Saturday, June 25, 2022

It’s nice to be home again. But for how long?

 This is an open letter to my American cousins.

 

I made a mistake, and I want you to avoid it when the time will come for you to be like us.

 

You see, my friends: I lived with our Canadian government “financed and operated” health insurance plan for nearly six decades, not bothering for a moment analyzing it in detail so as to make the best use of it.

 

I mistakenly believed that the money the government collects in the form of taxes to pay for health insurance, is like a premium that the government collects to pay for the policy. That is, the policy is the guarantee that should I or any citizen suffer a health “accident,” the policy will pay to make us whole again, and let us go when all’s well. All this being done in the same way that a car insurer pays for the repair of an old jalopy.

 

This being the colossal mistake – which I discovered the situation to have been as time passed – caused me the unnecessary damage I could have avoided if only I knew. The essential result of my mistake had been that every time I felt I suffered a small case of “disrepair,” I neglected to talk to my caregiver because I thought I had “better” things to do than run to a clinic to see a doctor or – heaven forbid – be sent to hospital for an extended stay.

 

Little did I know then that the cumulative effect of the little mistakes I neglected to take care of, will become one or more big mistakes that will eventually take a serious toll on me. That’s the regrettable result I have now reached, having thought of health insurance in the same way that I thought of car insurance.

 

Stated simply, I was proud of the Canadian System that’s protecting me – which by all accounts – amounted to being universally considered as one of the best in the world. And so, the truth was that I fell victim to my own smugness, waiting for something big to happen to cash in on my accident. In turn, this realization is what forced me to finally analyze the system in depth, and work to figure out where exactly I went wrong, as well as to what I can do to help others avoid my colossal mistake.

 

Here is the bottom line: The first thing we need to do, is avoid replacing one state of smugness by another state of smugness. Yes, we are not cars that can be repaired by “collision mechanics,” but are spiritual beings as well. In fact, for the purpose of clarity, even this reality can be viewed as beside the point for now – but only for now. The important part of this analytic exercise being that the emerging new point makes us realize that when we pay for health insurance, we pay for two components, not just one.

 

Like car insurance, a component of the premium we  pay, is strictly dedicated to making us whole if and when we find ourselves – suddenly or developmentally – incapable of performing at a high enough level. But unlike car insurance, another component of the premium is dedicated to doing periodic maintenance so as to keep the body and soul of the individual in a high state of performance. In fact, that’s where they need to be to fulfill our duty as human beings.

 

We were not designed as a piece of planned obsolescence – here today to fulfil a task and disappear tomorrow – thus be replaced by an identical piece or an improved one. No, that’s not what we are. We were designed with a physical body that can only take a certain amount of battering before succumbing to the ravages of time. But while fulfilling this task, the body sustains and nurtures an inventive spirit that’s intended to leave behind a rich legacy of creativity. It is one that connects our past ancestry to a future evolution that will maintain us alive all the way to a never-ending eternity.

 

When we forget this reality and neglect to take care of our little pains and sufferings, we risk catching the big ailment and losing our seat on the journey to the eternity that’s beckoning us.

 

I do not intend to lose my seat, and neither should you, my friend.

 

Like they say in the movies, you have only one life to live.

 

Like my mother used to say: No part of life can ever be squandered.