The Cost of Healthcare and the Value of Human Lives

What matters more? A human life, or money?

When it comes to treating injuries and diseases, the last thing we should have to worry about is how much it costs. | Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash

The arguments I hear against universal healthcare in America usually boil down to cost.

Sometimes I hear some statement about the U.S. government being too fucked up to do a decent job of it, which is a much more understandable concern.

But primarily, what I hear is some commentary about taxation, cost, paying your own way, independence, ra ra, socialism evil, so on and so forth.

We could have that argument.

We could discuss the cost of insurance premiums, of wasted time going through the motions of getting treatments approved and fighting denials, the wasted money put towards failing alternative treatments before the correct ones will be granted, and the scam of co-pays and in-network hospital care.

We could talk about what awaits people who can’t work, or don’t have insurance.

We could do that. But I don’t want to. Other people have made those arguments before, much more effectively than I could with my total inability to do the math. Numbers hate me, and I hate them right back.

Rather, I want to talk about something more pointed. You might be worried about the cost of universal healthcare, but I’m worried about the value of a human life.

Numbers in a bank account, or a living human being.

What matters more to us?

I am not so much concerned about the numerical cost — hell, I’ve had Americans demand to know how much I pay in taxes, and even though I could easily hand them a list of the percentages paid out in every province of Canada, I don’t bother.

Because frankly, I do not care.

What matters to me is not the cost. It’s the outcome. It’s the fact that when I was a little girl and part of my digestive tract became impacted and required emergency medical care to prevent rupture, I got it.

My family was very poor at the time. We lived on the rough side of town, way out in the sticks, and if my mother had to consider for even a moment whether she could afford to take me to the hospital, I probably would not have survived.

My symptoms were mild at first. If cost were a concern, she might have tried to treat them at home and wait. By the time it got bad enough to override her financial worries, it might have been too late.

When my mother accidentally injected herself with double the amount of insulin she needed, we thought nothing of calling an ambulance and going to the hospital. Her life mattered more than the $150 we spent on the ambulance ride, and the hospital didn’t charge a cent for the emergency care and monitoring.

When I injured myself at college and had some nerve damage in my arm, I went to the emergency room without stopping to think; what was there to think about? The worst that might happen was waiting hours to be seen, and I had a novel in my purse to pass the time.

I was seen, I was examined, they diagnosed me and set me up with everything I needed to heal.

No charge.

If I get cancer, I won’t pay a cent. I’ll just have to figure out the logistics of working while getting treatment. If I break a leg in six places, I’ll get surgery without needing to worry about my budget.

I don’t need to fight with insurance. I don’t need to ask whether a hospital is ‘in network’ for it to be covered.

I could be on the other side of the country and walk into any hospital for a sudden illness and get exactly the same care for exactly the same cost, no surprise bills in the mail.

I will never have to go into debt to afford medical care.

Contrast that to the United States, where medical debt is a massive financial burden on the population. Imagine how much of an economic miracle it would be if all of those people suddenly had those debts erased.

Imagine if you didn’t have to choose between rent and chemotherapy. If, say, you chopped a few fingers off with a chainsaw, you’d never have to choose which one to keep based on the cost of having them reattached.

The only consideration would be whether the fingers could be recovered and attached properly.

Imagine the peace of mind that comes with knowing you won’t have to pay hundreds of dollars if you guess wrong, and that chest pain isn’t a heart attack.

That’s a scenario I actually witnessed, as I saw my American husband refuse to go to the hospital, gambling with his life that it was just muscle pain and not a serious emergency because he could not afford a bill.

Luckily it wasn’t his heart. I’m so fucking grateful, because I don’t know what I’d do without him.

I, as a Canadian, will never be in that position. I will never be rendered into poverty because of my health. It will never be a reason I could go into debt.

How much more do I pay in taxes for my healthcare? I don’t care.

Because the result is so valuable that it doesn’t even matter.

Solidarity wins.

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