The Wessenbergs and their two children are among an estimated
six million people who lost their insurance last year as a result of the
economic downturn. They are also living proof that the slide from middle
class comfort to absolute desperation can happen at warp speed, especially
when health issues are involved.
Just over a year ago, Bob, a Lotus programmer, had a relatively
secure job and his family had excellent health benefits. When Sheila was
diagnosed with Stage 2, Grade B breast cancer, she was able to get the
lumpectomy and mastectomy she needed. Then Bob lost his job in December,
2001, and the dominoes began to fall. The Wessenbergs did the best they
could to pay for COBRA insurance, but when the premiums jumped to $837
a month it became prohibitive. Like most people, the Wessenbergs chose
to pay for food and their mortgage rather than health coverage.
When the Wessenbergs dropped their insurance, Sheila stopped
seeking treatment for her breast cancer. She was eight months into chemotherapy,
and since she suffers a particularly aggressive form of cancer, her doctor
had recommended continuing treatments indefinitely. Since losing her insurance,
she has not even had follow-up blood work to see if her cancer has spread.
Considering that uninsured women with breast cancer are twice as likely
to die from the disease as women with coverage, she is free falling without
a parachute.
I met Sheila while writing a book that examines the personal
toll of being uninsured. "Denied: The Crisis of America's Uninsured,"
which was released last month, recounts 41 individual stories to reflect
the 41 million uninsured Americans. I wish I could say that Sheila's story
is unique, but in researching this book I found there is an overabundance
of tragedy every bit of it unjustifiable. The stories I came across
are harrowing. They include Nancy Gorman who was refused radiation for
her brain tumor for ten months until she lost her vision and could be
reclassified as 'urgent.' And there's Wendy Bennett, who was sitting in
her truck at a stop sign, got hit by another vehicle, injured her arm,
and was forced to file for bankruptcy within two years as a result. Then
there's Kevin Holyroyd, whose strep throat went untreated until it spread
to his heart, causing a massive heart attack. These stories piece together
the puzzle of how people become uninsured be it job loss, divorce,
tight finances or chronic illness and how that translates into
deferred care, financial ruin and unfathomable suffering.
According to the Institute of Medicine, some 18,000 people
die prematurely every year as a result of being uninsured. If that isn't
an epidemic, then what is? That's like having six September 11ths every
year. It makes a mockery of our preoccupation with bio-terrorism and small
pox vaccines. While we direct inordinate resources toward a potential
threat, we are allowing real people to die real deaths every day on the
home front. As if this weren't dire enough, now even the future of our
existing subsidized programs is in jeopardy. Nearly every state has announced
plans to trim Medicaid, potentially leaving millions more without any
coverage in the coming year. In California, the cuts go painfully deep,
with a projected 10 percent reduction likely next year. That means services
will be reduced, while the eligibility bar will be raised.
Currently one in seven people is uninsured more
than the populations of Texas, Florida, and Connecticut combined! The
Wessenbergs happen to live in Texas, which has the highest percentage
of uninsured people in the country. California ranks fourth, with over
21 percent of the population uninsured.
Every expert I interviewed for this book concurred that
it's not a matter of whether the system will crack, but rather when it
will crack. "No one who studies the healthcare system believes it will
stay afloat too much longer," says Dr. Sandra Hernandez, CEO of the San
Francisco Foundation. The future looks catastrophic.
As it stands now, the burden of healthcare falls on hospital
emergency rooms. Although ERs used to be the option of last resort, they
have become the line of first defense for uninsured people. Whether people
use it as a primary care clinic or are brought in via ambulance with an
acute condition, many of these patients could have been seen elsewhere,
at far less expense. "Actually, we do have a nationalized health plan.
It's called the emergency room," says Dr. Dave Ores of lower Manhattan.
He isn't being facetious. The emergency room is the only place an American
has a right to medical care. As a result, it has become the portal for
healthcare in this country. Couple that with cutbacks in the number of
staffed hospital beds, and we have a core meltdown in the making.
In San Francisco, on a recent night I visited San Francisco
General Hospital, where there were 13 people waiting in the emergency
room for in-patient beds. The wait can be as long as 24 hours. S.F. General,
like hospitals all over the country, has seen a steady increase in uninsured
patients. When General fills to capacity, which happens on a nightly basis,
ambulances are diverted to other facilities. The number of hours that
San Francisco hospitals divert ambulances has grown tenfold in the past
five years, meaning it is more difficult for critical patients to receive
timely care. Ultimately, the destinies of the insured and the uninsured
converge in the emergency room, because when services are strained, patients
who desperately need acute care suffer.
Despite common misconceptions, most people do not choose
to be uninsured, unless you consider the choice between paying rent and
paying for insurance a genuine choice. The uninsured cut a profile that
is somewhat surprising. Eight out of ten live in families where one or
more adults work. A third live in households that have an annual combined
income over $50,000. The fastest growing group of uninsured people last
year was middle and upper income adults, according to the Census Bureau.
These individuals tended to work for small businesses and were either
laid off from their jobs or their employers passed insurance costs off
to them because the premiums jumped 13 percent in the last year alone.
In fact, the rise in premiums has outpaced the rise in income for nearly
30 years.
When Bob Wessenberg was laid off, he had no idea how fast
the down escalator traveled. "Our life used to be different," says Bob,
whose voice betrays the inordinate stress he's under. "Our life was comfortable.
We had a little left over for nicer things and enough to start saving
for a rainy day. Then we got a rainy month and now we got a rainy year."
After going through all their savings and receiving an
additional $10,000 in support from their family, the Wessenberg's have
nowhere left to turn. Sheila works a few hours a week doing bookkeeping
for Avery labels, earning $14 an hour, and Bob finally landed a menial
job scanning documents for $11 an hour. Despite his qualifications, as
a 51 year-old Lotus programmer Bob has become obsolete in today's job
market. He has interviewed for over 300 positions without a hopeful prospect
in sight.
As a last resort Sheila started panhandling. At a busy
intersection near the Dallas airport, she recently held out a can that
read: I am not a bum. I'm a mom. Please help. She was able to earn $150
in just two hours, which was used to buy groceries and other necessities,
but it barely put a dent in the thousands of dollars of outstanding debt
the couple owes. With each passing week they are falling farther and farther
behind on being able to keep up with their house and car payments. They
have been forced to consider splitting their family up among relatives
if they lose their home.
Despite her lack of treatments, Sheila already has $2800
in outstanding medical bills she can't pay off. She applied for Medicaid
and was denied because she was told she had too many assets. Her fate
hung on a single piece of property: her car. She says without a car she
will be a prisoner in her suburaban Texas home. But with her car, she
may very well die sooner. "There is no reason why anybody should be shoved
into homelessness and helplessness just to survive," she says. "It's morally
wrong. We're out saving other countries and we can't save our own people.
Most people have no idea how the millions of uninsured
Americans actually get healthcare, but they're confident that somehow
everyone is taken care of. They don't realize that late detection and
death rates are higher for uninsured cancer sufferers, and that healthcare
costs are one of the two leading causes of personal bankruptcy in this
country. They also don't realize that in the end, even though we don't
have nationalized healthcare, we're already paying a heavy price for the
uninsured. We pay every time an uninsured person can't pay their bills,
so the hospital needs to make up the difference elsewhere. We pay every
time we go to the emergency room and the beds are full and the waiting
room is overflowing so we can't get adequate care. We pay every time we
lose a loved one because they got too little, too late.
It has been said that our healthcare system is one of
"perverse incentives, where everyone is incentivized to do the wrong thing."
Doctors are incentivized to turn people away who have inadequate or no
coverage. Patients are incentivized to forgo treatment until their conditions
become urgent. Adults working fulltime jobs are advised to go part-time
to qualify for benefits. Others are encouraged to spend down everything
they've saved to get public assistance. Hospitals are forced to inflate
their rates because insurance companies are driving down reimbursements.
As a result hospitals then overcharge uninsured patients who aren't as
adept at negotiation. Any one of these "perverse incentives" can cause
severe damage. Cumulatively, they are a diagnosis for disaster.
While suggestions for reform range from a federally managed
single-payer plan to a multi-tiered insurance scheme, ultimately, this
has to be a battle of conscience over special interests. People's lives
are on the line, while special interests continue to prevail.
We are a society at risk. When illness strikes, it afflicts
the whole body. It doesn't choose one organ and spare the rest. In its
current condition, America is a body with a raging infection. Forty-one
million cells are already afflicted, and they are undermining everything
they come in contact with. They have taken a toll on their immediate families
and they are impeding the flow of care to others who think they're immune.
We are all endangered by the crisis at hand.