A Health Care Home Run
by Lisa Nilles, M.D.
April 26, 2009
Itās the bottom of the ninth inning in the 2009 Health Care World Series. Two outs. Team Single-Payer is down by three runs, and at bat. Their fans – the uninsured, the underinsured, the sick and the bankrupt – are cheering wildly. A window to victory is open.
The fans in the luxury box suites – supporters of Team Status Quo – act cool, but canāt celebrate just yet. Itās been a surprise to all, particularly to the baseball pundits, that Team Single-Payer, an under-funded team without corporate sponsorship, got this far. Surely they canāt win.
Batter up. As he takes a few practice swings, he thinks of his wife, who just lost her job and their health insurance. The pitch. The swing. A single.
The next batter wears a medal given to him by all the people excluded from health insurance because they have previously battled cancer. They are in his mind as he keeps his eye on the ball. He swings with all his might, all his anger, and all his skill. The ball soars into the sky, and then tumbles to the ground as the outfielders collide with each other. Runners on first and second.
The batter now up has just moved up from a long career in the minors. He never thought he would make it to this day, but long years of training, patience and perseverance pay off. He walks. Bases loaded.
The manager of Team Status Quo calls a time out, and consults with his players. They call on their ace, the one who has appeared in all their print, radio, and television ads. His mere appearance on the mound will intimidate Team Single-Payer.
The fans are on their feet. This is the moment they have been waiting for. The final standoff with the titans of Team Status Quo. The roar is deafening. The chant begins, āHome-run! Home run! Home-run!ā They chant as if their jobs, homes, health, and lives depended on a win, for indeed they do.
The batter steps up. Bases loaded. The pitch is on the way . . .