Growing up, we weren’t raised to run to the doctor, as my mom put it, “every time we had a fart crossed.”
I have never asked about how health insurance worked 50 years, so I honestly don’t know if we took care of things ourselves because of financial reasons or not, to be honest. I would assume that was part of it, coupled with coming from a long line of hard-working rural folks who didn’t ask for help from anyone about many things. I fell at the roller rink once and not only had to walk home, which was miles, but was given a pair of crutches from a local thrift store so I could learn how to use them before heading to school with a note from my mom excusing me from gym class the next day. (Don’t be coming for my mom. I’m talking 50 years ago when we were still spanked in school, man. Things were different.)
There was also the time that I ripped my toenail off in bicycle spokes. Mom called my cousin who came down to grandma’s and finished removing it for me. Some band aids and merthiolate (yep, that mercury-heavy orangish pink disinfectant) and I was back on the bike.
We sought health care when it was an absolute necessity, like the time I was stung on the lip by a bee and experienced an allergic reaction. And when my brother ran his arms through the glass in a storm door. Tonsillitis always saw me heading to Dr. Norm’s office, too. Being raised like that dictates how I’ve behaved as an adult. And being an adult who either can’t afford or justify the cost of health insurance, I’m still like that when it comes to myself.
Without insurance and a primary care provider, the ER becomes a community clinic for folks. Wanna know what the most common issue is among my friends that puts them in the ER? The lack of dental care. They have to head to the ER. For antibiotics. I tried to pay out of pocket for prenatal visits during the first trimester with my first pregnancy because I didn’t want to admit that – I mean, because I didn’t think that – I was poor enough to receive Medicaid.
I had a skin infection in my c-section incision after the birth of my second child because my Medicaid ran out before the healing was done. The lack of affordable health care is a huge problem. I know people who do manual labor who super glue and duct tape cuts together on the job site rather than head in for stitches because they don’t have insurance. Well, that, and they can’t afford to miss work because they can barely afford to keep their families afloat. The threat of not working and not getting paid is every bit as problematic as not seeking medical care. The problems go hand-in-hand.
My kiddos have had insurance their whole lives. It’s something that I have worked around as far as salaries and career choices, to be honest. We’re blessed with a healthy family for the most part and don’t use it a lot, but my kids are getting six-month checkups at the dentist, which makes me feel solidly middle class if I’m being honest. They have the privilege of (affordable) insurance, and I can’t tell you how much stress that takes off my shoulders, especially because I don’t have the same level of privilege.
I share all of this to point out that living in scarcity dictates a lot of decisions. When you’re stuck between calling off from a low-wage job that doesn’t offer insurance or staying home to prevent the spread, too many of us have to work. The combination of losing wages, no insurance, and the constantly present threat of falling too far behind is a huge risk. And the thing about risk is that we generally take the lowest one if we have a choice. Sometimes the decision seems to be a selfish one but it’s a matter of evaluating risk. And we probably should refrain from wishing harm or death on people who are facing things and making choices with factors we aren’t privy to.
We need to understand that health care, as twisted as it seems, is a privilege in this country, as is being able to not understand that paycheck-to-paycheck life.
I don’t know anyone who wakes up in the morning determined to ruin the lives of others. We’d like to think that it’s political affiliation or lack of intelligence, but it’s lived experience and risk levels. Sometimes we need to take a minute to understand someone else’s perspective, not to change our minds but to change our hearts.
You can’t damn someone to Hell who doesn’t believe in Heaven.
Onward,
Amy Jo
