet to ghost white in an instant, even their vocal leader.
“Oh no,” he quickly said. “We definitely don’t want the media involved in any way.”
Then they were all silent for a time, the scientists still white as sheets at the mention of the media, the insurance agents trying to think of a way to deny further dialysis to the boy with failing kidneys but a quite viable heart.
“I know,” one said. “He’s got a very unusual blood type and is hard to match, so we could say that the current course of treatment is unsustainable long term and the chances of an alternate course of treatment are so remote that he will undergo sustained pain and suffering for no foreseeable good outcome.”
The headed nodded, encouraged someone had at last spoken. “We can at least use parts of that as part of the reason, but we need more, think hard.” He glared at the scientists. “If any of you have any ideas, feel free to chime in at any time.”
‘”He’s not viable long term,” one of them offered at length.
“That’s good,” said the head of our policy is profit. “But it’s similar to what has already been suggested. We need something bigger, something air tight so that no one can suspect anything untoward.”
They were silent again for a long time. Finally, a different scientist than the first to speak offered a gold mine. “The effects of a lifetime of dialysis have not been studied in one starting so young and other studies starting later suggest that such a treatment would lead to adverse effects, including the possibility of a slow and painful death before adulthood is reached. This is a shorter and less painful and thus more merciful way for him to die.” The scientist paused. “I can get the studies,” he added.
The head of our policy is profit nodded. “That’s good,” he turned to the aid on his right. “Right it all up, putting the point just made in the most prominent place.” He turned to the scientist who had spoken. “If you could get him the studies before five o’clock, we can have this done by noon tomorrow and you’ll have your clone’s heart maybe by the end of work the following day, certainly long before your clone’s remaining week is up.”
The head of Dolli the sheep, one better nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. As always, a pleasure doing business with you.”
The two men with urgent business rose and hurried from the room, and after handshakes all around the rest also left the conference room.
“NO!”screamed Mrs. McCall when the insurance agent informed her that her young son was to be allowed to die, and Mr. McCall collapsed in a dead faint.
“With his type of kidney being so rare,” the agent said with mechanical indifference, “he is not viable long term without a lifetime of dialysis, and life long dialysis has not been studied in one starting so young, although studies with people starting slightly older suggest that adverse effects could occur, possibly including a slow and painful death before he reaches eighteen. This is quicker, easier and kinder. I have the studies here in this file, if. . .”
“I’ll take it,” said the doctor in a rather irritated voice. “I think you had better leave now.”
The agent faltered. “But, ...but I need her, or him, to sign the paper agreeing...”
“Do either of them look like they’re up to signing anything right now?” the doctor asked, pointing at the unconscious man and the collapsed and sobbing woman. “If he wakes up and you’re still here, I think you’ll be lucky to be leaving this room on a stretcher.” The doctor’s face reddened, but then he forced himself to calm down. “Just get out of my patient’s room, before I do or say something we’ll both regret, you more than me.”
Looking into the doctor’s eyes, the agent handed him the file, then turned and fled, only stopping running when he reached his silver cattelak.
Back in the room, the doctor stood mute and in a rage until the mother had sobbed herself out of tears and the father had come around. Then he put a comforting hand on each shoulder.
“If it were up to me,” he said in a sincere and choked voice, “I’d keep treating your son until a donor matching his kidney type is found or I drop dead myself.” They nodded appreciatively, although their faces showed that they knew there was more to come. “Unfortunately, the hospital will not wish to go against the insurance company. We could fight them in court, but Mark needs another treatment tomorrow, the day after at the longest, and we couldn’t even get a judge to issue a stay in that short a time. I’m so sorry, I wish there were something I could do, but once the insurance company has decided, in our system, that’s pretty much it,in fact entirely it. I’ll give you some time alone, but I’ll be right outside if you need anything. I’ll cancel all of my other appointments for the rest of the week, none are urgent.”
The pair nodded as he left and softly closed the door.
The two looked at each other. “How...what are we going to tell Mark?” Mr. McCall finally asked.
His wife stared into nothing and just shook her head in despair and helplessness.
Mark died just before noon two days later. Since had there been an available kidney donor that matched Mark’s rare kidney type he would have gotten a kidney, they decided to pass on the sentiment and donated all of his organs except his eyes and brain, which they could not bare the thought of burying him without. The both sobbed all through the funeral, along with many family members and friends, the latter both of theirs and of his.
His harvested organs were transported to the appropriate sight and most were donated, except that the organ transport driver said that when he arrived at the location, he was told that the heart had sustained too much damage from the poisoned blood due to no kidney function or dialysis and so would have to be destroyed. When questioned on this later, however, the company could find no record of Mark’s heart having been destroyed or even having ever been at their building, and an internal investigation turned up nothing and so it was labeled as ‘lost in transit’, and that was the end of it.
“LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS”.
WHERE ARE MARKS “LIFE, LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS”?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)