What is health? My definition. Bonus topics: Indiana Jones. Snakes. Super Glue.

“It’s not the years, honey, it’s the mileage . . .” – Raiders of the Lost Ark

If only I could find a temple to raid, then I could pay for insurance . . .

Okay, this is listed as part I.  I don’t have a part II planned, really, but I sometimes think we look at health in a really messed up way so I’m sure at some point I’ll have another post, or I’ll forget about this one and do it again.  Guess I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing Super-Glue®.

First, what is health?  I did some thinking about it (it was in the morning, and I’m not sure I had enough caffeine for this function) but I came up with my own definition.  Enjoy!

• Physically able to do stuff you want to do.
• Mentally able to do stuff you want to do.
• Not in constant or unreasonable pain.
• The body is (generally) working the way it’s supposed to.
• Stuff that should stay in, stays in. Stuff that should stay out, stays out.
• Not missing critical bits and pieces.
• The bits that are left, generally work pretty well.
• No bits are ready to fail right away (that you know of).
• Absence of current system disruption (you don’t have a cold or the flu).

I think this is a very different definition from the rest of the world.  I’ll argue that this definition makes a lot of sense if the goal is happy people.  If I want to go run, and I can do it, and am not suffering from some sort of stress thing that makes me think that if I go running that the kimono-clad ghost of Tom Petty will chase me around with a butcher knife, well, I’m healthy enough to run.

And I am healthy enough to run.  Once per week.  Maybe.  My knees, after a lifetime of football, wrestling, and running from booby traps while pilfering South American treasure are, well, shot and will hurt like Bernie Sanders trying to explain how a socialist mayor is a multimillionaire.  And I like running.  So, I guess when it comes to running, I’m not exactly healthy.

My hair.  Where did it go?  Oh, my back, and my ears.  So I’m missing some bits, but unless it’s sunny outside, well, I’m okay – these aren’t critical bits.

So, if I had a sudden heart attack tomorrow and died, am I healthy today?  Surprisingly, by my definition, I am totally healthy.  Nothing in my definition of health implies indefinite or infinite life.  Nor should it.

Tonight, The Boy dropped a glass cup on the floor of the kitchen.  It shattered, since we live in a reality where glass doesn’t bounce.

Twenty minutes later?  The Mrs. walked into the kitchen and stepped completely on a shard (not a shart, which was my original typo) of glass.  Immediately blood poured from her heel like money from Elon Musk’s Tesla® factory.  Yeah, it was a lot of blood.  I mean a lot.  I immediately asked The Boy to wipe that up so the dogs didn’t get into it.   Even though the dogs are small enough that you could stomp them if they went crazy, I have a strict policy of NOT teaching the dogs to like the taste of human flesh.

So, The Mrs.’ inside bits became outside bits.  Healthy?  Sure.  I think.  The Mrs. claims she has a tetanus shot that’s recent enough to keep her alive, so I’ll go with that.  But the line that I said to The Boy and Pugsley that is worth repeating is this:  “You’re Mom’s going to die!  I mean, not tonight, but sometime.”

And that’s normal.  Death is normal.

A lot of the current focus of medicine is on saving life.  Duh.  But a huge amount of the money is spent on the last year and last month of life.  When life sucks.  If the outrageous spending on the last month of life, when let’s face it, you have much worse problems than a shard (shart) of glass in your heel, well, is that money well spent?

Not by my definition.  Literally, not by my definition above.

Hey, I’m not trying to stop you from spending whatever money you want on whatever you want.  If you want to spend $400,000 for a 50% probability of living another two months stuck in a hospital bed at 147 years old?  Sure!  Go for it.

But that’s not how it works.  Virtually no one spends their own money on health care when they’re in the last year of their life – this money is coming from Medicare®.  And Medicare™ money?  It comes from you.  And me.  I’m not happy about public radio, let alone public funding of health care, but it’s a real thing, so how do we make it suck less than it does now?  (Not the radio, the health care.)

I’d much rather spend that money on making life better for people who are Kinda™ Healthy®.  People who are in otherwise pretty good shape.  I’m also entirely against euthanasia.  It’s murder.  Make whatever argument you want – but when you turn doctors and hospitals into consciously life-ending organizations?  Yeah, you’re not on the side of the angels.  “OMG – this baby has NO chance of making it into Harvard™!  Better end it all now.”

Part of the problem of healthcare today is that we’ve disconnected virtuous actions with reward.  Sure, they can charge you more money for insurance if you’re a smoker, but the current system allows anyone to skip out on paying for insurance, and then only purchasing it after they get sick.  That’s not insurance – it’s a con job.

That’s not insurance, that’s a cheat.  And it irritates me.  I’ve been paying for insurance for myself (either directly or as part of a job) since I was 22 or so – hundreds of thousands of dollars into a system that we’ve pulled very little out of.  Heck, I haven’t been to a doctor since 2012 (being healthy) and I just needed some antibiotics at that point.  Allowing people to be non-virtuous (be a freeloader until sick) breaks the system.

My brother, Other John Wilder, told me a story (a LONNNNNG time ago) about a wife and mother who was without insurance.  She got cancer.  She didn’t have insurance.  The doctors wouldn’t do anything to help her.  She died.

A tragedy?  Sure.  And I’m sorry for her.

Plan better.  Really.  If the taxpayer (or, worse yet, insurance payers like me) bails out every sad story?  Yeah, the insurance costs will explode.  Like they have.

What else ails our system?

Litigation.  I think our system would be much better if we removed judicial and jury decisions and replaced it with trial by combat to the death.  With the attorneys involved being the combatants.  It might not be a fair decision, but it would be awesome television.

Sir Habeas Corpus, Attorney at Arms™.  Okay, Attorney at Arms™ might be a really cool idea for a short story or a book series.  I hereby trademark thee!

Insurance is really a problem.  It requires a ton of codes, and billing staff, and it’s a risk (if you’re a doctor or a patient) if you’re going to get the money.  I was reading on the Internet about the Surgery Center of Oklahoma®.  No insurance.  They don’t take it.  Cash only.  And if you don’t have cash, don’t show up – they won’t treat you.  Their costs for surgery are often less than the copay for insurance or Medicare™.

Don’t believe me?  Go to their website and check it out (LINK).  It would be nice where . . . you could just avoid insurance and government altogether . . . .

But insurance isn’t cheap – Obamacare© has resulted in (or occurred at the same time as) huge cost increases in premiums for insurance that only covers injuries resulting from meteorite strikes on alternate Tuesdays and pregnancy services for men.

And hospitals mark stuff up.  Here is a bill of a guy who got bit by a rattlesnake.  Note the cost for “Pharmacy” – this is almost all anti-venom.  Costs $200 a vial in Mexico.  Let’s say this guy had to have 20 vials.  That’s $4,000.

Snakes.  Did it have to be snakes?

Yeah.  They marked the stuff up 20 times.  If you or I did that?  They’d avoid a trial and just execute us.  But for lifesaving drugs that you have no choice but to take, like anti-venom or insulin?  The hospitals look to remove your wallet through your throat, like they did with Pugsley’s stitches.

Yeah, he was camping with the Organization Formerly Known as Boy Scouts.  He had his knife out, and was whittling a piece of wood.  No, his finger.  The Mrs. took him to the emergency room.  Three stiches.  $4,000.

Yeah.  If it would have been up to me?  I’d have Super-Glued® it shut and we’d have solved the whole problem for $1.42.

Super-Glue®.  Can it save American health care?  Only one way to find out . . . .