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I lived in Italy for more than five years, know hundreds of Italians well and many many ex-pats, all of whom use the Italian health system, including many Americans, so I am very familiar with the Italian health care system, just as familiar with it as I am with the American system. Italy's system is rated third in the world. I have no clue how it's possible that your Italian friend paid more in health insurance in Italy than here. Perhaps your friend is lucky enough to have an employer paying his health care insurance (and taking a tax break which we're all paying for) but someone is paying more here than he paid in Italy. (My Italian premium was 0, as I wrote earlier.) Or perhaps he just has a lovely agreeable Italian nature. We found that Italians will avoid arguing with people over things they think are inconsequential. If they think you feel a particular way, they'll often agree with you out of politeness. Italians live longer than Americans, which is one of the items the World Health Organization factors into its evaluation of world health care systems. We're 37th in the world, probably because we have very little preventive health care and because we're so obese.
I will add that my care here has been absolutely wonderful. Everything is located in one building just four short blocks from my apartment. I have a wonderful oncologist, radiologist, and chemo nurses. But I'm lucky as I live in New York State, which has far more restrictive rules imposed on insurers than most other states. As my doctor said, I'm getting herceptin because I live in New York. In other states this might not be so, considering my Stage 1a diagnosis. My plan with my Oxford HMO has worked out very well for me. However, a very good friend of mine, a senior professor at the City University, is in absolute despair over her health plan. She had surgery on her knee recently (she could barely walk) and is getting bills every day for thousands of dollars not covered by her insurer, and is beside herself. She was given only eight sessions with a therapist, when she needs about 30. The remainder she must pay for herself. She has started seeing a mental health therapist because of the anxiety caused by her lack of good health insurance--the latter not paid for, of course.
But I am really curious about the Italian friend who paid 43% in taxes; most Italians I know are very clever at not paying any taxes (which is a very big problem in Italy). We watch Italian news every night, and had a good laugh the other evening at the story of the woman with a travel agency in Milan, with five employees, who claimed she made 1800 euros last year (about $2,200). It's only the folks who work in government jobs who pay the full tax rate, but that's a different story altogether.
We rented our very first apartment in Italy, in Venice, from one of the wealthiest women in Italy, a countess descended from the Medici. Yet she made us sign a false rental agreement saying we were paying half the actual rent so she could avoid paying taxes. It's called paying in the "black." This is standard practice in Italy. It makes for interesting situations when I'm writing, as I set my novels in Italy.
As Tricia writes, no health care system is perfect. But a health care system that treats everyone equally is moving closer to perfection than one that discriminates between the rich, the middle-class, and the poor. I've often thought how senseless it was when my 88 year old mother could have had extensive open heart surgery because she had good insurance and young children go without inoculations for childhood diseases. I guess I want everyone else to have the same benefits that I have.
And now to the lighter side:
A couple in their nineties are both having problems remembering things. During a checkup, their doctor tells them that they're physically okay, but they might want to start writing things down to help them remember. Later that night, while watching TV, the old man gets up from his chair. "Want anything while I'm in the kitchen?", he
asks.
"Will you get me a bowl of ice cream?"
"Sure."
"Don't you think you should write it down so you can remember it?"
"No, I can remember it."
"Well, I'd like some strawberries on top, too. Maybe you should write it down, so's not to forget it?"
He says, "I can remember that. You want a bowl of ice
cream with strawberries."
"I'd also l ike whipped cream. I'm certain you'll forget all that, so maybe you should write it down?"
Irritated, he says, "I don't need to write it down. I can remember it!
Then he toddles into the kitchen.
After about 20 minutes, the old man returns from the kitchen and hands his wife a plate of bacon and eggs.
She stares at the plate for a moment.
"Where's my toast?" she says.
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