Mind the gap…
This past Saturday, I volunteered at two ADA events that reminded me just how sharp the disparity of healthcare is in this country. The juxtaposition of the two populations at these different events was stark and stirring – and made me remember that diabetes care is just as much about the luck of the draw as it is personal effort.
The San Diego Feria de Salud was held in National City on Saturday, which is an annual health fair event aimed at the Latino population here in SD. Latinos are considered a high risk group for Type 2 diabetes; a mixture of genes, socioeconomic status, and deep-seated lifestyle traditions contribute to this population’s growing diabetes epidemic. Feria de Salud is an opportunity for Latino folks without access to good healthcare to get important screenings and check-ups at no cost. This year Feria also offered H1N1 vaccines in addition to foot exams and glucose tests.
Walking up to the local gymnasium that housed this event, English faded behind me and Spanish words began to fill the air. The line for health screenings was out the door, wrapping partially around the building, packed with men, women, and hundreds of children. The lively beats of the local Spanish radio station played in the background to keep those in line entertained.
Inside the gym, dozens of vendor tables lined the walls, offering everything from low-cost clinic services to insurance to flu vaccines. Shortly after my arrival, a group of second graders took to the “stage” to perform a traditional Mexican dance. If you closed your eyes in that gym, you would have no idea that you were in America. Everyone is speaking Spanish, the lively chatter and laughter filling the room.
I check in with the ADA director, and while we discuss how well the event is going, a man asks in broken English if there are eye exams available. The director shakes her head and tells him, sorry, not this year. He turns, disappointed, to his wife and children telling them “No tienen examen de ojos,” to which his wife, frustrated, replies “Pero dijo en la radio y la tele si hay…” (“but they said on the radio and TV there would be…”).
I think about the eye doctor I see every year for my full diabetic eye exam. I think about his comfortable waiting room, full of ads for $8,000 Lasik corrective surgery. How he turned one corner of his office into a mini-eyeglass boutique that sells the latest Gucci frames to his wealthy customers. How I simply show my insurance card to the front desk manager and I’m seen by the physician, without cost. How I have the ability to take the best care of my diabetes because of the fortunate position I’m in.
The people at Feria are hoping to take care of as many exams and checks as they can in one day because they can’t get them anywhere else. Some people will discover for the first time that day that they have diabetes, and a new burden will be on them. An expensive burden of test strips, healthy food, and several medications. What will they do with that news? What can they do with that news?
After Feria, I head downtown to my second event of the day: a vendor exhibition for a local bike ride that draws thousands of riders every year. We often set up booths at local cycling events to recruit riders for the Tour de Cure, and this event is one of the most popular of the year. We talk to hundreds of people that day – cyclists from all over the place, including many who flew in just for the ride. “Its one of my favorites of the year…” many proclaim. “I’m doing the century ride tomorrow then flying up to Napa to do the 100 up there, and later next month I’ll be doing the Santa Fe Century – its great!” one man relays to us. His shoes are top-of-the line Specialized racing shoes, and the bike he’s wheeling by retails for $3,000. Each of those races he’s listed costs at least $80 to enter, not to mention the plane tickets needed to attend each ride. This is a very different clientele than the one I just encountered.
Many people at the cycling event have also been touched by diabetes, but our conversations are much different than the ones I had just had at Feria. One gentleman and I compare traditional pumps to the OmniPod. I give my blog address to a set of parents worried about their 16-year old rebelling against her Type 1. A cyclist who flew in from Vancouver tells me he’s having trouble getting the carbs right for his longer bike rides, and asks if I have any tips. I’m back in the elite, mostly white world of premium healthcare, where the biggest problem is if the rain will shower the bike course tomorrow. The worries here would seem crazy to the crowd I had just left, a crowd who can’t afford the basics of healthcare. And yet diabetes has not differentiated between those who can afford the disease and those who cannot. Diabetes does not care if you are able to buy test strips or not, it strikes everywhere. I can only hope that through continued support and research that one day there will be an equalizer for this disease: a cure that everyone can have.
Did you enjoy this post? Why not leave a comment below and continue the conversation, or subscribe to my feed and get articles like this delivered automatically to your feed reader.
Comments
No comments yet.
Leave a comment