In the last month I have been an active member of the Medical Industrial Complex here in NC.

I am a Medicare patient, specifically a Medicare Advantage patient, and until I became eligible for Medicare there was nothing wrong with me. Of course, I AGED into Medicare, but–still–healthy is as healthy does.

Since getting my card at age 65, I have gained a Heart Murmur, intestinal (benign) polyps, a “mass” under my right armpit, a back-sized fungus, and an interesting condition known as a “Hydrocele”.

I lost a crown on root-canaled tooth number 30, my ability to sleep through the night, and (if you can believe it) other functions too personal to mention. (Any senior fighting the financial ruin of senior dental care will understand the ramifications of a root-canaled tooth, rotting, dead, below the gum line, with no hope of re-crowning or resorbtion.)

In years past football, basketball, and baseball injuries came and went and often were unnoticed, or simply “waited out” until they fixed themselves. Diseases, too. There were colds but pandemics and health scares (think AIDS, Ebola, Swine Flu, etc.) never touched me and if they did, they didn’t last.

Medication was never taken. Even the colds were “run out” of me after several morning jogs around the neighborhood.

But now, I am a target of the System. Not only does every able-bodied insurance salesman in the nation (it seems) call during Open Enrollment and other strategic times of the year, but they get to repeat the process the next year, And the next, and the next….

Once a decision is carefully made about WHO will pay for my “Uncovered Medicare Expenses”, the real fun begins.

NOTE to all: Did any one think Medicare covered ALL medical expenses for us tired, old people? I did.

The fun is watching health care professionals scramble to fit their care into the Medicare system. I do believe too much medical care is better than too little, but when The System guarantees federal payments for certain activities, its odd to learn how many of those activities could be performed.

For example, the mass under my right arm looked to be fatty tissue, but was the subject of 2 different mammogram sessions, and a one sonogram with the head of the Sonography Department. The mammographer made the mistake of telling me if nothing was found in the x-rays, no further tests would be needed. When I was CALLED BACK for more x-rays, imagine how I felt. And then I was sent on to the sonographer after the second x-ray. Doom and death had to be in the offing.

But my sonographer was training a new technician and her trainee (and I) learned all the technical jargon involved in observing the Lymph Node. At Medicare’s expense.

Was there a problem? No. In fact, my lymph node was deemed “perfect” and became part of an afternoon class slideshow, without attribution. (Yes, I did ask and learned I’d signed my rights away in one of the ten forms I signed when the long morning started.)

It’s just as well. All the attention is fame enough, except when the test results show nothing but a “Fatty Mass in the right Axilla.” How embarrassing. I prefer the unwritten diagnosis of “perfect”.