$$$ Motherflipping 💰

I remembered when I told my dad he had colon cancer.

The surgeon couldn’t wait for my dad to wake up from the sedation so he handed me the photographs and charts.

The surgeon had places to be, after all, and my dad hadn’t slept well in probably years so we all just let him sleep.

At least the medical staff weren’t in a rush to get us out of the small dark cramped room.

At least no one came in to roll my sedated dad out into the hall or have me roll my sedated dad out into the hall so they could maximize their profit by turning that table.

My childhood best friend died in the parking lot of a Chicago hospital because the hospital staff discharged her too soon after her surgery.

Right there in the parking lot.

Dead.

I don’t know if that’s ever fully sunk in.

Recently, my great aunt was discharged from a Madison hospital following a surgery only to be helicopter-lifted back to the hospital the next night as she was also discharged too soon.

She didn’t die.

So… I do appreciate how the hospital didn’t roll my unconscious dad outside the building as soon as the colonoscopy was done. That left it to me to tell him he had cancer but whatever.

They left us alone and that’s all my dad really wanted at that point.

When I was a Care Manager, I developed a close relationship with transportation providers as hospitals would just roll my people out of the hospital and push them beyond hospital property so the hospital wouldn’t be liable if a monster ate them or they froze.

There my person would then sit on the sidewalk in their wheelchair and gown.

… in the Wisconsin winter and sometimes at night.

So, every once in awhile, a hospital social worker would have the time and will to look up the name of the person’s Medicaid worker (me) and then call to ask if I could pull a rabbit out of a hat and get a transportation provider to pick the person up in an hour.

“OmgYES. Thank you so much for calling me.”

Usually transportation providers demand 48 hour notice as they engage in strategic logistics with their schedules.

Which is why I developed relationships with transportation providers… so I could call them and ask if they could send someone… jack rabbit now.

Anyways… hospitals may house heroes but our American health system as a whole is motherflipping terrible.

So it’s kind of remarkable my dad and I weren’t in the hospital hallway when I told him he had cancer.

When it comes down to it, it’s all about the money and maximizing that profit.

I go back in time because last month I tried to schedule my second colonoscopy before age 45 (which is the age when insurance companies deem the test “preventative”) due to my family history and I asked my health insurance if it was covered.

I can’t even make sense of the response I got. What I do know is that I wouldn’t pay over $10,000 for it.

Okay.

Pocket change.

And I laugh because… why even get the preventative tests? The last time I got a test to alleviate worry was for the genetics test when I was told – in contrast – I’d get what my mom had. Aka my worst fear would come true if I didn’t die first from something else.

That didn’t alleviate my worry at all.

It’s like going in for mammograms with “dense breasts”. Which apparently most women have, FYI. The results are: “Dunno”.

Or “Schedule a (more expensive test).”

The first time I got the result of “dunno” I asked for more clarification because it sure seemed like there should be a point in getting a mammogram.

The clarification was… “Yeah. We can’t see anything. You probably don’t have to worry.”

Science at its best.

Anyways, back to the point of preventative tests… so you go in and pay a bag of money to know you probably DON’T have cancer.

Or

You go in and find out you do have cancer.

And now you can’t afford the treatment.

Very few seem to be able to afford cancer treatment in America. We resort to Go Fund Me, criminal acts and other such money-raising endeavors.

I helped with enough treatment fundraisers for my cousin who had brain cancer FOUR MOTHERFLIPPING TIMES so this was

followed by

followed by

(in the case of my beloved cousin).

I fully support treatment fundraisers. My cousin had a little boy and he wanted to extend his time with him for as long as he could.

Cancer treatment is a super personal awful reality and everyone experiencing it should be left alone while having to make any of those decisions.

However, if and when I get cancer, there is No Way I’m smiling my face off to have people tell me to keep fighting and other well-intended but highly annoying things.

On top of it all, I’d be smiling my face off while still paying off the $4000 colonoscopy co-pay as I wouldn’t have come even a little close to reaching my insurance “deductible”.

So I’d still be paying off the diagnostic test charge while campaigning for my chemo fund.

Nope.

“NO WAY” is what I’m saying out loud to myself while waiting for an evening behavioral mental health screen with a youth who reportedly “stabs everyone”.

Everyone?

I think that’s irrational emotion-fueled overtalk, personally, but I guess I’ll see.

As maybe tonight I will find myself laying on the Milwaukee streets, bleeding out, staring at the stars for the last time, because the parent was being literal.

And then I would never again have to consider setting up a payment plan for a test to make sure I don’t have cancer.

So, in short, I’m going to stop telling people who aren’t seniors to get preventative tests if they have Blue Cross Blue Shield. Just skip it.

For me and my house, we will have cancer (my husband “doesn’t go” to the doctor).

So cancer it is! If I don’t get stabbed to death tonight…

For the record, I love my job. I accept potentially getting stabbed while doing it because I’m out there, helping.

But there are presently only four of us following up on all the mental health referrals received on behalf of children and youth in Milwaukee County as the rest of our 10 person team are “rescreening” over 900 kids this summer due to a significant change in Medicaid coverage.

Insurance, insurance, insurance!

I drafted this post 2 months ago so… apologies! So much has happened it’s felt overwhelming to try to sum it up here in a readable way.

So this post is documenting how very upset I’ve been with our health system this summer, death, how I won’t do chemo… and also… working too much. Brain tired.

Words.

Pictures.

Enthralling and mildly upsetting material, I know.

In any case, thanks to any of you who have read and keep reading these silly posts and who have offered support. You are the best.

Hope you’re all staying safe and doing the absolute best you can. It’s been so crazy out there with all the natural disasters and world violence…

I hope you’re holding on.

For me, all I really need is whiskey and Jesus to keep trucking.

And love love love.

Love is the answer unless you happen to be the CEO of a health insurance company.

It’s highly unlikely a corporate CEO would be reading this.

Regardless, in the unlikely chance that this is happening, I have the least amount of love for you, mortal.

But you still get some anyways.

You CEO fuck.

For everyone else, sending much more love to you.

🖤✨