I have an employer that offers a stellar comprehensive insurance plan at a reasonable cost to me. Far too many people are not as lucky. I’m very grateful. Were it not for my employer’s generosity, I probably couldn’t have stayed with kung fu long enough to become maniacally crazy about it. The cost of patching up my legs three times would have been too high.
This is what I was thinking at eight o’clock in the morning, as I sat in the waiting room of the doctor my internist sent me to in the hopes he could do something about the lower back pain and sporadic sciatica that my orthopedist doesn’t treat. I had a considerable amount of time to ponder my gratitude – an hour to be exact – because the woman who signed in five seconds before me, with an appointment time thirty minutes after mine, was erroneously seen first. I couldn’t help but ask the receptionist: “Then what’s the point of having appointments if you just have to walk in first?” I received neither a response nor an apology. That seriously muted my gratitude. But I digress.
The flip side of appreciating the quality medical care I receive (and believe all should have) is anxiety. What happens to my kung fu life if I lose this level of care? It most likely goes away.
I realize that’s an upper Northwest kind of problem, as a D.C. native would say (i.e. high class), particularly when the question for many others is: what happens to life itself without healthcare? But it would most definitely be a problem, on so many levels, were it to happen. So chronic pain and long waits aside, I remain indisputably grateful that I continue to be patched up… and that the price of the patching is one I can still afford.