I cracked a tooth last night. I’m not entirely sure how, not that “how” really matters. However it happened, it means I’ll be calling the dentist’s office today after we ship this issue off to the printer. There was a time, though, when I wouldn’t have been so calm about scheduling an appointment with the dentist, not out of any phobia, but because teeth are expensive.
For a time, I didn’t have health insurance. I had never even been to a dentist until the summer after my senior year of high school, when I chipped a tooth. I guess I must grind my teeth. (Okay, I know I grind my teeth. The dentist told me. I also used to have a “Savoy Truffle”-level sweet tooth, which I’ve since gotten in check. It would seem, though, that the damage has been done.)
Later, when I was two months into a job that would, at the 90-day mark, come with precious health insurance, I cracked another tooth. So my aunt took me to her dentist, and we hoped the bill wouldn’t be too steep. I sat in the office while the dentist lectured me about investing in my teeth. There was a time, he told me, when no one had insurance. They just paid for necessary procedures like rational adults, no need to involve some third-party company. I suppose he thought I should just cool it on the avocado toast for a month and spend that money on dental care, as if those were equal line items on my budget. This gentleman, well meaning though I’m sure he was, was clearly out of touch. I left, worked with a painfully cracked tooth, and sought treatment from a different dentist when my probationary period at work ended and I had insurance.
You think that’s something? I once went to work with a broken foot. Of course, I didn’t know my foot was broken, but I did hear a sharp, sudden crack! when my foot landed wrong on a floor tile. That was when I was in college, just before the beginning of a new semester. I waited until the semester began so I could be sure the university clinic was open. The doctor advised that I get a cast, but a post-surgical boot cost about $15. I bought the boot, and my toes still pop and sting in the cold.
My point is, if you don’t have much contact with a system, any system, it’s natural to view it with some skepticism. And in a state that holds the second spot on the list of most hospital closures since 2010 (we’ve had 16), where the U.S. Census estimates that 836,000 Tennesseans don’t have health insurance, is it surprising some people don’t trust doctors? “Oh, sure, but you’ll go to a hospital when you can’t breathe and think you might die,” some self-righteous jerk writes on social media.
Well, yeah. This might come as a surprise, but when the other option is a painful death, people will try just about anything. Even guzzling horse dewormer or malaria treatments.
And yes, that is mind-numbingly stupid, but people make stupid decisions. More so when they’ve been fed a steady diet of alarming disinformation.
This May, NPR published an article about the “Disinformation Dozen,” 12 people responsible for more than 65 percent of misinformation about Covid and vaccines, according to the Center for Countering Digital Hate. Not surprisingly, some of these people are “alternative health entrepreneurs” and “even sell supplements and books.” I see.
Last week, The Hill published a story about researchers at the intelligence firm Logically who identified QAnon member GhostEzra as Floridian Robert Smart, who used his reach to spread anti-Semitic conspiracy theories. As the story says, “Smart appears to have previously run at least four QAnon Twitter accounts.” Who knows how much bonkers QAnon “information” this guy spread just so he could stir a little hateful anti-Semitism into the word soup?
We’re in crisis — health, climate, social services, poverty — and states like Tennessee are disproportionately affected. We need to revitalize our healthcare system and expand access to it if we’re going to get out of this pandemic and prevent the next one. The same can be said for climate change and energy infrastructure. It’s hard to win a good faith argument, especially when your goal is to get people to act against their own interests. So why argue in good faith?
I understand the barriers of cost or knowledge that make it so easy to mistrust medical experts, but if someone, especially someone online, is telling you to inject bleach or drink livestock dewormer, consider that they likely have an ulterior motive. Your sweet great-aunt shared that article, but it might have been written by a hateful bigot or someone who needs to sell more books or they’ll be compelled to return their advance.
That’s straight from the horse’s mouth.
