Bill Nemitz: MaineCare cannibals on the loose. Run for it!
Gov. LePage fights expansion of health care for the poor with scare tactics worthy of Alfred Hitchcock.
Dear Governor LePage,
Can we talk about cannibalism for a minute?
No doubt about it, it’s a word that’s guaranteed to make people cringe. In fact, I just looked up the “Top 10 Cases of Human Cannibalism” on the Internet and could make it only to No. 5 – the notoriously full-of-themselves Mauerova family in the Czech Republic – before I hit the “close” button in horror.
Which makes me a total wimp compared to you, right, Big Guy? In your never-ending quest to demonize Maine’s poor, you’ve transformed our entire Medicaid program, known as MaineCare, into the cannibal that is eating state government!
“Maine Agencies Cannibalized by Welfare Spending,” shrieked the headline of a news release put out twice in the past two weeks by Adrienne Bennett, your intrepid press secretary. For those with weak stomachs, Bennett linked to her release a slightly tamer litany of warnings, headlined “Medicaid Consumes the General Fund,” from other spokespeople throughout state government.
(As the old scaremonger Alfred Hitchcock himself once advised, “Always make the audience suffer as much as possible.”)
Better yet, Governor, on Wednesday you dispatched top officials from the state’s natural resources agencies to warn the citizenry that it’s only a matter of time before MaineCare swallows Augusta whole.
“We represent what Maine is widely known for, its iconic image,” observed Commissioner Walter Whitcomb of the Department of Agriculture, Conservation and Forestry. “But the natural resource agencies have taken it on the chin, financially.”
(Note to Commissioner Whitcomb: When the topic for the day is cannibalism, it borders on overkill to start citing specific body parts.)
Nothing subtle about this horror show of a news conference, was there, Governor? It represented your latest – and hands-down most creative – attempt to prevent as many as 70,000 Mainers from gaining much-needed access to health care under the Affordable Care Act.
More specifically, it was your response to a MaineCare expansion plan developed by two of your fellow Republicans – Sen. Roger Katz of Augusta and Sen. Tom Saviello of Wilton – that is fast attracting legislative support on both sides of the aisle.
Katz and Saviello stopped by the newsroom this week and laid out a clear, compelling and perfectly rational argument behind their proposal:
Medicine for Medicaid: Will Maine reform health care for low-income residents?
Over the last several decades, most states across the country have shifted how they manage the health care of their low-income residents. Instead of coordinating directly with providers and paying for each medical procedure, states have, more and more, handed over that administrative responsibility to outside entities. The trend has not hit Maine until now.
A compromise bill proposed this week by Maine Republican Sens. Roger Katz of Augusta and Tom Saviello of Wilton would expand Medicaid coverage to 70,000 residents under the Affordable Care Act and start Maine on a years-long path of converting to a managed care system where the state’s Medicaid program, MaineCare, would be contracted out to private companies or nonprofits.
By all accounts, it would be the largest change to hit MaineCare in years, possibly decades. The goal, Katz and Saviello said, is to ensure all Maine residents have access to quality health care within a system that is ready for them and able to deliver medical care in a cost-effective way.
“The status quo in MaineCare, even if we don’t expand, is unacceptable,” Katz said.
Whether you have ever held a MaineCare card or not, switching to a managed care model would affect you. You might work in the health care or social assistance industry now, or you might in the future; employment in the field grew by 22.6 percent between 2000 and 2012. You might have an elderly parent facing a need for long-term care. Or perhaps you are a taxpayer; MaineCare will comprise about 23 percent of the state general fund in fiscal year 2014.
Concierge Medicine - Time Magazine
t's not like I've never been dumped before. Still, I was ill prepared to be dumped by my GP. For 12 years I thought we got along O.K. Now I continually ask myself, "Was I not sick enough for her?"
The first warning sign was the single-serve coffee machine in the waiting room, featuring festive flavored international coffees and chai.
I eyed it nervously. Had there been an article in an AMA journal offering hints on transforming your drab, predictable reception area into an upscale medi-café? At my next Pap smear, would I meet a barista and be offered a selection of croissants?
"No, no," I said to myself. "Current wisdom dictates that when her practice becomes successful, she must personalize her brand."
If this were a movie, the tone of the music cues would begin to get darker as we arrived at the day the glass display cases containing lovingly arranged bottles of moisturizer were installed. "I guess pricey moisturizers are considered medicine now," I rationalized, wondering about the ever more porous boundaries between beauty and health.
The music cues would grow darker yet as we cut to a scene where I had the flu and found myself waiting for an appointment, surrounded by pamphlets for "facial fillers" and "injectables" like Juvéderm. If she writes me a prescription for a spray tan, I am going to walk, I thought.
But I remained loyal. She was my doctor. Her office still called to remind me about getting my checkups. She was entitled to branch out.
Then, about a month ago, I got The Letter.
"I'd like to wish you and your family a happy holiday season and a prosperous new year," it began.
Interesting word choice, I thought. Prosperous rather than healthy.
Her reasoning became clearer as the letter went on to explain that we were all being dropped as patients--unless we paid a $5,000- or $10,000-a-year retainer for her services, depending on the plan.
"Our nation is faced with the most difficult time in the history of our health care system," the letter went on. "As a result, I will now be transitioning my practice to a concierge medical service."
Concierge Medicine - Time Magazine
t's not like I've never been dumped before. Still, I was ill prepared to be dumped by my GP. For 12 years I thought we got along O.K. Now I continually ask myself, "Was I not sick enough for her?"
The first warning sign was the single-serve coffee machine in the waiting room, featuring festive flavored international coffees and chai.
I eyed it nervously. Had there been an article in an AMA journal offering hints on transforming your drab, predictable reception area into an upscale medi-café? At my next Pap smear, would I meet a barista and be offered a selection of croissants?
"No, no," I said to myself. "Current wisdom dictates that when her practice becomes successful, she must personalize her brand."
If this were a movie, the tone of the music cues would begin to get darker as we arrived at the day the glass display cases containing lovingly arranged bottles of moisturizer were installed. "I guess pricey moisturizers are considered medicine now," I rationalized, wondering about the ever more porous boundaries between beauty and health.
The music cues would grow darker yet as we cut to a scene where I had the flu and found myself waiting for an appointment, surrounded by pamphlets for "facial fillers" and "injectables" like Juvéderm. If she writes me a prescription for a spray tan, I am going to walk, I thought.
But I remained loyal. She was my doctor. Her office still called to remind me about getting my checkups. She was entitled to branch out.
Then, about a month ago, I got The Letter.
"I'd like to wish you and your family a happy holiday season and a prosperous new year," it began.
Interesting word choice, I thought. Prosperous rather than healthy.
Her reasoning became clearer as the letter went on to explain that we were all being dropped as patients--unless we paid a $5,000- or $10,000-a-year retainer for her services, depending on the plan.
"Our nation is faced with the most difficult time in the history of our health care system," the letter went on. "As a result, I will now be transitioning my practice to a concierge medical service."
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