Friday, May 17, 2013

May 17, 2013--My Medicare

Now, from firsthand experience, I understand what that woman was telling me back last spring at a Newt Gingrich rally at the Boca Raton Jewish Center.

We had gone there, not so much because we were thinking about supporting Newt--far from it--but out of prurient curiosity: we wanted to know what Jews in their right mind would support someone who would, if improbably elected, get us involved in a shooting war with Iran the day after being inaugurated. On second thought, maybe for some that's why they turned out to cheer for Gingrich.

Anyway, Newt and Callista were late and we had a chance to chat with some of those in attendance. Beside an overarching obsession about U.S. policy toward Israel (most wanted America to sign off on anything Prime Minister Netanyahu deemed necessary to defend the state of Israel), beyond that was concern about our debt and what they saw to be excessive government spending.

"Just what would you do to cut spending?" Rona asked a woman of at least 80 whose St. John jacket was festooned with Gingrich buttons. "Cut defense?" She shook her head. "Veterans' benefits?" More head shaking. "How about medical research?"

"Absolutely not that," she said.

"So what's left? Maybe Medicare? On that we're spending $800 million a year. More than on defense."

"That's the last thing to cut."

"But isn't Medicare socialized medicine and doesn't it contribute more to the deficit than anything else?"

With this her face became so red that it overwhelmed her makeup and caused me to fear she would soon be in need of medical attention. "I don't want them to put their hands on my Medicare."

"But . . . "

"Don't 'but' me dear. But on the other hand," she growled, pointing at Rona, "they could cut your Medicare."

"That about summed it up," Rona said later, as we drove home. "They want to cut the federal budget but not anything that they feel they're entitled to."

"But it's OK to cut health care for people your age, which, by the way, also includes their children and grandchildren."

"I don't get it, but sad to say I do."

Well, earlier this week I had my first direct experience with Medicare. And, I confess, though I had my doubts about what it would be like--spoiled and used to high-quality private care, I suspected I'd be treated like a patient in a clinic--it was amazing and, like her, I don't want anyone putting their hands on my Medicare.

My first stop was with the orthopedic surgeon. Fifteen years ago he performed orthoscopic surgery on a torn meniscus in my left knee. Recently, I have been having similar symptoms in my other knee and thought I probably would need a similar procedure.

When I called to enquire about an appointment and told his assistant I was now old enough to be covered by Medicare, I was surprised and pleased to learn that Dr. Delany accepts it. To tell the truth I didn't know exactly what that meant; but since he had done such good work on me in the past and was still highly regarded, I said I would like to see him, thinking whatever it cost me out-of-pocket, as the insurers put it, I could fortunately afford it and I did want to benefit by his expertise.

Remarkably he remembered me, or at least my knees, and after catching up about what we had both been up to for more than a decade, he examined me and took five or six X-rays. From that, he suspected I again likely needed meniscus work, but to know for certain I had to have an MRI.

His assistant made an appointment for me for later in the day and when I asked what I needed to do to settle my bill, she said, "Nothing," that I was fully covered by Medicare.

Never before, with my gold-standard Aetna private insurance, had I seen a doctor or had tests done and not been expected to pay at least 20 percent of the cost associated with the treatment. So, to be sure I had not misunderstood, I asked again and again was assured that I owed nothing and would not receive any bills.

"But wait until I have the MRI," I said to the ever-skeptical Rona, who had accompanied me, "I bet it'll cost me at least $200. After all, they are sending me to one of those fancy Upper East Side imagining places where the MRI machines cost $2.0 million each."

And quite posh it turned out to be. And efficient too. I had a 1:30 appointment and by 2:00 was already being inserted into the MRI tube. They used some dreamy classical music to drown out the inevitable pounding; and, when I had my clothes back on and went up to find out what I owed, I again was told that Medicare would cover all of it, including the analysis of the MRI images.

So if I run into that Gingrich enthusiast next winter, I'll tell her about my experiences; but add that not only should Rona and her children be covered at current levels but that this government program should be universalized--Medicare for all--replacing Obamacare with this clearly fine single-payer system.

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