Sean (far right) and Fiona at Camp Cross this summer. 
Fiona blowing bubbles for friend JJ.
Finley and Fiona at a birthday party this summer.
A few of you have been asking how my friend Sean is doing since being admitted to the hospital. He was diagnosed with Strep A in the blood which resulted in the flesh-eating virus, and he had kidney failure while in the hospital. He is now awake and talking, has had some skin grafts done, and is getting ready to be moved to a new facility where he will receive PT and other aid in his recovery. His kidney function has still not returned, so he is on dialysis currently, and his appetite is slow to return as well. My friend Dawn, Sean's wife, has been writing a blog during this time, http://helpseanrecover.com. If you are interested in learning more, or donating towards their medical bills, you can get more information there. I decided to add Dawn's newest post to my blog. She's an amazing writer (formerly a journalist), which I thought might give you a little perspective on how she's doing. It makes me very thankful for my family and friends, and the love and support that pops up whenever any of us are in times of need. My love to you all! A couple pictures of Sean and the kids
Naked at my Checkbook
You know the dream where you’re running around naked, you realize you’re naked, and there’s nothing you can do to cloak yourself? That’s how I’ve been feeling when I’m awake. I’m exposed: emotionally, physically and now, financially. We must bare ourselves when disaster strikes to get the help we need. It’s not like choosing to flash the world (à la the movie Old School: “Come join us, we’re streaking!”). Instead, it’s like catching your clothing on a nail and watching helplessly as the fabric unrolls from your body. There you stand. Naked.
Catastrophic Coverage for a Catastrophic Event
Sean’s health catastrophe (OUR catastrophe), a combination of Group A Strep, Necrotizing Fasciitis, Toxic Shock Syndrome and kidney failure has left me feeling exposed. We’re not uncovered from an insurance standpoint. We do have insurance I chose for the family called “catastrophic coverage.” Our Group Health policy starts paying out after we spend $4,000. Sadly, it’s one of the reasons we didn’t simply call an ambulance to send Sean to the hospital. That’s not something you do when an otherwise healthy young (ish) man gets the flu (which is what we thought Sean had). We delayed getting him help, and even when we arrived at our family doctor’s office, reminded them we had “catastrophic” coverage, and could we please avoid a hospital admission? At the Emergency Room, Sean asked a doctor not to order “unnecessary tests.” Even in the Intensive Care Unit, Sean asked another doc not to perform “unnecessary tests.” I did my best not to laugh as I told Sean this was a major issue and he could skip that request. Besides, we’d blasted through the $4,000 health insurance deductible the moment I wheeled Sean into the E.R.
How Much is Your Health Worth?
Our plan has a $10,200 per-year out-of-pocket maximum. I wish that were the end of the story, but it’s not. The plan also has a $2 million lifetime maximum. Basically, it means Sean’s health is not worth covering (according to insurance standards) after he reaches $2 million in medical costs. How quickly does that happen? I felt my chest tighten when Sacred Heart’s financial counselor showed me a line item for charges we’d racked up in just one month (not all the bills had been processed yet, so this is a low estimate): $464,855. That’s nearly one-half million dollars in just one month. Granted, these are hospital charges, not what the insurer has agreed to pay. Hopefully, we’ll have more than 4 months’ worth of hospital coverage, because we’ll likely need it.
The Most Expensive Mechanic Ever
Imagine bringing your car to a mechanic, and hearing him say, “We think your insurance will cover this, but only to a certain amount. Actually, we’re not sure. Plus, we can’t tell you exactly what we’ll need to do the vehicle, or how much repairs will cost. We’ll bring in other mechanics from outside our shop who charge more than we do. They’re allowed to bill you as they please. See that windshield wiper? It’ll cost you $2,255. That’s peanuts compared to your other costs. Don’t worry; you can pay this off over time. Over your lifetime. Or your children’s lifetimes. And we can’t guarantee our work. Good luck to you.”
Silver Linings
A major health crisis is kind of like that. Only worse. The silver lining for us is I work for an organization (Greater Spokane Incorporated, often referred to as “The Chamber”) that has a policy allowing my colleagues to gift their sick time. It has allowed me to take time off and still pay the mortgage. I haven’t bought food in a month; my coworkers and friends have taken care of that, too.
If we could use pasta, soup, chicken and homemade cookies to pay medical bills, we’d be in fine shape. Providers still require U.S. dollars. Fortunately, we have many friends and family who want to help in any way they can, including writing a check. I wish I could say, “You guys are all on crack. Keep your money. We don’t need it.” I can’t say that, because honestly, I don’t know how much of this Mercedes-we-didn’t-order we’ll have to buy. This is America, after all. Most bankruptcies are filed due to medical bills. It’s just the way our system works. If we’re lucky, our liability will be capped around $20,000, the out-of-pocket-maximum for 2009 and 2010. However, if we exceed the $2 million lifetime maximum, or if we encounter many out-of-network providers, our liability knows no limits. 2 friends who’ve faced medical disasters say we won’t know how much this will cost us for at least a year, maybe more.
The short answer to this long story (forgive me!) is that yes, we will face significant out-of-pocket costs. We simply won’t know how high those costs will climb for months. So we’ll swallow your wonderful food along with our pride and accept the financial help that comes. We’re naked. Exposed but for the grace of God, and all of you.
