Care

By Mickey Friedman
August 30, 2014

When I was a kid I hated the hospital. And in the throes of youthful fear, I wasn’t too crazy about doctors. Seems I was allergic to dust, dirt, grass, just about everything. And once a week I got a shot for each of my enemies.

My dentist once stuffed my mouth with those weird white cotton rolls, then took a fifteen minute phone call. When I needed braces, my broke parents sent me to the clinic at Columbia Presbyterian where my mouth taught a new generation of dental students.

I wasn’t too thrilled with my eye doctor either. I failed just about every test he gave me. I hated the cover-one-eye-and-tell-me-what-the-letter-is test. I especially hated the corrective lens test: Do you see better this way or that way? He always seemed like he wanted to be somewhere else, impatiently demanding, “How about now?”

Then the hearing test: “Tell me when you hear the buzz.” Sadly, my ears weren’t interested in the buzz.

I even hated the blood pressure test.

Life was hard enough without the added pressure. Put me in a doctor’s office – even in the waiting room – and my mind slipped into reverse. I could barely see and barely hear. It didn’t help that I had a botched tonsillectomy and started to hemorrhage on the way home. Or that my mom once bought a can of spoiled corn and the doctor, who thought we might have botulism, brought out the biggest needle in all the Bronx.

So I bring a certain wariness and suspicion to modern-day medicine.

But lately, it’s not just me. It seems the whole country is uneasy about healthcare. Shouting Obamacare this and Obamacare that. Gallup just came out with a poll that says 51 percent of Americans disapprove of the 2010 Affordable Care Act. Less than 40 percent believe the law will make healthcare better while 44 percent believe it will make things worse.

With all the shouting it’s hard to remember the “care” part of the equation. Because, really, isn’t “care” at the heart of “healthcare” and “medical care?”

Luckily for me, the early and exaggerated trauma of my youth has faded away in the face of all the incredible healthcare I’ve received here in The Best Small Town in America.

Like many of you, I’ve been to too many hospitals, and helped parents and friends treat illnesses both severe and terminal. But I’m not talking about crises right now, but my ordinary, run-of-the-mill medical experiences. Because in all the hub-bub about Obamacare it’s so very easy to forget about the caregivers. So I want to spend a little time talking about how fortunate I feel, and how grateful I am for the care I receive.

My family-without-a-family physician (is that even what you call a doctor anymore?) is Dr. Ed Weiner of Fairview Internal Medicine. I lucked into Dr. Weiner when Dr. Mazur left town. He and his staff and assistant Sue are together the best gift I’ve ever gotten. He’s steered me safely through pneumonias, high blood pressure, and high cholesterol. And when I was sick and Dr. Ed was out-of-town I saw his associate, Dr. Kimberly May, who was just as kind and competent. I’ve seen his office staff change over the years, but I’m always grateful for their patience and thoroughness and Dr. Weiner’s heightened sense of humor. Not only has he kept me alive, probably in spite of myself, but he turned me on to Andy Borowitz, who makes me laugh.

Thanks to my friend Patricia’s strong recommendation I found Dr. Joe Gold. I had avoided seeing an eye doctor for twenty years but his so very accessible manner, his evident concern and willingness to explain what he’s doing make things so very comfortable. It’s made a world of difference for me and I recently survived and passed a field of vision test. He’s made taking better care of my eyes comfortable. He’s a blessing.

I’ve recently had two sets of blood tests. Even at the ungodly hour of seven-thirty, the folks at the Fairview Hospital Admission Desk and Patient Registration are exceptionally nice. And the men and women with the needles always make it easy.

Oh, by the way, recent statistics show that eight million Americans once uninsured now have medical coverage. The states that have participated have put a dent in the numbers of uninsured. Arkansas’ uninsured went from 22.5 percent to 12.4 percent; Kentucky’s dropped from 20.4 percent to 11.9; while West Virginia made changes to Medicaid and its uninsured were reduced by 5.7 percent. But its neighbor, Virginia, refused to participate and experienced no improvement.

Dig deeper and you’ll find a racial divide. While a majority of whites disapprove of Obamacare, 78 percent of blacks support it. Fifty-seven percent of Hispanics approve of it. They know it’s great to be cared for.

And I know and appreciate how important care is.