Equally disappointing, the U.S. does not appear to get great value out of this exorbitant price tag, as our health-care outcomes certainly are not any better, and are sometimes worse, than other industrialized countries.
Elephants in the Room
The Time article talks extensively about the lack of transparency and drivers for cost in the industry. But there are two major, unreconciled questions the article fails to answer that are at the core of the issue:
- Is health care in the U.S. a right or a luxury?
- Can the U.S. health-care system be compassionate and restrictive at the same time?
You really don’t encounter the first question with any other industry. If I am hungry and do not have any money, I would not march into a restaurant and say, “I am hungry; therefore, you must feed me.” But we all feel like we can—and should—march into an emergency room and say, “I am sick; therefore, you must treat me,” no matter our financial situation. For all other industries, we rely on community resources, nonprofit agencies, and some state/federal funding to bridge gaps in basic necessities (food, housing, clothing, and transportation). And when those run short, people do without.
Car dealerships and Jiffy Lube do not have to follow any Emergency Medicine Treatment and Active Labor Act rules. If health care is a right, then we should not make individuals figure out how to get it, and we should not accept huge disparities in the provision of care based on personal characteristics.
My hospital, like most others in the U.S., is trying to figure out how to cut costs and do more with less. In a series of town-hall-style meetings, our leadership has been telling all of our hospital staff about planned cost-cutting and revenue-generating strategies. One of the tactics is to be more proactive and consistent with collecting copays in outpatient settings (before the delivery of any visit, test, or procedure) and to have parity with our local market on setting the price of those copays. But several employees were wrestling with the thought of collecting copays before the delivery of service. Some voiced a particular concern: “But what if they don’t have the money?” Again, not a conversation heard too often at car dealerships or Jiffy Lube.
The U.S. has a long way to go in reconciling these questions. Addressing them might be easier if there were more transparency in pricing. When you walk into Jiffy Lube, you are presented with all the things you might need for your car, based on make, model, and mileage; you get a listing of the cost of all the items, then you make decisions about what you do and do not need as you factor in what you are willing to spend. But when you go for your annual primary-care check-up, you are not presented a list of all the things you need (based on age, comorbidities, family history, etc.); you are not given a listing of the cost of those available services (check-up, eye exam, colonoscopy, pneumococcal vaccination); and rarely is there ever a discussion of what you are willing to spend. You just assume you need what is recommended, then get a bill later. There is almost no incentive for providers to discuss or present those prices to patients in advance. There is even less incentive to reduce the utilization of those offered services. And the price on the bill variably reflects the actual cost of the products/services provided.
In the hospital setting, the price of most products/services are based on the “chargemaster,” which is a fictional line listing of prices, which, according to the Time article, “gives them a big number to put in front of rich, uninsured patients” to make up for the losses in revenue from all other patients.