Tag: Insurance

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Is It All In My Head?

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We are waiting to see if the medicine is working. These things take time. I hate watching, listening, and trying to detect the slightest changes in his voice, eating habits, or outlook. The interplay between life today and the unknown realities of death trying to emerge tomorrow lurks behind every conversation I have with my father, mother, wife, and children. Unspoken yet spoken, their reality is ours. Will the copay be reapproved on January 1st? Despite all this weirdness, did they enjoy our attempt to have a “normal” Christmas? Is this the right medicine, and will it work?

At this moment, all indications are that he feels better; for some reason, it feels awkward and unreal. Things seem to move at either a snail’s pace or at a rate that doesn’t seem reasonable to believe. Do I only have the perception that he feels better? Does he feel better because he’s started the medicine, or is the medication really doing what it should? He’s only been on the treatment for over a week, experienced little or no side effects (that he’s told me about), and admits his latest blood work slows the slightest of changes in the right direction. Since he’s been on the medicine, nothing has gotten worse, and a few of the numbers have improved by a tenth of a decimal point. That’s where we’re finding hope. If a number moves one way at the level of a tenth or hundredth of a decimal place, it’s answered prayer, a reason for hope. If the red blood cells go in the other direction, what is it, despair and apprehension at the impending immediacy of death’s inevitability?

Perspective is everything. If your prayers are being answered and your father’s healing doesn’t seem like a false start but the real deal, you will have a good perspective. So for the moment, I’m holding back on my perspective. I’m grateful for what I’ve got, but I need more results before I need to say anything more than that.

–Richard Bryant

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The Insurance Company Said “No”

The insurance company said they wouldn’t pay. In forty-eight hours, they gave an outright denial. How do you like them apples? A man is dying of cancer. A series of oncologists and hematologists at two hospitals decided on the proper medical treatment for this specific cancer and prescribed the appropriate medicine. It is an expensive medicine by any reasonable standard for those with and without insurance. The specialized pharmacy receives the request to prepare and ship the drug upon authorization from the insurance company that they’ll pay for the medicine. The insurance company says no. Who are these nameless people who’ve decided my father should die or receive a drug less effective than his doctors deem necessary? I want to meet them. Will you look me in the eye? Did you go to Sloane-Kettering for your residency? What do you know that his doctors, those who gave him a first and second opinion, do not know? Or is it solely a question of money? Paying out of pocket isn’t an option. Death, however, is always out there just beyond the horizon. There’s no copay for death. It may be easier on the pocketbook, but I’m told it’s emotionally draining and spiritually painful for the dying and those who love the dying. I guess this is my life now.

We appeal their decision. I say “yes” to life. Scripture asks, “death, where is your sting?” Paul, I can tell you. It’s in a rejection letter from Aetna.

The daily dance between life and death goes on.

–Richard Bryant

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Overwhelmed By Grace

How do I tell this story? It’s not about money, doctors, pharmacists, and insurance companies. Yes, they have their role to play. Even if you have decent health insurance and money in the bank, being diagnosed with cancer at the end of the calendar year is frightening. You know how some criminals are sentenced to two life sentences without the possibility of parole? Getting a cancer diagnosis in December is akin to receiving two death sentences at this same time.

This is because everything you’re required to pay out of pocket to begin your life-saving treatment in December, you’ll have to pay the exact amount again four weeks later in January. Although you’re only being treated in one month of 2022, you’re paying a copay (several thousand dollars) that is set for 12 months of treatment. You’ll pay that same exorbitant amount for the next 12 months in January. It’s the double whammy of double whammies. The following 11 months should be less of a financial burden. However, you’re starting with one heck of a hit. You and I know that poor people without financial means die every day when they shouldn’t. They could have accessed a life-saving treatment if they’d only had a few thousand dollars in the bank. What’s money when it comes to human life? Everything.

People will make hard moral and ethical choices to decide whether to buy food, find shelter, provide for their children, or pay for the medicine that might prolong their lives. We’ve created a world where these polarities exist and are far too comfortable living within them.

My dad can pay his copay for this year and next. Some people would use the word blessed. I prefer to say lucky. I like the old expression, “there but for the grace of God go I.” When I look around and see hardworking people struggling to make ends meet, struggling with life-threatening illnesses, and still getting knocked down each day, life seems random. Bad things shouldn’t be happening to these good people. They’re doing life right. They’re paying their taxes. They’ve raised kids who aren’t a drain on society. They’re in church, praying and helping their neighbors. Yet one wrong blood test, MRI, or CAT scan and their world can unwind in the blink of an eye. It’s not fair. Life ought to be fairer, but it’s not.

Yesterday, my father cried. In 48 years, I’ve never seen or heard the man choke up or cry. Someone from his church, simply out of brotherly love and God’s grace, came to him and gave him the money to pay the entirety of his copay for 2022, so he could immediately begin his treatment. His friend knows he could afford it, but he also knows that it’s not a gift my father (a man who would give anyone the shirt off his back) would give himself. My father had never received such a tangible display of God’s grace and love.

Grace makes you uncomfortable and overwhelmed. It will throw you for a loop. Words like “how” and “why” are the only thing you can say. You will believe that you are not worthy to receive it. Grace looks like a gardener, not a risen Savior. A man walking along the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus appears to be a random well-informed traveler, not the risen Lord. Your first reaction to Grace is disorientation and disbelief. Grace is a big deal. It is unmerited, and it just shows up. Thank you for sending it. It’s my job, your job, to pass it on. Spread the awkward, uncomfortable, overwhelming Good News of the Gospel of God’s Grace. Life may not be fair but grace, by God, is.

–Richard Bryant

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