For those of you keeping score, my father came home from the hospital yesterday. He’s doing well and resting comfortably, and his doctors say he’ll most likely make a full (or nearly full) recovery in about six weeks. Score one for cutting-age cardiovascular treatment!
I have a serious love/hate relationship with modern medicine. I love that it’s out there and that there are breakthroughs happening every day, but I hate how expensive it is. I’m self-employed; I don’t make enough money to afford to buy health insurance and still pay my rent every month. Of course, the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania says that I make too much money to qualify for medical assistance because – unlike my wife – I don’t suffer from any chronic conditions. This means that, between leaving my horrible job at Cablevision and today, I haven’t had any sort of medical care. It’s been over three years and I know for a fact my health has deteriorated as a result.
Thankfully this is all changing today. We found a local clinic with a sliding scale that will treat me without insurance and will not charge me the same as a down payment on a new house to see me and my first appointment is this afternoon. I won’t say that I’m not frightened of what the doctor’s going to find; three years is a very, very long time between visits, and I have a laundry list of complaints to share with the unlucky bastard that ends up as my new doctor.
And don’t think that my father’s recent heart attack was the impetus for finding medical care for myself. I’m not saying that it’s incredibly important, considering I now have a very real history of heart disease in my family – I’m just saying that the decision was made long before. In fact, the birth of my daughter was the true catalyst, considering that I’m responsible for the health and safety of a tiny new life. Sure, she currently doesn’t do much more than shit herself and cry like an air raid siren, but some day she’ll grow up and drop out of college on me, so I’ve got to be around for that, don’t I?