For this week's column, I'm going to do something a bit unusual: I'm going to break from my typical question-and-answer format and write from the heart. Here it goes:
I own a small public relations firm, wrote a book titled "Birthing the Elephant," write this syndicated column and teach at two universities. I was also diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, commonly called MS, eight years ago.
I recently ordered a new wheelchair through my insurance company. It cost $4,100 and came along with a co-pay of $334. The cost of one of my MS medications is $760 per month. Is this insanity or what? How can a small business operator like me stay in business?
In a few words, yes, it is insanity, and no, a small business cannot stay afloat when its owner is constantly faced with increased insurance premiums and medication costs.
So, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, let's stop the personal attacks and get down to the issues.
I have been writing The Small Business Professor column for more than 10 years. One of the major rules of journalism is to never get personal. But I'm going to deliberately break that rule because this situation has hit home and I am pissed.
Believe me when I tell you I am a major consumer of health care services. The disease-altering and symptomatic medications I require are a small fortune. But I don't only need medications; I need specialists. In return, I get more bills.
How does a new wheelchair wind up costing more than $4,000, anyway?
To start, the wheelchair company gets its cut. Then comes along a third-party validation company, which needs to evaluate my claim even though my doctor has said I need the device. That group takes a cut too.
We all know insurance companies have their own rates they pay after the device-maker _ in this case a wheelchair manufacturer _ pads the bill. The insurance company sets rates to benefit not the consumer, but guess who? All the ancillary health services companies that help fatten the bureaucracy and are the public enemy of cost containment.
Well, my wheelchair arrived in May, and by June, the left brake had fallen off.
I called the wheelchair company, and a representative told me a technician would come the next day. The parts were under warrantee, the rep said, but the labor would not be covered.
"Don't worry Mr. Freeman," the rep said. "You won't have to pay. We will bill the insurance company."
It doesn't appear that way when I look at my insurance premium, though. In the end, we all pay.
I take a medication for my MS called Ampyra. Its full retail price is between $1,500 and $2,000 per month. But aren't I lucky? With Medicare and a Humana prescription plan, I only pay $760 per month, unless of course I could prove the cost creates a financial hardship, but proving that would be _ no surprise here _ a process in and of itself.
My comments are in no way a reflection on the professionalism of any health care provider individually or health care professionals as a group. I also understand that pharmaceutical research is expensive. The health care system is bleeding, and there isn't a bandage fix. It's all about price gauging and mismanagement.
The doctors point their fingers at the insurance companies, and the insurance companies point their fingers at the doctors and ancillary service providers. And, in the end, the proverbial middle finger gets pointed at me, the health care consumer.
