A little over two weeks ago, I broke my wrist during a soccer game. I’ll have to say that definitely sucked. And when I say broke, I mean broke. I broke the shit out of it, specifically the radius bone. If I can get a hold of some pictures, I’ll be sure to post them. So, before I get started on discussing my hospital bill, let me start closer to the beginning.
Well, I didn’t take an ambulance to the hospital. Figured I’d save a few grand. The captain of the team actually ended up driving me, which was interesting. Before we departed from the fields, one of my team mates suggested a hospital that was closer by, which we dove to. It was in fact closer, the only problem being that there was no hospital there.
Anyway, we got to the emergency room about half an hour it had happened. The pain was definitely intense, but for some reason I had imagined it hurting more. This was my first break, after all. Even in the instant that I broke it, I didn’t notice right away. I fell down, got up, and began to run again. I thought my vision was a little wobbly and out of whack, but it actually just turned out that my arm was bent, like an optical illusion. There were about 20 people waiting when I got there, all seemingly okay just from looking. If anything, I was quite the spectacle,. appearing to be the only person with any visible injury. So, I got moved to the top of the list. They checked me out in about 15 minutes and in another 10, they called me back. I thought, “Damn. Who am I to rip on our health care system? This is going quicker than I thought.” Then, of course, I was whipped back into reality. Just like a visit to the doctor’s office, I then waited in a smaller, discreet, and more sterile room for another twenty minutes. I think it was around that time I was issued my first vicodin.
Multiple doctors and nurses poked their heads inside the door to comment on the nature of my wrist. I was taken to get some x rays and then a shot was administered directly into the bone. That did not feel good. I feel like that sensation was the closest feeling to passing out I’ve ever had, I think. The substance they injected was some cousin of Novocaine, which left the injured area completely numb. Then my arm was hung in a medieval/Chinese finger trap type contraption to set the bone. Well, the bone did set, and it did pop out again and it did reset, and it also popped out again. Then came another series of x-rays, maybe four times total. By the way, the setting took place as the Yankees put another World Series title under their belt. Big Surprise, but I won’t get into that now.
The doctors figured out that the bone wouldn’t set on its own, so surgery was needed. And I got the luxury of staying overnight, cleats, high socks, grass stains, sweat stained shirt and all. I proceeded to wash my face in the bathroom down the hall with antibacterial hand sanitizer. Slight relief.
The morphine came around 2 in the morning, right around the time the numbing agent had worn off completely. Morphine has never sat quite right with me. Right when it hits the bloodstream, I get the strange feeling that my body is shutting down, like I’m paralyzed for a few seconds, then it dissipates into a pseudo-pleasant sensation. I think I hit the button for more another two times during the night, the last time finding myself rejected because surgery would take place soon.
They proceeded with the normal jibber jabber and before I knew it, I had woken up, post-op. Now, coming off anesthesia is extremely trippy, but I won’t let myself get carried away with describing all the intricacies of my medicinal hallucinations.
To get to the point, I recuperated that day, spoke to various people; discharge nurses, social workers, surgeons. Everyone was very polite. Then I left, with a prescription for 60 high grade painkillers.
Today was the day that I took my first peek at the hospital bill. Sure, I had my guesses for what it might cost, but I was pretty far off, in the thousands. I did get my appendix removed in the 8th grade and that was about 12 grand, so I was expecting something considerably less this time around. After all, the appendectomy left me bedridden in the hospital for four days. The broken wrist didn’t even constitute a 24 hour stay. Are you ready for this, the cost of it all, the inescapable price of a broken wrist, a couple drops of morhpine, stale jokes, an assless gown, and a microwaved tray lunch.
$26,175.25
Yep. I’m sure you’re feelin’ it too. That sense of astonishment expanding in the pit of your stomach, sucking your pharynx through the lining of your larynx, a vortex pulling your organs downward until your cerebellum makes it way out the back end for you to look at with detached retinas. A little extreme, but essentially, our health care system makes me feel physically sick, and shocked. Who knows why it is this way? Maybe I pushed my luck the second time I buzzed the nurse in, like each press of the button sent an impulse to some massive motherboard that calculated and logged how much attention each patient required, then converting that attention to a monetary value to be wire transferred to the wallets and purses of all on duty. Perhaps I took thing a little too far when I required assistance removing my shirt to change into that sweet assless gown. I’m bewildered. Still, it was a learning experience and now I know better. If and when I happen to break something else, just call my drug dealer, bite a stick, and have my mom take a look at it.
26 grand just seems excessive, and the charges are still adding up. Now I get to have follow-up appointments with skeletal specialists, the first of which I had to take off work because they are only open two minutes out of every hour. Then I had to pay for parking, which they charge you for by the half hour, the first 30 minutes being free. Well, if the doctor would have just showed up on time, instead of being an hour late, then I wouldn’t have had to pay the four dollars. Can’t forget about the $35 copay for the x-rays either. Considering that I only spoke to the actual doctor for under a minute, the amount of time in which we figured out that the lack of ability for my thumb to bend was not normal, all of my expectations were met.
I look forward to my next follow-up appointment, eight weeks from now.
