Tropical Healthcare
The following is my latest engagement with the United States private healthcare system – an attempt to establish care with a doctor in California while staying in Hawaii. This was my shortlist of potential primary care providers, denoted by what I wrote next to their names before calling their offices.
1. “Concierge”
This M.D. was the most highly rated, and I sensed an air of prestige and demand surrounding his office. Many reviews said “good luck” seeing him, as he is so unbelievably sought after that most people see his P.A. Reviews mentioned that the office operates as a “Concierge Program.” So, you must sign up for a payment plan to be a part of the elite group of patients. It was unclear whether this was mandatory (take a wild guess). I had a good feeling about this doctor, so thought I would give it a shot anyway. I could hardly say the words “chronic anxiety” before the woman answering the phone mentioned the concierge program, which ran around $3,500 annually. She sounded almost proud to disclaim the prohibitive price. I pretended to be potentially interested, like when you know you don’t want anything in the gift store, but browse 5 minutes longer before saying thank you to the owner and exiting, ringing the boutique bell tied to the door with nautical twine. I’ll buy a lottery ticket instead.
2. “Maybe Retired”
I found this Doctor’s P.A.’s LinkedIn profile where she announced his retirement. When I spoke to my health insurance company, I mentioned that he may have ridden off into the sunset, and they said that he was still contracted with them. Another office I called said that had not accepted my insurance plan for two years, though my insurance claimed otherwise on their website, so I wasn’t inclined to trust them. I tried to look up other info and contact the office directly. Could not reach.
3. “Current Oncologist”
The PCP I was automatically assigned had the internet persona of a secondhand car dealer specializing in cancer treatments. One review mentioned super bowl sized rings, and many people tragically conveyed terminal disappointment after lofty promises. I wasn’t sure why an internationally renowned cancer researcher would be taking new patients. He wasn’t. After initially agreeing to pursue treatment, not bothering to ask about my affliction, the office said, “Oh no this is a chemotherapy clinic.”
4. “Funny”
Several reviews mentioned this man as being called Dr. Love. He had a reputation for making people laugh as he churned them out of his clinic, dismissing their concerns and questions with a smile. While speaking to the woman who answered the phone Dr. Love started hollering answers to my questions from the background, saying that when I returned to LA I should call them. I couldn’t even get a question in with two people yelling reasons they could not see me. Technically speaking, I hung up on them.
5. “Sure”
I found practically zero info on this doctor, making him a very viable option. Here is the transcribed visual voicemail from my iPhone:
“Yes good afternoon my name is Zoe my number spending a message to we do ___Robert I___your Dad do virtual visits but they do except the house and that a big deal and him as a push the button for the next 23 weeks I will be able to know for up seminars for him continue medical litigations and ___but after that you know you’re welcome to know if__ ____my practice but a full virtual no I don’t except a minute.. Visit with patient___thank you and if any questions (#) thank you…”
I didn’t expect the word “litigation” to come up so quickly in the relationship. After listening more closely to his accented Russian message, I understood that the answer was “nyet.”
6. “Not Covered”
This was the office that didn’t take my insurance anymore. They were by far the nicest and most professional. She acknowledged my concerns, wished me a lovely time on the islands, and was upfront about cost and procedures. I seriously considered paying out of pocket for someone out of network, even though I could access a telehealth appointment on an app for free. Aloha.
7. “COVID”
Meaning, “Do you believe in it?” Several reviews mentioned the doctor claiming total immunity after contracting the virus once. However, he did have several pictures of dogs on his website, and his answering machine was his voice. A recorded message informed me that he was out making house calls, which sounded charming and antiquated. I’ll take a vaccine booster delivery, please. Leave it by the front door.
*Honorable Mention: “YES – Pediatrician” I found many great doctors who may have provided me great advice on diaper rash and where I fall on the growth curve.
I have a college degree. I routinely complete the NYT (mini) crossword at a sub-one-minute clip. The process of simply finding a doctor to establish care with, much less navigating any associated costs or treatments, has been baffling, absurd, stymieing, and wildly inefficient. The doctor I ended up seeing was out-of-state, out-of-pocket, and out-of-this-world excellent. I found a man on Maui and went in person, completely disregarding my insurance or any idea of practical long-term continuous care. I am exceedingly satisfied with the care I eventually found and am hopeful that I will enjoy a more sustainable relationship with a provider soon. In Europe.
