Looking for Asklepios

As a teenager, I thought medicine was romantic. I blame it on the doctor shows that used to be on television, with all those handsome interns and Dr. Joe Gannons running around. First-hand experience of hospitals will cure you of this kind of thing, and it doesn't even require an overnight stay.

I recently received a medical bill for a service that ended up costing nearly five times as much as I had been told it would. I checked on the cost ahead of time by doing a little Internet research and calling the facility. The price the billing office gave me was in line with what I had discovered on the web, so I thought I knew what I was in for. I wasn't happy, but I was prepared . . . so I was surprised when a routine inspection of my insurance claims revealed a cost of $1,609 instead of $343.48.

Naturally, that started a round of phone calls. The further I got into that, the more I wanted to talk to an actual person. So I walked over to the facility and looked for the office of the patient relations specialist. That in itself took some doing, as I was in three different buildings before getting to the right place. When I found the proper office, the people there were courteous and listened well. I felt a release of tension after simply telling my story, which shows the power of a good listener.

I was distressed and amazed to learn that asking for the cost of a medical service ahead of time is no guarantee that you'll get a figure even in the ballpark. Why? I don't know. Billing is governed by very precise procedure and diagnostic codes, so if the facility knows what you're coming in for, it seems to me they ought to know what they're going to charge you.

I did not see Dr. Noah Drake while navigating the corridors of the hospital and its office buildings. I didn't even see Marcus Welby. The people who gave me directions were all polite, but the surroundings were utilitarian, the signs a little confusing, and the atmosphere austere rather than warm. The corridors were in fact rather mazelike. My medical health is fine, but I was having an irritating experience of the system itself. Imagine going through this if you were really sick.

I've noted before how little influence the Asklepian model of healing seems to have in modern health care. Talking to a priest about the dreams you had was a part of the Asklepian system. In my case, the talking involved recounting my frustrating experience, but I felt the frustration lifting just in response to having someone sit down and listen. It may be that this one simple thing, listening, is the missing ingredient in so much that happens. Science is wonderful, but it still needs the human touch.

I was so tired last night that I barely hauled myself to bed before falling asleep. I had a dream that I was driving to a cemetery where a family member was buried. The road ran like a tunnel down a green, leafy hill, surrounded by a broad plain of small waterfalls and gentle rapids. Unlike the deep pool of the unconscious, these waters rippled gently. The road was dry and clear.

The cure in the Asklepian temples involved bathing in healing springs and sleeping in the sanctuary to await the curative dream. My own dream was filled with symbols of life, from the running water to the graveyard, which is (contrary to what you might think) a powerful symbol of regeneration. Maybe my Asklepian moment in the patient relations office triggered a suggestion of a way to deeper healing. We could all use it.