Health Careless

THE boy's nose was smashed and broken--blue and swollen to almost comic proportions. His face was thoroughly bloodied. Although he could not have been older than 12, he held back tears as he sat, waiting, in the hospital emergency room.

His mother was not as stoic. She cried hysterically as a hardened representative of the Humana Hospital--Greenbrier Valley in Fairlea, West Virginia loudly demanded assurance that she could pay for her son's treatment.

To my genuine embarassment, the German exchange student who lives with my family witnessed this scene. Her response was simple and profound: "How can this be?"

How, indeed, in the wealthiest nation on earth, can a hospital withhold treatment from a child, prolonging his pain and suffering? Because he, like 37 million other Americans, has no health insurance.

I explained to my incredulous German friend that the United States is the only industrial nation, save South Africa, that doesn't guarantee medical treatment as a right of citizenship. In the nation that produces medical wonders such as the artificial heart, nearly 60 million people have either inadequate medical coverage, or no coverage at all.

Incidents like the one in the Humana emergency room are not rare, despite federal regulations. This year, a Miami resident, Edwina Hayes, suffered with a bullet in her back for 13 hours as she shuttled from one South Florida Hospital to another before an emergency room finally admitted her.

IT needn't be that way. Gov. Michael S. Dukakis, who spearheaded the effort to bring universal health insurance to Massachusetts, has just unveiled a plan to extend medical coverage to the rest of the country.

Under Dukakis' program, employers would be required to provide a basic insurance package to workers, and to pay a portion, perhaps 80 percent, of the annual premium. The coverage would pay for hospital stays, clinical visits, tests and diagnostic services, prenatal and pediatric care, and mental health care. Dukakis' plan would also provide tax breaks to assist small businesses in establishing insurance plans.

Vice President George Bush, who stood by as the Reagan administration attempted again and again to slash health benefits, reacted predictably. "It's socialized medicine," said Bush, "plain and simple."

Perhaps it is, George, and not a day too soon. At least, the Democrats believe that medical care should not be a luxury on par with pearls and furs. A child's smashed nose ought to be treated, whether he's a poor Appalachian boy or an Andover blue-blood.

In essence, Democrats believe that the relief of pain is a basic right--necessary for life and the pursuit of happiness.

Bush called Dukakis' plan "a prescription for financial disaster." Yet, the U.S. treasury would suffer no net loss from the plan. Savings on medicare payments would compensate for lost revenue from the tax breaks to small businesses. The total cost to business is estimated at $27 billion, only $10 billion more than they currently pay.

Indeed, Canada, Sweden and Germany, for instance, offer high quality univeral medical care, and spend a smaller percentage of their gross national product on health than does the United States.

SO cost is not the issue. The issue is whether Americans will collectively bear the burden of treating illness, just as we share the burden of defense and police protection. Or will we simply tell the sick and injured of the working class, "tough luck."

Bush's stance is not suprising. As Vice President, in 1985 he cast the deciding vote in favor of increasing out of pocket expenses for elderly medicare recipients. With his patrician upbringing, Bush doesn't seem to understand middle-class dilemmas such as, "Should I go to the doctor about that hacking cough, or should I buy shoes for my children?"

Dukakis' plan will eliminate the need for such decisions. To borrow from Jesse Jackson, it places public health above private wealth.

For weeks, pundits have advised Dukakis to push forth a few bold, new proposals in order to "define himself." No other issue better defines the stark choice we have before us in November--the choice between compassion and callousness.