My Co-Pay is Paying for Your Watch

When I was about 6 years old, my dad asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told him I wanted to be either a doctor – a dentist, specifically, or a lawyer. When my dad asked me why, I told him, it was because I wanted to make a lot of money.

20 some odd years later, I am neither a lawyer (too much reading) nor a doctor (I don’t look good in white). I do still love money, but I digress…

When I was first admitted to the hospital and I met my neurosurgeon the first thing my dad asked when the doctor left the curtained area I was sequestered to at the time was, “Did you get a load of that guy’s watch?” To which I responded, “No, Dad, I am blind, remember?” To which my dad responded, “Well, it was so huge and shiny, I thought maybe you would be able to see it.” Touché.

On August 13, 2009 I went to a follow up appointment with my neurosurgeon – let’s call him Dr. Brain Surgeon. I spent a good 20 minutes in the waiting room before they called me back to the examination room. When Dr. Brain Surgeon came into the room the first thing I noticed was the gold watch with little shiny diamonds.

Dr. Brain Surgeon spent about 15 minutes with me. He checked my scars – looks good. He made me follow his fingers without moving my head – looks good. He asked how I was doing – looks good. He was on his computer a lot. I can only assume updating his Facebook status to something like, “Dr. Brain Surgeon is thinking steak for lunch.” Or maybe “Dr. Brain Surgeon wishes he was on the golf course this morning.” Though I am sure he was writing notes about me that could be used as Facebook statuses: “Amy Ruud is presenting signs of improvement.” Or maybe “Amy Ruud was stitched up nice and good by an awesome Dr. Brain Surgeon and will have minimal scarring.”

I asked Dr. Brain Surgeon a few questions about the shunt – what is it made out of? Will it move? If I lose weight will it jut out of my side? These are the things I worry about. He answered my questions: It is made out some sort of medical rubber. Not, it should not move. No, it will not jut out – even if I lose so much weight you can see my ribs. He then shook my hand, said, “See you in 6 months,” and he and his ridiculously expensive watch left the room.

In a few days I will get an Explanation of Benefits from Blue Cross explaining how much my 20 minutes of waiting and 15 minutes of talk time will have cost my insurance company and what my co-pay is. One of these days I will add up how much this whole ordeal has cost. I can tell you that it is well over $50,000. No joke. Thanks to some amazing insurance, I have paid out, probably about a grand. But that grand and the money Blue Cross has paid out is paying for that shiny gold watch. And suddenly I am thinking my 6 year old self may have been right – I should have been a doctor… or at least a lawyer.

(August 13, 2009)