Summing up

Yesterday I got what might be the last doctor’s bill from last year.  It wasn’t something I had to pay.  The hospital had sent the bill straight to the insurance company, which had paid for it.  The document I received simply alerted me to the fact, and charged me a bit over 100 francs for the pleasure of staying in the hospital for seven nights.  The bill was for my hemicolectomy.  The total was around 8,000 francs.

The hospital bills around my cancer add up to nearly 37,000 francs.  I had to cover 3,400 francs in deductible and copay and another 2,800 francs to have health insurance in the first place.  Maybe I’ve lived in Switzerland for too long, but the amounts don’t shock me.  The total seems quite reasonable given the amount of treatment I’ve received: a big operation, three CT scans, one PET-CT, two days full of exams to come to the initial diagnosis, another hospitalization for gastritis, and five sessions of chemotherapy.  I can’t exclude that more bills will arrive for chemotherapy (The bills are short on detail and don’t arrive in order.), but the bulk is probably through.  I have a few doctor’s bills and receipts from the pharmacy for drugs I didn’t take to hand in to the insurance, but that won’t make much of a difference to the total.

I’m a firm believer in insurance for things that can ruin you.  Otherwise you’re better off just paying for each incident.  My health costs – accumulated over four months only – wouldn’t have ruined me last year, but it’s easy to see how they might if things escalate.  Having mandatory health insurance like in Switzerland is keeping premiums down and gives everyone access to the care they need.  It’s probably good luck that I’m living here at the moment.

Another stroke of good luck was that we moved in June.  Not that this was even remotely on my mind, but the move brought me much closer to a big hospital.  Going to chemo sessions would have been a bigger pain from the old flat, where I might have had to travel for close to an hour.  Now, the city bus or my bicycle take me to the hospital in ten minutes, and from the hospital it’s a 15-minute walk back to work.  It couldn’t be much better.

The accounts for 2019 are done but the journey continues.  Tomorrow I’ll start the eighth chemo session.  This fills me with a bit of joy.  It means there are only four more to go, which isn’t bad at all.  I’m almost done, though it won’t be until later that I’ll know whether the treatment has been successful.

A day later, getting ready for another chemo, I learned from the doctor that the CT had been negative.  No new growth in the peritoneum.  All clear.  This is how I like it.