I’m one of the lucky ones. My entire life, I’ve had my
health care covered by my mother, then my university’s student health system
and later by private insurance carriers partially subsidized by large,
corporate employers. My mother, however, was not as lucky. Had previous
administrations been able to reform health care, she might possibly still be
alive today.
In the summer of 2000, my mother, then not quite 59, was
diagnosed with two primary cancers – of the cervix and the colon. At the time
she worked as a patient care representative at Cedars Medical Center in Miami.
At first, the hospital’s employee insurance covered her
surgeries and radiation therapy. In fact, she was treated like a VIP, because
of her years of service as a popular patient rep. She went into remission after
a few months, but exactly a year after her diagnosis, her colon cancer
returned, and another surgery plus a round of chemo left her too weak to work.
Eventually she recovered enough to return to her job again,
but the walking-intensive position became too much to bear. After exhausting
all of her vacation and sick days, she realized she had no choice but to
resign. This decision, while seemingly the right one for her health, left her
without insurance.
When the incredibly costly COBRA ended, my mother was 62
opted to register for widow’s benefits instead of waiting for full retirement
at 65. Although she began to receive monthly Social Security checks, she was
not entitled to Medicare. She made too much to be considered for Medicaid,
however.
For three years, my mother, my siblings and I tried to
figure out a way to get her quality health care without going bankrupt. The
hospital that once treated her like a VIP could no longer treat her, unless we
could pay the prohibitive costs out of pocket (we couldn’t). Private insurance was out of the
question given her “pre-existing condition.” I even tried to get her listed as
a dependent on my generous corporate-sponsored insurance but was denied,
because my insurance only counted spouses/domestic partners, and children.
Cancer centers around the country would’ve taken Medicare,
but without any type of insurance, or vast savings, my mother had to go to a
crowded New York City clinic. There, her care was frustratingly inconsistent (a
fact my siblings and I still shudder about). By the time she turned 65 and was
eligible for Medicare (I remember we did a little celebration dance the day she
got her card in the mail), my mother’s health had declined.
Once she was 65, she moved in with my Florida-based siblings
to be a patient at Moffitt Cancer Center, one of the top facilities in the
country. Her new oncologists were horrified at how poorly my mother’s case had
been handled, and told her that the changes in care those three years had been
riddled with miscommunication between the doctors. The bottom line, she was
told: her inconsistency in care had negatively impacted her prognosis.
My mother died last October, only two years after she
started being treated at Moffitt. She ended up only being a patient there for
16 months, and spent her final 8 months in my sister’s home, under excellent
Hospice care.
I know that health-care reform would’ve made a difference in
my mother’s case. I’m not saying she would’ve been miraculously cured of her
cancer, but she would’ve had more options. She could’ve had more consistent
care. She could’ve felt empowered instead of defeated by the health care
system. And yes, she might still be alive, if even for another few years.
This is an original post to DC Metro Moms Blog. Sandie, a mother of three, writes about being a motherless daughter at Urban Mama.
