Case Files of the Uninsured

It's been a surreal few days. A week ago I was in Atlanta, having lofty conversation about lofty things, and getting fed little goat cheese and roasted tomato sandwiches. 4 days later, I was in the Caribbean House Health Center in Brooklyn, soon to be en route to the ER. What happened, I hear you asking? Here is a break down. (And no, I'm not allergic to art history, Atlanta, or southern hospitality. Although people saying "hi" to me on the street did sort of freak me out. I'm such a Brooklynite.)

Anyway.
--I have been having some breathing problems since...Thanksgiving...but only when I'm in NYC. It feels like chest constrictions and my heart rate speeds up. The past few weeks this has been coupled with some sinus pressure in my head and throat. Tuesday night it suddenly got the worst it's ever been, while I was walking home from the museum, so I decided to finally do something about it.
--Wednesday morning, I went to the CHHC, which I picked because I don't have health insurance, it is about 3 subway stops away, and offers a sliding scale for treatment. Wednesday was also the start of "the blizzard" so there was no school, and a lot of places were closed (pharmacies, for one, I later found out.)
--so, the CHHC. It was clean, felt safe, and the people were friendly. Not much foot traffic, because of the snow, and only one doctor made it in, but I got seen fairly quickly. They deduced that I was not having a heart attack (and I had my first EKG! Wooo!) but decided I should go to the ER, as they didn't have x-rays. I said ok, but refused an ambulance, as the hospital was only 5 blocks away. I paid $40 the visit and went on my way through the snow.
--To my knowledge, I have never been to the ER before this week. So this is actually pretty exciting, I guess.
--And I can tell you all that the Kings County Hospital ER is surprisingly nice, too. This might be because there is a separate psychiatric ER, but I got into triage within 5 minutes, had to wait another 45 minutes (which I'm assuming is not terrible for an ER) and then got called back. Granted, the room I was placed into was effectively the storage closet for all the crutches and cast-supplies. But my physician's assistant was good, thorough, and my cousin came (giving up her snow day!! Sorry Melis, I owe you BIG) so I wasn't by myself. Which was really good. Because by that point in the day, I just wanted to go to Jamestown and have my parents take care of me.
--The verdict? My EKG (second of the day! my skin still hurts from having the electrodes ripped off) was normal, as was my thyroid test, chest x-rays, and my heart rate was normal-ish. They asked a lot of questions about my stress level, which I suppose could be influencing this, although it doesn't seem very likely to me. They deduced that it could be an untreated sinus infection, which is causing the head pressure, clogging my throat, and causing my heart to work a little faster. So I got hooked up with some antibiotics and a prescription for prescription level sudafed ("take it or sell it" said the p.a.)
--When we got outside it was still snowing, snowing, snowing. And people on the street were hilarious about it. Everyone was excited like they were little kids, it was great.
--I spent yesterday in bed (well, on the couch, really), surly because I was missing a Kiki Smith show, sore from getting poked with needles, and bored. Although I did watch 5 episodes of The Wire, so that was pretty excellent. And I could stare out the window at the snow removal, and feel like I was in Rear Window (minus a lobster dinner.)

Now, some analysis about the experience:
--I was the only white person at the CHHC, which includes the doctor and nurses.
--I was the only white person at the ER, not including the doctors and some of the nurses. Both my physician and physicians assistant were white. The physician also looked a LOT like my pediatrician, which as mom can attest to, means that he looked like a gnome. Or leprechaun.
--My cousin pointed this out, and the thought had occurred to me as well--the treatment and attentiveness I was shown could very well have been because I was white. And lucid and washed. For example, I said that I wasn't pregnant, and they took my word for it (granted I did get asked about 900 times). If I were 18 and African American? Might have been a different story.
--Being uninsured is a scary thing. I can testify to the fact that the health care system in this country is very, very broken, although I'm not sure how best to fix it. I do know that there is a serious race inequality about it, and a serious class inequality.
--I didn't see any gun shot wounds (thank goodness) as it was mostly older people, with a few younger, mostly male patients with broken bones. I think some of it was probably hypothermia too, from people who didn't have heat, or didn't have a home. The most heartbreaking scene was at the clinic. The only people ahead of me were a mother and her daughter, who was about 16 or 17. I think she was probably getting tested for pregnancy, as she went into the laboratory with a urine sample, and a few minutes later screamed. Not a happy, "I'm having a baby" scream, but one of anguish, one of "something terrible has happened, and I don't know what to do." A scream that made me want to put my arms around her and say that all would be well, although she is a child herself. And I couldn't promise her that all will be well.

It was quite the day. I am lucky to have had health insurance for so long, and to be (normally!) so healthy. It makes you think. It also makes grad school seem startlingly irrelevant.