For Two Days, the Working Poor Had Health CareLast weekend, seven people who walked through the doors of a temporary free clinic in Cleveland left in ambulances for emergency care. Seven people. That may not sound like a lot, but consider the medical care these people may need now and how much money might have been saved with preventive medicine. And think of what it felt like to be those seven people. Imagine the scenario: You haven't been feeling well for a while, but you can't afford to see a doctor. If you live in Cleveland, you hear that volunteer doctors and nurses will treat you for free at this thing called the MedWorks project, a two-day clinic at the W.O. Walker Center. So you go. A doctor you've just met examines you and immediately says, "You must go to a hospital right now." How quickly the mind races and those other fears kick in: What will happen to me? How am I going to pay for this? Am I going to live? This is what it means to be one of the nearly 46 million Americans who have no health care. You don't get regular Pap tests and mammograms; no one routinely checks your blood pressure or monitors your glucose levels. Usually, you don't get help until it's an emergency. Last weekend, at least 850 people showed up at MedWorks for more than 1,600 medical exams. Some were so grateful that they stayed to volunteer. The crowd was as diverse as the landscape of America, in age and ethnicity. Most avoided eye contact as they navigated the halls. In interviews, I lost count of how many immediately wanted me to know they had jobs, just no health care. "Working, middle-class people have been hit the hardest," said Judith Shega, a 61-year-old nurse practitioner who volunteered. "There were no requirements to get care today. If they show up, we assume they don't have easy access to care." MedWorks is the brainchild of Zac Ponsky, a 33-year-old Cleveland banker whose every relative, it seemed, was among the hundreds who helped. "This is just the beginning," he said. He caught himself. "Well, ideally we wouldn't need to. But that's where we are right now. We just had a woman say: 'I haven't had a Pap smear in 11 years. Do you think I need one?'" The stories are in the statistics: Nearly 130 women had Pap tests; about 100 will receive free mammograms. About 300 people left with brand-new glasses or glasses on the way. Every patient met with a social worker. Many received multiple exams, often receiving referrals on the spot. Irina Shpigel was one of them. She came for an eye exam and then was referred to a lab for blood work. A 51-year-old Russian immigrant who became a U.S. citizen in the mid-1990s, she struggled to fill out forms until 20-year-old Lin Chafetz overheard her. Chafetz studied Russian at Bowling Green State University, where she is a senior. She was at the clinic with her mother, who came for new glasses. Chafetz helped translate for Shpigel, who appeared flustered. English came easier when she talked about her life. She is a trained electrician but works in America as a home health care aide. "That is how I spend my days," she said, smiling. In the evenings, she writes children's stories. "At night, I dream about my poems, my God, wisdom — all those things I put in my stories for children," she said. A lab worker handed Shpigel her blood test results. "Wow," she said, pointing at the numbers on the sheet. "My glucose is three times what it should be." Her face flushed as she absorbed this news about her diabetes. She took a deep breath and turned to look out the window. "Nobody knows," she said softly. "Nobody knows about all the ideas in my head." Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "... and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com. COPYRIGHT 2009 CREATORS.COM
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