The Quebec Effect

In the current health care debate, I find myself swimming through the morass of numbers and arguments and I keep thinking about…Quebec.

My family travels to Montreal and other points North fairly often and when I cross the border I feel a lightening in the pit of my stomach.

Here’s why: I know that the people all around me — the gas station workers, the waiters and waitresses, the woman tidying my hotel room — they all have health care.

Every one of them.

Even that guy over there emptying the garbage can. And her, over there, the woman working in the seasonal gift shop.

Everyone. When they have an ache or a cough or a pregnancy or a rotten tooth, they just…go get it taken care of.

Yes, sure — they might wait in line for a while. Maybe they have to make an appointment for a week or two from now.

I’m sure there are flaws to the system; there are flaws to every system.

But when I come back across the border into the North Country, I know for a fact that one out of every ten people that I meet have zero options.

None. One serious illness and they’re sliding down the ladder, bankrupt, homeless, game over.

And most of those 10-15% are people struggling to make ends meet already, the aforementioned waiters and taxi drivers.

(Though I find more and more of my friends — middle aged, 40ish folks — surfing the no-coverage tsunami…and trust me, 45 is a scary time to go insurance free.)

The best that many of our North Country neighbors can hope for is that the hospital emergency room will give them free care when they reach a crisis stage.

I know this isn’t exactly a logical argument. Any “reform” of our health care system that we cobble together will have to sort out heaps of details.

I want it to be done really well and efficiently.

But I’ll admit it: I like the gut feeling of the Quebec Effect.

When you order a cup of coffee and you know the person topping off your mug isn’t perched on the edge of a precipice.

That cheerful confidence that the kids playing with your kids are getting check-ups. It feels nice.

And it’s a feeling I’m personally willing to pay a little extra for in one form or another.

Your thoughts? Comment below.