13 September, 2009

Latex can save your life

Yesterday, I told one of my students that I got tested for STIs last week.
He laughed.

Soon realizing that I was not in on the joke he stopped immediately, asking "sexual diseases, ne [right]?" Yes, I intoned, almost challenging him to ask why. We were previously talking about his recent health checkup so contextually I shared my recent visit to a clinic. He commented that I look healthy, which I told him is a major reason why people unwittingly spread diseases- the assumption of being able to spot someone with a sexually transmitted infection. Someone who isn't "clean," as they have unfairly been called. And while I thank him for the compliment, I owe being healthy to being aware that every sexual experience I have is one more possibility for contracting an infection, or the worst disease of all- pregnancy.

Now that I can take advantage of Japan's socialized health care, I immediately began with a battery of tests. After two bus transfers, I made my way back to the public health clinic, Hamamatsu Hokenjo, to get the results of the blood tests I took last week. Silently, I prayed that the needles are more sterile than the building they are housed in. This building has all the charm of Earl K. Long Hospital in Baton Rouge, but none of the inefficiency. Within minutes of arriving, my number was called and I was led into the same room where I previously answered a few questions like:

"Do you have a reason to believe you have recently contracted HIV/AIDS?" (No)
"Have you ever been treated for Syphilis or Chlamydia before?" (No)
"Do you routinely share needles with other people" (Um... well, not since 'Nam)

In Japan, if you take an anonymous blood test it is not customary for the result to be handed to you on paper or given over the phone. You have to come in-person and give your initials. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu" I greeted the nurse and told her immediately that I cannot speak Japanese. She said "Daijoubu [it's okay], I speak little English" before continuing in Japanese. Like the statement "guilty until proven innocent," I apparently understood Japanese until I pulled a strange face. She spoke, and I listened carefully for her intonation. If something sounded serious or if she asked a question that I didn't understand, I raised an eyebrow. She then translated the last word of her sentence, "Blah blah blah... paper." But she was very kind and patient, so I do not intend to make light of her effort to help me understand the results. All I needed to hear anyway was negative.

Finally, after searching for my results, she pointed to negative for all four tests and instantly became my new best friend (well, my new best Japanese friend... not that there's much competition). She continued to talk and I continued to say "Hai" until she made small talk. She asked me the typical question: "When do you come to Japan" (which, as an English teacher, I usually correct but this was not the time) and, in Japanese, asked me if I either eat or like Japanese food. I don't know which one but the answer is yes for both, so I said so. I thanked her and made my way back home to sit in my STI-free skin and thank all those in my life who champion safety.

My student is a good representative of many people I know, in America and abroad: people who believe testing for STIs is relegated for sex workers and homosexuals (and, you know, bisexuals). It is unfortunate that this ignorance spreads, like, well...legs. Everyone who is sexually active should be aware of their status regarding STIs and it should be regarded as routine as an annual physical. I honestly went into the office confident that I would once again receive favorable results (I almost typed positive results, but that would be assuredly antithetical) but leaving always produces a little healthy anxiety.

The best part about waiting a week for your results is reevaluating the sexual transgressions of the past. But getting tested isn't about regrets and the fear of sex. The absolute best part of getting those results is looking forward to the sexual adventures of the future and knowing that you have more time to play the game.

So play on.

03 September, 2009

Podium

In 24 hours, I will officially join what is thought by many to be "socialized health care." I will walk into a Hamamatsu ward office and leave with an insurance card. This card means doctors would only charge me 30% for any health care I need outside of the meager insurance provided by my company (which I was told at the ward office is traveler's insurance). So when I go to the dentist, a much needed trip, I will be responsible for paying 30% of the procedure and any prescriptions. It's the first time since I've been a working American male that I've had my own health insurance, and it is a shame that I could not get a similar option in America.

The landmark study "Care Without Coverage: Too Little, Too Late," has been widely quoted in the midst of the health care debate in America. This 193-page report has been so important because it points out that 30 million (that's one in seven) working-age Americans cannot get insurance from their employer or are too young for Medicare; approximately 10 million children lack insurance altogether. The fact that 18,314 people die in the USA each year should be a sobering one for the country that outspends the rest of the world in health care but provides only a fraction of the population with adequate health care.

For many Americans, the idea of not having health insurance is unfathomable. Some people have been fortunate to not know what it is like to lack coverage. However, this American has never had his own health insurance plan and is now officially too old to be covered under his mother's health insurance. In America, I would be between a rock and a hard place should something happen to me. Even when I was partially covered under my mother's plan, I had to pay a considerable amount for health care. It was generally enough that I usually avoided hospitals and dentists. That avoidance could have prevented my health, particularly my teeth, from declining. I know several people who refuse to call an ambulance because the cost of having one come to pick you up, even in an emergency, is not covered in their insurance, if they are in fact covered at the time of illness. Personally, I had to open a credit card to pay for previous dental work that I am still trying to pay for two years later, because the interest rate is sky high. If I were in America working the exact same job, I would not currently have any options to consider about my health care.

I do not say this lightly: thankfully, I am not in America.

I am in Japan, a country with socialized health care insurance and the world's highest life-expectancy rate. To be clear, about 80% of Japanese hospitals are privately owned, so it is not "socialized medicine," as NPR clarifies in an April article on the health care situation of Japan. Japan has what many Americans are fighting for now, universal health care. Specifically, a Public Option. Simply put, I can opt for National Health Insurance. Japan requires health care for everyone, but I can choose from three different programs:

1) Shakai Kenkou Hoken (Company-Provided Insurance)- Your company will provide you with this insurance if you are currently working full-time. Your deductible will come directly out of your paycheck and is a certain percentage of your earnings and will cover up to 70% of your medical bills. (Now the kicker is that full-time means 30 hours a week, I am reportedly working 29.5 and not full-time which makes me ineligible for this option.)

2) Kokumin Kenkou Hoken (National Health Insurance)- Opting into this plan means the government pays 70% of your treatment, while you pay the other 30%. This is the plan most students, unemployed and self-employed people have. The government sends you a bill every month like an insurance company but the amount you pay is based on residence tax, dependents and property owned.(This is the option I will have to choose)

3) Private Health Care- like America, you can choose your own personal health care option which gives you the coverage that you prefer at the costs you prefer. This option, for those who can afford it, usually means full-coverage, or at least more than 70% (which honestly isn't bad to begin with!)

In fact, the only people really complaining about Japanese health care are physicians. Japanese health care has limits on how much doctors can charge for operations and procedures. This is standardized across the country. While in America one doctor can charge an arm and a leg for an X-ray, the cost of imaging is the same all over Japan, and relatively cheaper.

Japanese people live longer than Americans because of diet as well as preventive care. They see a doctor three times as much as Americans according to T.R. Reid with NPR. And they see any doctor they want. Of course no health care plan is perfect, but the fact that I have choices, "options open to the public" if you will.

See, the thing people seem to be confused about is that the Public Option that the President is seeking is no different at all from the one already in place here in Japan and other intelligent developed countries. England's universal health care program began in 1911, but really expanded into the modern form in 1946 after the blitz of World War II. And England has learned that it's program isn't perfect and is currently seeking ways to reform it to improve hospitals and wait times. But at least it has a system in place to insure everyone has access to care. And no one in Japan has to declare bankruptcy because of unexpected hospital bills. It is a kick in the face that once a doctor saves your life you don't have much to life for when the bills pile up. Having a Public Option means I can choose to have private insurance or choose the government to assist me when I need health care. Knowing the government has a safety net for me makes me feel like an actual human being.

Which makes me afraid to figure out what will I be if I have to go back to the states and lose any coverage.

I'll continue to post about my journey through the scary path that is socialized health care.

Ikuzo.