An endocrinologist is a doctor specializing in hormone-related diseases, such as, in my case, diabetes. When first diagnosed in late September 2024, I got a crash course in the huge demand for that profession's services. The first endocrinologist I approached wouldn't see me for a year. The second wouldn't see me at all; he was refusing all new patients.
Figuring I would have to engage another gear if I didn't want to sit around, doing nothing, waiting to go blind, I grabbed my notebook and decided, if I couldn't meet with an endocrinologist as a patient, I'd find out what I needed to know by writing a column. Diabetes affects 40 million Americans; it isn't as if it's a personal affliction.
That third endocrinologist not only spoke with me immediately — barred doors fly open for publicity — but put me in touch with a colleague who, either through a sea change in my luck or, I suspect, some kind of secret doctor-to-doctor dog whistle, took me under her wing as a patient.
If this strikes you are morally squishy — the journalist pushing to the head of the line — I worried about that, too. But I didn't misrepresent anything; the column ran in the paper.
Besides, with health care, you have to be a strong advocate for yourself. Faced with the prospect of letting my condition go unchecked while I hunted with increasingly numb fingers for an endocrinologist with an open slot, I did what I could. At that point, if meeting Morgan Finley in a Cicero motel room and handing over an envelope of cash would have gotten me an appointment, well, I certainly would have considered it.
I thickly assumed this was a problem inherent to endocrinology. Getting diabetes is easy — I just woke up one morning with Type 1. Medical school is hard. Of course, there's a shortage. Now it turns out I was encountering, not a diabetes-specific bottleneck, but a generalized, widespread condition.
This week, The Economist published a story with the musical title, "Hospitals are stuck in a deadly doom loop." Turns out the 2020 COVID crisis not only killed millions worldwide and shut down society, but it also "did lasting damage to health-care systems."
Where? Everywhere, all over the world. What's been damaged? In a nutshell, everything.
"From admission to discharge, hospital care is now harder to access, takes longer and is of worse quality," the magazine reports. "The resulting toll includes avoidable deaths. Almost everyone is affected: across 18 rich democracies, satisfaction with health-care quality fell sharply after the pandemic and remains well below the pre-pandemic norm."
Getting an appointment takes forever. As does getting admitted after showing up in the emergency room. Last year, one in 10 patients visiting an emergency room in England had to wait 12 hours or longer before being shown a room.
And in Chicago, an NBC News Channel 5 report found that Chicago has longer wait times to see a doctor than most American cities — a month to see a primary care doctor. For specialty care, like neurologists, up to five months.
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