Everybody’s talking about
health care. But it’s not because of the incompetent ideological circus playing
in Congress. That offers a fascinating look into the Republican soul, but few
of my conversations about health care mention politics. Talk about health care
is mostly about the health of my family, my friends, and my friends’ families,
and the care they need.
As a healthy youngster, my
input to health care discussions at home was usually, “I’m fine.” I probably
said that to my mother while I was soaking in a tub full of hot water after
playing touch football. She didn’t believe me, so I got on the operating table
soon enough to stop the bleeding from my ruptured spleen.
In college, I remember a lot
of conversations about whether we should do something that was obviously bad
for our health. I leaned toward caution, not popular then, but looking better
in retrospect.
Then my parents and my
friends’ parents got old. Then we got old. Now most conversations with friends
and family begin right after “hello” with talk about health care. “How are you?”
is not a meaningless greeting, it’s an earnest question.
There’s no cure for old age,
and I don’t care. I do care about how many people close to me are dealing with
forgetfulness, blood tests, pain, and walkers; with health problems of mothers
and fathers and ourselves; with nurses, doctors, hospitals, and insurance companies.
Longer-lived women are taking
care of men who are sinking, along with many but fewer cases the other way
around. Baby boomers like me turn into caregivers, managing doctors’ visits and
prescription drugs, making nursing homes a second home.
Times have changed, too. The
earnest TV commercials for cough
medicine, and aspirin
and “Preparation H” have
turned into ubiquitous ads for medicines that might make you sick or kill you;
for lawyers who will sue your doctor; for hospitals that will treat you, and
insurance companies that might pay them.
It’s hard not to think
constantly about health. Those thoughts can be difficult, sad, perplexing, and
inconclusive. Joys are recovery from illness, the kindness of health care
professionals, health scares that are false alarms. The sad stuff can last a
long time, changing into something different but permanent at the end.
And we talk about money. It
costs money to live and maybe more to die. Whose money will pay for the health
care of people I love? That’s not the first thing we talk about. It’s not the
most important thing most of the time. But it’s one of the most perplexing.
When I get a bill from a
doctor, I have no idea who is going to pay what. Will Medicare pick up the tab?
Will my insurance company pitch in and for how much? What will I pay at the
end? How much of my deductible have I used up?
Should I get long-term
care insurance? Or should I have gotten it 10 years ago? Should I save
money on insurance premiums by taking a high deductible? Or is that a risky
bet?
Nobody can take away such
worries. Ignorance doesn’t help, either from those
who shouted “Keep your government hands off my Medicare,” or from our
President, who says he
doesn’t care what happens to the rest of us, now that he didn’t get his
way.
I believe that we have a
right to get help with our health care from our government. We all need that
help, every day, to prevent con artists from lying to us about miracle cures,
to prevent the pharmaceutical industry from selling untested drugs, to prevent
insurance companies from kicking the sickest off their rolls, to sponsor
research which can save lives.
Our government got into the
health care business to save lives, and it has been doing that, more or less
successfully, for nearly two centuries. In my home town, Jacksonville, the state of Illinois
long ago created institutions to care for people with health problems: a school for the deaf in 1839, a school for the blind
in 1849, a hospital
for the mentally ill in 1851.
Progressives around Teddy
Roosevelt advocated for universal
health coverage before World War I, at the same time that our government
began to try to prevent
disease by inspecting meat packing plants, and prohibiting adulterated
drugs and false therapeutic claims.
The creators of our nation
believed that “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” were the most
important universal
rights to be protected by government. It’s
not clear what led Thomas Jefferson to elevate the pursuit of happiness to
an inalienable right. If that phrase means anything, it must include government
participation in our efforts to stay healthy. How can anyone be happy who can’t
pay for health care they need?
There’s no such thing as a
right to good health. But as Americans, we have a right to get collective help,
if we need it, to stay healthy. That means government protection from poisons
in our food, air, and water (see Flint, Michigan), from false
claims by drug producers, and from medical malpractice.
In today’s world, it must also mean assistance in paying for medical treatment
for those without resources.
So says the Declaration of
Independence.
Steve Hochstadt
Springbrook, WI
Published in the Jacksonville
Journal-Courier, July 25, 2017