How much does my life cost? A tale of US cancer care
The American healthcare system slaps a price tag on life, and I know how much mine costs. A doctor’s voice on the phone last November saying, “I’m sorry,” ended a life-long streak of health so rude it was a family joke. Diagnosis: breast cancer. I was 41.
The next nine months brought more mammograms, more biopsies, an MRI, a lumpectomy, six weeks of radiation, eight rounds of chemotherapy and God knows how many blood draws. Today my body appears free of disease. Survival allows me the luxury of reckoning the cost — philosophically, of course, but also in very real dollars and cents.
Medical issues are the leading cause of personal bankruptcy in the US. Fortunately, that does not apply to me. A decade ago I was uninsured for several years, but when the lightning bolt hit, I had a full-time job with solid health insurance. The Financial Times granted me paid medical leave, and I was treated by skilled, caring professionals at one of the teaching hospitals in Chicago’s Northwestern Medicine system. So far I have paid little out of pocket.
This story originally appeared on: Financial Times - Author:Claire Bushey
