My hard drive on my personal computer is woefully inadequate for the amount of stuff it has on it (well, this fact is also true on my work computer but there is less I can delete on that sucker). I found a folder with the files from when I was at Sinclair – all my papers, etc. While I will end up deleting most of the papers, I liked the stuff I wrote for my English and Eastern Religion classes.
Below is the Reflection Essay I wrote for English 111. It still makes me angry that this happened. I was actually just telling this story to someone in the past few months.
November 12, 2007
December 2001 found our family in a time of transition. My husband had just quit the job he had held for 11 years in order to keep us from having to leave Dayton after we had transferred here two short years beforehand. While he did have another job lined up already for January, we were without private health insurance. I had been able to secure state health insurance for the kids but had hoped to not need it and had not line up a new pediatrician yet as our beloved pediatrician did not accept our insurance.
Michael had just turned five when he got sick. Very sick. I called my pediatrician. “I need to bring Michael in today.”
“I am sorry, we cannot see him as we do not take your insurance.”
“He is very sick and needs to be seen. Today.”
“I am sorry. Take him to Urgent Care,” was the cold, unhelpful response from the receptionist.
She didn’t take our new health insurance and wouldn’t see Michael. It wasn’t a matter of money as we had it thanks to the severance package Alex had received. I called other doctors that did take our insurance but they wouldn’t see him because he was sick. They expected all first visits to be well-child visits. Go figure – when you are sick, you can’t get in to see the doctor unless you already have one. With tears of frustration, I rushed his feverish, limp, cough-racked body to Urgent Care. We had been to Urgent Care in the past and since. This visit was different.
I felt as if we were being treated differently because we “didn’t have a pediatrician” and because he had state health care. It was humiliating and infuriating. I was amazed that my concerns were not being listened to and taken seriously. Michael was coughing so hard, I thought he was going to break a rib. The balding, rotund doctor waltzed in with his white shirt and tie and dismissed my concerns. We were sent home. The doctor said, “Michael just has a cold.”
I was flabbergasted. This was a Tuesday. He only got worse as the week wore on. Neither one of us slept. I hated leaving him at home in the evening to go to work. No one cares for a sick child like his mother. His cough was the worst I have ever seen and he struggled to breathe deeply Friday night. All he did was sit on my lap, snuggling. By Saturday morning I was frightened. I also refused to take him back to Urgent Care and be discounted yet again. I screwed up all of my mommy courage and called my pediatrician’s office again and insisted they see him. Now. I was treated disrespectfully by her staff on the phone, “You DO know you have to pay for the visit before he will even be seen.”
Near tears, I still managed to politely stammer, “Of course we will pay for the visit,” instead of saying what I was really thinking.
“Well, I guess you can come in at 10,” I was gruffly told.
We arrived early for our visit, even though I knew we were normally kept waiting for a long time in the small, cramped waiting room. Instead, we were seen immediately. We were ushered to a room with bright red and blue trains on the wall. The door that slid closed into the wall didn’t even have time to close before the tall, slim, dark-haired doctor rushed in. She had heard him hacking and struggling to breathe deeply when we came in. She was very concerned and worry was written all over face. She took one listen to my sick little boy’s chest and grew pale. My instincts had been correct. Something was terribly wrong.
Michael was immediately administered a breathing treatment. It was scary for both of us. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him. He was lethargic and feverish. Being told he had to keep this funky mask with this strange smoke coming out of it over his nose and mouth was not something Michael wanted any part of! After we both shed a few tears, it was over and the doctor quickly returned. She quickly listened to his chest again. At that point, she told me just how serious she thought it had been. Thankfully, he only had bronchitis and not pneumonia. She had put her staff on notice to call an ambulance to rush him to the hospital as his lungs were so full of fluid. Thankfully, the mucous loosened up with the breathing treatment and we could go home. We had dodged a bullet. We became the proud owners of our very own nebulizer.
We spent the next few days doing breathing treatments every 6 hours, around the clock. A sick five year old is not impressed with 3 a.m. wakings for treatments he doesn’t like. After the first couple of nights, we were able to stop the middle of the night treatments as he was breathing more easily. After one week, he was much better and we didn’t need the second week of treatments.
While I was relieved he was not hospitalized, I was also very angry. If they had just let me come in on Tuesday when I had first called, this may have been prevented. If the doctor at Urgent Care had been respectful and treated me as the intelligent, experienced mom I was and really listened to my concerns, this may have been prevented. If I had been more forceful with both the staff at the pediatrician’s office and the Urgent Care doctor, this may have been prevented.
When I hear people say we don’t need health care reform this incident comes immediately to mind. I know what it is like to be treated differently by office staff when you do not have private insurance. I know what it is like to hope your children don’t get hurt or sick when you don’t have private insurance, or any insurance at all. I know what it is like to not be able to take your kids to the doctor of your choice because of your health insurance. No one should ever have to go through what I went through due to the lack of private insurance. Everyone should be treated fairly and with dignity when they need treatment regardless of who pays for their health insurance. I will be one of the first to stand in line when we finally get with the rest of the western world and have nationalized healthcare.