Health Care Hitting the Wall

 As you probably already know, on June 1, I officially retired from the medical field. I’d worked as a medical assistant for 35 years, all but one, with the same organization. Except that during those years, the organization changed hands three times. 

I’ve worked in surgery, urology, women’s health, the lab, and for the last 22 years, in family practice. In the previous twelve years, I’ve been subjected to three different electronic health records. 

At some point during all that time, health insurance companies began to call the shots. As a result, providers could no longer treat their patients according to their years of medical training. Instead, they often had to bow to the wishes of insurance carriers whose decisions made no sense. 

And if it wasn’t insurance powering the doctors’ care, it was a legal system that focused even more on the all-mighty dollar. 

Next came the prescription opioid crisis. Which began when someone so high up the corporate ladder that they were running low on oxygen added another vital sign. So, in addition to acquiring a weight, blood pressure, pulse, and respiration on our patients, we had to take the subjective measurement of their pain. If a patient rated their pain high enough on the one to ten scale, their health care provider was obligated to treat it. 

This meant that in addition to patients who were already seeing us for their pain, people who mentioned their neck pain as a side note were getting prescription pain meds. (So don’t blame doctors and other providers for the opioid crisis; it was those clowns who made us start pursuing pain.) 

Then there is the cry throughout America that they need to raise the minimum wage. But no one is raising our wages. Why would anyone in their right mind have a job with the stress we have in health care when they could work in a factory or convenience store or a coffee shop and earn nearly as much? 

If you think we work where we do for the benefits, you are way off. Employer-supplied health care insurance carries some of the highest employee premiums in the country, with higher deductibles and co-pays. 

Our PTO benefits are maybe average, but because our clinics, hospitals, and nursing homes are so short-staffed, we can’t take time off when we want to. 

Health care professionals were already starting to feel burn-out. Then the pandemic hit. 

Now, not only were we working long hours with few breaks, we were working longer hours with fewer breaks, with fewer staff. AND we were wearing masks all day long, with additional PPE for any patient with any symptoms of COVID. 

When the COVID vaccine became available, they told us we had to get it. We no longer had any rights. If we didn’t get the vaccine, for any reason, some of us were forced to get tested weekly. At other health care facilities, we were shown the door. 

We got sick with COVID and were in quarantine, initially for two weeks, while our co-workers managed without us. By the time the CDC cut the quarantine time to five days, we had lost enough partners from the vaccine mandates, or because they had quit from the stress, or because they had died, that those five days felt like two months. 

So, if you call the clinic and no one answers, or you are on hold for 45 minutes. Or if you left a message at eight am and no one has called back at noon. Or if you need a refill on your pain pills because you took the last one this morning, and we tell you that it might not be until tomorrow that we can send it in for you. Or you can’t get an appointment with your regular provider today. Or you can’t get an appointment with a specialist for a month. Or your insurance no longer covers the prescription you have been on for six years. Or your insurance won’t pay for the CAT scan your doctor ordered. 

Or you walk down the hall and hear our staff laughing at a joke one of us just told, and the phone is ringing, and no one is answering it. 

We need to laugh whenever we can. Because otherwise, we would be crying. 

We care about you. We really do. That’s why we work in health care. We could quit and go work at the corner convenience store (and some of us do).  

We have families of our own who we want to spend quality time with. We have personal crises beyond living in fear of getting COVID or another potentially life-threatening illness. We worry about paying our bills. We worry about a lot. 

So cut us some slack. Think of someone besides yourself. Say “please” and “thank you” when you talk to us. Don’t call the clinic incessantly. Don’t present at our front desk demanding we answer the question which you already called on but that no one has gotten back to you about. And how about answering your phone when we finally call you back?

Oh, and if you haven't heard recently how my retirement is going, they've asked me to come back to work, since two of my co-workers have taken different jobs. I worked three days this week and have eight more scheduled for the month of September. 

I do it because I care.