Many Americans, I’m suspecting, have a personal or familial medical expense horror story. It’s a sad, embarrassing, and enduring feature of our country, where the universal right to health care has been perversely commoditized and, consequently, has been placed out of reach for millions.
At the end of my optometrist appointment a few weeks ago the uniquely-American process of adding up the costs began. Even for my malady-free eyeballs this was no simple accounting: twelve separate line items covering every feature of my exam and glasses were looked up in a four-inch thick insurance binder, ticked off, and entered into the ledger. My final bill came to over $1,500, for which my insurance covered all but a few hundred dollars. That $1,500 is the street price, of course—what the poor and those without health insurance would pay, which is why I suspect most people from the lower economic strata of our society do not get eye exams. Or routine dental exams. Or routine annual physicals, where the street price of my blood work as a part of that annual physical came to a jaw-dropping $650 this year.
During one of our trips to Ireland, Stewart’s sutures on his elbow came undone, and needed repair. We went to the local public hospital, where we were informed they would take care of us—visiting foreigners—for free, although we would need to wait our turn in the triage line. Or, they said, we could go down the street and pay 200 Euro and we’d be in and out in an hour.
Imagine that—universal healthcare for all, and speedier healthcare if you desire (and can afford) to have it. What I can’t imagine, though, is being poor in America, with a family history of colon cancer, attempting to pay out of pocket for a colonoscopy that could very well save my life. And then god forbid attempting to pay for another procedure should that colonoscopy find the very thing you were worried about.