Boobs, boobs, boobs

I figured that since this was probably the only time that title would be even remotely appropriate, it would be a shame not to use it.

About two weeks ago, I found a lump in my armpit, near my right breast. Now, if you're a guy or you've never seen a movie on Lifetime, that may not mean much to you. For the rest of us, it means breast cancer. It doesn't matter that I'm still eight years shy of the recommended screening age, or that there's no breast cancer in my family history. It still felt like there was a blinking neon sign over my head that said CANCER.

But don't worry - this isn't a cancer story. Twelve days later, I've seen two doctors, had bloodwork, ultrasounds, and a mammogram, and it turns out I'm fine. I have a swollen lymph node: my doctor said my options were to wait and see if it goes away in three months, or have something called a "needle biopsy". I'll be seeing him in April.

And before I begin my rant in earnest, I'd like to exempt my gynecologist from it. He saw me promptly, answered my questions, returned all my calls within 24 hours, and was quick to inform me of my reassuring test results. But that was the only bright spot in a twisty and depressing medical labyrinth.

I've never been a fan of socialized medicine. I'm a capitalist, and something in me rebelled at having to pay for other people's health care. But unfortunately, a capitalist health care system only works if the costs of health care are reasonable compared with a middle-class (or even lower-middle-class) income. And that just isn't the case. For my two doctor's visits, I paid $45 dollars each, my usual copay. It was ninety dollars I would rather have spent somewhere else, but nonetheless it was not a problem. But my insurance claim lists the actual cost of those two visits at $500. If I didn't have insurance, that's what I would pay.

Five hundred dollars? I don't have that kind of money to drop at a moment's notice. I could put it on a credit card, but what about the next time? And that's not even counting the ultrasound, mammogram, and bloodwork. I expect to pay about $200 for all of that, but going by the same formula, the full cost would be approximately $1000. So without insurance I would be out fifteen hundred dollars - all to find out nothing was wrong.

And the money isn't the only problem with the system. I had to visit three different offices (two of which required valet parking, but that's a Los Angeles problem, not a medical system problem). None of these places communicated with each other. I had to fill out nearly identical forms at each place. I was asked the same questions over and over, and occasionally, I was asked if this test had been requested by my doctor. No, I just do this for fun. It's not like his signature is on the requisition form or anything! Oh, wait, it is.

I think I was asked if I was pregnant seventeen times. I'm not, that I know of, but as I haven't taken a pregnancy test since the last time I had sex, I can't be one hundred percent sure. Birth control isn't perfect. I also explained that - to medical professionals - approximately seventeen times. I was also asked, rhetorically, if I could wait - for a test, for a reading, for a doctor, for a technician. Given that I was on time for every appointment, and that all of these places are open pretty much nine to five, Monday through Friday, my answer was usually, "I guess... do you know how long it will be?" This was often met by a supercilious stare, and the question, "Why? Do you have to be somewhere?" Yes! Work! You know, that thing you're doing RIGHT THIS MOMENT.

All in all, my experience wasn't terrible. Nothing was wrong, and no one charged what I couldn't afford to pay. But at this point I feel like both of those things were pure luck, and that terrifies me more than I can say. What if, next time, something is wrong? I had enough trouble getting through all of the forms and appointments and bureaucracy this time - and I am blessed with good insurance, decent income, and a job with flexible hours. I can't imagine navigating the system while ill, and worried about my job.

So I'm laying my capitalist principles by the wayside. Bring on universal health care. Because our system sucks, and I don't want to move to Sweden.

SemiGeekGirl wishes you all the best of health... and promises to return to geekdom in the next post. Hail to the new Commander-in-Chief!