One of the strangest parts of my job is being the volunteer coordinator. I always feel really young when doctors/nurses/interpreters/whoever call the clinic for information and talk to me...it's like I'm a fake grown-up or something.
Good Samaritan Clinic is run entirely by volunteers. It's something I love, but at times is an extra challenge. After all, volunteers often have a different level of commitment than paid employees do. Plus, everyone has their reasons for volunteering, which affect their attitudes and actions at the clinic.
As a general rule, my volunteers are awesome. They recognize that they have time and talents which can be used for a greater good, and it's obvious that they're enjoying themselves when they're at Good Samaritan. But there are a few people that are more difficult to deal with. They may only come when they feel like it, completely disregarding the schedule that takes me forever to make. They may be super demanding of the clinical coordinator's time and my time, always expecting us to dote on them and essentially kiss the ground they walk on. They may be there to alleviate some sort of guilt they have, serving only to make themselves feel better and then talking about it constantly. They may have very poorly informed opinions that they like to share, regularly inserting words that are inappropriate for a professional medical setting (see also: misusing the words 'gay' and 'retarded'...do you know how awkward it is to tell someone your parents' age that their language is inappropriate?!)
I have been a volunteer with numerous organizations. I've also sat through a million reflections on why it's important to serve and whatnot. But being on the other end has given me a lot of new perspective.
There are some people that just want to feel needed. I have to essentially entertain them, even if it means wasting my time to come up with petty tasks for them to do. It's hard to swallow sometimes because I really just want to tell them that their 4 hours per month is helpful but is not actually that important in the big picture. But at the same time, I respect the fact that they're trying to do something for a greater good than just themselves.
I wish I could tell everyone to be patient and flexible. After all, those are probably the two most necessary qualities of people working at small non-profits, despite the fact they're so rare...
I can't help but wonder how many volunteer coordinators have gotten frustrated with me in the past...I just hope thinking about this makes me a better volunteer in the future at places where I'm not a coordinator.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Mi tocaya
"Tocayo/a" in Spanish means "namesake." In some places, it is used generally to describe people with the same first names.
On Monday, I met a patient named Karla. She is 19 years old, undocumented from Mexico, has two small children, and is suffering from genital herpes and depression.
I have talked to Karla several times on the phone since probably late November or early December. She is a super sweet girl and I could totally imagine us being friends.
There are actually many women named Carla or Karla at my clinic, and also several named Lucia (my middle name). But there was something about my interaction with this particular Karla that struck me. Maybe it was the way she asked if I have children, or about what I'm doing this year, or about what I'll do after I leave Savannah. Perhaps it was our closeness in age, our similar builds, and our almost identical names.
Sometimes, the amount of privilege I have just overwhelms me when I'm at work. I get embarrassed of having a college education and of getting ready for graduate school. I'm ashamed to say how many places I've visited. I have all the freedoms in the world: I'm young, single, and a U.S. citizen. When I talk to people like Karla, I can't help but wonder how I seem to have drawn all the good cards.
On Monday, I met a patient named Karla. She is 19 years old, undocumented from Mexico, has two small children, and is suffering from genital herpes and depression.
I have talked to Karla several times on the phone since probably late November or early December. She is a super sweet girl and I could totally imagine us being friends.
There are actually many women named Carla or Karla at my clinic, and also several named Lucia (my middle name). But there was something about my interaction with this particular Karla that struck me. Maybe it was the way she asked if I have children, or about what I'm doing this year, or about what I'll do after I leave Savannah. Perhaps it was our closeness in age, our similar builds, and our almost identical names.
Sometimes, the amount of privilege I have just overwhelms me when I'm at work. I get embarrassed of having a college education and of getting ready for graduate school. I'm ashamed to say how many places I've visited. I have all the freedoms in the world: I'm young, single, and a U.S. citizen. When I talk to people like Karla, I can't help but wonder how I seem to have drawn all the good cards.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
El domingo de "Pro-Vida"
Disclaimer: This is going to be a rant.
Today is "Pro-Life" Sunday. Our regular priest was sick, so a priest from the Cathedral came and celebrated the Eucharist. He spoke terrible Spanish, so he said his homily in English and it was translated into Spanish. I tend to dislike listening to things through an interpreter because it means listening to the exact same thing twice and I'm not that patient. But the homily was perhaps the most painful 20 minutes of my life.
First, the priest started by saying that his Spanish was equivalent to most of the congregation's English. I understand what he was trying to say, but many of the parishioners actually speak very good English, and since he didn't know anyone there, I thought it was extremely rude of him to assume that everyone only spoke Spanish.
The flow of the homily was also terrible because he paused every 2-3 words for the interpreter. The key to using an interpreter is breaking what you say up into meaningful phrases because it's impossible to just translate things word for word. So the interpreter, who was incredibly patient, had to back-track to make sure what she was saying made sense.
But my biggest problem with the homily was that all the priest basically said was that abortion was bad. He started by explaining that Pro-Life Sunday was mostly about abortion in the U.S. because abortion is legal here "in our country." Clearly he was not aware of his audience...the vast majority of the parishioners refer to their country of birth as "their country." And as a whole, Hispanic Catholics are super conservative with life issues and would rather bring 10 kids into the world, even if they can't support them, than abort a pregnancy.
The reason that I got so angry during Mass was that I can't understand how people can view "Pro-Life" to mean "pro-fetus." I hate that abortions happen, but making it illegal isn't the answer.
Here's my own Pro-Life homily:
We live in the wealthiest country in the history of the world. As a society, we spent billions of dollars a year on cosmetic surgery, big screen TVs, cell phones that can do everything for us, and the most luxurious cars possible. And we spend trillions of dollars making weapons each year to kill people who we see as "other."
As Christians, we believe that Jesus is the model for peace and love in our world. As such, we have a duty to follow him and try to make the earth a better place.
Jesus was "Pro-Life". But this doesn't just mean that he would condemn abortions. Instead, it means giving respect to all living beings and thus working to create a society that promotes universal dignity.
A Pro-Life society would support women who are pregnant and new parents in whatever way they needed: economically, psychologically, or spiritually. It would make sure that all people had enough nutritious foods to eat and had access to clean drinking water. It would educate children well, regardless of the socio-economic status of their parents. It would provide adequate health care for all. It would protect the rights and fair wages of workers. It would ensure that racist, sexist, homophobic, and xenophobic practices would not exist. And it would protect the quality of life until its very end, understanding that although life is sacred, it does not need to be artificially extended forever.
Life is the greatest gift that any of us have ever received. When you begin to think about how many things could have gone wrong from the time we were conceived to the time we turned 2 years old, it is clear that we are absolute miracles.
As Jesus (and/or Spiderman) reminds us, to those whom much is given, much is expected. We are not only living, but living in a society that has so much potential. If only we could harness that to make our world a better place, instead of selfishly seeking our own personal advancement.
Today is "Pro-Life" Sunday. Our regular priest was sick, so a priest from the Cathedral came and celebrated the Eucharist. He spoke terrible Spanish, so he said his homily in English and it was translated into Spanish. I tend to dislike listening to things through an interpreter because it means listening to the exact same thing twice and I'm not that patient. But the homily was perhaps the most painful 20 minutes of my life.
First, the priest started by saying that his Spanish was equivalent to most of the congregation's English. I understand what he was trying to say, but many of the parishioners actually speak very good English, and since he didn't know anyone there, I thought it was extremely rude of him to assume that everyone only spoke Spanish.
The flow of the homily was also terrible because he paused every 2-3 words for the interpreter. The key to using an interpreter is breaking what you say up into meaningful phrases because it's impossible to just translate things word for word. So the interpreter, who was incredibly patient, had to back-track to make sure what she was saying made sense.
But my biggest problem with the homily was that all the priest basically said was that abortion was bad. He started by explaining that Pro-Life Sunday was mostly about abortion in the U.S. because abortion is legal here "in our country." Clearly he was not aware of his audience...the vast majority of the parishioners refer to their country of birth as "their country." And as a whole, Hispanic Catholics are super conservative with life issues and would rather bring 10 kids into the world, even if they can't support them, than abort a pregnancy.
The reason that I got so angry during Mass was that I can't understand how people can view "Pro-Life" to mean "pro-fetus." I hate that abortions happen, but making it illegal isn't the answer.
Here's my own Pro-Life homily:
We live in the wealthiest country in the history of the world. As a society, we spent billions of dollars a year on cosmetic surgery, big screen TVs, cell phones that can do everything for us, and the most luxurious cars possible. And we spend trillions of dollars making weapons each year to kill people who we see as "other."
As Christians, we believe that Jesus is the model for peace and love in our world. As such, we have a duty to follow him and try to make the earth a better place.
Jesus was "Pro-Life". But this doesn't just mean that he would condemn abortions. Instead, it means giving respect to all living beings and thus working to create a society that promotes universal dignity.
A Pro-Life society would support women who are pregnant and new parents in whatever way they needed: economically, psychologically, or spiritually. It would make sure that all people had enough nutritious foods to eat and had access to clean drinking water. It would educate children well, regardless of the socio-economic status of their parents. It would provide adequate health care for all. It would protect the rights and fair wages of workers. It would ensure that racist, sexist, homophobic, and xenophobic practices would not exist. And it would protect the quality of life until its very end, understanding that although life is sacred, it does not need to be artificially extended forever.
Life is the greatest gift that any of us have ever received. When you begin to think about how many things could have gone wrong from the time we were conceived to the time we turned 2 years old, it is clear that we are absolute miracles.
As Jesus (and/or Spiderman) reminds us, to those whom much is given, much is expected. We are not only living, but living in a society that has so much potential. If only we could harness that to make our world a better place, instead of selfishly seeking our own personal advancement.
Una advertencia
I'm approximately at the half-way point of my year in Mercy Volunteer Corps, and I think the most important lesson of my experience is just starting to sink in.
I am extremely independent and I really like having control. In college, this meant that I could do what I wanted to do: get good grades, raise money and awareness for the things I care about, spend time with friends, whatever.
But this year, I have to put my inclination to control aside. After all, I'm only at Good Samaritan Clinic for year. So while I can give my all to my patients and my work in general, it is not my role to control the clinic's future. Besides, in six more months, I'll be moving on and will just be a speck in the clinic's memory.
This is not easy. Right now, I feel anxious and stressed about some things going on at the clinic at the administrative level that I don't agree with. And I have the type of personality that wants to fix things instead of leaving them at the mercy of others.
So, a warning to others who are leaning towards doing a year or two of service after graduation: you aren't going to change the world, or even the organization that you serve. But there's a type of liberation in understanding that. For me at least, it frees me to give all I can to the people I serve without having to come up with the answer to fix a small non-profit.
I am extremely independent and I really like having control. In college, this meant that I could do what I wanted to do: get good grades, raise money and awareness for the things I care about, spend time with friends, whatever.
But this year, I have to put my inclination to control aside. After all, I'm only at Good Samaritan Clinic for year. So while I can give my all to my patients and my work in general, it is not my role to control the clinic's future. Besides, in six more months, I'll be moving on and will just be a speck in the clinic's memory.
This is not easy. Right now, I feel anxious and stressed about some things going on at the clinic at the administrative level that I don't agree with. And I have the type of personality that wants to fix things instead of leaving them at the mercy of others.
So, a warning to others who are leaning towards doing a year or two of service after graduation: you aren't going to change the world, or even the organization that you serve. But there's a type of liberation in understanding that. For me at least, it frees me to give all I can to the people I serve without having to come up with the answer to fix a small non-profit.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tengo un sueño
Okay, so I'm a little late for MLK Day. But I've been thinking a lot about what my dream for the future is, idealistic as it may sound:
I have a dream that one day every person will understand how inextricably bound he or she is to everyone else who ever has or ever will walk this earth. On that day, no one will see problems as "women's issues" or "men's issues", as "black issues" or "white issues", as "Hispanic issues" or "Asian issues." Instead, everyone will recognize injustices for what they are and stand up to change them. And then no one will be left out of society any longer. No individual will go to bed hungry, or without having accessed necessarily medical treatment, or without having a safe place to sleep. No one will be made to feel like they are unimportant, whether it's by neighbors, school boards, government officials, or church officials. Everyone will only see each other as lovable, and themselves as loved.
I have a dream that one day every person will understand how inextricably bound he or she is to everyone else who ever has or ever will walk this earth. On that day, no one will see problems as "women's issues" or "men's issues", as "black issues" or "white issues", as "Hispanic issues" or "Asian issues." Instead, everyone will recognize injustices for what they are and stand up to change them. And then no one will be left out of society any longer. No individual will go to bed hungry, or without having accessed necessarily medical treatment, or without having a safe place to sleep. No one will be made to feel like they are unimportant, whether it's by neighbors, school boards, government officials, or church officials. Everyone will only see each other as lovable, and themselves as loved.
Las semanas que nunca terminan
This past week was extremely rough. There are a million stories I'd like to share with the world, but I will leave it as a high and a low.
My ray of sunshine: Yesterday I was interpreting at our eye clinic (which only happens once a month) and one of my Puerto Rican patients noticed that my name tag says "Volunteer- Mercy." She asked me if I work, and I explained that I work full-time at Good Samaritan. Confused, she asked if they pay me. I explained that my necessities (housing, food, health insurance, and transportation) are paid for, but that I just receive a small monthly stipend for personal spending. She looked at me kindly and told me that if I ever need anything, despite the fact that she doesn't have much, she will help me out.
My bolt of lightning: Yesterday, immediately after eye clinic, we had a brief primary care clinic. I had to fill out some paperwork with the first patient, so I brought her to the triage area. When we sat down, I asked how she was doing. She looked at me and burst into tears. She told me that she has two children (ages 8 and 11) and that her husband is unemployed and that her low-paying job can barely make ends meet. She proceeded to explain that she's been so depressed that she can't sleep and that all she wants to do is be strong for her kids.
This morning when I woke up, I decided to drive to Jacksonville (which is about 2 and a half hours south) with Linda and Regina. We ate lunch along the river, walked the River Walk, walked over one of the bridges, and took a water taxi. On the way home, we stopped at 2 rest stops that advertised free samples of oranges/peach tea/pralines, got Dairy Queen, and visited the smallest church in America. It was much-needed therapy.
My ray of sunshine: Yesterday I was interpreting at our eye clinic (which only happens once a month) and one of my Puerto Rican patients noticed that my name tag says "Volunteer- Mercy." She asked me if I work, and I explained that I work full-time at Good Samaritan. Confused, she asked if they pay me. I explained that my necessities (housing, food, health insurance, and transportation) are paid for, but that I just receive a small monthly stipend for personal spending. She looked at me kindly and told me that if I ever need anything, despite the fact that she doesn't have much, she will help me out.
My bolt of lightning: Yesterday, immediately after eye clinic, we had a brief primary care clinic. I had to fill out some paperwork with the first patient, so I brought her to the triage area. When we sat down, I asked how she was doing. She looked at me and burst into tears. She told me that she has two children (ages 8 and 11) and that her husband is unemployed and that her low-paying job can barely make ends meet. She proceeded to explain that she's been so depressed that she can't sleep and that all she wants to do is be strong for her kids.
This morning when I woke up, I decided to drive to Jacksonville (which is about 2 and a half hours south) with Linda and Regina. We ate lunch along the river, walked the River Walk, walked over one of the bridges, and took a water taxi. On the way home, we stopped at 2 rest stops that advertised free samples of oranges/peach tea/pralines, got Dairy Queen, and visited the smallest church in America. It was much-needed therapy.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Soy Carla de la Clínica el Buen Samaritano y recibí una llamada de alguien en su casa...
I sometimes wish I could give people classes on how to communicate well. After all, I'm realizing that the people who can express themselves clearly and concisely with some degree of confidence generally get what they want in this world. (It's a generalization, but seriously...think about who you give the most attention to when there are lots of people to choose from.)
I receive a ridiculous number of phone calls every day at the clinic. I answer the phone whenever I can, but it can ring on up to three lines at once and as a general rule I don't put people on hold and I don't answer the phone if I'm in the middle of another conversation (especially if I'm talking to someone in person).
One of the messages from today said (in Spanish): "Hi, this is (name completely slurred). I'm calling about an appointment. Please call me back at (phone number)." This is a very regular problem of mine. Usually, if people actually decide to leave a phone number, they say it slowly and clearly. But no one seems to speak clearly when saying their name, so when I return their call, I usually awkwardly say something along the lines of, "Hi, this is Carla from Good Samaritan Clinic and I got a call from a person at this number but couldn't understand the name on my machine." Sometimes people hang up because they think I'm a tele-marketer, which is honestly fine with me. And sometimes people know what I'm talking about and I end up talking to my caller. But this evening, this is the scenario that ensued:
Woman 1: Hello? (in un-accented English)
Me: Hi, I'm looking for a Mrs. Gonzalez?
Woman 1: Who is this?
Me: This is Carla from the Good Samaritan Clinic.
Woman 1: What is Mrs. Gonzalez's first name?
Me: Well, I don't know. The woman left a message asking for an appointment, but she said the rest of her name too fast to understand.
Woman 1: How did you get my phone number?
Me: Mrs. Gonzalez left it as the number to call back.
Woman 1: ¿Se habla español? (Do you speak Spanish?)
Me: Si (Yes)
Woman 1: O, pues, la familia Gonzalez vive en frente. Ellos no tienen teléfono ahora. (Oh, well, the Gonzalez family lives in front of me. They don't have a phone right now.)
Me: Uhhh...¿Sabe qué necesitaba la mujer que me llamó? (Uhh...do you know what the woman who called me wanted?)
Woman 1: Pues, no, pero puedo llevar el teléfono a su casa. (Well, no, but I can bring the phone to her house.)
Me: Okay
(2 minutes later I hear knocking on a door and some muffled Spanish regarding a phone call)
Woman 2: Hello?
Me: Buenas tardes, soy Carla de la Clínica el Buen Samaritano y recibí una llamada de alguien en su casa sobre una cita. (Good afternoon, I'm Carla from the Good Samaritan Clinic and I received a call from someone in your house about an appointment.)
Woman 2: Oh, tal vez fue mi hermana... (Oh, maybe it was my sister...)
(2 minutes later...)
Woman 3: Hello?
Me: Buenas tardes, soy Carla de la Clínica el Buen Samaritano y recibí una llamada de alguien en su casa sobre una cita. (Good afternoon, I'm Carla from the Good Samaritan Clinic and I received a call from someone in your house about an appointment.)
Woman 3: Sí. (Yes)
Me: Uhhh...¿usted me llamó? (Uhh...did you call me?)
Woman 3: Sí. (Yes)
Me: Okay...¿qué necesitaba? (Okay...what did you need?)
Woman 3: Pues, mi esposo me dijo que usted me llamó ayer porque necesito otro examen o algo. (Well, my husband told me that you called me yesterday because I need another exam or something.)
Me: ¿Y cómo se llama usted? (And what's your name?)
Woman 3: Blah blah Gonzalez blah
(She has a very random other last name that I caught the beginning of, or at least enough to finally figure out who I was talking to.)
Me: Oh, sí, usted tiene que venir a la clínica antes del próximo miércoles para una prueba de orina. (Oh, yes, you need to come to the clinic before next Wednesday for a urine test.)
Woman 3: Okay.
(Click.)
That conversation took at least 10 minutes of a very busy day. If only I had known who to ask for in the first place...or if she had her own phone to use...
Communication is key, especially in health care. And it is one of my biggest joys and biggest challenges each day that I'm at the clinic.
I receive a ridiculous number of phone calls every day at the clinic. I answer the phone whenever I can, but it can ring on up to three lines at once and as a general rule I don't put people on hold and I don't answer the phone if I'm in the middle of another conversation (especially if I'm talking to someone in person).
One of the messages from today said (in Spanish): "Hi, this is (name completely slurred). I'm calling about an appointment. Please call me back at (phone number)." This is a very regular problem of mine. Usually, if people actually decide to leave a phone number, they say it slowly and clearly. But no one seems to speak clearly when saying their name, so when I return their call, I usually awkwardly say something along the lines of, "Hi, this is Carla from Good Samaritan Clinic and I got a call from a person at this number but couldn't understand the name on my machine." Sometimes people hang up because they think I'm a tele-marketer, which is honestly fine with me. And sometimes people know what I'm talking about and I end up talking to my caller. But this evening, this is the scenario that ensued:
Woman 1: Hello? (in un-accented English)
Me: Hi, I'm looking for a Mrs. Gonzalez?
Woman 1: Who is this?
Me: This is Carla from the Good Samaritan Clinic.
Woman 1: What is Mrs. Gonzalez's first name?
Me: Well, I don't know. The woman left a message asking for an appointment, but she said the rest of her name too fast to understand.
Woman 1: How did you get my phone number?
Me: Mrs. Gonzalez left it as the number to call back.
Woman 1: ¿Se habla español? (Do you speak Spanish?)
Me: Si (Yes)
Woman 1: O, pues, la familia Gonzalez vive en frente. Ellos no tienen teléfono ahora. (Oh, well, the Gonzalez family lives in front of me. They don't have a phone right now.)
Me: Uhhh...¿Sabe qué necesitaba la mujer que me llamó? (Uhh...do you know what the woman who called me wanted?)
Woman 1: Pues, no, pero puedo llevar el teléfono a su casa. (Well, no, but I can bring the phone to her house.)
Me: Okay
(2 minutes later I hear knocking on a door and some muffled Spanish regarding a phone call)
Woman 2: Hello?
Me: Buenas tardes, soy Carla de la Clínica el Buen Samaritano y recibí una llamada de alguien en su casa sobre una cita. (Good afternoon, I'm Carla from the Good Samaritan Clinic and I received a call from someone in your house about an appointment.)
Woman 2: Oh, tal vez fue mi hermana... (Oh, maybe it was my sister...)
(2 minutes later...)
Woman 3: Hello?
Me: Buenas tardes, soy Carla de la Clínica el Buen Samaritano y recibí una llamada de alguien en su casa sobre una cita. (Good afternoon, I'm Carla from the Good Samaritan Clinic and I received a call from someone in your house about an appointment.)
Woman 3: Sí. (Yes)
Me: Uhhh...¿usted me llamó? (Uhh...did you call me?)
Woman 3: Sí. (Yes)
Me: Okay...¿qué necesitaba? (Okay...what did you need?)
Woman 3: Pues, mi esposo me dijo que usted me llamó ayer porque necesito otro examen o algo. (Well, my husband told me that you called me yesterday because I need another exam or something.)
Me: ¿Y cómo se llama usted? (And what's your name?)
Woman 3: Blah blah Gonzalez blah
(She has a very random other last name that I caught the beginning of, or at least enough to finally figure out who I was talking to.)
Me: Oh, sí, usted tiene que venir a la clínica antes del próximo miércoles para una prueba de orina. (Oh, yes, you need to come to the clinic before next Wednesday for a urine test.)
Woman 3: Okay.
(Click.)
That conversation took at least 10 minutes of a very busy day. If only I had known who to ask for in the first place...or if she had her own phone to use...
Communication is key, especially in health care. And it is one of my biggest joys and biggest challenges each day that I'm at the clinic.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Mis pacientes perdidos
Sometimes I can't get in touch with my patients. I get the terrible message from Cricket that tells me that the person's phone has been "temporarily disconnected" and then I attempt to call every emergency number the person had ever listed. Most of those are usually disconnected or wrong numbers, too.
Initially, I get frustrated, especially when I can't get in touch with patients who are diabetic or who are on lots of prescription medications. But then the frustration often turns to worry. Why didn't they call and tell me their new phone number? Why did they miss their appointment? Are they okay?
This week alone, one patient's husband and another patient's brother were deported. I can't help but wonder what that means for their health (never mind every other part of their life). We haven't had any detention centers request medical records, so who is making sure that the individual is getting the correct blood pressure or cholesterol medicine that will hopefully prevent heart attacks/strokes?
Granted, some of my patients move away on their own accord. Others are in jail for making silly decisions (usually involving drugs). And sometimes people just re-appear out of the blue.
I guess this is a lesson in letting go.
Initially, I get frustrated, especially when I can't get in touch with patients who are diabetic or who are on lots of prescription medications. But then the frustration often turns to worry. Why didn't they call and tell me their new phone number? Why did they miss their appointment? Are they okay?
This week alone, one patient's husband and another patient's brother were deported. I can't help but wonder what that means for their health (never mind every other part of their life). We haven't had any detention centers request medical records, so who is making sure that the individual is getting the correct blood pressure or cholesterol medicine that will hopefully prevent heart attacks/strokes?
Granted, some of my patients move away on their own accord. Others are in jail for making silly decisions (usually involving drugs). And sometimes people just re-appear out of the blue.
I guess this is a lesson in letting go.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
El valor de gratis
I got back to Savannah on Tuesday mid-day and then worked a few hours before I absolutely crashed. Home was very fun, but trying to spend quality time with all the people I love in both Massachusetts and Philadelphia was quite exhausting.
This week, while I worked only 3 and a half days, seemed long. I always hate trying to catch up on phone calls after being out of the office, and plus the clinic underwent a lot of changes during the two weeks I was gone.
Since getting back, I've been thinking a lot about what people should be expected to pay for and why. Here's a little background on why this is on my mind:
St. Catherine Laboure Medical Clinic, where I volunteered throughout college, charges patients $10 per visit. I never really understood why, since that small amount clearly doesn't do a lot to cut costs and since people who were unable to pay were not turned away. However, now that I work at a free clinic, I've noticed a different type of entitlement present. It seems that since our care is free, it has no value to some of our patients.
On the latter point, two particular patients come to mind. Granted, these are two white middle-aged adults, and are not representative of my clientele, but are nonetheless people that my clinic serves.
The first is a male who had some sort of emergency surgery on his leg. The operation probably would've cost upwards of $50,000, but it was done practically free. Last week, the man came in and casually mentioned that he had run out of his Plavix, a medicine that prevents harmful blood clots. If he had developed a blood clot, the operation could have very well been undone and he would've needed another surgery, but he honestly didn't seem too concerned about it. I wonder if he would have been more careful if he had to pay the majority of his hospital bill...
The second is a female who had a stroke and discharged herself from the hospital against medical advice (AMA) because she didn't want a large bill. The following week, she became our patient. Since then, she has needed quite a few tests (CT scans, MRIs, etc.) I explained to her that as a Good Samaritan patient, the hospital would write off the costs of the use of the rooms/machines, but that she would be responsible for the doctors' fees to read these tests. Normally, getting a simple x-ray read costs $85, and the patient has the ability to pay $5/month until it's paid off. However, this woman's tests cost about $400 each to be read. She was quite upset when she got the bills, and I agree that prices of medical care in this country are way out of control. But I also didn't know how to politely say that she's lucky that she doesn't have to pay the entire bill for the tests, and, quite frankly, she's lucky to be alive and well after her stroke.
Personally, I am a fan of socialized medicine. I think that everyone should pay for health care via their taxes, but that local, state, and federal governments should also be contributing towards the costs. I think costs need to be reduced by curbing pharmaceutical costs and by capping how much money people can sue for in malpractice suits.
But the reality is that this will probably never happen in the United States. So I guess there's really no point in thinking about this stuff too hard...
This week, while I worked only 3 and a half days, seemed long. I always hate trying to catch up on phone calls after being out of the office, and plus the clinic underwent a lot of changes during the two weeks I was gone.
Since getting back, I've been thinking a lot about what people should be expected to pay for and why. Here's a little background on why this is on my mind:
St. Catherine Laboure Medical Clinic, where I volunteered throughout college, charges patients $10 per visit. I never really understood why, since that small amount clearly doesn't do a lot to cut costs and since people who were unable to pay were not turned away. However, now that I work at a free clinic, I've noticed a different type of entitlement present. It seems that since our care is free, it has no value to some of our patients.
On the latter point, two particular patients come to mind. Granted, these are two white middle-aged adults, and are not representative of my clientele, but are nonetheless people that my clinic serves.
The first is a male who had some sort of emergency surgery on his leg. The operation probably would've cost upwards of $50,000, but it was done practically free. Last week, the man came in and casually mentioned that he had run out of his Plavix, a medicine that prevents harmful blood clots. If he had developed a blood clot, the operation could have very well been undone and he would've needed another surgery, but he honestly didn't seem too concerned about it. I wonder if he would have been more careful if he had to pay the majority of his hospital bill...
The second is a female who had a stroke and discharged herself from the hospital against medical advice (AMA) because she didn't want a large bill. The following week, she became our patient. Since then, she has needed quite a few tests (CT scans, MRIs, etc.) I explained to her that as a Good Samaritan patient, the hospital would write off the costs of the use of the rooms/machines, but that she would be responsible for the doctors' fees to read these tests. Normally, getting a simple x-ray read costs $85, and the patient has the ability to pay $5/month until it's paid off. However, this woman's tests cost about $400 each to be read. She was quite upset when she got the bills, and I agree that prices of medical care in this country are way out of control. But I also didn't know how to politely say that she's lucky that she doesn't have to pay the entire bill for the tests, and, quite frankly, she's lucky to be alive and well after her stroke.
Personally, I am a fan of socialized medicine. I think that everyone should pay for health care via their taxes, but that local, state, and federal governments should also be contributing towards the costs. I think costs need to be reduced by curbing pharmaceutical costs and by capping how much money people can sue for in malpractice suits.
But the reality is that this will probably never happen in the United States. So I guess there's really no point in thinking about this stuff too hard...
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