The effects of Plastic Payments

For twenty years, my mother smoked stick after stick of what she used to call "low-class cigarette ra ni 'day, kadaghan na ni hugasi, di na ni makadaot."

But last year, she began complaining of numbness travelling from the fingertips of her left hand, to the forearm, to the upper arm, to her shoulders - and that this numbness, she said, already seemed to squeeze her armpit and the left portion of her chest.

Alarmed at her condition, we sought medical help.

This company had, for a time, taken care of our health care needs by giving us the option to be members of certain health care groups. In the past years, it was AETNA, then the Medical Mission Group and now the Philippines First Insurance Co., Inc. I am paying PhP168.80 every quincena for an in-and-out patient medical plan, semi-private room and board limit, and P60,000 maximum benefit.

In the name of security, I paid another PhP168.80 every quincena to cover the cost for that of my mother. I have this phobia for a particular hospital policy - unattended patients without a PhP3K to PhP5K deposit. What if one is cash-strapped the moment the emergency occurs? So I rest our future on Philippines First card that when presented before its member-doctors would offer same amount for quality patient care and sensitivity like they do to those paying in cash. I strongly feel there should be equality and justice in the delivery and administration of medical services for us because plastic card is just cash delayed. Afterall, that is what a physician's oath is all about? Unless the medical profession has already produced negosyantes.

My fears did not fail me. There was Dr. Boy, Assistant Messy Fingers, and receptionist Sans Smiley in a private hospital that our company doctor referred me to. And there I was - a rank and file employee, with only P1,500 in my pocket set aside for whatever and wherever prescription would lead me. I approached Sans Smiley. She checked my referral note, had me sign a patient record card, then directed me to wait for my turn. After sometime, Dr. Boy was asking me what was wrong with my mother. Hmmm, wasn't I the one supposed to be asking? That was the very reason why we sought professional medical help.

Nevertheless, I answered "doc, my mom complains of numbness in her...." And before I could even end my sentence, he asked my mother to climb up a "high-rise bed" so he could check her up.

My mother obeyed and he began checking her blood pressure. Enter Messy Fingers with an uncovered box of what seemed to be chocolate marjolaine. "Doc, gipadala ni Madamme Sossy. Akong gitan-aw baya. Cake. Lami tan-awon," she said sweetly, heading straight to a personal ref at the back of the doctor's table. That was nearly lunchtime.

"Hala, ka-nice gud," Dr. Boy turned to look at the cake. As he maneuvered 270 degrees (exaggerating his cravings brought about by hunger pangs), his right leg bumped onto a makeshift stair used to help patients climb up the high-rise bed.

"Agaayyyy," he whined. And in less than two minutes, we were out of his clinic. "Mao ra to?" my boyfriend gave me a puzzled look. "Kadali gud ninyo, wa may dos minutos, samantalang sa previous doctor thirty minutes mo naa's sulod."

So I told him, "second opinion ra to hon. I already expected this to happen. Cardholder ra gud ko," I consoled myself after a disgusting consultation with Dr. Boy. After he hurt his leg, he hurriedly scribbled a prescription, "high blood ka, Manang," he told my mother without looking at her. And continued to scribble. "Pletaal - 50 mg 1 tab after lunch, 10 pieces; Deltanum 30 mg 1 tab twice a day, 10 pieces." Also, the patient has to undergo "CBC, CREA, FBS, U/A, CXR, 2D echo with doppler, ECG, diagnostics on stable angina and HPN."

Holy guacamole! I was staring at his prescription (ermm..i never really knew if he is a he or a she or an it, that's maybe the reason why he/she/it was heartless because he/she/it is confused with his/her/it gender) because that wasn't the case with the doctor I sought help first.

His/hers/its opinion was just secondary. Earlier, my sister referred me to an internal medicine specialist at a clinical diagnostics center at the CAP building. Dr. Reg asked my mama how old she is. She answered 55. She checked my mother's blood pressure and found it to be normal for her age. Then she moved on to work with her stethoscope at my mom's chest and back. Then she asked her to grip her hands - normally, and then to exert strength. And she placed her right foot on top of my mother's right foot and asked to raise the load. Then she tried it with her left foot. And again my mother was able to raise her left foot with the load.

"Kusgan man imong mama, dili ni siya indication og stroke. Kon kanang ginganlan nila'g pasmo sa kusog pud, iya untang right hand nag-numb kay right handed gud siya," Dr. Reg explained.

Then she suggested that for her to be very accurate on the findings, my mother has to undergo Fasting Blood Sugar and Chest examinations.

The prescription? Pregabalin (Lyrica) 75 mg, 30 tablets to be taken once at bedtime, and Celostazole (Pletaal) 50 mg, 30 tablets to be taken twice a day after breakfast and after dinner.

This was how we were accommodated when we paid cash!

Doctor, doctor you're the one sick!

What's wrong with my card with Philippines First? Why did it receive such kind of treatment? And why is the doctor behaving that way? Not interested anymore in patient wellbeing, but the taste of marjolaine? Was that what he had sworn for when taking his oath of service? To adore the goodies sent in by regular well-to-do patients?

And to be nonchalant to the healthcare needs most needed by the poor? A week after that incident, a colleague of mine rushed his young daughter, who had difficulty breathing, to the hospital. When this colleague presented his medical card to the attending physician at the ER, the doctor replied, "Ah! Card diay na? Time pa sa ha? Ato usang pangitaon ang doctor nga connected ana."

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