Today, Congresswoman Doris Matsui hosted a press conference in Sacramento in response to the Graham-Cassidy healthcare bill. I was invited to share my healthcare story as a Chronic Disease Patient Advocate alongside several elected officials in attendance, including the Congresswoman, California State Senator Dr. Richard Pan, California State Assemblymember Kevin McCarty, Sacramento Mayor Darrell Steinberg, and Councilmember Angelique Ashby.
You haven’t seen me on social media much lately. This is because the first battle to keep the Affordable Care Act in place – 5 weeks ago – did me in. I haven’t been the same since. My mental health has dipped to depths I never knew existed. I can’t eat. I’ve lost 10 pounds (have you seen how thin I already was????). I can’t focus on faces, voices, places, things. And I’m in such awful, awful pain. I thought I was broken before – it’s worse now.
I didn’t know it could get worse.
I’m scared for myself; not for what I might do, but for what my body continues to lose. I’m functioning on the surface, but then again, charades was something I always won. My life feels more foreign each day.
You would have thought I breathed a sigh of relief and celebrated when Speaker Ryan pulled the American Health Care Act in March, not having enough votes.
Let’s say, just, you know, maybe, could be, hypothetically, I’m living under the Republican-proposed American Health Care Act.
And before I begin, I want to note that I did all of this without a preconceived notion of what the outcome would be. I chose pretty (really) conservative cost estimates to give the American Health Care Act the benefit of the doubt, and to see if, in a hypothetical situation, I would be able to afford the healthcare I need under the proposed system change.
Say I’m 30 (as I am) and, for this example, I’m still able to work. Let’s say I earn $30,000 per year. But it doesn’t matter what I make, because the “tax credit” is now based on age and not income (unless I make over a certain amount). So, as a 30 year old, I get a $2,500 per year tax credit to either A) put into an un-taxed health savings account, from where I can draw money to cover medical expenses, or B) go towards paying the premium of any plan I choose that is considered an “eligible individual health insurance policy” (for instance, I wouldn’t be able to use the tax credit for a plan that covered abortion). Let’s just go with option B for this experiment. Continue reading I Did Some Math to See if I Could Afford the American Health Care Act. Here’s What I Found.→
When the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act (AKA Obamacare) was written, the plan was for Medicaid expansion to provide health insurance for people who made too little to qualify for a subsidy to purchase a plan, but too much to qualify for Medicaid under the rules of the past. The goal was to create a system in which no one would fall into a so-called “coverage gap,” and poor people would have access to care regardless of their income.
It worked – for states that adopted the expansion.
The Affordable Care Act (affectionately termed Obamacare) is likely to be repealed in a few months.
I’m told personal stories are powerful, so I want to share mine.
I was always going to be healthy. Aside from a slight concern when I quit a job that offered health insurance and took another job without it, I never once considered I would need a team of doctors. I boast a background as a college athlete, professional mover (yes, heavy furniture, etc) and otherwise health-aware person.
But my body lied to me.
Nearly four years ago, I was diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis, a severe disease that causes rampant and painful inflammation in the spine and other joints in the body, sometimes leading to the growth of bone spurs that fuse spinal vertebrae and hips. I wasn’t diagnosed by a healthcare provider at first – I found out I inherited this disease from my father after matching our symptoms.
I grew up privileged – white, yes – but also without ever considering what life would look like if my mother’s job did not provide her and her family with healthcare.
When I had walking pneumonia in fifth grade and was in bed for three weeks, I never considered what it would mean if my mother had to choose what to do or where to seek help if we didn’t have insurance.
When I was on birth control pills in high school, the drug co-pays were predictable. I didn’t fear my medication would suddenly become cost-prohibitive.
When I broke my nose, I never once considered that some people couldn’t go to the emergency room because they didn’t have insurance.
When I was in college I tore my ACL and later broke my hand playing college soccer. My bills were covered. I didn’t know other students didn’t have the healthcare I accessed.
I believed healthcare was something everyone had. If someone got sick or injured, s/he went to the doctor, paid the copay, then went to the pharmacy, paid the copay, etc etc.
My previous post, The Work of Being a Professional Patient, needed a second chapter. There’s more to that broken system than simply being an unpaid professional patient. In addition to the phone calls, meetings, emails – the legwork of managing our healthcare as chronic disease patients – there’s a lot of money involved, and a lot of it flows out of the pockets of people who can’t afford the care they need.
The system is broken.
It is a system designed for healthy people to get catastrophically sick and go from there. A system that punishes people for being sick but provides no support to keep them from getting sick. Only $251 is spent per capita on public health measures aimed at proactively preventing illness. The American healthcare system pads the wallets of health insurance and big pharma companies and often doctors and nurses too, then forces patients to do their work for them. America, land of the sick, home of the outsourced labor in our own back yards: people paying corporations a big chunk of their income for the privilege of managing their own healthcare. Privilege is a dangerous word. I’m privileged to be chronically ill and I pay over 10% of my monthly budget on my healthcare premium alone, after the assistance of the federal subsidy intended to keep my rates within my income limits. This does not include my out of pocket expenses on doctor visit copays, prescription copays, over the counter NSAIDs, heating pads, and various treatments to manage side effects of either medication or illness. Continue reading The Affordable Care Act is Not Affordable for Me→