Rationing of Health Care

Suddenly, rationing of health care has become real to Americans because of the COVID-19 epidemic.  I want to cry.  I also feel the urge to laugh, hysterically.

Rationing has always been real to some Americans.  It’s the American way:

For the uninsured part-time worker who puts off going to the doctor because the sign in reception says, “fee is payable at the time of visit.”

For the full-time worker with or without insurance who cannot take time off for fear of losing their low-wage job.

For the Medicaid or Medicare beneficiary who cannot find a provider in their community who will accept public insurance.

For the single parent who sets aside their own health needs and instead puts every resource, however meager, into keeping their children healthy.

For the underinsured with high co-pays and/or deductibles who must choose between health care and rent or food.

For the folks living in the rural areas chronically underserved by the health care system.

For the impoverished who lack transportation to doctor appointments.

For those living so distant from a health care facility that seeking care, even in an emergency, is impractical or impossible.

For those navigating poverty who accepted illness without medical intervention before and bravely hope that their family member will be lucky again this time.

For anyone who is uninsured and therefore faces the highest prices, because it takes insurance to benefit from negotiated discounts.

For someone simply denied access to care because they lack proof of insurance or ability to pay.

I could go on … and on.

Rationing, which has always been real to some Americans, is now becoming real to all Americans, even privileged Americans.  Privilege includes those who have never experienced rationing American-style, but also those who have never understood that others experience it.  Every day, every year.