We got a new puppy on Sunday. And by puppy I mean a 50-pound Lab-Pointer mix. He's a rescue who'd been abused, neglected and already had to endure a pair of surgeries – one of which left him without two feet of intestine.
His former owners refused to pay the vet – when they finally deigned to take him in – and surrendered him on the spot. So he's with us now, and will probably require special care – and overpriced food – for the rest of his life.
Now, as Storey luck would have it, Krypto, our 11-year lab-chow mix, started limping around the house that same day. So we took him into the vet on Monday. An exam, X-rays and blood tests revealed advanced arthritis and what the vet thinks is something called Cushing's disease. It's apparently a fairly common disorder for labs, in particular, and includes, among other things, an excess of fatty tissue around his liver, displacing his stomach.
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While the vet wants to run at least one more test, my wife and I find ourselves discussing what to do next:
Surgery's not an option. The vet said that up front. His body just couldn't take it.
The next test would run almost $300. That's on top of the $500-plus I dropped this week already.
Keep in mind that whatever we do, Krypto will be on pain meds, and whatever other drug they use to treat Cushing's, for the rest of whatever life he has left. Meanwhile, we know there's nothing any of us can do about either illness. We'll only be treating the symptoms.
Finally, we could put him down, end his misery and savor his memory. They've already run the numbers for us on all of our options there, as well.
I still don't know what I'm going to do. This dog saved my life, saw me through a divorce and the dark days that followed. He's been one of the best friends I've ever had. So it's not about the money. I couldn't care less. But how much is too much? When does compassion turn to obsession? And love into greed?
The bottom line is the vet's talked us through everything, every step of the way – from diagnosis to treatment to costs. With both dogs. We know what we've already spent, what we'll spend later this week, and what expense everything will bring, no matter what we decide. And that's all because we'll be the ones writing the checks or pulling out the plastic. Not my employer, not some charity and certainly not my Congressman. These family members are my responsibility.
But I can't help but wonder: What if our own health care was equally transparent, and traditionally transactional? We might not only have more reasonable costs, but we'd behave more responsibly and decide treatments more reasonably. Or am I just kidding myself?
How – and why – did we manage to make something so vital so unnecessarily convoluted? And why do so many people have to be involved in what is basically a two-person transaction (provider and patient)?
Taxes are the only thing I can think of that's as absurdly complex. I know I'll get beat up for this, but what's wrong with, say, everyone paying 20 percent of their income, and call it good? Maybe add a 1 percent national sales tax.
It's as frustrating as it is depressing. I know all dogs go to heaven – and this week I sure as hell hope that's true – but I can't help but think we're all headed to hell.
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