Healthy Body Empty Pockets

The healthcare debate seems to have quieted some since the holidays. I understand the Senate and House are trying to reconcile the two bills passed, however, based on the diverse versions either has introduced I’m concerned the end result will be too weak of a bill to amount to any real reform. As someone that currently doesn’t have proper health coverage (Cobra is quite expensive for what I actually receive), I’m again distraught with the modern political process to get anything meaningful passed for the people of this country.

The National Geographic Blog had an interesting graph posted on the difference in just costs of healthcare vs. life expectancy for many world countries (FiveThirtyEight.com also posted a similar graph today but the NG one is clearer to me). Most countries have some form of universal healthcare coverage which can’t be said for the US. Regardless of quality, if you live in another country you’re going to get some help without the fear of having to loose your house to get patched up.

The U.S. has a fee-for-service system—paying medical providers piecemeal for appointments, surgery, and the like. That can lead to unneeded treatment that doesn’t reliably improve a patient’s health. Says Gerard Anderson, a professor at Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health who studies health insurance worldwide, “More care does not necessarily mean better care.”

T.R. Reid a foreign correspondent for The Washington Post and author of The Healing of America: A Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care. had a good discussion with NPR on Fresh Air about the differences between what’s offered here in America verses other countries such as France, Japan, Britain, Germany, Canada, Switzerland, and other western countries as compared to what’s offered in communist countries or other less industrialized countries. A big reason why our healthcare is so expensive is that we have all 4 types of healthcare vs. these countries only offer one type of healthcare. Having a system that requires four types of services (4 types of forms etc.) which alone is an administrative nightmare.

I recommend going to the NPR site and downloading this 30 minute podcast to listen to on the way to work or at the gym to just get a brief idea of what’s actually offered in the world. To get more, read the full book.

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Central Park NY during the fall 2009

Operation Ivy – Healthy Body
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That phone call I wish I took

It’s Summerstage Saturday, and we make a late ditch effort to get up to Central Park to catch one of my favorite NY Hip Hop artist’s: Q-Tip. He’s rocking a show today and as we walk up at 2:30 pm, the line to get in, is horrendously long. This is typical for many big acts, and if you’re not in the park by 12 for them, you’ll most likely be enjoying a good sun tan in line, rather than the show going on 2 football fields away.

We packed a cooler of wine and beer, snacks and a large blanket, and join the smart people just outside the venue under the trees. Even though you can barely see the stage, you can hear the show just as well, and the park around the venue is always filled with fans you can head nod with when “Electric Relaxation” drops.

The Q-Tip show off the hook and one of my fonder concert moments in the park next to hearing Beastie Boys. Being so into it, I missed a call from mom and was able to check the voicemail about an hour after it was left.

As it starts, I could barely hear the message, the noise of sniffling and obvious concern was all I could hear as there was still music playing. I knew instantly something was wrong and ran clear of the stage to hear the rest of the message. What I could make out was my father was in a motorcycle accident, was airlifted to a hospital and Mom wasn’t sure if he’d make it.

At that moment everything around me disappeared.

I replayed the message over and over to get what ever info I could and called her back. First home – no answer- and then the cell which went straight to voicemail. I called my sister and left her a short frantic message: “What happened to dad? Call me back!” Called mom again. Called my uncle but he’d changed his number. Called my cousins – voicemail again. Called my neighbors and again, no answer. I’m in the dark…

My heart has sunk, I’m lost, confused, don’t know anything except that all I know is my Dad is dying. I continue to call the people I know with no result as I walk back to our party blanket. The party is over and I let my friends know I need to go.

Hungry and uninformed, we take a cab (still in cell phone range) down to Curry Hill to get some food, but I’m uncertain I’ll be able to eat. I already contemplate looking for flights home on Sunday but want to hear news first before I book. While I’m sitting at Dhaba staring at food I should eat but can’t stomach right now…. then finally I receive the call.

My mom’s been in the ICU and hasn’t been able to call me. She’s distraught, uncertain of the outcome of my father but she’s spoken to him and he seems to be positive. Apparently he went out early in the day to Carnegie to meet a friend, that was late and decided to hit the trails solo. After 30 min, he started to hit some big trails and got into trouble coming down a hill and rolled the ATV coming off too fast on a berm. Bouncing down a hill, he was banged up and with no one around, crawled a mile or two until someone else found him. Paramedics were called and he needed to be air lifted to the hospital, where they were “working on him” to keep him alive. Serious.

Mom was having trouble articulating but apparently he’s broken 8 ribs, shoulder, leg and the most serious a punctured lung which is filling with fluid. He’s not in pain with all the morphine pumping but has come out of surgery and already calling to make sure the ATV, gas tank and his gear is not stolen. I’m going to talk with him today and determine if I need to head out there on Monday.

My thoughts, love and prayers are going out to my father for a complete recovery.

A Tribe Called Quest: Electric Relaxation
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A Tribe Called Quest: Stressed Out (LP Version)
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Photo credit to Peter Ruprecht