Death.

That’s the worst outcome that could befall me on Nov. 19 when I am scheduled to have a craniotomy to remove a tumor that is causing me no end of problems. I had to accept that I could die during surgery or after or before or in ten seconds or ten days or ten years before I could really settle down and get my mind right.

Was it Thoreau who said that illness has a way of focusing the mind? Whoever it was, they were right. There are myriad little problems and petty battles which swirl around me everyday; however, of late none of them seem to have very much significance to me. A fight for my life is under way and I am focused. Funny thing is I’m not focused on my health; it’s what this is all going to cost that weighs heavy.

The U.S. House of Representatives passed a muddled health care bill late Saturday that will a) save health care from total meltdown or b) turn our country into a socialist state where government decides who lives and dies. I predict it will do neither.

Insurance companies already decide who lives and who dies and health care has already melted down. It was a great idea (I’ll life a lyric from Bob Dylan here) until greed got in the way. Keeping us healthy shouldn’t be about money but you can bet your bottom dollar it is. Don’t believe me? Get sick, I mean really sick, then let’s talk. I should be concerned with how I can recover from my upcoming surgery, instead I’m worried about how my gutted Blue Cross plan is going to pay or not pay for what’s coming up. I’m also worried that the Indian Health Service (I’m a member of the Cherokee tribe and am eligible for (cue the evil music) government-run health care will tell me tough luck buddy, but there be no help from us this time.

Of the two, I much prefer the Choctaw Nation Health Service. They do what they say and my wellness is what matters (I hope that holds true this go around). Blue Cross just wants higher co-pays, $200 out-of-pocket for each day I’m in the hospital plus $70 co-pays to see a specialist, huge deductibles and more money on top of more money.

Private health care isn’t so hot for most of us as corporations cut back on what is paid for and ramp up out-of-pocket costs. I’m not biting the hand that feeds, most companies have had to adjust health plans and I am grateful for the coverage I do have. I’m just saying it costs more and more each year.

Under my plan, generic drugs are $15 a pop, “preferred drugs” are $55 each and the dreaded “non-preferred” drugs are $75 each.) All the while this “insurance” company won’t pay for smoking cession drugs or for a lap band to help a super super morbidly obese fellow like my self get my BMI down from 67 to something a bit less lethal.

So I wait. Under the rules, I can’t check into the hospital the night before my 7 a.m. surgery, Blue Cross says that’s not really needed. They also say four days and out the door. We’ll see about that. Seems to me since they’ll be laying a big chunk of my brain bare to the open air, four days seems a bit slim.

Am I afraid? Yeah, but so what? Worry isn’t going to make this tumor magically disappear – that doesn’t really happen in real life — so I’m going to walk down this road see what lies ahead. What else can I do?