LAB COAT SALES PITCH

It has been fewer than 24 hours since LOST was unceremoniously hung up upon by the endocrinologist for LOST's youngest son, a giant of a young man in more ways than most, really in every way but vertical, physical stature. The Endocrinologist LOST would like to say, was shrieking at the end, but in fairness it was simply and elevated, exasperated tone, rapid fire speak, telling LOST that "it is not my fault that your insurance doesn't cover the treatment. My job is to diagnose conditions and offer treatment. I did my job. There's no malpractice here. I'm done with you, I don't want to see you or your family again. You have harassed my staff for several days now. I'm hanging up now." This was the second phone conversation LOST had been involved with the endocrinologists office in 18 hours - not several days, and neither conversation involved yelling, or screaming or harassment of any kind. The calls were occasioned by the revelation - never shared by the endocrinologist or her staff in the two months of time preceding, that "covered by insurance" in the context of a regimen of growth hormone therapy meant on a 70-30 basis, and that the cost of the regiment was almost $60,000 annually, hence a co-payment that is roughly akin to a second mortgage payment.

Flash backward three weeks to the last appointment in the endocrinologist's office. LOST, the Mrs. and the giant, armed with questions, "is this necessary?" "Is this safe?" "What are the side-effects?" "How much does this cost?" "What if we opt against it?" All of these handled with buzz-saw enthusiasm and rapid-fire cadence delivery. No down-side, side-effects very rare and very noticeable very quickly. NOBODY ever says no to this, and ta-da this is COVERED by INSURANCE? In short, no reason to stay short. This mah friends will cure all that ails ya, yew will feel more energy, lose weight, git taller, and , and, and , HISTORICAL flashback alert,obscured by the exuberance and youth and the beauty of the marble-paneled surroundings, seduced by the promise of get-tall quick life riches. A Viagra pitch for the almost post-pubescent.

It was the 21st Century's traveling medicine show, putting down its roots in a massive San Diego medical complex, because now the people were coming to the show, instead of the other way around.

"Nobody ever refuses."

Perhaps the only thing missing was the guy in the long sleeve shirt with the ornate cufflinks, smelling of excessive-but-elegant cologne and speaking with a hint of an accent, ready to close the deal for your very own Vacation resort in the Lake of the Ozarks, or buildable lots in Western Washington, or whatever boondoggle du jour.

The maddening thing is not recognizing it. Not preparing the youngest LOST for the notion, and instead exposing him to it. Listening to the sweet siren call of the doc, promising the world, and the achievement of new heights, all from the comfort and safety of no obligation and no risk land. Why, my gosh, they'll even send you the first month of the drug freefree, FREE!

Just sign here.

G*dd*mn the Pusher-man, indeed.

NO, there is no magic elixir. The little giant will still be a giant - already is one. No need for a second mortgage, more grist for the big-pharma mill - and it doesn't matter that nobody ever refuses. The giant went home and wrote his congressman, a do-nothing praiser of the status quo, no less, but it made the giant feel better. He was now a living example, a part of the fight to change the healthcare landscape. He recognized that "covered by insurance" in this context provided about as much comfort as a half parachute given to a sky-diver in the minute before he is to jump out of the plane at 10,000 feet.

The rotten thing is that marketing is everywhere - now even in the doctor's office, where human beings are often at their most vulnerable.