Faced with a devastating diagnosis of cancer and astronomical medical costs, Nevada City resident Alexandra Wassermann developed an alter ego called Cancer Girl and found a cutting-edge solution.
Like a growing percentage of Americans, Wassermann became a medical tourist and headed for treatment outside the United States — India, in her case. Medical tourism (also called medical travel, health tourism or global health care) is the rapidly growing practice of crossing international borders to obtain health care.
Wassermann found the experience so overwhelmingly positive that she has become a fierce advocate of thinking outside the health care box and is writing a book tentatively titled, “Cancer Girl Strikes Back.”
“Coming home from India, I thought, what a horror — people dying or going into irreparable debt” due to illness, Wassermann said. “Everybody knows it's an obscenity.”
Wassermann's cancer diagnosis, two days before her birthday, served as the introduction to a bewildering new world.
“No one in my family's ever been sick,” she said. “I never got sick.”
She was so confident in her continual good health that she opted not to get health insurance after stopping work, hoping to coast a few years until Medicare kicked in.
At first, she was “wrapped up in cancer,” she said later. But soon, she developed coping mechanisms, including asking all her friends to e-mail her jokes — and intensively researching her options.
“I gave myself days to be afraid and purge that out,” Wassermann said. “Other days, I was Cancer Girl with my cape ... I never called it cancer; I called him ‘carl,' because he was a totally alien being who didn't deserve a capitalized name.”
Wassermann, who did not want reveal her specific type of cancer, quickly found herself dissatisfied with the “traditional medical system.”
“I'm not the kind of person who likes to be told what to do,” she said. “My medical care was very directive; I didn't feel included.”
She was advised to have surgery — at an estimated cost of $30,000 a day for the period of time she would be hospitalized.
“I said no, I have to think about this,” Wassermann said. “I felt like I was being herded into a decision.”
Instead, she chose to become a medical tourist.
“It's a matter of re-educating yourself and being a planetary citizen,” she said. “All you have to do is be brave enough to think out of the box.”
The relative cost of surgery was a huge factor in her decision, Wassermann said.
Instead of facing a six-figure bill that would have left her in debt, the entire cost of her trip to India, including airfare, accommodations, testing and surgery, was about $8,000 (she did use mileage points for the airfare).
A top-rated cancer treatment facility in the United States would have been too expensive for her, she said. Just one ultrasound cost her $1,000 stateside and required two separate appointments. In Mexico, she had an ultrasound performed and read on the spot for $55.
“You don't have to die; you don't have be in (financial) crisis; you don't have to be held hostage,” Wassermann said. “That's the point that killed me — that you can't afford health care (here). How sick is that? We've been brainwashed like lemmings.”
While medical tourism is not for everyone, she said, it worked for her — and Wassermann doesn't consider herself to be more medically savvy than anyone else.
“I'm a normal 60-year-old woman,” she said. “This was a very big decision to make.”
For one thing, she was afflicted with a fear of the Third World.
“To go to India was not an easy thing,” she said. “There is a perception of dirt and seeping sores, just total grotty stuff. But when your life in on the line, you will become brave.”
While cows and donkeys still walk the roads, India is a country where medical tourism has become big business, Wassermann found. And that means hospitals built expressly for international patients that resemble spas.
“There, they are building their reputation, so you're treated like a rock star. You're monitored 24-7,” she said.
“It was an amazing experience for me, and there's a message here that people need to know about.”
While Wassermann worked with a medical tourism company that acted as a guide throughout her stay, she noted most hospitals have their own marketing departments.
“You really have to do your research and call the testimonials,” Wassermann said.
Wassermann couldn't have had a better medical experience during her month-long stay.
“They explained everything. We were collaborating on how to get rid of this thing,” she said. “They were scrupulous about everything ... We talked at length about the cancer and my odds.”
Wassermann said the American Medical Association has concerns regarding medical tourism that she believes are overblown.
“For me, it was so good, so positive and so ridiculously inexpensive,” she said. “I'm very vehement about this ... I didn't let lack of insurance coverage rob me of dignity, choice or the treatment that I needed.”
To reach Wassermann, e-mail her at alex.wassermann@gmail.com.
To contact Staff Writer Liz Kellar, e-mail lkellar@theunion.com or call 477-4229.
Like a growing percentage of Americans, Wassermann became a medical tourist and headed for treatment outside the United States — India, in her case. Medical tourism (also called medical travel, health tourism or global health care) is the rapidly growing practice of crossing international borders to obtain health care.
Wassermann found the experience so overwhelmingly positive that she has become a fierce advocate of thinking outside the health care box and is writing a book tentatively titled, “Cancer Girl Strikes Back.”
“Coming home from India, I thought, what a horror — people dying or going into irreparable debt” due to illness, Wassermann said. “Everybody knows it's an obscenity.”
Wassermann's cancer diagnosis, two days before her birthday, served as the introduction to a bewildering new world.
“No one in my family's ever been sick,” she said. “I never got sick.”
She was so confident in her continual good health that she opted not to get health insurance after stopping work, hoping to coast a few years until Medicare kicked in.
At first, she was “wrapped up in cancer,” she said later. But soon, she developed coping mechanisms, including asking all her friends to e-mail her jokes — and intensively researching her options.
“I gave myself days to be afraid and purge that out,” Wassermann said. “Other days, I was Cancer Girl with my cape ... I never called it cancer; I called him ‘carl,' because he was a totally alien being who didn't deserve a capitalized name.”
Wassermann, who did not want reveal her specific type of cancer, quickly found herself dissatisfied with the “traditional medical system.”
“I'm not the kind of person who likes to be told what to do,” she said. “My medical care was very directive; I didn't feel included.”
She was advised to have surgery — at an estimated cost of $30,000 a day for the period of time she would be hospitalized.
“I said no, I have to think about this,” Wassermann said. “I felt like I was being herded into a decision.”
Instead, she chose to become a medical tourist.
“It's a matter of re-educating yourself and being a planetary citizen,” she said. “All you have to do is be brave enough to think out of the box.”
The relative cost of surgery was a huge factor in her decision, Wassermann said.
Instead of facing a six-figure bill that would have left her in debt, the entire cost of her trip to India, including airfare, accommodations, testing and surgery, was about $8,000 (she did use mileage points for the airfare).
A top-rated cancer treatment facility in the United States would have been too expensive for her, she said. Just one ultrasound cost her $1,000 stateside and required two separate appointments. In Mexico, she had an ultrasound performed and read on the spot for $55.
“You don't have to die; you don't have be in (financial) crisis; you don't have to be held hostage,” Wassermann said. “That's the point that killed me — that you can't afford health care (here). How sick is that? We've been brainwashed like lemmings.”
While medical tourism is not for everyone, she said, it worked for her — and Wassermann doesn't consider herself to be more medically savvy than anyone else.
“I'm a normal 60-year-old woman,” she said. “This was a very big decision to make.”
For one thing, she was afflicted with a fear of the Third World.
“To go to India was not an easy thing,” she said. “There is a perception of dirt and seeping sores, just total grotty stuff. But when your life in on the line, you will become brave.”
While cows and donkeys still walk the roads, India is a country where medical tourism has become big business, Wassermann found. And that means hospitals built expressly for international patients that resemble spas.
“There, they are building their reputation, so you're treated like a rock star. You're monitored 24-7,” she said.
“It was an amazing experience for me, and there's a message here that people need to know about.”
While Wassermann worked with a medical tourism company that acted as a guide throughout her stay, she noted most hospitals have their own marketing departments.
“You really have to do your research and call the testimonials,” Wassermann said.
Wassermann couldn't have had a better medical experience during her month-long stay.
“They explained everything. We were collaborating on how to get rid of this thing,” she said. “They were scrupulous about everything ... We talked at length about the cancer and my odds.”
Wassermann said the American Medical Association has concerns regarding medical tourism that she believes are overblown.
“For me, it was so good, so positive and so ridiculously inexpensive,” she said. “I'm very vehement about this ... I didn't let lack of insurance coverage rob me of dignity, choice or the treatment that I needed.”
To reach Wassermann, e-mail her at alex.wassermann@gmail.com.
To contact Staff Writer Liz Kellar, e-mail lkellar@theunion.com or call 477-4229.




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