Yesterday was another fun day, as there have been many in my life, of adventures in the United States as an uninsured person in need of medical care.
I sincerely wish a Washingtonian had warned me before I moved that it was worse here than in some other cities. I thought the Chicago public healthcare system was bad enough, nd that aspects of the one in Minneapolis stunk, but this one — if you can even call it a system — is a real doozy. The one sliding scale clinic people kept suggesting to me was one where there has recently been some staff-patient sexual abuse, specifically targeting women who were already abuse survivors. Yeah, umm, no.
The sliding scale clinic closest to me isn’t taking new patients until May, which isn’t of much help when you’re pretty certain you have an ear infection. The state offers a healthcare probram for low-incomes, but the income it looks at is gross income, which screws those of us who are self-employed, and leaves me out in the cold from what I can gather. And while in other states, the barrier to me getting health insurance was entirely financial, here in WA, the majority of insurers won’t even consider self-employeds, no matter how much cash you wave at them. Great.
The local clinic which was full, and the two general local doctors offices I called referred me to a low-income clinic here (I use the term loosely), where the fee to just get in is $300, and the patient reviews are a nightmare. Apparently, $300 buys you a medically-schooled “I don’t know” an awful lot. The real kicker there, though, was that growing up in healthcare systems, working within one area of healthcare, I have a good idea of what things cost. So, knowing that with what I was asking for, at your regular doc’s office, I’d be talking an $80 - $150 bill (basic ear, nose and throat checkup, maybe a throat culture, possibly a new patient fee), I went ahead and called the regular docs.
But despite making clear I would be paying cash, they would not see me, because I was uninsured. This is a new one. And the irony isn’t lost on me: they’d not see me, ostensibly because, what — my bills would bounce? But they would refer me to a clinic where the cost would easily have been twice as much. Nice.
(And Mark’s work only covers domestic partners if you’re same-sex. I’m glad they provide that coverage, sure, but I deeply resent the fact that the gate is closed there, for a multitude of reasons. I’m so freaking sick of the multitude of ways this culture tries to force us into marriage, I could puke.)
You know, when I was in England during college, I made the poor docs at the NHS so sick of me, because I would find a reason to go in there weekly, simply because the novelty of just being able to go get healthcare, at any time, when you needed it, would not wear off. Mind, at the time I did have good reason to go in — I used a cane for a year in college due to a bad back injury, and I had migraines and I had…okay, any little sniffle or whatever that could barely justify seeing the doctor. Point is, it was heaven.
Thankfully, Becca had suggested looking into a Minute Clinic, and Caroline ran by after work to get me there, since it was waaaaaaay far away from Ballard. Nice system, that: pretty inexpensive, nurses get to do their work without doctors lording over them, and I got what I needed. Turns out I was close to right: the sick hanging on from last week wasn’t an ear or sinus infection anymore — the nurse thought was that my body had done a decent job fighting most of it off — but that being that ill and running the high fever had totaled my throat and ears, and left my ears jam-packed with fluid, which is why my head has felt like a bowling ball for days on end. So, I now have an antibiotic for my ears and some additional helps for my throat and nose, thank christ.
All of this basically sapped up my entire day, however, which was extra annoying since I kept trying to have conversations on the phone with people I could barely hear because my ears have been such a wreck. Had I had almost any other problem, I would have just gone to the naturopathy clinic, which WILL see the uninsured AND even provide a discount, but in my experience, when you need some form of antibiotic, you’re in the one arena naturopathy and chinese medicine isn’t so hot for. (Though I have to say that I don’t get why many naturpoaths won’t do antibiotics: I get using them very sparingly, for sure, but they’re no less natural than anything else. They’re mold-based, for crying out loud, and while yes, chemically processed, so are most of the naturopathic and homeopathic medicines dispensed.)
On the upside, driving over with Caroline and her 6-year-old daughter who I adore provided some needed comedy. While waiting for them to fill the ’scrip, we went across the parking lot to a small park so Scout could play. Turns out she had to piss, so Caroline suggested she squat in a hidden area: asked if she needed help, and Scout declined. Well, she came back waddling saying she guessed she could have used help after all, since she basically just missed. Gals, you know how it goes when you’re squatting to pee with pants on: as we explained to Scout, sometimes, there is just no telling which direction those wily vulvas will send urine flying.
I could tell that she was more embarassed than she would have been had I not been there, so when she started in on a rant of how unfair it was that she couldn’t aim like boys could, we both dove in, ranting right there with her to make her feel better. When I pointed out that boys could pee their names in the snow, even, and hit peanuts in the toilet bowl, the real ire began. Grrrrr. We was some seriously pissed off, loud and uppity, unable-to-pee-with-wild-abandon girlies. Which sort of explains the strange look on the passersby.
In any event, back to work with me, now that my head is on the mend. I did manage to finish processing Ben’s photos yesterday, and get the whole set up in the patrons area, so that’s one set down, three to go in the backlog, and I love them. It’s rare when I’ll have a man in my studio, period, but when it’s a good fit, I appreciate the opportunity. I hate all this silliness that male bodies aren’t as curved, interesting or beautiful as women’s bodies (and suspect a lot of that is actually based in either homophobia, men just wanting not to be as exposed as women and to make sure women stay the naked ones, both, or something else I can’t think of right now): it’s so rare I can have anyone in front of my camera and not find a million things of interest. It’s also been nice over the last few weeks to have so many subjects around: there remains a certain kind of intimacy and bonding that happens when I photograph people, especially nudes, that I don’t know if I’ll ever tire of, and I’m thankful as hell that over the years, I’ve learned how to cultivate it so that anyone involved in the process always leaves it feeling like they’ve expanded in some way, rather than been reduced.
I also managed to finally finish a piece on the evils of menstrual suppression this weekend which had been driving me batty for weeks. I don’t think it was just trying to mesh creative non-fiction writing with medical and feminist information. Rather, somehow all the endless editing of the book seemed to reorder how words worked in my brain, resulting in what may have been the first real case of writer’s block I’ve ever had in my life. Thankfully, the editor of the anthology let me turn it in late, but it had gotten to the point where I was forcing myself to finish even if it would no longer be accepted, because it was just The Piece That Wouldn’t Go Away. I’d try and work on something else, and there it was, right under everything, nagging and poking me in the side with a whiny “I’m waaaaaaaaiting.” Well, I showed it, and now other work can resume, sans guilt.
On to more book promo planning, taxes, housecleaning and site upgrading. I’ve promised myself a nice, long bath and a brief stint in the garden so long as I keep up with the rest of the jobs today, so I don’t want to slack off and miss those joys, especially since it’s good and sunny.







April 10th, 2007 at 2:57 pm
Have you seen this? http://www.kristascups.com/home.htm
Now girls can write their names in the snow. A few of my friends swear by them. I know I need to get one because I seriously hate peeing in my shoes.
The lack of domestic partner coverage made me laugh in that shocked laughing at tragedy kind of way, at the price you have to pay for falling off the lesbian wagon. Sucks Dude. For real.
April 10th, 2007 at 3:39 pm
I’ve never managed to write my whole name, but I can totally do SA. (I don’t know many guys who can get past 3 or 4 letters in one go, although I guess there’s no rule against doing it in shifts…). In my experience, female anatomy is better for distance peeing than male anatomy, and about equal for finesse.
My basic instructions for women to pee standing:
http://myvag.net/pee/standing/
That includes links to lots of pStyle type devices, as well as a device-free method.
Ahem. Anyway. Glad you finally found a clinic
April 10th, 2007 at 3:42 pm
(laughing)
Only MY readers, I swear to gawd.
I love y’all, I truly do.
April 11th, 2007 at 5:26 am
Health insurance is such a terrible racket in this country. I managed to find a scratch and dent policy through an association I belong to- otherwise I’d probably be in the same boat as you, being self employed. Even then, every prescription I get is outta sight, which sucks during allergy season. I’m getting married in the fall, and my partner works in state government, so we were excited at the possibility of my getting on his sweet policy. Our excitement quickly faded when we realized it would be about $360 a month to add me. He’s a historian, I’m a photographer, we’re trying to buy a house- we can’t afford that. So I may just stick with my crap policy until we can afford that, if we ever can. I feel fortunate to even have a policy in the first place, though, when I know so many other people don’t.
And on another note, I’ve always been envious of my male friends who can just whip it out and pee, no problem when we’re hiking. I’ve tried the whole peeing in the wild thing, and it’s a bitch!
April 11th, 2007 at 9:46 am
I read the article you linked to on the doctor accused of rape and was APPALLED that this asshole rapist “could spend up to a year in jail under standard sentencing guidelines.” A year? Is that the going rate for such a horrendous crime, especially by a doctor who obviously abused his position of power and trust?
Also, I’m surprised the doctor wouldn’t see you after waving cash in front of him. Guess you should have offered him some sweet Heather Corinna lovin’ in exchange for antibiotics.
April 11th, 2007 at 9:52 am
Per the going rate of a year?
Yes, that is sadly, maddeningly pretty darn typical, IF a rapist/sexual abuser even winds up charged and svering time at ALL. People do more jail time for tax fraud than they do for rape, as a rule. Someone often gets a higher sentence for slashing someone’s tires than for raping their wife. This is the world we live in.
April 12th, 2007 at 9:22 am
Much agreement that the health care system is this country is DEEPLY screwed up. espescially as my roommate went today for cancer surgery (sans insurance).
As a side note, please put in a good word in your prayers, mediatations or whatever for Bruce LArson. He needs ‘em all, to get well again.
April 13th, 2007 at 1:17 pm
Well, scratch Seattle off the list of places where we might possibly want to live. Damn. But thanks for warning me.