I’m getting some medical treatments at Stanford. I have to go in every day during the week for seven weeks. As of today, I’m halfway through. For me, that mid-point benchmark is like the winter solstice: psychologically, my days will get brighter from here on.
It’s true, I have to admit, that I’m not as young as I think I am, as I feel. But both my grandfathers lived to be almost a hundred, so I think I have some miles left, with, as Bruce Springsteen says, “a little touch-up and a little paint.”
Meg and I live in Carmel now, too far for a daily commute to Palo Alto, so some very kind and generous friends loaned us their guest house for the two months. We brought our bikes, and I bike every day to and from the hospital. I wear a garish orange jacket that cars can easily see, and that I feel the need to explain to the wonderful hospital staff is not a fashion choice.
There’s something about biking that makes my soul take flight. The effortless freedom of gliding along in the sunshine and fresh air. It’s my decompressor, both going and coming. I’m so grateful for it.
Which, since it’s almost Thanksgiving, brings me to the many other things for which I am profoundly grateful. For Meg, most of all, my lover and my guide through good times and bad. For my children, who are as attentive and loving as any parent could hope, in good times and bad. For our friends, like the ones in whose house I am writing this.
Last, but certainly not least, I am grateful for the chance to keep living with vigor and purpose. Both Stanford hospital and I have deep wells of support buoying us. A first-class medical center has first-class doctors and equipment. I’m getting the best of that. I have Medicare. Based on past experience, I don’t think this amazing treatment is going to cost me anything.
I feel a little guilty about that. So many people in our country don’t have that advantage. Medicare is only for old folks. Medicaid, which is for poor folks, isn’t available to everyone. And in the middle, private insurance can be hit and miss. If a first-rate medical center isn’t in you health insurance network, you’re going to have to accept second best…or third, or worse.
The way we handle health care in our country is inequitable and dumb. Many states have refused to expand Medicaid to cover more of their poorer citizens, even though the federal government pays over ninety percent of the cost. It’s hard to conclude they are acting out of any motive other than ill will toward the people who are on the lowest rung of the socioeconomic ladder. And it’s stupid, from a purely fiscal standpoint, because we have shown over and over that prevention is much cheaper than treatment after health problems become chronic or acute.
So, not only do I get first-class medical care for free, just because I’m old, but I get to ride my bike to it in my ugly orange jacket, and feel the sun on my face, and the freedom of gliding effortlessly along the road of life that has been smoothed out for me by the lawmakers of decades ago who gave us Medicare. Forward thinking men and women who, sadly, did not fully succeed in passing along to their successors their common sense and compassion.
We can do better. We need to keep trying.
