Suppost you had to go to the DMV for a flu shot. . . .

I’m so glad Mary and I have private insurance and don’t have some government bureaucrat standing between us and our doctors, telling us which procedures and medicines we can have and which we can’t. (And here I swore off sarcasm for the rest of the year and lasted less than a day.)

A few days ago we each got a letter from our insurance company explaining to us that a number of medications have been placed on a list of meds to be reviewed, and before we can renew the next time, our prescribing physicians have to contact the insurance company and justify why we need this med, why we should continue this med, why a cheaper alternative wouldn’t work just as well, and what would happen if all of a sudden we stopped taking it. The list of meds for review numbers in the hundreds according to the company’s website.

This already happened just a year ago, and our family doctor almost had a stroke he was so angry and frustrated. He had scores of patients (four score and seven, to be exact) who got the letters, and he had to cancel all appointments for a month while he wrote letters to the insurance company arguing that he got it right the first time when he prescribed a specific med for a specific condition. He also had to cut back on his golf games.

This year, I am informed the insurance company is going to review a med I’ve been on for about five years now, one that, let’s say, has substantially improved my quality of life. Without revealing a lot of personal information, let’s also say that without this medicine I turn into a vampire, and stopping it or substituting a cheaper alternative would not be in my best interests or those of society. Mary’s target med prevents certain plagues and back hair. It might be considered cosmetic.

The thing is, despite all the hassle for our doctors, I support this kind of periodic cost/benefit review. It’s an important component of keeping medical costs down, and it ensures that I still need all these prescriptions I take. Maybe chocolate pudding no longer triggers my hallucinations. Maybe you don't need that codein that the doctor prescribed six years ago for your toothache.

The problem is that the four score and twenty separate insurance companies in Oregon each have their own list of meds for review, and rather than being a once annual, or bi-annual or semi-annual, routine chore, it’s a never-ending process in the doctor’s office. Novak might have to give up not only golf but also martini lunches.

Of course, if this were a requirement in a public-option health plan, Republican lawmakers and their lunatic fringe town-hall bashing unwashed psycho mobs would be screaming about the evils of socialized medicine. But since it’s my private insurance company, all this will pass without comment or discussion in the media.

Because America still has the best health care system in the world. (There I go again.)

And btw, I almost never have to go to the DMV anymore since almost all their business can now be done online. This is not necessarily a good thing, since at my age, it's important to determine that I can at least still find the DMV and drive there without running over a child. Be that as it may, the few times I've actually had to stop by in recent years, I took a number, waited a few minutes, and was helped by a courteous and efficient staff member.

I don't know what all the fuss is about the DMV as a bad example of what would happen to virtually all services once Obama has his way and we turn into a Nazi/Socialist/Communist nation. The DMV has been more or less a pleasure to visit, way more pleasant than a visit to my family medical clinic, where taking a number might be considered to imply I might actually get back to see the doctor that day and where, literally, sooner or later, they will have me by the balls.