Tuesday, March 01, 2016

Medical Economics


In the frantic, outraged howling over how the Affordable Care Act (AKA "Obamacare") is destroying the nation, there's a simple issue that gets buried amid the lawsuits and the neverending stream of useless Congressional votes to repeal the law: it represents an attempt, whether one agrees with it or not, to address the serious problem of the cost of health care in this country. I take no position on whether the ACA is good or bad ... nobody will ever agree on that and every side of the argument can marshal vast armies of data, statistics, and apocryphal stories to "prove" that they are correct and everyone else is either a heartless fascist or a dirty commiepinkoratbastard who hates America.

What's lost in the shouting is that this country has the best health care in the world ... but Real People can't afford it.

Allow me to illustrate the point by sharing with you a shocking lesson in medical economics that I learned in the last week.

I have health insurance through my employer with a major HMO (which I will not name here). I have been with this HMO ever since I retired from the Air Force in 1996. On the whole, Agnes and I have been very happy with our care and we have personal physicians we like and trust. It's expensive, but the cost has been bearable and I've always felt we were getting what we paid for.

On January 1st of this year, my employer changed its relationship with our HMO to what's known as a "High Deductible Health Plan," or "HDHP." An HDHP saves the employer money by shifting more of the cost of health care to the employee, who must pay a fairly large amount of money (the "deductible") out of pocket before actually seeing any cost relief; and it supposedly encourages the employee to manage his or her health better by making individual doctor visits and medications much more expensive, thereby discouraging the seeking of treatment until one has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

In December of last year, my doctor prescribed a three-month supply (90 tablets) of a specialized medication for me, for which I paid about $8.00 at the HMO's pharmacy. In early February, after some additional tests, the doctor decided to up my dosage from one to two tablets per day, and told me that when the prescription ran out, he would write a new one for a single tablet with twice the dosage of the medication so that I would only have to take one horse pill per day rather than two. This past Thursday, I went to the HMO pharmacy to pick up the new prescription. I fully expected it to be more expensive, because it was double the strength of the previous one; I went in estimating to pay anywhere from $20-$30 for what had cost me $8.00 two months earlier.

When the pharmacist brought out the new prescription, the cost for 90 tablets was $1275.98 ... an increase of nearly 16 thousand percent from what I had paid just three months earlier. Martin Shkreli would be proud.*

I walked out of the pharmacy without the medication, and with a profound new appreciation of exactly what a high-deductible health plan actually means. I am still trying to figure out how to afford the medication ... and to be fair, my doctor was shocked when I told him about the difference in price, and is working out an alternative approach to my treatment.

So riddle me this, Batman ... what is the point of the world's finest health care system if people cannot afford it? Should medical care follow the usual "charge whatever the market will bear" rules of a capitalist economy, which assume that the price of goods and services will come down to a level that balances the needs of the buyer and the seller? I think that the health care industry is a prime example of why that economic model doesn't work, at least not in all cases.

I don't know what the answer is to making health care affordable for Real People. There are a vast number of moving parts and an equally vast number of stakeholders in the medical care business, all of whom are motivated, in the last analysis, by the need to turn a profit rather than the need to provide affordable care to Real People. Obamacare, whatever its faults, was an attempt to fix it. For all their screaming and bluster, the GOP has yet to offer any comprehensive and workable alternative.

I didn't tell you my story to garner sympathy, but to offer a real-world illustration of the insanity that is our American system of delivering health care. If you have better ideas about how to control costs and deliver quality health care, let your elected reprehensives know. It won't do any good unless accompanied by a large campaign contribution, but you can enjoy the illusion of having tried.


Have a good day. Don't get sick unless you're rich. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

* Yes, I know that the comparison is not completely accurate, because although it's the same medication, the pills are of a different dosage strength. However, simple math (which clearly does not apply in medical economics) would have suggested that if 90 tablets at a strength of S cost $8.00, 90 tablets of the same medication at a strength of Sx2 might be estimated to cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $16. As noted, I was prepared to pay a larger sum of say, $20 to $30 ... but not nearly $1,300.00.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Musical Monday


Yesterday was the birthday of singer and songwriter Joseph Alfred Souter, better known by his stage name of Joe South. He wrote a large number of monster hits for other artists, including "(I Never Promised You a) Rose Garden" for Lynn Anderson and "Down in the Boondocks" for Billy Joe Royal. His own releases included "Games People Play" and today's song, the nostalgic hit "Don't it Make You Want to Go Home?" South had a minor hit with the song (which peaked at #27 on the country charts in 1969), but I actually prefer this version, performed by John Denver and Glen Campbell in a 1977 TV special ...



As we get older and learn more of life and responsibility, many of us do want to go home. But sadly, it's not there any more. That's why we have music and memories, and why the luckier of us have warm and loving extended families.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Poetry Sunday


One thing I enjoy in good poetry is vivid imagery, and this poem gives me that in spades. See if it works for you, too ...

Poe's Anvil
by David Ray 

At the drive-in theater where they sell junk
on Sundays we saw a man and his wife standing
by a pick-up truck trying to sell his anvil.
It sat up in the truck’s bed— it was black,
heavy, and elegant like a mammoth’s tusk.
And his name was written on it like a signature,
in iron that once ran like ink. His name was Poe.
I talked with him and he recalled briefly
days when his anvil stood outside a shed,
a workshop like a harbor set in a sea
of green tomato fields, and inside
he had a coal fire and a bellows and he watched
the tractor replace mules and the car
replace wagons. He tired of horse-shoes,
wagon wheels and plows, of hitches, harrows,
and lugs, of axles, crankcases and flywheels,
and he sat somewhat amused (and dying, his wife
told us), presiding over the sale of his own
monument, which he wanted someone to go on
hammering on, and in the midday city sun
the theater’s white screen was blank
like a faded quilt or Moby Dick’s stretched skin.

Have a good day. See you tomorrow for Musical Monday ... more thoughts then.

Bilbo

Saturday, February 27, 2016

Cartoon Saturday


And you thought things in this country couldn't get any crazier. Silly you.

In the latest instance of people killing people rather than guns killing people, three persons were murdered and 14 others hurt in a shooting spree at a workplace in Hesston, Kansas; South Carolina Republican Senator Lindsey Graham said this past week that the GOP has gone "batshit crazy," and joked that it would be possible to get away with murdering Ted Cruz if it happened in the Senate; Apple and the Federal Bureau of Investigation continued their battle over the FBI's demand that Apple write software to allow them to unlock an iPhone belonging to a terror suspect*; a man in Kentucky is recovering from severe burns he suffered when his e-cigarette apparently exploded in his pocket**; and the Iowa state legislature has approved a new law which allows children of any age to use a handgun with adult supervision.

As we limp, awash in political buffoonery, into the last weekend of this election-year February, we can probably all use some good cartoons. Considering the horrifying spectre of a Donald Trump or Ted Cruz presidency, here are is a selection of cartoons about life in Hell ...

I've often thought there was a special place for these people ...


Hell, 21st century ...


Wish you were here (instead of me) ...


The snack bar in Hell ...


Another good source of management interns would be the IRS ...


Well, what else would it have been? ...


Oh, how some of us can relate ...


I think this would probably be my sentence ...


And no handguns, either ...


Finally, you had to see this one coming ...


And that's it, Dear Readers, for our last Cartoon Saturday for the month. I hope you enjoyed it.

It looks as if, after a few days of heavy storms and rain, we're in for a fairly nice weekend weather-wise. On today's agenda is doing some wall-patching and painting in Agnes's sewing room and finalizing all the data we still owe our tax preparer***, and tomorrow we'll be going to Sunday brunch with the local grandchildren. It all looks promising.

Have a good day and a great weekend, and come back tomorrow for Poetry Sunday. More thoughts then.

Bilbo

* Oh, and by the way, it could also be used to unlock any other phone using the same software, including yours and mine. Just sayin' ...

** Yes, smoking is dangerous to your health, no matter how you do it.

*** Speaking of Hell.

Friday, February 26, 2016

The Left-Cheek Ass Clown for February, 2016


Well, Dear Readers, we have reached the time to announce

The Left-Cheek Ass Clown for February, 2016


It's difficult to turn away from the enormous numbers of worthy Ass Clowns running for President and making utter fools of themselves in Congress, but occasionally we need to share the spotlight and shower dishonor on deserving ass clowns from other walks of life, and even other countries. And so it is that we name as the Left-Cheek Ass Clown for February, 2016

Martin Peter Trenneborg


Trenneborg, a 38 year-old resident of Kristianstad, Sweden, was in search of a girlfriend and, eschewing other approaches to resolving the problem, sedated a young woman with strawberries laced with the date-rape drug Rohypnol, kidnapped her, and held her captive for six days in an underground concrete bunker at his home. When he learned from news broadcasts that police were searching for the woman, Trenneborg took her to the local police station so she could let the officers know that the two of them were "a couple." The police, sensing something a bit odd, interviewed the woman in private*, after which Trenneborg was taken into custody as a guest of the state.

This week, Trenneborg was sentenced to ten years in prison for kidnapping and false imprisonment, although he was acquitted on a charge of rape because of "insufficient evidence."

For his illegal, immoral, and ultimately stupid approach to finding a girlfriend, Martin Peter Trenneborg is named our Left-Cheek Ass Clown for February, 2016. One wonders if he will end up being someone else's unwilling girlfriend during his prison term.

Have a good day, and come back tomorrow for Cartoon Saturday. More thoughts then.

Bilbo

* A serious weakness in Dr Trenneborg's plan.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

Rescue Roaches


I don't think there are many things on earth more disgusting than cockroaches*, but it turns out that they have their uses, more or less.

I call your attention to this fascinating article from the Washington Post: How One of Nature’s Grossest Creatures Could Help Save Someone’s Life. It seems that researchers looking for ways to rescue people trapped in collapsed buildings or mine cave-ins have taken an interest in the ability of the lowly cockroach to squeeze through the smallest of spaces and survive many pounds of crushing pressure, and are trying to apply the science of cockroach armor and survival to the development of search-and-rescue robots that can find people trapped in otherwise impenetrable piles of rubble.

Scientists who have studied the cockroach note that it combines a soft body with overlapping plates of flexible armor that allow it to compress itself to a mere quarter of its normal height. And it's fast - according to a researcher quoted in the article, an American cockroach can travel the equivalent of 50 lengths of its own body in a second, which would be the equivalent of you or I running more than 140 mph. Even when the roach compresses itself to squeeze through a miniscule opening, it can still cover 20 body lengths per second, which is pretty good for a disgusting insect that isn't running for office. And on top of that, a roach standing still can survive the application of up to 900 times its body weight before it reaches its crush point ... a useful ability for something you might want to send into tiny, dangerously unstable places.

So you can see that the combination of speed, agility, compressibility, and armored strength makes the much-maligned cockroach a useful model for search robots. The researchers have already developed a prototype they call the CRAM - "Compressible Robot with Articulated Mechanisms" - but note that while it mimics the desirable features of the roach**, it still needs to be miniaturized and equipped with the various sensors and control devices that will allow it to function as a useful search-and-rescue device.


Someday, Dear Readers, you may owe your life to a robot inspired by a cockroach. But while you may find that idea revolting, consider what might have been inspired by Ted Cruz or Donald Trump.

Yuck.

Have a good day. Come back tomorrow for the naming of our Left-Cheek Ass Clown for February. More thoughts then.

Bilbo

* Well, except for politicians, Internet trolls, and religious bigots that - unfortunately - we can't stomp on or spray to eradicate.

** You should pardon the expression.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

The Changing Nature of My Junk Mail


Junk mail, and it's electronic cousin, spam, are an unfortunate fact of life. The mailbox we wish was filled with chatty letters from friends and relatives is usually choked instead with advertisements, charity requests, bills, and other assorted wastes of paper, just as our e-mail in-boxes are filled with ads for Viagra and Cialis; breast enhancement and other types of cosmetic surgery; nutritional supplements; Russian girls in search of husbands; and messages from itinerant Nigerian princes in need of assistance with transferring funds.


What's interesting is how the percentage composition of this junk mail changes over time. Where a larger portion of my junk mail used to consist of come-ons from dating services*, I'm now getting lots of ads for retirement communities, Medicare supplements, funeral insurance, cemetery plots, and drugs targeting the various afflictions of the elderly**.

How do I get on all these mailing lists, and how are things targeted specifically at me or folks like me?

Well, we all know that every time you sign up for a store "discount card" or join an organization, the information you provide is immediately sold to information brokers***, who compile it and sell it to businesses who wish to separate you from your money. The percentage of my junk mail focused on age-based ads skyrocketed when I joined AARP, and as soon as we took our first cruise, we began getting come-ons from every cruise line and vacation broker on earth. Contribute to any charity and give them your e-mail address, and every other charity in the known universe will be trying to tap into your generosity. Register for a sweepstakes or other giveaway that requires you to leave your e-mail address or phone number, and you'll get onto dozens of mailing lists totally unrelated to what you thought you were signing up for.

I think it's funny that we get hysterical over Jackbooted Government ThugsTM who want to harvest our personal information, and yet we willingly give it up to people, businesses, and organizations who tell us up front that are going to misuse it.

Well, I'd write more, but I owe that Nigerian prince an answer about helping him transfer money. I wonder if he'd mind if I sell his e-mail address to a Viagra broker?

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

* Oddly enough, I still seem to get a lot of ads from Match.com, Christian Mingle, and J-Date ... proof positive that whoever is sending this stuff neither knows nor cares to know anything useful about me.

** Viagra and Cialis, as well as various drugs for diabetes, joint pain, and better sleeping.

*** You agreed to it in accordance with paragraph 692x(937)(zj)[866][yyy], subparagraph 397q(99)(gy) of the 462-page agreement you clicked to accept without taking it to your attorney first.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

It's All About (Getting Rid of) the Benjamins


You are no doubt aware, Dear Readers, of many of the slang terms that are employed to describe our currency, usually in reference to the person on the front: the dollar bill is often called a "George," the five a "Ham" (short for Abraham Lincoln), and the hundred-dollar bill is often called a "Benjamin" in honor of Benjamin Franklin. The hundred-dollar bill is the largest bill in general circulation in the United States, and has become a symbol of wealth and greed, as in the street slang expression "it's all about the Benjamins."

But there is a fairly serious move afoot now to do away with the venerable Benjamin, for a number of reasons. The most important is that it has become the bill of choice for criminals, who must move hundreds of millions of dollars every year. Most of us never need to think about the logistics of moving that much money, but it's quite a problem. A single $100 bill looks like this:


A million dollars in $100 bills looks like this when stacked in packets of $10,000 (each packet has one hundred hundreds) ... you could probably fit it into a normal suitcase:


But a hundred million dollars in $10,000 bundles looks like this when stacked on a standard cargo pallet:


Now, imagine you are a drug kingpin who needs to move many hundreds of millions of ill-gotten dollars ... and you need to use $50 bills ... or, worse, $20s. The volume would be far beyond your ability to easily and safely transport.

So, one reason for doing away with the Benjamin is to make life difficult for criminals. If you're interested in a more detailed analysis of how eliminating the hundred dollar bill (and the five-hundred euro bill as well) can serve the war on crime, you can read this study by Peter Sands of Harvard's Kennedy School of Government - Making it Harder for the Bad Guys: The Case for Eliminating High Denomination Notes

Another reason for doing away with high denomination bills like the Benjamin is that it's often difficult for small businesses to make change for such large bills ... not to mention the merchant's suspicion that they may be counterfeit, and consequent reluctance to accept them at all.

You can read a good article on this issue (where I got the idea for this post) here. And if you're interested, you can go back to August of 2014 and read my earlier post on the topic. As the motto of a committee to which I once belonged said, "No Horse Too Dead."

Have a good day. Spend those Benjamins while you've got 'em.

More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Monday, February 22, 2016

Musical Monday


Back when I was doing my radio show*, I had a theme for each program. One of the themes I used was "Same Title, Different Song," as opposed to different covers of the same song by different artists. For today's Musical Monday, here's a sample from my "Same Title, Different Song" playlist, featuring two songs titled "Operator" ... first, the classic by Jim Croce; then the very different "Operator" done a few years later by Manhattan Transfer. I loved both songs, each of them great in its own way. Here's Jim Croce to lead off ...



... and here's Manhattan Transfer ...



A related song was the 1984 hit "Smooth Operator" by Sade, but since the title wasn't exactly the same, I didn't include it. It's a great song also, and I'll feature it on a future Musical Monday.

Have a good day. Operators are standing by. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

* "The Audio Attic" on WEBR, Fairfax County Public Access Radio.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Poetry Sunday


I've often thought about the moments on which my life turned ... when a decision I made or an action I took or didn't take changed the course of my life and all the things that flowed from that moment in time. For example, on a February evening in 1982, I had been invited to a party being thrown by one of my newly-married friends. I'd made up my mind not to go, but changed my mind at the last minute because I found out that a young lady in whom I was interested was going to be there. I went to the party ... and the girl I'd gone to see didn't show up.  But another lady did ... and Agnes and I were married seven months later.

This poem by Mark Strand considers one of those moments on which a life might turn, and on the might-have-beens that follow from it ...

Mirror
by Mark Strand

A white room and a party going on
and I was standing with some friends
under a large gilt-framed mirror
that tilted slightly forward
over the fireplace.
We were drinking whiskey
and some of us, feeling no pain,
were trying to decide
what precise shade of yellow
the setting sun turned our drinks.
I closed my eyes briefly,
then looked up into the mirror:
a woman in a green dress leaned
against the far wall.
She seemed distracted,
the fingers of one hand
fidgeted with her necklace,
and she was staring into the mirror,
not at me, but past me, into a space
that might be filled by someone
yet to arrive, who at that moment
could be starting the journey
which would lead eventually to her.
Then, suddenly, my friends
said it was time to move on.
This was years ago,
and though I have forgotten
where we went and who we all were,
I still recall that moment of looking up
and seeing the woman stare past me
into a place I could only imagine,
and each time it is with a pang,
as if just then I were stepping
from the depths of the mirror
into that white room, breathless and eager,
only to discover too late
that she is not there.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo