A Universal Health Care Dream

The worst thing that happened to me was actually a dream. Last night I fell asleep watching a congressional debate on the upcoming Federal Government-run universal health care, commonly known as Obamacare. I guess it must have made an impression on my subconscious because I had a dream, about being sick and having Federal universal health insurance…..

I woke up fine that morning, July 9th of 2014. It wasn’t until I got dressed that I felt the sudden sharp pain in my side. I figured it’d go away, but as the morning passed, it actually got worse until I knew I had to do something. But I wasn’t worried, after all I have my national health care card in my pocket, so I set out to see my government-employee, gate-keeper primary care physician Doctor Slurpat DeTrough.

The doctor’s office occupied nearly an entire city block. With facilities that big, I just knew I’d get good care. When I walked in however, a line stretched around a waiting room the size of a gymnasium. It took four hours to finally reach the person at the desk. By that time the pain in my side had increased as if someone stabbed me with a needle.

“Nurse,” I said, “can you…”

“I’m not a nurse. I work for the government, can’t you read?” she said, pointing to the tag on her uniform. It spelled D.E.A.T.H. in big letters.

“Uh, that’s scary, it spells death.”

“Of course,” she said. “Stands for Diagonostics Ensuring Adequately Treated Healthcare. D.E,A.T.H., got it?”

“Uh, okay, but I’ve got to see a doctor. I’ve got this pain in my side, and…”

“What’s your diagnosis?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Doesn’t the doctor do that? I mean all I know is that it hurts and…”

“No,” she replied and for a moment I thought I recognized her, maybe she used to work at the Motor Vehicle Bureau, or perhaps it was just me, and she continued: “In order to cut health care cost, the Obabacare Health Plan no longer provides for diagnostic services.”

“But how…”

“Don’t worry, go see Doctor Marcus Welby over there,” she said pointing to another line. I got on, and the line moved very slowly. It was nearly dark outside when I finally reached Doctor Marcus Welby.

Doctor Welby was a six-foot robot with the face of a movie actor on the screen, a keyboard on its stomach and a button that said, Push For Diagnosis. I pushed the button.

“Hello-I-am-Doctor-Marcus-Welby-choose-your-diagnostics-by-scrolling-the-list-and-touching-the-screen.

I scrolled down the list:

INJURIES:
Legs run over by a car
Arms run over by a car
Hit on head with brick
Cut off finger
The list went on and on. I rapidly scrolled down to illnesses but found nothing until I reached a section titled:
PAIN:
Sharp pain on top of head
Dull pain on top of head
Sharp pain in right hear
Dull pain in right ear
It continued until finally reaching my area of pain:
Sharp pain in lower right side – I tapped the screen:
Diagnosis: Appendicitis – Treatment: Appendectomy surgery.

Okay, now I had my diagnosis. All I needed to do was get assigned to one of the free government surgical hospital and have my appendix removed.

At least I knew what I was dealing with as I got on a line marked Surgery. It was past midnight when I reached another DEATH employee.

“I need surgery,” I said.

“I’m on a break,” she replied, and continued talking to a friend about her date the previous night. I waited and finally she looked at my diagnosis.

“You need an appendectomy.”

“Yes, where do I go?”

“Boston.”

“But this is New York. I have to go all the way to Boston for my operation?”

“Are you a congressman?”

“No.”

“You have to go to Boston, that’s the National Appendectomy Center for the US.”

“Everyone had to go to Boston for appendectomies?”

“Duh? Yeah, unless you’re a congressman. The government is reducing healthcare costs. We can’t do these operations all over the place. How else can everybody get free health care?”

I took the first shuttle flight to Boston, got a taxi to the national appendectomy center. My side was throbbing by this time, but fortunately the line here was only about two hours. I finally got a bed, just two days after I started having those pains.

I laid down on the bed and soon a man wearing a Mexican Serape and surgical mask walked into the room. He also wore a bloodstained apron and held a scalpel. “Hullo there,” he said. “Are you ready for your operation?”

“Oh yes,” I replied. “The pain is excruciating.”

“Okay, let’s start,” he said, and put a rubber plug in my mouth. “Bite on this, it’s going to hurt a lot.”

I spat out the plug and jumped out of bed. “What about anesthetic?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your National Universal Healthcare Card does not have that. See?” he said, pointing to a corner of my health insurance card. “No E.”

“Just have anesthetics added, it’s free. Simply call the National Health Care Center, it’s an eight hundred number.”

I left the room, went to the lobby and called the National Health Care Center. I got a recording:
If you are waiting to have a limb sewed back on, press one…
If you have a large foreign object that must be removed from your body, press two…
If you are a deceased patient, press three…
It took nearly two more hours on the phone but I finally got a real live operator, someone who worked for the US government health care system. He had a heavy accent and I could barely understand him.

‘Halloo, this nawonal hellcenter. I am Sonjay speeking.”

“Hello,” I said, “I need anesthetic added to my National Health Care card.”

“Djoo niid what?”

“Anesthetic”

“Static? Wee don’tgotta static”

“No, anesthetic, against pain.”

“Rain? No rain here”

"Where are you, anyway?”

“Bombay, India.”

I hung up. I only had one course of action. I took a shuttle flight to Washington DC. I was in agony. It felt like hot needles digging into my side. I was on the third day now. I finally reached the National Health Care Center, a huge building that took up most of what used to be the national mall. Even the Lincoln monument had to be bulldozed to make room for the new healthcare building. At last I’d get some help.

After three security checks I finally managed to get on line for changes in national health care cards. Another three hours and I reached the first desk. I was relieved to see the attendant didn’t wear a DEATH button.

“I need a change made to my National Health Care card.”

“No problem, sir,” he said and handed me a number: 12,377

“What’s that?”

“Your number to speak to someone and have your card changed.”

“How long will it take?”

“Three or four days.”

“Days?”

“Yes, sir. Please pay attention, don’t lose your place I line. I’ll be going on break soon.”

Before I left the building I looked in the main hall at the line. People had set up tents, sleeping in bags on the floor, cooking on little camp stoves, waiting to speak to someone about their free National Health Care card…unless of course they were members of Congress.

I was practically delirious with pain as I left the center, didn’t know where to go, whom to turn to. I walked down past the Capitol Building, staggering into the side streets holding my throbbing side. A man came out of an alley and stood in front of me.

“Are you alright, senor?” He asked. The man wore a baseball cap with a red cross on it and a shirt that said Guatemala.

“No, I’m not,” I said, I need a doctor.

“Tchu in luck,” he said. “I’m Paco, Doctor Paco.”

“You a doctor? You practice here?”

“You’re not La Migra, immigration, are you?”

“No, I just need a doctor. I have to have an appendectomy operation.”

“Great, we can do that. It’s a hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? A hundred bucks?”

“Si. That’s our normal day rate, a hundred dollars plus lunch. We used to get that for landscaping, but since the government created the US Department of Landscaping and President Obama appointed a Landscaping Tsar, we don’t have that kind of work anymore so we went into the medical field.”

He’s right, I thought. I remembered when I had the government cut my lawn, last year. First they sent three lawyers to do an environmental impact statement, then four engineers showed up for a Federal Job Analysis, finally three weeks later a crew of twenty two people showed up in five trucks and three government sedans, all supervisors, middle management and legislative assistants. They held constant meetings, stayed for a week and in the last two hours, a guy named Bob came out of one of the trucks with a lawn mower and cut the grass in thirty minutes.

“Yeah, I can see why landscaping wouldn’t be lucrative anymore with the government involved. But how safe is your surgery, and what about anesthetic?”

“We do it all, Senor. A hundred in cash and this time tomorrow you’ll be just fine.”

I didn’t have a choice. I gave him a hundred dollars.

I never saw the guy who snuck up behind me with the anesthetic. He carried a huge wooden mallet that he smashed down on my head. Bright lights flew in front of me and I blacked out.

It was nearly midnight when I awakened. I had a splitting headache and a big goose egg on my head from the “anesthetic.” I sat up slowly and felt my side. The pain was gone, but I didn’t see any scars, just a small band-aid.

“Doctor” Paco came into the room, said he was glad to see me awake and the operation was a success.

“But where’s the scar?” I asked.

“Oh, you didn’t need the whole operation. The problem was a pin stuck in your shirt that was poking into your skin. We took it out and you’re fine now.

I left Paco’s makeshift hospital just as groups of people were coming in. I heard one woman ask if they accepted a US Universal health care card. He said no, cash only.

I was still determined to get anesthetics added to my Universal health Care Card. I stopped at Wal-Mart for camping supplies since the line for health care card changes requires a three to four day wait. There’s a Wal-Mart in the Capitol Building now, where the visitor center and cupola used to be, they had to rent out the space to close gaps in the national budget due to healthcare costs.

I got my sleeping bag, camp stove and dried food and got on line. After all, universal health care is important.