However, there are a few places and resources that work to point at that Scandinavia isn't this magical utopia (as an example, a couple of articles here and here, both from 2015). I don't necessarily agree with either of these in full (and a few of the "downsides" I feel were more points in favor of the region than the author intended), but there are some important points, hell, there's another book about it that I might need to read to balance out the reading of The Year of Living Danishly. Yes, taxes are a substantially higher percentage of ones wages, but wages are living wages. There's a persistent claim that suicides are higher in Finland that I've seen argued both ways. Scandinavia has also not been immune to the rising xenophobia and the increasing prevalence of far right ideologies.
In other words, I'm aware that there's a "grass is greener" element when we talk about the potentiality of emigration to Norway, that we have this wonderful ideal built up in our minds; simultaneously I'm aware that it's a country like any other, with its own problems. I haven't ignored things that are inconvenient or unpleasant. I have tried to be aware of these biases when I find new information and weigh the source as well as the information.
And then I got a letter in the mail the other day from my insurance company. I had asked for a copy of this letter (though they would have sent it anyway), and I was both relieved and enraged to read it. A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my great frustration trying to get my medication approved through insurance for a routine re-up. This was a routine process that through a few factors was not completed in time resulted in my receiving my medicine about a week late. In the meanwhile, I was feeling easily exhausted, blah, and certainly less cheerful. This letter is the written declaration that my doctor's office and I received over the phone.
They determined that my medication was "medically necessary." These individuals that may have absolutely no medical training whatsoever that have an enormous impact on my health have declared that they will pay for another year of my life, provided I don't lose my job or otherwise no longer qualify for coverage. Oh, and don't forget that last line, that even this letter doesn't guarantee I will get my medicine, even thought it is "medically necessary."
What the actual fuck.
That is always over my head. No matter how much I may or may not like my job, I'm acutely aware that me being uninsured for any duration of time could cast us into more debt than we could ever recover from. And I have to count myself lucky for it. I still don't know how to really convey the full weight of this that I think about constantly. It's an impossibly real worry for millions of Americans. Take for example the recent story, where a woman was denied a heart transplant essentially because she was too poor, directly suggesting that she start a fundraising campaign, a picture of the letter itself is included in that link. This woman was fortunate enough that the letter went viral and she was able to raise enough to afford surgery. The majority of GoFundMe campaigns are about paying for medical expenses of some kind, and I think this is an absolute disgrace.
I can hear the comments section that I've seen on these kinds of things already echoing in my head. "Just get a better job" tends to be a popular rebuttal, but I assure you anyone saying that has little idea of how expensive healthcare can be in this country--what kind of job could I get that would allow me to afford 28K every six weeks or my current 8K every eight weeks? So, that would mean that I would have to spend 242.66K out of pocket or currently 48K out of pocket, and ONLY for that single medication, no other doctors' visits or ostomy supplies or rent or anything else. I've stood on this soapbox before and it still comes down to this statement: the only reason that we accept our healthcare prices is that we collectively seem to think that this is what our healthcare actually costs. We are way overpaying, when other countries have been paying less for better outcomes for years, decades (I know I've talked about the 28K drug that I received here being only 2.6K [after all exchange fees and taxes] when I was in Scotland, for example).
And then comes in the other common rebuttal: "Well, yeah, but you have to pay for it with taxes!" as if that somehow clinches the argument.
We've had the conversation a few times over with a number of Scandinavian perspectives, and the consensus was that they were okay paying more in taxes if someone got the care that they needed. I feel exactly the same way. Knowing what it's like to suffer with Crohn's I would gladly pay more in taxes if that meant people weren't dying trying to ration their medicine or deciding whether to pay the rent or the doctor that month. You know what Medicare is? It's GoFundMe on a broad spectrum, taking small contributions from a number of people to meet the need. And the additional rebuttal of "why should I have to pay for [insert gender specific care here] when I'm [insert different gender here]?" Well, most of you are never going to need insulin or cystic fibrosis medicine or the kinds of medicines I've taken, but someone does need these things. In this system, one cannot say "well, I'm not paying for you, but I expect someone to pay for me." It's a community, meeting everyone's needs.
Yes, I would gladly be a part of that. To talk to a friend on a fixed income and know that they would still be able to get all of the medical supplies they need. To talk to the family that was able to enter their child into a rehabilitation center after an accident without fighting with insurance for three months solid. To discuss with a friend how they were able to enter their family member into a good hospice program, avoiding working themselves past their emotional and physical energy if they could not care for that individual themselves. To know that one bad day or one unfavorable diagnosis was not going to land someone in a hell more horrific than the normal psychological fear of their own mortality. To know that losing a family member to cancer did not mean memorializing them by paying the debt of it for years to come. To only talk about the fear of the procedure and not the incredible worry of how they could ever afford it. To see preventative care help someone stop their suffering before it became unbearable. To encourage someone to go to therapy and know that not being able to afford it was not barrier to them receiving the help and support they needed. To know that people could turn HSA money back into their own dreams and goals rather than squirrel away a disaster fund. To no longer have to spend hours on the phone, transferring to six different people, arguing with insurance that my life is worth more than a few thousand dollars.
I would give up a lot for those things, half of my paycheck being a start. And I promise that I would still save a shit-ton of money as part of it, weighing how much we pay into the system as it is. Money aside, though, I would gain so much peace of mind that I don't know how I would begin to quantify it. For this fact alone, the Scandinavian Utopia has a great deal of merit to me. How free I would feel to know that the anxiety of managing my healthcare had decreased, that I was going to be covered without patently arguing with someone new over the phone every other week. To schedule my appointments without worrying about repercussions. To know that I would have the freedom to move to a different job and try anything I wanted to do because I would always have at least this part taken care of, I don't know how to describe in a way that would do it justice what that freedom would do for my heart.
I'm hoping that someday sooner rather than later we pass Universal Healthcare in this country, catch up to the rest of the first world countries, maybe pull our heads out of our collective ass. Insurance companies and drug companies are going to throw everything that they have against it--they've profited immensely from things that are. There are small steps here and there, such as a new bill to drastically lower drug prices and prevent them from spiking up absurdly overnight. Universal Healthcare, Medicare for All, whatever you'd like to call it would certainly see a significant drop in the overhead costs of healthcare--my 8K drug would not still cost 8K--because these procedures and medications never truly cost that much in the first place.
The idea of emigrating to Norway, of finding just this peace is a large portion of what makes the thought so damn appealing. It's reason enough by itself. Andy and I have a few more reasons why, but I still would wish this peace on everyone. To millennials putting up with headaches because they cannot afford to go to the eye doctor to get glasses. To potential parents looking to have a child and weighing the hospital costs. To those who have had to fight for members of their family to get into physical therapy and other rehabilitative programs. To those retirees on a fixed income that cannot afford the medical supplies they need. I know you all. I wish you health and calm. I wish that utopia for all of us.
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