This is Not About Obamacare

I have owned two of the stupidest and most loving dogs that ever evolved on this planet.  The first was a white German shepherd.  The second had a shepherd mix for a mother, but his father was a traveling man.  They were healthy dogs, not like my niece’s Shih Tzu.  Here in lies the tale of dogs, medicine, and Mexico. 

My niece was given her Shih Tzu, Bruno, by a boy friend.  She dumped the boy but kept the dog.  In all the years that my brother-in-law lived with that dog I never heard him call it anything except, “The Little Bastard.” 

In the fullness of time, the dog (like all of us) grew ill.  The vet informed the family that The Little Bastard needed heart medication.  The medicine needed was a common vasodilator, long used in hospitals whenever blood vessels needed to be relaxed and widened.  The vet prescribed sildenafil for the dog.  You, of course, know the drug better by its market, not its generic, name—Viagra. 

The vet gave Niece a prescription for Viagra, she gave it to my sister, my sister took it to the pharmacy, it was filled and brought back to the vet where it was crushed and put into a liquid to be given to Little Bastard twice daily.  It all went well until my brother-in-law found out what the pills cost. 

When the shouting died down, my sister called me. 

It was a strange call.  We live in the Rio Grande Valley of Texas.  My sister wanted to know if we ever go to Mexico to buy prescription medicine.

Yes.

 Do they sell Viagra there? 

Yes!!!! 

Can we get her some? 

Sure!?! 

I was wondering how far to take this conversation when she informed me it wasn’t for her husband, but for Bruno a.k.a. The Little Bastard. 

Tom and I went to Mexico, visited a trusted pharmacist and asked about the cost of Viagra.  The pharmacist was helpful and solicitous—informing my husband that he probably only needed half a tablet at a time.  I quickly jumped in to inform the druggist that the medicine was not for my husband—no trouble there, thank you very much—but for my sister’s dog, Little Bastard.  Both the pharmacist and my husband gave me a look that said, “Nothing you are saying is making this any better.” 

I stopped talking. 

We spent the next couple of years providing the dog with sildenafil for a quarter of what it costs in the States.  Eventually, the dog died; happily and with ears pricked I am sure.   

So where is all of this going?  My Medicare, my Part B and prescription plan are all going up next year.  My husband and I are going to pay around $800 more this coming year.  I am not complaining.  Our health insurance was never provided for us by our retirement systems so we were paying much more than that before Medicare.  We can give up $66 per month of discretionary income and still eat.  I firmly believe in Romney’s concept of means testing for the costs of these government entitlement programs.  If you can pay more, why not free up some money for those less fortunate?  It costs money to live in the greatest nation in the world and no one has asked me to give my blood or life yet.  

In the mean time, as much as I want another dog, I’ll have to give it some serious thought. 

Adopt a pet, neuter it, and keep the faith.