Old Sounds

For Sale

A woman sat down directly across from me on a Manhattan-bound 4 train. It was 10:30 or 11 a.m., the slow comedown from morning rush hour, and our car had only two dozen or so people inside. The woman was quiet for a few moments, then pulled something long and skinny from her fanny pack. It looked like one of those plastic tubes they sometimes use to package a single cigar, only this one was red and opaque instead of clear. She started her sales pitch. “Who wants to buy a dildo for $25?” she said. Then again, with more gusto: “Who wants to buy a dildo for $25? It’s easy to use. I’ll show you. You just put it between your legs and it feels good.” The precise nature of her facial expression was difficult to read behind a pair of large sunglasses, but clear enough to understand that she was enjoying herself. So was everyone else, looking up from books and smartphone screens, exchanging glances. She turned it on and it vibrated. “Can you hear it?” she asked. “Can you feel it? Who wants to buy a dildo for $25? It’s dildo season!” She slipped the prize back into her pack after not much more than a minute, calling out “going once, going twice,” then resuming her earlier charade as an ordinary passenger. At Fulton Street, many more people boarded the train, and the spell ended. I couldn’t help but feel sad for these interlopers, so confident in their suits and stretchy workout gear, who would never understand what we did: that the woman in the green sweatshirt had a dildo for sale, and it could be theirs if they wanted it.

About a month ago, I was hospitalized twice within two weeks. First, I contracted appendicitis, which required immediate surgery; second, a semi-related condition called an intestinal obstruction, for which my doctors monitored me for five days before electing not to operate. I’m fine. These conditions and their treatments were dismaying and uncomfortable—multiple plastic tubes shoved into multiple orifices where they don’t belong, draining my body of multiple fluids into multiple plastic containers by my bedside—but compared to the heart attacks and non-Hodgkin’s lymphomas of the world, they are essentially negligible.

Yesterday, I got my first big medical bill, for a little more than $3,000. On top of that, my doctor has recommended several followup procedures to help diagnose any underlying chronic conditions that may have contributed to the obstruction. I’ve had one of these already, have another two later this month, and can reasonably expect to receive at least one more similarly sized bill when they are done. I’m not exactly sure what happens next if they do find something (Crohn’s disease is most likely), but I can’t imagine it doesn’t involve more bills.

I’m posting about my recent health saga not so much because it sucks and I want to complain—though that’s part of it—but to make the (perhaps obvious) point that it isn’t nearly as bad as it could be. I’m lucky enough to work full-time as a journalist, which pays me well enough that I may make it out with some portion of my savings intact. I have parents who are reasonably well off, who care about me and may be able to chip in. Most importantly, I have decent insurance. The total of yesterday’s bill, before Aetna’s share, was $78,000.

Appendicitis strikes at random and is easily fixable. In the richest country in the world, treating it should be a matter of routine. For an uninsured gig economy worker, or a single mother with a high deductible, it could be utterly devastating. Illness has been difficult for me, and as relatively young upper-middle-class white guy with a job and benefits, I am one of the people in this country who is statistically best equipped to handle it. There are so many Americans whose conditions are more serious than mine, or whose safety nets are less substantial, or both.

I’m not an expert and I’m not going to pretend to know how to fix our incredibly fucked-up system. I do believe that single-payer is the most sensible and humane option, and that any politician who isn’t actively working toward affordable coverage for every American is craven at best and evil at worst. We need healthcare for all.