OPINION
Page 6 n THE ASIAN REPORTER
October 17, 2016
Volume 26 Number 20
October 17, 2016
ISSN: 1094-9453
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MY TURN
n Dmae Roberts
My health scare
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his summer was a tough one. First my kitty
Joey had a stroke then died after two weeks
of caregiving. A week later, I went in for a
routine mammogram and was told I needed an
ultrasound. After the ultrasound, a nurse called and
said I needed to schedule a needle biopsy. The lab
results confirmed it was mostly benign except for a
“small spot” the biopsy couldn’t reach. I was then
referred to an oncologist — a genial and optimistic
doctor — for a surgical biopsy. I felt like I was living
in someone else’s bad dream. It didn’t help that I
had flashbacks about my mom and what she went
through when she lost her three-year battle with
breast cancer.
Fortunately, the results of the surgical biopsy
turned out to be benign, but for about three weeks I
worried and promised the powers that be that I
would join Weight Watchers to get to a healthy
weight and cut out sugar (not that I eat a lot of
sugar), because cancer loves sugar. And certainly
I’m glad I have health insurance, but the process
was quite an ordeal, particularly when it came to
dealing with the radiology department.
I saw three different radiologists. The first was a
gruff man who, upon seeing me sitting in the chair,
abruptly turned to the nurse and said, “she’s not
supposed to be there.” He refused to come back into
the room until I moved to the exam table. “That was
rude,” I told the nurse. She shrugged.
The second radiologist treated me with a great
deal more respect. She explained everything
involved in the needle biopsy and it ended up not
being the scary procedure I’d been dreading.
The third radiologist kept me waiting in my loose
gown in a cold room for an hour, which made me late
for my surgery. When she walked in, I was pleased
to see a young Asian doctor, but that soon withered
when she brusquely said, “I’m going to do some
math, so I won’t be talking to you.” Later, when I
asked her to explain the form she wanted me to sign,
she replied curtly, “it’s a standard form.” Granted,
though, she was behind schedule and the procedure
she was performing was complicated.
I had a centimeter-long lesion, so the doctor
T
marked both ends of it with wire threads coming out
of my breast, which was squashed between two
mammogram plates for about 20 minutes. When I
told the doctor and the nurse supervisor how much
it hurt, they ignored me. A younger nurse at least
brought me a tissue when I started crying. It was
painful and humiliating, especially because I was
dreading surgery.
The biopsy went well and I was thrilled to
receive the “all clear.” Who knew “benign” could
be such a beautiful word? A month later, though,
on a trip to Ashland, the biopsy area became
infected and turned my breast bright red. After
taking antibiotics, it finally started to heal. I really
hope I won’t need any other medical procedures
soon.
Then there’s the pain of opening up the medical
bills and finding out the outrageous charges. One
bill was nearly $3,000 just for the radiologist to do
the needle biopsy. The surgical biopsy alone cost
more than $11,000. After my co-pays and
deductibles, it will likely end up costing me about
$1,100 for everything.
While I’m glad to have the insurance, I still
wonder why it has to cost so much. I also wonder
how an immigrant or refuge family would be able to
understand all the procedures I went through as
well as the disrespectful treatment I received from
people in the business of caring for other people. I
wonder how a family on the margins living
paycheck to paycheck could afford a $1,100 bill and
how much of a burden it would be on them.
Now that it’s October, it’s time for insurance
“open enrollment” again. Luckily, with the
Affordable Care Act, I receive a tax credit on health
insurance, but I never know each year which
insurance plan I should choose that is within my
budget. I’ve started researching which policy might
offer my husband and me the best coverage for an
affordable premium. I ponder how people new to our
country or less educated families are able to
decipher the puzzle of choosing an insurance plan.
Mostly I wonder why taking care of one’s health
has to be so difficult.
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Opinions expressed in this newspaper are those of the authors and not necessarily those of this publication.