Religion comes from a time when people didn't understand the world
around them. Things like weather and natural disasters (to say nothing of the sheer vastness of the world in which they lived and the universe beyond) were beyond their ability to comprehend, let alone control. They were afraid, so they had gods to comfort them. We have
science for that now.
Religion comes from a time when people were wild. Many were wont to
follow whatever whims struck their fancy, for good or ill, so they had
divine laws to control them. We have government for that now.
Religion comes from a time when power meant survival. Either you
controlled the lives of other men, or were controlled and your life was
in others' hands, so they had priesthoods and the like to give men power
and influence over others. We have corporations for that now.
Religion is the last remnant of ancient superstition and primal
fear. It takes its strength from all that is wrong in us: our ambition,
our weak-mindedness, and our tendency to exclude all those who differ
from us. In a modern world we need not such things, and indeed would be
better off without them. Religion is not only irrelevant to modern life,
it is detrimental and should be forgotten like so many aspects of our
past: slavery, bloodsport, arranged marriage, and all the rest that we
now in our enlightened age call "uncivilized".
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Health Care - A Clever Subtitle Eludes Me
Let me tell you a little something about the "greatest health care system in the world".
When I was living in Korea, it astonished me how often my Korean friends would suggest I go to the hospital. For every little cough, it seemed. This is totally the opposite of the way Americans do things. We avoid going to the doctor unless absolutely necessary, and shun the hospital for seemingly anything less than imminent death. Regardless, I did end up going a few times when the alternative was missing work, and I was amazed at how efficient and cheap it all was. Still, the American in me continued opting to "tough it out" most of the time.
Then once last winter I caught something really awful. It hit me out of completely nowhere. One day I was fine and the next, composing my last will and testament. My throat hurt terribly and it was incredibly painful to swallow or even speak (which can be a real hindrance when one's job mostly entails speaking for long periods of time). I had a number of other flu-like symptoms as well.
One day of this was all it took to convince me I didn't want to put up with such misery for any longer than absolutely necessary. Thus I left early for work the next day, and stopped by the hospital on my way. A specialist was able to see me after about a half hour of waiting, and he informed me that I had tonsillitis. He wrote me a prescription which I had filled at the pharmacy next door to where I worked, and took my first dose the minute I sat down at my desk. By the time I headed home that evening, I was already feeling better, and by the next day it was like I'd never been sick at all. The entire ordeal? From walk-in at the hospital to taking the first dose of medicine: under two hours and approximately US$60. Let's take a look at what that would have been like here in the states, shall we?
First, I'd have had to make an appointment with my own physician - assuming I even have one (I don't, having lived overseas for a couple of years). Cross my fingers he can get me in some time this week. Assuming he's totally on the ball, he catches the tonsillitis the first time and writes me a prescription. I have to pay him, and just hope to god I have insurance, because even with it my co-pay could be anywhere from $15 to $50. Maybe more. If he doesn't catch it right off, I'll have to be referred to a specialist. This means more waiting around for an appointment, and another bill to pay. Expect both wait time and fees due to be higher than the first go-round.
When I finally go to buy my medicine, I hope there's a generic brand I can get for under triple digits. All told? I'm out a couple hundred bucks and had to suffer through swallowing and speaking for at least a couple of days, if not the better part of a week or more. And I likely missed some work too, because even if I wanted to make myself more miserable by doing anything other than lying on the couch drinking juice, most employers tend to frown on their employees infecting an entire workplace. Though I'm not entirely sure if tonsillitis is communicable, so there's a silver lining. Feeling like death and no excuse to stay home? Why doesn't every country adopt this clearly superior model?
Suck it, Hannity.
When I was living in Korea, it astonished me how often my Korean friends would suggest I go to the hospital. For every little cough, it seemed. This is totally the opposite of the way Americans do things. We avoid going to the doctor unless absolutely necessary, and shun the hospital for seemingly anything less than imminent death. Regardless, I did end up going a few times when the alternative was missing work, and I was amazed at how efficient and cheap it all was. Still, the American in me continued opting to "tough it out" most of the time.
Then once last winter I caught something really awful. It hit me out of completely nowhere. One day I was fine and the next, composing my last will and testament. My throat hurt terribly and it was incredibly painful to swallow or even speak (which can be a real hindrance when one's job mostly entails speaking for long periods of time). I had a number of other flu-like symptoms as well.
One day of this was all it took to convince me I didn't want to put up with such misery for any longer than absolutely necessary. Thus I left early for work the next day, and stopped by the hospital on my way. A specialist was able to see me after about a half hour of waiting, and he informed me that I had tonsillitis. He wrote me a prescription which I had filled at the pharmacy next door to where I worked, and took my first dose the minute I sat down at my desk. By the time I headed home that evening, I was already feeling better, and by the next day it was like I'd never been sick at all. The entire ordeal? From walk-in at the hospital to taking the first dose of medicine: under two hours and approximately US$60. Let's take a look at what that would have been like here in the states, shall we?
First, I'd have had to make an appointment with my own physician - assuming I even have one (I don't, having lived overseas for a couple of years). Cross my fingers he can get me in some time this week. Assuming he's totally on the ball, he catches the tonsillitis the first time and writes me a prescription. I have to pay him, and just hope to god I have insurance, because even with it my co-pay could be anywhere from $15 to $50. Maybe more. If he doesn't catch it right off, I'll have to be referred to a specialist. This means more waiting around for an appointment, and another bill to pay. Expect both wait time and fees due to be higher than the first go-round.
When I finally go to buy my medicine, I hope there's a generic brand I can get for under triple digits. All told? I'm out a couple hundred bucks and had to suffer through swallowing and speaking for at least a couple of days, if not the better part of a week or more. And I likely missed some work too, because even if I wanted to make myself more miserable by doing anything other than lying on the couch drinking juice, most employers tend to frown on their employees infecting an entire workplace. Though I'm not entirely sure if tonsillitis is communicable, so there's a silver lining. Feeling like death and no excuse to stay home? Why doesn't every country adopt this clearly superior model?
Suck it, Hannity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)