Moving to California, my biggest worry was healthcare

In 2007, when I first moved to Riverside in California, my biggest worry was healthcare.

I’d heard stories. A friend of mine in Los Angeles told me her dad got severe chest pain one night, so they took him to hospital. After hours of tests and waiting, a doctor said he was fine, and he went home. A few weeks later, he got a bill for $15,000. Where’s he going to get $15,000? He’s not a movie star; he’s a Mexican who landscapes gardens for middle-class white people. He had to get a second mortgage on his house.

Before Obamacare became law, there were 47 million Americans living and working with no health insurance at all. One-fifth of the entire population couldn’t afford to get sick. I found it horrifying.

People get sick. It’s not a crime that requires a punishment. But the prohibitive costs mean people are afraid to go to the doctor.

I was afraid to go to the doctor because I’m a man. If I go to a doctor and the very first thing he says is something other than “why didn’t you come to me sooner”, it’s been a total waste of time.

I got a cold. I was in bed all day coughing like a lunatic, sneezing and complaining to the walls. Then my lungs started to hurt. I made an amateur judgement, backed up by five minutes on WebMD, that I might have pneumonia and wanted a proper diagnosis. I put “doctor” and “Riverside” into Google and rang the first telephone number that came up. I ended up talking to a Hispanic person who had trouble with my flat Irish accent.

Me: Hey, is this a doctor's?
Receptionist: What?
Me: A doctor's. Are you a doctor's place?
Receptionist: Yes.
Me: Can I just wander in or do I have to make an appointment?
Receptionist: Hang on.

He left and got someone else. This second person did not understand me any better.

Receptionist 2: Yes, how may I help you?
Me: Can I come in for treatment? I'm sick.
Receptionist 2: How did you get this number?
Me: It was on the internet.
Receptionist 2: Hmm. You can come in.

That exchange should have been sent me running in the opposite direction, but I was filled with a mixture of curiosity and mucous, and I had to know more. I was expecting a dark underground clinic. The sort of place mafia hitmen get stitched up after botched jobs. The sort of place which has a table stained red from blood, and a bonesaw swinging from a nail carelessly jammed into the wall. The sort of place where the doctor chain-smokes and wears a rubber apron.

It was just a regular doctor’s office. The underlings made me do some borderline humiliating tests and eventually the doctor came in to see me.

Doctor: So why are you here?
Me: I have a cold. But I think it might be something more. I have a cough and I'm sneezing a lot and my lungs hurt.
Doctor: Anything else?
Me: Yeah I woke up this morning with an Irish accent.
Doctor: What?
Me: Everything I say comes out sounding like I'm an Irish person. Can't you tell?
Doctor: I'm not sure...
Me: I'm kidding. I'm actually from Ireland.
Doctor: What?
Me: I'm just kidding. It's just a joke.
Doctor: Are you really sick?
Me: No, yes. I'm really sick. I have a cold and so on. The joke was just that a cold could change my accent.
Doctor: Do you have insurance?
Me: Yeah, here's my card.
Doctor: Ah. I can't see you.
Me: I'm standing right here.
Doctor: I mean I can't deal with you.
Me: I know what you meant! Are you not allowed jokes? Is this a Mexican thing or a doctor thing?
Doctor: I'm Guatemalan.
Me: Oh. So. How are things in Guatemala?
Doctor: I wouldn't know. I can't see you. You have a HMO (Health Medical Organisation).
Me: Is that contagious?

He waited silently, looking at me; eventually I figure out what was going on.

Me: I'm not joking this time! I actually want to know what I have.
Doctor: It's an insurance plan. It means you can only be seen by this doctor.
Me: The only doctor in the whole world I can see is that one guy?
Doctor: Yes. It's a HMO.
Me: So I've just wasted your time?
Doctor: Yes, you have.
Me: Oh. I'm sorry. So I just go now?
Doctor: Yes. You go now.

After this, like many Americans, I decided to go home and wait. Two days later, I was better. Thankfully.