Early Medical Adventures

When I was three years old, I survived cancer: a rare type of kidney tumor found only in children. My chances, in 1959, were not good. But my doctors gave it everything they had. They removed the right kidney, sewed up the hole that went halfway around my torso, and followed up with radiation. It worked. I'm still here. And I still have the scar to remind me.

Several years ago, my mother was cleaning her attic and found the receipt for that hospital bill.

It was $1,000. Today, that kind of money might not even get you in the door. In 1959, it paid for a major operation, nine days in the hospital, 40 radiation treatments, and heaven knows how many doctors and nurses and lab technicians.

And for that, our health insurance company kicked me off the family policy.


My dad owned a small business. Mom was a teacher who had taken a few years off to stay home with two kids during our preschool years. I dare say we were a typical white, middle-class 1950s family.

Growing up, I occasionally heard from friends, teachers and other mentors who thought my mom was a bit over-protective. It took me decades to understand why.

Imagine being the mother of a three-year-old who is suddenly diagnosed with a rare and deadly disease. Mom is a bright, well-educated person. Intellectually, I’m sure she knew it wasn’t her fault. But mothers are hard-wired to protect their children. At some level, way down where her rational mind couldn’t reach, she must have felt she’d failed. As my husband once pointed out, “When something happens to a kid that age, you know it got past you.”

Six months later, Mom had a daughter who miraculously survived. I would go in for annual checkups to make sure it hadn’t come back, but with a little luck and a lot of prayer, I could expect to make a complete recovery. The doctor told my parents that I wouldn’t be an invalid, and didn’t need to lead a sheltered life. The only activity I shouldn’t engage in was tackle football: in that sport, there'd be too much risk of damaging my one remaining kidney. Me being a girl, the doc figured football wouldn’t be an issue anyway.

The news couldn't have been better. But now Mom has a four-year-old with her whole life ahead of her and no health insurance.

That's a scary prospect, even with a healthy kid. As that child grows, she'll be going to school, getting exposed to measles and chicken pox and playground bullies. She'll play sandlot softball, climb trees, and learn to ride a bike. Before you know it, she'll be asking to drive the car.

Added to those normal worries, Mom had a sharp new awareness of how quickly things could go wrong in ways she never expected. And there was a second child to worry about, who hadn't been kicked off the insurance -- yet.

I didn't understand all this at the time, and I know I didn't go through my whole childhood without health insurance. I suspect we got onto a group policy when Mom started teaching again. (Maybe that's one of the reasons she went back to work.)

I don't know that she was as overprotective as people said. I think we had a fairly normal childhood. But if she was a little paranoid, I really can't blame her.