Primary Care
Ok…I like politics. But more specifically, I like resolved politics. So maybe, in a clearer sense, I enjoy the idea of politics. Because when you hear that Congress passed a bill for health coverage, it is by no means resolved.
And I admire, but surely don’t envy, elected officials. Here are people, so secure in their conviction and understanding of positions, that they are willing to stand strong on their platform amidst the public eye.
I can’t even begin to understand my own health care policy. In fact, I probably couldn’t tell you which insurance card is currently active. I have a few floating around in my spiffy new wallet. And, if you were to ask me the difference between an HMO and a PPO…I am sure most senators could be very specific. I would fumble and tell you one seems hassle free…until you balance the checkbook. (Oh, I don’t balance the checkbook.) And the other is supposedly sufficient care with a few hoops to jump through. But since I do believe we all deserve access to coverage, shouldn’t any care-hoops or hassle-free-be sufficient? Not for me.
I started off in a home where my father was a Christian Scientist and my mother was a nurse. Yeah, a bit conflicted in philosophy. But as with so many, my dad sort of picked and chose. He picked to try and marry my mom, so he better not choose to be resolved against medical care. And my mom, never one to follow protocol, did not adopt his frame of mind. The marriage didn’t last too long…seven or eight years. But it set the tone that nothing is black and white. My mother was, and still is, an angel to the lives she touches. Of all wondrous callings, she is an oncology nurse. She defines herself as spiritual, not religious. (I love how hip she is!) And my father would not be living if it weren’t for medical care. So he has had to put any doctrine to the side and continue to be grateful for the life he now has. It is wonderful how the world teaches us.
So, growing up, I never really saw doctors, but had a huge respect for the gifts of medicine. Now, I have a broken, ok…fractured, foot. And I run. And I want to run again. Soon. I would love to believe herbs or prayers or rain dances would help. But my conviction on homeopathic bone mending is not as strong as I wish. It is medical hand-holding I seek. I want a short waiting room visit, a compassionate nurse, a comprehensive x-ray, and athletic-minded, keen-eyed doctor to say everything will be fine. And for that, I would pay just about anything!
We just switched to a new system. The one with hoops. And as I called and waited on hold for countless minutes (can you believe I am complaining about minutes?), I was told time and again, “We don’t take HMO’s”. Where is health coverage for all in this system? Aren’t I part of it all…and can’t I choose the doctor who will hold my hand and foot in his or her tender care? That is my lesson. It is not the stealth doctor or the cute nurse or the glowing x-ray. It is me. I have to trust that the doctor in my new hooped plan will see what there is to see. A common injury. A passionate runner. A healing foot. And a patient who needs to believe in the treatment of time.
And as for the political health care debate, why can’t everyone who needs a doctor or any sort of medical professional have the right to pursue their own health? It seems logical. Even easy. I have accessible care. Yet, I moan about extra minutes to wait or authorizations to obtain. So it is no wonder this, nationwide, fifty-year struggle been so drawn out. These senators and representatives are hoping to find something that fits us all. That lets us hear the news we want to hear or find the path we need to take to heal. So while we wait a few minutes or dish out a few co-pays, remember that it never hurts to do a rain dance!