President Obama took his show on the road yesterday to preach the
urgency of reforming our health-care system. The reason for this,
he explained, is that the current approach is too expensive. Get
it? We need government health care to save money.
The Big Lie theory is well-known, having been elaborated in a
German book called Mein Kampf written by a house painter
who later went into politics. He explained that people force
themselves to believe a lie so colossal that no one “could have
the impudence to distort the truth so infamously.” The idea
that a Federal single-payer health regimen mandated for everyone
would cost less than we pay now is so stupendously mind-boggling
and jaw-dropping startles us out of any rational response.
Rather than debate this absurd proposition let me tell you a
story of a real Socialist medical regimen as experienced by this
author. In October 1981 I moved to Israel for a few years. I had
never been out of the country before, other than my two years
living in Montreal between the ages of three and five. My ex-wife
was pregnant with our second child and the first order of
business was to find a capable obstetrician.
We sat down with friends who explained what was what. It turned
out that the government did allow a couple to contract with a
private obstetrician, but by so doing they would forfeit the
hospital coverage. So you had a choice. If you wanted the
personal care of a private doctor who could be called to the
hospital to deliver your child, you not only had to pay his fee,
you had to pay the hospital out of pocket. If you could afford
your own doctor you must be able to afford the hospital.
If on the other hand you wanted to enjoy the benefits of free
hospitalization, you had to accept birthing by a midwife. In this
case, as well, you were supposed to accept the midwife on duty
whenever you happen to arrive at the hospital, a woman who knows
neither you nor your case. If a surgery is required, it will be
assigned to the doctor on call at the time.
“So you mean everyone goes along with this rigmarole and all
children are delivered by strangers?”
Oh, no, our friends laughed. Nobody actually does it this way.
All this is only for show. What actually happens is you meet with
a private doctor or midwife, then pay them with no record and no
receipt. They will meet with you through the pregnancy like a
regular private patient, all off the books. Once the contractions
come and you need to head to the hospital, you call the doctor at
home. He then ambles down to the hospital, pretends to be there
by coincidence and personally supervises the delivery. All the
hospital staff play along with a wink and a nod. The birth is
registered as having been achieved without the assistance of a
private doctor, thus allowing the hospitalization to be free of
charge.
Who do people use? Who is recommended? The top two men in
Jerusalem are Doctor W, a Hungarian Jew and Doctor A, a native
Israeli. W is older and more by the book, while the other brings
a youthful flair. They each charge a sizable fee. Just don’t be
the one to bring up the subject of money, let them broach it in
their way. Oh, and right now they are both under indictment for
these very infractions.
We chose Doctor W and had a nice session in his inner office. He
was asking all the right questions, standard pregnancy issues,
then he suddenly pointed to a painting on the wall and put his
finger to his lips. The police were bugging his office. He kept
on talking while jotting something on a small Post-It note.
Without pausing in his conversation he handed me this paper. “Two
thousand dollars,” it read.
Well, I’m not proud of it but I allowed myself to be swept along
by the tide. I paid up and played the game along with everyone
else. It turned out my daughter, Rachel, was more than two weeks
overdue and a Caesarean was indicated. Doctor W happened along at
just the right moment to perform it capably. That was February
23, 1982, and twenty-seven years later, Rachel is doing fine,
living in Toronto with her husband and four children.
Although I am still flabbergasted and speechless by Obama’s
contention that services will be provided while money will be
saved, my story speaks on my behalf. The last word goes to my
friend, Mister Greenblatt of Memphis, who ran into me on a
Jerusalem street shortly after my daughter was born. “Oh, you
used Doctor W? I heard he only delivers under the table.”
