I moved to Canada from the states last year. Shortly before, there was a health scare that sent me to the emergency room of the worn-down hospital of my tiny Tennessean town. The visit was no longer than a few hours. The bill was over two thousand US dollars.
Then more bills came rolling in. Tennessee has privatized ambulances, I found out. The bill for the twenty minute ambulance ride was another two thousand dollars.
Having saved every penny over the last few years to move to Canada, my savings account was strong enough to take the blow, but most aren’t. Most Americans aren’t prepared for a health emergency that will cost them almost five thousand dollars. I would venture to say that most Canadians aren’t, either.
But Canadian healthcare is different. It took several embarrassing doctor’s visits to learn exactly what I had and didn’t have to pay for. I was constantly pulling my credit card out of my wallet to pay for things that were now free. In an American’s head, you plan visits to the doctor much the same way you would plan a large purchase. “Is this really worth the money? If I have to see another doctor after this, will I be able to afford it? Should I get my transmission or my knee repaired?” Moving to Alberta was like waking from a nightmare. Life doesn't have to be that way.
In America, you could do everything right and still end up with nothing. All the careful retirement planning, the grocery-store penny-pinching, and thrift-store shopping doesn’t matter if you get a critical diagnosis. Your life savings are now saving your life, because the only thing that can save your life in America is money. Medical debt is common.
When I heard about Premier Danielle Smith’s plan for creating an Albertan Health Savings Account, I paused. “Get your employer to put money in or get family members to donate money,” Smith said.
Donations are a popular way to get medical help in America, as well. I wonder if Premier Smith knows that about a third of all fundraising pages on the popular platform GoFundMe are medical related, per an American Journal of Health study that dissected the platform between 2016 and 2020. Only twelve percent of those reach their goals. Sixteen percent get no donations at all.
I’ve seen fundraising fail over and over. They’re all the same message: I need this medication to stay alive. I need this doctor’s visit so I can get treated. My child is sick. I need my insulin. I need to live. I don’t want to die.
And they fail, almost every time. My heart bleeds for the dead Americans and their empty GoFundMe pages. It bleeds for Alberta. As a permanent resident, I have no vote and no voice. The nightmare is back to reality. I’m preparing for the worst. And you should, too.
Mackenzie Clark, St. Albert
