Published today in the E-R

When I was a child, my mother took me to the doctor more often than I would have desired. I loved school, and hated missing a moment, but Mom was concerned about two minor health problems. I had frequent colds and sore throats, not severe enough, however, to my mind, to keep me from wanting to learn. I was also nervous, a malady that today is given the fancy name of ADD/ADHD, and treated with powerful prescription drugs. I outgrew that condition just as more than one doctor predicted I would, and a quick snip of the tonsils alleviated my postnasal drip.

All this took place when doctors were rumored to be so affluent that they took each Wednesday off to play golf, and sailed around Lake Michigan in their sumptuous yachts on the weekend.

Yet, my blue-collar working man father managed to pay for my care. and later even insisted upon sending me to college. There was no health insurance, because, apparently, doctors chose to charge, on a sliding scale, the reasonable amount their patients and their families could afford.

The specter of health insurance is what spoils that idyllic scene, and every time I hear someone call for universal health care as paid for with the taxes of people who work, supporting those who won't, I wonder what's wrong with the way it used to be? After all, my father took care of his family, and everyone else can do the same.