A week before Thanksgiving, I got up on the right side of bed, but from closer to the edge than I realized. Landed flat on my back and lay there in excruciating pain. But I managed to get dressed, make sure essentials were in my purse, call 911 and hobble downstairs to open the door.
Folks in the ER took X rays and a CAT scan. Determined I’d fractured a pelvic bone, but probably wouldn’t need surgery. So they sent me to a hospital, where the tests were repeated and the same diagnosis made.
Then on to a rehabilitation center, where I got both physical and occupational therapy to ready me for living at home alone and as much painkiller they’d allow. I’m still in pain, but otherwise in pretty good shape—and home again neither permanently disabled nor bankrupt..
I’m told that the transport, medical and therapy services and the rooms, food and the like in the hospital and rehab center will cost me nothing. The painkillers require copay, but it’s small. And my Medicare Advantage plan sets a low cap on all my out-of-pockets for the year.
I shudder to think of the bills I’d face if not enrolled in Medicare — or more precisely, the Advantage plan I chose. And I says to myself, what if I were twenty or so years younger now and I’d had the same accident when I was sixty-five?
You know, I’m sure, that this isn’t a hypothetical question. House Speaker Paul Ryan apparently plans to link his pet Medicare “reforms” to whatever the Republican majority does to dismantle the Affordable Care Act,
“Medicare has got some serious problems because of Obamacare,” he recently told Fox News, claiming, as he has in the past, that the program “is going broke.” This is wrong on both counts, as the Washington Post’s fact checker explains. And Ryan probably knows it.
But he also knows he’s got an opportunity he didn’t before. He’s produced multiple versions of his so-called Medicare reform plan. The latest, in his Better Way healthcare policy paper, is a dense, blame-heavy thing. This much, however, I think, we can gather in answer to my what-if question.
I wouldn’t have health insurance through any form of Medicare. Ryan would link the minimum eligibility age to the age former workers become eligible for full Social Security retirement benefits. That would be sixty-seven under current law. But Ryan, among others, has wanted to raise it further.
The rationale for withholding both sorts of benefits from people who’ve reached what we ordinarily think of as retirement age is that Americans are living longer. This, Ryan says, is because we’re healthier—thus, inferentially, not in need of Medicare until we’re significantly older.
Set aside the over-simple reading of the rising longevity figure, we’re not living longer because we’re healthier. It’s rather because medical science has gotten better at keeping sick people alive and because we’re spending more on healthcare—this according to the National Bureau of Economic Research.
The constantly evolving treatments of various sorts will mean nothing, of course, if people who need them don’t have insurance to cover most, if not all of the costs.
And what about a case like mine? My life expectancy had nothing whatever to do with my falling, though my age may have had something to do with the fact that a bone cracked.
Say, however, I’d reached the ripe old age for Medicare. It wouldn’t come close to covering my healthcare costs. I’d get a subsidy of some sort to help me pay premiums for either a non-government insurance plan, misleadingly termed an Advantage Plan, or traditional Medicare, also misleadingly termed.
Ryan misleads because neither of the choices we’d have would offer as much care for as relatively little. Our premium support would do more for the poor than the well-off. But it wouldn’t rise to keep pace with rising healthcare costs.
This is a main feature, not a bug. Ryan’s fundamental aim isn’t to save Medicare, as he claims, but to cut federal spending. So the subsidy—not, he protests, a voucher—would cover less and less over time.
But we’d get more bang for the buck, he says, because insurers would reduce costs and improve quality of care so we’d choose their program over competitors’. Medicare would then have a built-in cost containment mechanism, as it doesn’t now.
It already has various price controls, however, though Republicans would blow some away in repealing the ACA.
The bigger deal, however, is that private insurers can’t keep premium costs and out-of-pockets low enough for most of us to afford them. Nor can what’s now traditional Medicare, which would be in even worse shape than its alternatives.
And the bigger deal yet is that the soon-to-be Secretary of Health and Human Services has long objected to Medicare and enthusiastically supported Ryan’s privatization plan.
Shortly before his nomination, he said he expected Congress to move forward with a Medicare replacement plan in six to eight months—as soon as it’s dispatched with the ACA.
Republicans can tackle both without any Senate Democrats voting in favor, through a somewhat arcane process known as budget reconciliation. So unless more than two Republicans heed the vast majority of Americans, who oppose any spending cuts to Medicare, future seniors won’t have affordable health care.
This tally assumes that Trump will ignore his promise to leave Medicare alone. We still don’t have a clear read on that. But I’m even less confident now than I was a couple of weeks ago. One need only look at the healthcare reform page on his new website—and, of course, his choice for HHS.
The fact that I personally got—and will continue to get—the healthcare services I need at a price I can afford doesn’t make what seems to be coming down the pike irrelevant to me, though that’s clearly what the Medicare reform crew intends.
Nor do I rest easy, knowing that ending Medicare as we know it is only one piece of the attack on our affordable healthcare system.
We know, for example, that block granting Medicaid appeals to Trump—and that he’ll almost surely have a chance to sign a bill that denies low-income people, seniors among them, the affordable healthcare services they can count on now.
This wouldn’t directly affect me. But if I had less money, it would because Medicaid would help pay for my Medicare out-of-pockets—and, in at least some states, the costs of a home health aide. Anyone hobbling around the way I am needs someone to help with basic tasks.
But how many states would still provide it as healthcare costs rise and federal funding doesn’t?