A Medical History

Unlike many people I know, I have a high opinion of the state of medical care in the United States. Not all of my experiences have been ideal, but we don't live in a utopia. It was admittently disconcerting when I was on an examining table, asked my PCP a medical question and he responded, "I don't know, I'll call my wife and ask her." He called her right then , with me mostly naked, and told me her answer. His research method was unorthodox, but it solved my problem, so, no harm, no foul. Similarly unnerving was an appointment I had with a gynecologist. I chose him because he accepted Medicare, had appointments available immediately and his office was on Park Avenue in the 70s. How bad could he be? No other patients were in the waiting room. Suspicious, I thought. I was called in to see him immediately. He was 95 years old and his hands shook so badly that I was terrified to have him examine me. I also wondered if he remembered where the relevant gynecological parts were. However, all went no differently from any other gynecological examination (which doesn't say much for gynecological examinations in general), so again, no harm, no foul. At my last wellness exam, I asked my PCP a question. She's lovely and unpretentious, told me she had no idea of the answer and would google it. She did and came up with the same answer google gave me, when I googled it. My most recent real world medical experience was with a new eye doctor. My beloved opthalmologist retired and his replacement was ridiculously young, disheveled, and like my PCP, delightly unpretentious. But unlike her, was not a deep thinker. After he confessed that he had no knowledge of how to write a contact lens prescription, I asked him not to bother examining me for a new prescription and to simply copy my previous prescription. He was relieved and did so willingly, but when the lens manufacturer asked him which was my dominant eye, he was stumped. So I googled it , wrote it on the prescription and sent it to the manufacturer. Again, no harm, no foul. . But I digress. Although I have never researched the matter, I am certain that no doctors anywhere take as thorough a medical history as our US doctors. Prior to seeing a doctor, not only are we required to provide a written history of every surgery and ailment we've ever had, and every medication we're taking and have ever taken, but we must also provide a detailed written medical history for our parents and siblings, even if they're long dead. To insure that we made no mistakes in our written accounts, doctors spend the first 15 minutes of the allotted time for an examination asking us for the same histories we've just provided in writing and which they have in front of them. Recently, I was astounded when, prior to receiving treatment, I was asked specific questions different from any I had previously been asked. Before I tell you what the questions were, for those few of you who don't know me, let me provide context: I'm a 4'10 retired lawyer in her 70s who has lived in NYC her entire life. My medical plan is Medicare. Now that you have the context, here are the questions: Prior to receiving a MRI of my shoulder,the receptionist, who had just scanned my Medicare card, said " Are you pregnant or planning on becoming pregnant." The second question was posed when I was making an appointment for physical therapy for that same shoulder. "Have you ever worked in a coal mine?" In case you're wondering,I was not pregnant or planning on becoming pregnant. I have never worked in a coal mine. In case a very thorough doctor cares to know additional history: I am not curently nursing. I have never installed asbestos insulation. I have never lived near a toxic dump. My last period was likely before the doctor was born. I do not engage in sports more extreme than strolling. I do not have a ferret or any other exotic pet. I have never met anyone who worked in a coal mine. I hope that's thorough enough.

I read the NYT. I listen to NPR. I watch CBS mornings. So I knew when the price of a dozen eggs rose to $6. But since I use a maximum of one egg a month, I found the price increase only mildly interesting and not at all troubling. (What I did find fascinating was that Wegman's, who was charging the bargain price of $5.50 a dozen, limited customers to five dozen at a time. I wondered who buys 5 dozen eggs at a time? What does their cholesterol look like? Are they taking a statin?)Because I do not have my head in the sand, I am of course aware of the affordability crisis. The gas station around the corner from my apartment is charging over $6 for a gallon. That is alot. But I live in Manhattan. I don't have a car. I'm unaffected by what's happening in the Gulf of Hormuz. Of course, I'm not unfeeling. I once lived in California where feet are never used for walking, there is no public transportation and without a car you can neither go to a pharmacy, a supermarket or your gym to run on the treadmill. Sure, prices have gone up. My chocolate peanut butter cups were 99 cents last year. Now they're $1.49. But I buy them at Trader Joe's, along with $30 of produce, chicken and marinated greek chick peas. When I tap my credit credit card,I'm not paying real money for any of it. I'm tapping . Yes, I get a credit card bill, but I never write a check to pay the bill. I tell my bank to send the money from my account. The money has gone into my account without my ever holding it in my hand and the money has left my account without my ever having laid a finger on on it. So why would a price increase of 50% on the chocolate peanut butter cups register? Saturday, however,for the first time, I was gut punched by the affordability crisis. Every Saturday until this past Saturday, after ballet class, I would go the McDonald's on Eighth Avenue and 56th Street and get a "senior coffee" for $1.29. What, you ask, is a "senior coffee?" Well, if you're of a certain age--I don't know the exact age, but I'm apparently clearly of it-- coffee is discounted for you. I love McDonald's coffee and was, until a few years ago, ordering it for the non-elderly price by going up to the counter, saying"small coffee, one cream" and paying $2.39. Two years ago, McDonald's put in electronic kiosks. Instead of ordering at the counter, I had to order at the electric kiosk. It looked pretty easy and I tried to use it, but I couldn't figure out how to complete the order and pay. I fumbled at the kiosk for 15 minutes. (It was reminiscent of when I tried to buy a train ticket from a machine in Italy.) A young employee who was enjoying watching me sweat for the entire time, finally stopped laughing and suggested I go to the counter and order a "senior coffee." When I asked what it was, she said, coffee, but cheaper for old people. I would have been offended, but I was actually both relieved at not having to order at the kiosk and delighted to get a bargain. Since that time, I had been opening my change purse and taking out a crisp dollar and 29 cents. I "tap" my credit card for everything else and it was inexplicably pleasurable to hand over the $1.29 in cash to Judith, the manager, who, despite being 16 years old, was a consummate professional. She knew my regular order-senior coffee, one cream- and filled it without my having to speak it. This past Saturday, however, June 23, 2026, as I handed my $1.29 to Judith, she said "$1.62." I asked, rhetorically, whether the price had gone up. She nodded sheepishly. I rifled in my change purse for the additionl 33 cents, depleting my change. I handed it over. 62 cents change is too much to carry around. It weighs down my Sportsac. In the future, I will still enjoy my senior coffee, but not as much. It will still be a bargain, but I'll be paying for it by "tapping" and the inexplicable pleasure of paying for it in cash will be gone. It took McDonald's (senior) coffee to wake me up. The affordability crisis is real. When senior coffee is $1.62, prices are TOO DAMN HIGH.