On Monday, someone came from the wheelchair company to measure me for a wheelchair. He explained that the standard-issue wheelchairs are made in Mexico, but the fancy ones are made in Wisconsin. I’m not sure if he was implying that Wisconsinites make nicer wheelchairs than Mexicans or if that was his explanation for why the nicer wheelchairs are so much more expensive.
While the insurance gods will ultimately determine what kind of wheelchair I get, we’ve decided to “try” for the fancy kind that has removable wheels and an extra light frame and comes in whatever color you want. (I’m going with candy red. It might be a mistake.) The man estimated that if we meet our deductible the wheelchair will cost around five hundred dollars. If that will allow me to consistently get to work by myself and diminish my fears of the wheelchair making me fall over as I try to get it in/out of the trunk — worth it.
Even better, if, as per Murphy’s law, paying a lot of money for a fancy custom wheelchair would increase the chance of my hip problems spontaneously going away, that would be five hundred dollars extremely well spent.
As I was thinking this thought to myself whilst driving home after almost falling over getting my wheelchair into the trunk at 11 PM at night, I kept on the same track and wondered, if I could pay money to make my hip problems go away, what’s the most I would pay?
That is a tough question. Of course there are variables. Could the problem spontaneously remit on its own, or are we assuming there is otherwise no cure? Would this payment essentially keep me healthy for all time, or could I get another debilitating ailment the next year, or could the condition come back? Could other people contribute to the monetary amount?
Ten thousand dollars, I would pay without thinking about it. Twenty thousand dollars (essentially our three-month emergency fund)? Mmmph… probably. Ninety thousand dollars (essentially what we have in our taxable account)? Yikes, that seems like too much. But we could probably afford it. Is ninety thousand dollars too much to pay for the ability to be able to roll around in bed without waking up to think about it, painless sex, being able to walk to Lindy’s grave, hiking?
If there weren’t other options, I think I’d do it. If I wasn’t in a position of being blessed with monetary resources, then I guess it would be tough luck. Despite this being a hypothetical scenario, it seems problematic that I would be able to pay my way out of not being able to walk when someone without my resources would not be able to. On the other hand, my parents have paid me out of having to wear glasses or contacts (thank you, Lasik!) and smiling with crooked teeth, and that doesn’t seem so problematic. Maybe it’s because those “upgrades” seem more superficial, but I guess everything is on a sliding scale.
SDG