Why You Don't Want Socialized Medicine

Lately, my knee's been acting up, so I thought I would share the story of my knee injury.

In August of 2006, my children and I drove to Oklahoma, from D.C., to see my dad before he was to undergo surgery the next week. Anyway, come Friday, we were ready to head back home. I got up at 4 to leave. Since I didn't want to wake up the boys, I carried the two little ones downstairs. Xavier was first. I wrapped him up in his blanket and proceeded down the stairs. I was wearing a pair of wide leg pants that fall somewhere below my feet. So, I made sure to roll them up first. Too bad I didn't make sure Xavier's blanket wouldn't fall. I tripped on it on the 2nd step. I then proceeded to stay upright from the 2nd step from the top to the 3th step from the bottom. How did I do that? By bouncing down the stairs on my feet. Then, I lost it and fell forward, dropping Xavier. I screamed because I dropped Xavier, then landed on top of him. That scared the bejeezes out of me. I thought I had killed him for sure. Of course, the only injury he had was a bruise on his cheek, where I had hit him with some part of my body.

I, on the other hand, felt like I had been through the ringer. Not only did I have bruises from the fall, but I also had impact injuries from hitting several steps with my heels on the way down. At this point, most sane people would have put their child back to bed and gone to the hospital. But, apparently, my brain doesn't work at 4 in the morning. Instead, it was saying, "You're already up, you might as well get on the road. After all, you don't want to delay your trip. The boys need to start school next week."

So, I brought Dominic downstairs, got an icepack, took some Motrin, and got on the road. An hour later, I was on the phone to Gary, crying. Did I do the intelligent thing and turn around? Ah, what do you think? Of course I didn't. I kept driving. I wanted to get home. I remember stopping at a gas station and getting out of the car. I thought I was going to pass out from the pain.

Finally, I stopped in Louisville for the night. I knew I needed to go to the hospital, but I was stubborn. However, I knew there was no way I was going to be able to force myself to drive the next day. So, Gary flew in to take me to the hospital and drive us home. Just driving to the airport the next morning was torture. Getting in and out of the car nearly broke me. But, like I said, I'm stubborn. Gary dropped me off at the ER. Now, I need to tell you what our family looked like. Gary had been at some course where he was doing some shooting. A few days earlier, a hot shell casing had burned his cheek and he looked like he'd been in a fight. Xavier had a bruise on his jaw from some part of my body. Dominic looked like he'd been in a car wreck. His new favorite activity was running, bent over, while pushing a car on the driveway. He had fallen repeatedly and scraped his face. I had bruises all over me and could barely walk. Gabriel did not have a hair out of place. He was definitely the winner in the fight.

At the hospital, they did many, many x-rays. It was finally determined that I'd badly sprained my right knee. I had also sprained and bruised my left knee, both ankles (remember the bouncing down the stairs?), both elbows, and my right wrist. I had bruised ribs and my entire body hurt. They stuck me in an immobilizer, gave me some good drugs, and told me to follow up with my primary care physician. Fine, I could handle that. Gary picked me up and took me back to a hotel that had been chosen for the simple fact that it was close to the ER. It had the added benefit of being a wonderful hotel and we were staying in room 626. The children were thrilled to be staying in "Stitch's" room.

When we got back to D.C., I immediately began calling to schedule an appointment with my primary care manager. They didn't have any appointments available. I called every day for weeks, until I started having severe pain in my left hip. It was waking me up through the wonderful drugs that had given me. Thinking I had injured it without knowing it, we went back to the ER. Turns out, the immobilizer had given me bursitis in my other hip. Geez. The ER doc told me to "Follow up with my PCM." I just laughed at him. He then gave me Percacet. It is very nice to find out that you're allergic to medication. It could just save your life some day. Note: Never give me Perccset. Okay?

We moved to Kentucky nine months after I fell down the stairs. I had been attempting to get an appointment with my primary care manager for 9 months. I know I needed physical therapy. After all, you can't be in an immobilizer for 3 months without needing physical therapy. Plus, I was never told when I could take it off. I just did. After all, I wasn't going to go to the ER just to ask if I could remove my immobilizer.

Last summer, I did my own version of PT, and my knee improved drastically. After a year, I was able to walk without pain. Of course, I have re-injured it now. But, this time, I have a primary care manager that I can actually see. Why? Because I'm not using military health care this time. I have a civilian primary care manager. I fully expect my knee to be taken care of in record time.

You see, there were not enough military doctors to accommodate the case load in D.C. There is a huge military population there. We could not even get Xavier seen for his asthma. We moved here after he had been transported to the ER in an ambulance twice with asthma attacks, but 5 months later, he still hadn't been seen by anyone in the allergy department.

You don't want socialized medicine. You may think that having Uncle Sam paying your medical costs is a good thing. But, when you can't get care, you'll rethink that. Why do you think people in Great Britain are having "health" holidays to other countries to get surgeries? They can't get them in Great Britain. The waiting list for things is terrible. And that's if you can get approved for the procedure. Right now, we have amazing doctors and health care in this country. Do you really think that will continue when the doctors aren't getting paid and you have to wait for years to be approved for a procedure? Stop dreaming.