May 20, 1957
The quality of mercy, according to an old-time scenario writer, is not strained.
But much as I dislike taking the man on at this late date, I am forced to argue the point.
Because I have just witnessed mercy at its mercenary worst.
I reported the incident yesterday.
I told of a young woman, who, while in labor of childbirth, was
released from a hospital here because her husband couldn’t meet the
institution’s last-minute demands for an additional $175 deposit.
The story was unique in the brazen tactics employed, but it was not unique in many other respects.
Because "money before mercy" is rapidly becoming the unwritten motto of many hospitals in this area.
I would never argue the right of a private hospital to make a profit.
It’s perfectly reasonable that such hospitals, like other private
enterprises, should refuse admission to bad money risks–provided, of
course, that they don’t shut their doors on emergency cases.
It isn’t reasonable, however, that hospitals should discard their moral
obligations in time of emergency or after they have committed
themselves to service.
I have been warned on occasion, by reputed medical men, that generalizations are unfair in the hospital field.
Such warnings obviously are admissions that bad hospitals, as well as good hospitals, exist.
It’s a logical conclusion. And a realistic one.
But it’s a wrong one for leaders in the big business of hospital
administration to accept, without some effort to correct conditions in
those hospitals which are below standard.
Hospitals for years have been accepted as institutions of dedication.
As sanctuaries of the sick, they attracted dedicated people to staff
them.
Today, I am certain, they still do.
And that places the fault in the laps of those who make the rules: the administrators.
I was told recently about a man suffering numerous knife wounds who was
carried by friends into a nearby private hospital. His blood formed
puddles on the admittance room floor.
There was a doctor on duty, but no examination of the seriousness of the man’s wounds was made.
Instead, the clerk condescended to phone an emergency hospital.
When you check out this kind of a story, the answers are stock:
The clerk says it’s a hospital rule to pay in advance.
The director says that if it was an emergency, and he had known about
it, he certainly would have seen to it that the victim received
immediate care.
There are, however, some hospitals in the Los Angeles area which they
tell me do not require deposits from prospective patients. Among them
are Santa Monica and California hospitals.
Naturally, in cases which aren’t urgent, they estimate their fee and
ask if the patient can afford it. If he can’t, they recommend that he
go to the county.
I contacted George Peale, superintendent of California Hospital yesterday.
I asked him:
"Without a demanded deposit, doesn’t your hospital run a fairly heavy loss from patients who don’t pay their bills?"
"Our loss," he answered, "runs no higher than any other hospital’s."
I’m not familiar with California Hospital, but I’d venture a guess that its mercy isn’t prefaced by a dollar sign.
And I wish I could say that for every hospital.
