Abstract
This article focuses on the struggles of women from marginalised communities in accessing health care through health insurance schemes like Rashtriya Swasthya Bima Yojana (RSBY) and Vajpayee Arogyasri Scheme (VAS). It also draws attention to the design and implementation of the health insurance schemes and how they exclude the most vulnerable—ailing, single and elderly women. The article foregrounds the politics and futility of ‘cards’ used under the schemes by juxtaposing women’s struggle to access them with policymakers’ misplaced priorities of diverting scarce resources from government facilities and ‘non-profitable’ disease prevention activities to ‘profitable’ tertiary care services in the private sector. It further illustrates the opaque administrative structure, each with its own trusts, state nodal agency (SNA), the third-party administrator (TPA), empanelled hospitals, insurance companies and vendors, making it impossible to hold anyone accountable for violations and lapses.
Keywords
Health Insurance Schemes in India
Over the last 15 years, social health insurance, as one of the health financing schemes, has gained credence in India. The Rashtriya Swasthya Bima Yojana (RSBY) was one of the earliest publicly funded insurance schemes to be initiated in 2008, with the main objective of addressing the burden of the cost of care for those below the poverty line (BPL) and of increasing the demand for health services at a time when there were multiple pressures on government to deregulate and privatise the provision of public services, often by those very agencies that stood to gain by opening up of the markets (Baru & Bisht, 2010; Labonte & Schrecker, 2007; Sexton, 2001). There is also the growing conversion of the private health care sector into a business, and of patients into consumers, without any protection of patients’ rights (Prasad & Raghavendra, 2012). Countries such as Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Brazil that have made the most progress to date are the ones which have rejected the insurance model and have funded universal health coverage from tax revenues and based it on the principles of equity and universality (Oxfam, 2013).
The expert group on universal health coverage constituted by the Planning Commission of India pointed out that health insurance programmes are grossly neglecting primary and secondary health care (Selvaraj, 2011). Media reports indicate that there is a widespread culture of commissions, irrational investigations, unnecessary surgical procedures, excessive influence of pharmaceutical companies on prescribing doctors through medical representatives and inflation of hospitalisation bills (Prasad & Raghavendra, 2012).
A study of RSBY in Chhattisgarh found that the private sector was cherry-picking profitable procedures and providing a narrow and selective range of services for people in easier-to-reach villages, leaving out hard-to-reach tribal areas (Nandi, Dasgupta & Nundy, 2012), while for conditions treatable at the primary level, patients ended up being admitted or transferred to secondary or tertiary levels. The ‘business model’ of insurance schemes had become an obstacle for inclusiveness and comprehensiveness of services (Dasgupta et al., 2013). Studies carried out between 2002 and 2012 showed that 88.89 to 95.32 per cent of hysterectomies were conducted in private hospitals, with growing incidence of coerced hysterectomies after state-sponsored insurance schemes that targeted Scheduled Caste (SC), Scheduled Tribe (ST) and BPL women (Human Rights Law Network [HRLN], 2013; Mamidi & Pulla, 2013). In Bihar, an investigation into the alarming number of hysterectomies (5,503 out of 14,851 procedures) under the RSBY between 2010 and 2012 in 16 empanelled hospitals found that hysterectomies constituted 37–50 per cent of all procedures in some hospitals (McGivering, 2013). Similar stories have emerged from Rajasthan, Chhattisgarh, Gujarat and Andhra Pradesh (Bhardwaj, 2012; Dhar, 2013; Jain & Kataria 2012; Mamidi & Pulla, 2013).
Poorer sections of households in intervention districts of the state and under central insurance schemes experienced a rise in real per capita health care expenditure, particularly on hospitalisation (Selvaraj & Karan, 2012). In Karnataka, households incurred health care costs under all government-sponsored health insurance schemes (GSHIS). Eligible households under the Vajpayee Arogyasri Scheme (VAS) had spent, on an average, ₹ 32,256 for accessing care under a scheme that is supposed to be ‘cashless’ (Wagner, Nagpal & Mullen, 2014), while super specialty hospitals accounted for 43 per cent of the approved amounts, with Narayana Hrudayala leading the pack. The average amount spent by patients in four of these super specialty hospitals ranged from ₹ 58,827 to ₹ 69,832 (Rajasekhar & Manjula, 2012). In spite of the weak evidence in support of health insurance, Government of India’s (GoI) new National Health Policy, 2015 is aggressively recommending that health care be ‘strategically purchased’ through insurance mechanisms where government and private hospitals compete for resources (Expert Group on Health Assurance [EGHA], 2014; GoI, 2014).
Methodology
This article is based on a study conducted between September 2013 and March 2014. The article focuses on poor marginalised women’s experiences of accessing ‘free’ care under the two insurance schemes, RSBY and VAS. We use data from three focus group discussions (FGDs) conducted with domestic workers, construction workers and other daily wage women workers in two low-income communities (Nakkal Bande and Byappanahalli) in Bangalore urban; observations of VAS health camps in two districts (Haveri and Raichur); and participant observations with five women 1 over a period of three months as they sought care under VAS. These women were between the ages of 22 and 60 years and all belonged either to the SC or ST community; one was from Bangalore urban, three were from Raichur district and one from Haveri district. All except one were daily wage agricultural workers. The article also explores how the ethos of business permeates publicly funded health insurance schemes like the VAS and compromises on the objective of universal coverage and comprehensiveness of such schemes.
Women’s Experiences of Accessing Care in Bangalore Urban under RSBY
In 2009, RSBY was piloted in five districts (Bangalore rural, Belgaum, Dakshina Kannada, Mysore and Shimoga), and then was initiated in all 30 districts in Karnataka. Under this scheme, partnership is between the insurance company, public and the private sector hospitals and state agencies, with hospitalisation coverage of up to ₹ 30,000 per year for families (consisting of up to five members) of informal sector workers. Access to care under the RSBY scheme begins with accessing RSBY cards. When women were asked whether they had received the cards, they typically got confused between BPL cards, pension cards, Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike (BBMP) outpatient department (OPD) cards and Vajpayee cards. Women reported receiving the RSBY card through much fanfare from the local councillor and Member of Legislative Assembly (MLA). However, all the details about where they can get care for what kinds of health problems, and up to what limit, had been glossed over:
Our area leaders asked us to bring all the women from the sangha to the government school. There was a big function and the corporator gave away the cards and we were told that we can use these cards even in private hospitals. (FGD with women in Nakkal Bande, Jayanagar)
The women had no information about who gave the cards or who was responsible for providing care, and there was no single person or entity that could be held responsible or approached for any clarification. Women with RSBY cards were very ignorant of how and where to use the cards. In one instance, a woman reported that her father-in-law was recently admitted to the hospital for cardiac-related problem and they had spent ₹ 25,000 even though she had both RSBY and Vajpayee cards. Other women who had also tried using it had failed to obtain any medical care:
I tried using it in Bowring a couple of times. They said it is of no use. Now I don’t even know where it is. When they gave the card they said you could get all the treatment you want for 30000. (woman interviewed in Byappanahalli)
It is through women’s experiences that it is realised that the empanelled hospitals lack awareness of the scheme:
I went to a government hospital, as my husband needed admission. The hospital was not even aware of this card and asked who had issued it. Then they said they don’t have any insurance scheme with them. (domestic worker, Jayanagar about the RSBY card)
More importantly, women spoke of RSBY’s irrelevance given that it did not protect them from everyday illnesses that did not need hospitalisation but for which they still had to spend a considerable amount:
On an average I spend ₹ 500 to ₹ 1,000 per visit to a doctor for problems like fever, cough, cold, vomiting and diarrhoea. The doctor orders tests and prescribes medicines. This card is of no use for such problems. (construction worker, Byappanahalli)
This was echoed in the interviews with the domestic workers. In the two low-income communities, the research team did not find anyone who had used the RSBY card.
When they gave the card they said it would be useful for my family and me. It has never been of any use. All I can do is see my own face on the card everyday and do pooja to it. (elderly woman, Byappanahalli)
Women did not know from where to seek information related to RSBY cards and treatment or where to register their complaints. The RSBY Society had an incongruous grievance redressal mechanism involving usage of the RSBY website and an automatic unique complaint number (UCN). When asked about how women without access or skills to use computers can register their complaints, the chief executive officer (CEO) agreed that this was a difficult system:
People have to register their complaint on the web based grievance redressal site. I know it is not a very easy system to use. Even I find it difficult. The concerned person can approach the DKM, the insurance company, the TPA or even the general public and seek their help to register their complaint.
The RSBY Society approached the unions of domestic workers and asked them to submit application forms to enrol workers for this scheme. However, processing all the data posed another challenge, given the overall lack of preparedness and internal administrative problems. Frequent transfers of labour commissioners compounded this problem. Finally, dogged by various kinds of administrative problems, the Society put the scheme on hold from August 2013 for nearly eight months. Beneficiaries could not use the card; new cards were not issued, nor were old cards renewed. In fact, unions of informal sector workers found the scheme ineffective. They suggested that cancelling these multitudes of schemes and investing all those resources in extending the Employee State Insurance (ESI) to all workers in the informal sector would be much better.
Our long-standing demand has been to extend ESI to all workers in the informal sector. Be it RSBY or VAS they are all piecemeal and do not provide comprehensive health care. There are more exclusions than inclusions. The ESI model will work best. There are no exclusions and one can avail services from OPD to surgery. (representative, construction workers’ union, Bangalore)
Representatives from the domestic workers’ union and construction workers’ union were unequivocal in their condemnation of the scheme
In the name of insurance, people are being cheated and their money snatched. These schemes have not helped anyone. According to me all these insurance schemes and cards are all bogus. It is a big fraud. These are ways of exploiting the poor and eating money in their name. (representative, domestic workers’ union, Bangalore)
If the government hospitals work well, if [the] doctor is present, examines and treats patients with respect and care and we get tests, treatment and medicines in the government hospital why do we need these schemes? If government hospitals work well, we don’t need insurance and we don’t need schemes and cards. (representative, construction workers’ union, Bangalore).
Vajpayee Arogyasri Scheme (VAS)
The VAS
2
has rural and urban BPL families as beneficiaries and is implemented through the Suvarna Arogya Surakha Trust (SAST), registered under the Department of Health and Family Welfare. Coverage is restricted to a BPL family with not more than five members, with an assured coverage per annum of ₹ 1.50 lakh, with an additional buffer amount of ₹ 50,000 per year. It aims to provide super speciality treatment to BPL patients. This scheme covers 402 surgical packages and 50 follow-up packages under seven super specialties (cardiology, cancer, polytrauma, neonatal surgery, neurosurgery, urology and burns). A total of 79 government and private hospitals have been empanelled and are expected to recruit patients through ‘health camps’ that are conducted at the district and block (taluk) levels based on a roster created by the implementation support agency (ISA). Patients with BPL cards seeking care under VAS can approach the network hospitals (NHs) empanelled under the scheme either through these camps at the district and taluk levels or can ‘walk-in’ directly into any of the empanelled NHs:
…the Scheme dramatically taps the hitherto untapped vast tertiary healthcare requirement, it envisages leveraging Public Private Partnerships to stimulate the latent demand…Health Camps are one of the innovative mechanisms to identify and mobilize the latent demand for tertiary care into Super Specialty healthcare facilities… (VAS Health Camp Guidelines in the Memorandum of Understanding [MoU], n.d., Annexure II)
The executive director (ED) of SAST says that the camp provides an opportunity for the private NHs to advertise their services under the scheme: ‘The hospitals thus have an opportunity to publicise, canvas, and make their presence felt. In fact the scheme has supported the NH by giving space to them in the calendar that we have brought out for 2014.’
During FGDs in Bangalore urban, informal sector workers’ unions reported getting ‘Vajpayee Arogyasri cards’ in addition to RSBY cards. The experience was similar to those who had RSBY cards: ‘We have got cards, but they are of little use.’ Domestic workers narrated a similar experience. A similar narrative was shared by the auto drivers’ union.
The BJP leader in our area told me that there is a new health scheme for auto drivers. He asked me to get together a group of auto drivers and he would get the cards made for us. 25 of us went with our families. They took our photo and issued cards. But we have not been able to use these cards even once. (excerpt from an FGD with auto drivers’ union, Bangalore)
The BBMP had spent ₹ 4 crore on appointing a vendor to issue smart cards, for setting up a data centre and distributing cards to 76,000 beneficiaries in the face of a financial crunch at a time when their primary and secondary-level care continued to remain defunct, unable to meet even basic maternal and child care needs.
Functioning of VAS Camps and Emerging Trends
Interactions at the VAS health camps conducted by the empanelled private NHs under the scheme provided insights into the process of inclusion and exclusion of patients through different mechanisms.
Exclusion because Condition Is Not Covered or the Patient Is Too Ill
In one of the camps organised, more than 50 per cent of 88 patients visiting were excluded because their condition was not covered under the scheme. Among them was a 60-year-old widow who was visiting the camp seeking treatment for her son who had suffered a stroke two years ago. When she heard that the camp provided treatment for ‘nerve-related’ problems, she had been hopeful. During her visit, she was told that stroke is not covered under this scheme as the treatment does not involve surgery. She was not offered any alternative source of treatment.
They said in the pamphlet that big diseases related to nerves would be covered. Is this not a serious illness? Where should I go now? Since my son is paralysed, I have the responsibility of his two small children. I will manage till I am alive. After that it is up to God.
In fact, the elderly woman raised a valid and important issue about the rationale of including only surgical procedures under the scheme. For instance, why were conditions such as stroke, that need long-term care and place a serious physical as well as financial burden on caregivers, not included under the scheme?
The marketing executive from the NH ‘strictly’ followed camp guidelines, even those that were not specified in any VAS documents, and was largely guided by ‘good business sense’. A 60-year-old female patient was brought in an auto to the camp in the fourth stage of cancer to seek admission to the private hospital under VAS. Although she was unable to walk, there was neither a stretcher nor a wheelchair available to shift her. The doctors at the camp did not physically examine the patient and only read through her reports. Finally, the marketing executive and the district coordinator explained to the patient’s son why she could not be referred to Bangalore:
Marketing executive: She has gone to the 4th stage. We can’t give [a] guarantee that she will survive. We can’t even guarantee that she will reach the hospital alive. For us there is a strict guideline that the patient should not come in the ambulance from the camp. What’s the point in taking patients who may not survive?
It was the fine print, as in any insurance scheme, that finally determined one’s access to treatment. In this case, the fine print indicated that critically ill patients made poor business sense as they may die and money would not be reimbursed.
Exclusions because of Irregularities in the BPL Card
The BPL card is the critical requirement for qualifying under this scheme to access care. A marketing executive of a private NH in one of the camps aptly put it: ‘BPL card is the most important thing in the scheme. Just as the ATM card is important for you, the BPL card is important for us. Your BPL card is our ATM.’
There were patients who did not receive BPL cards and for such patients, there was little one could do. However, patients for whom there was an unambiguous indication for surgery under the scheme were given unstinted help by the marketing team:
You go to the taluk office with the acknowledgment from the scheme that surgery is indicated. You say that you have to go to hospital and ask them to issue the BPL card. Take the field coordinator’s number. When you go to the taluk office, call him. He will talk to the food inspector there. (marketing executive, private NH, Raichur camp)
But such eagerness to support was not displayed in the case of a 35-year-old woman who visited the camp in Haveri district with a kidney problem, hoping to seek treatment under VAS. Even though her condition was covered by the scheme, there were irregularities in her BPL card, which listed her as ‘daughter’ instead of ‘wife’. She was asked to visit the revenue administration (tehsildar’s) office to get the error corrected. The woman lived in her natal home and worked as an agricultural labourer. Of late, her earnings had dropped due to her illness and she was desperate to seek treatment and get back on her feet. But now when she thought the treatment was within her grasp, the new complication diminished her chances of access to treatment, breaking her emotionally:
I have no one to do the entire running around. I am not well. I don’t have the strength to do it. What do I do? How will I get treatment? I am not even able to go for work. Now these people are saying without the correction in my BPL card I cannot get treatment. (patient, 35 years old, Haveri camp)
The marketing executive directed one of the arogyamitras to give her a letter addressed to the tehsildar to make the necessary correction. But there was no one to help in completing the paperwork. Her brother who accompanied her to the camp refused to go with her to the revenue office. 3 Paperwork was among the many hoops one had to jump through to get ‘free’ treatment and for patients like this woman from Haveri, this proved to be hurdle that was impossible to cross.
Cherry-picking Patients
On the other hand, patients who did not fit into the scheme but whose medical condition offered an opportunity for the NH to make money were encouraged to keep in touch with the field coordinator with the promise of treatment. For instance, the marketing executive decided that the 50-year-old woman with leukaemia should be referred to the hospital for treatment even though she was not covered under the scheme.
You be here on 3rd morning at 10 a.m. You bring Adhar card, BPL card, election ID. I will get you to meet the doctor. Let us see what medicines he will write. Take my number. This is the number of the arogyamitra here in Raichur. For anything you can call us.
In the case of the boy with a lesion near the lung, the marketing executive persuaded hard to get the case referred to his NH.
Even though ours is a super specialty hospital, we give a lot of free service to the poor. We can give you a good discount. I can tell you this much: the costs in our hospital are much lower than other private hospitals. There is a bus leaving on 3rd morning. You can come to the hospital. It will not cost you more than 10,000.
However, the patient decided against it as he could not afford to pay ₹ 10,000. Despite his request for a referral letter to a government hospital in Bangalore, the marketing executive who intervened on behalf of the doctor refused, saying: ‘We don’t give any referral letter. If you want, you can come here on the 3rd. There is a bus leaving for Bangalore. You come to the hospital there. I will get it done for half the charge.’
These interactions indicate that the camps were recruiting grounds for private hospitals to bring in paying cases even when the scheme did not cover them. They carefully picked those patients who would bring in revenue. In fact, it is this pull and push of public–private partnership (PPP) that shaped the discourse within VAS:
The government is a purchaser of health services. We negotiated and fixed a reasonable price. They [the private hospitals] agreed to the rates mainly because of the volume. We have been able to provide them more beneficiaries whereby they can increase their viability. Otherwise why would they agree to these rates? Be it Narayana Hrudayalaya, Baptist, Fortis, Apollo or Manipal, all these hospitals have grown because of government schemes like Yashaswini and Vajpayee. (ED, SAST)
Camp observations provided an understanding of how the empanelled private NHs worked together to exclude the most vulnerable in desperate need of health care. Rejection of patients was based on various grounds: either the medical condition of the patient was not covered by any of the schemes, the paperwork was not complete or plainly because they were not ‘cases’ who would morph into ‘profits’. Commercial considerations seemed to govern patients’ access to treatment under the scheme rather than seriousness of the patient’s condition or the urgency of the need for treatment: this is one of the worst forms of violation of medical ethics. The ED of SAST agreed that the Trust had not been able to control these tendencies:
These private hospitals have a marketing team that is much stronger than their treating team [laughs]. I had to suspend one of the hospitals for organising its own camp. We try to have some control over that. By and large they still do that. Apart from this, they have a system with private practitioners—‘if you recruit one case, X amount will come into your account’.
Waiting Time for Authorisation from the Trust
On reaching the hospital, patients underwent a series of tests; the results had to be verified by SAST doctors through the VAS website and only after receiving clearance from the SAST, could the NH proceed with treatment. This was a supervisory measure by the SAST to ensure that the NH did not conduct unnecessary procedures and tests. The time spent after reaching the NH to initiation of treatment could be anything between four to 17 days. This waiting time took a heavy toll of families on the brink of financial ruin, which in turn jeopardised women’s access to care.
Non-admission of Patients and Refusal to Give Medication
Until the empanelled NH received the authorisation from SAST to provide treatment, it did not admit insured patients, irrespective of their medical condition. For example, the 22-year-old woman from Raichur, with a provisional diagnosis of Ewing’s sarcoma, was in acute pain and could barely walk, but she was not admitted. Her non-literate husband, who was struggling chasing papers and trying to understand the insurance system in the hospital, said: ‘I dread to think of what will happen to patients who come in an emergency condition. If they don’t admit and wait for papers and signatures the patient will surely die.’
Of course, he was not aware of the fine print that enabled these NHs not to ‘recruit’ such patients in the first place. Until the money was sanctioned by the Trust, the NH did not initiate treatment so much so that doctors did not even prescribe pain relief medications. The woman with Ewing’s sarcoma travelled to the hospital and back for a battery of tests without pain relief medication.
In another instance, a woman with a diagnosis of breast cancer had defaulted on her chemotherapy treatment. She returned for treatment after a gap of four months. While her file was being reopened, tests redone and sent to the Trust for approval, she requested that they give her some pain relief medications but the hospital refused:
I asked them to at least give me an injection to reduce the pain. But they said they will give treatment only after money is released from the Trust. I stayed there for four days with this pain and they did nothing. (woman patient with breast cancer, Raichur)
Spending Money to Seek ‘Free’ Treatment
The NHs had different practices related to patient accommodation, food and travel. Families had to wait in accommodations outside the NHs until their procedures were approved by the SAST. Some hospitals provided food for the patients, while in others, the patients and their families had to fend for themselves. While some NHs organised a bus to bring in patients from camps or reimbursed costs of travel, some others did not reimburse. Further, any medicines prescribed to an outpatient had to be bought by the families out of their own pocket.
Thus, patients spent considerable amounts of money on travel, accommodation, food, local conveyance from the place of stay to the hospital and back, and medicines. In an effort to cut costs, families and patients made some difficult decisions. The woman with Ewing’s sarcoma had an 11-month-old baby whom she was breastfeeding. Since bringing her sister to take care of the baby would cost them ₹ 500/day, she had to send the baby home with her sister to cut down room cost to ₹ 375/day. The trauma to her and the baby was part of the deal if she wanted ‘free treatment’ in a ‘five star hospital’.
Apart from the fact that the necessity for out-of-pocket expenditure in a ‘cashless’ scheme was a gross violation of the scheme guidelines, such expenses were prohibitive for women patients who largely depended on their families’ willingness to bear them. For instance, during the first eight days at the NH, the family of the woman with Ewing’s sarcoma spent a total of ₹ 15,000, which included ₹ 500 per day for accommodation, ₹ 200 per visit to the hospital for tests and the rest on medicines, groceries and on travel from Raichur. The family was reluctant to bear the huge expense for the treatment which had not even begun, and was supposed to be ‘free’. The woman’s in-laws had raised a loan and felt that as they had already spent a lot, it was not worth spending any more money since, in any case, she may not survive. Her natal family was angry:
She is after all their ‘vastu’ (object) and when she gets better she will work and contribute to their family income. So it is only fair that they pay for her treatment. (brother of the woman patient with Ewing’s sarcoma)
With every passing day, the pressure on family members to return home was increasing and jeopardising this young woman’s access to treatment, even if it was only palliative care as she was in stage 4. In unbearable pain, the young woman said in anguish, ‘Poor women like me should not get these kinds of diseases. If we get [them] we should not live to see such a day.’
In another case, the family of a 60-year-old woman with cancer spent 15 days in rented accommodation, waiting for all the tests to be done and reports sent to the Trust. With mounting expenses and increasing doubts about her chances of accessing treatment, the woman prevailed upon her son to return home:
I am already old. My son has already spent 12,000 rupees in the hospital and treatment has not even started. What is the guarantee it will start now? They first said it will take three days, now they are saying one week. It is peak season now. If my son stays here any longer we will have no food the whole of next year. (woman patient with cancer of the uterus, Raichur)
This woman was referring to a new rule introduced recently in the VAS that required all BPL patients to pay discounted costs of tests and diagnostics. Further, only if the medical condition was covered under the scheme would the costs be reimbursed. Otherwise, the patient had to pay for it. This was a clever device to trap patients into continuing to seek treatment in the same hospital even when not covered under the scheme. For example, in the above-mentioned case, the woman’s son had spent nearly ₹ 12,000 on various tests. He was told, ‘You will get back the money if your mother is advised surgery. Otherwise this money will not be returned.’ The woman’s son was regretting having come to this private NH and was wondering if he they should seek care in a government cancer hospital. But he was forced to decide against it because he had already lost a substantial amount of money on tests. And moving to any other hospital would involve more expenses. So, he had to grit his teeth and continue in the same private NH:
I think I made a mistake in coming here. People in my village recommended this hospital. They have taken so much money but there is no sign of treatment approval. We have no choice but to continue here. (son of a woman with cancer of the uterus, Raichur)
VAS’s blatant lie of providing ‘cashless’ treatment was proving to be very expensive for women patients whose families were reluctant to spend money on them in the first place. Consequently, it was proving to be unsustainable for such women patients.
Treatment Default
VAS’s viable business model spelt doom for continuity of care for poor patients. Staying in Bangalore for weeks at a stretch put tremendous pressure on caregivers in terms of money, resources, energy and time. A 40-year-old woman sought treatment from the local registered medical practitioner (RMP) for a painful lump in her breast and was referred to the VAS camp, in the taluk hospital, where she was diagnosed with cancer and referred to the NH in Bangalore. Having separated from her husband, she had been staying in her natal home with her three children. Her brother was the lone earning member of the family. He initially accompanied her to the hospital where she had to stay for 21 days, at the end of which she received her first cycle of chemotherapy. Staying away from work had seriously jeopardised the brother’s financial situation at home. When they were asked to return for the next cycle a month later, her brother was reluctant:
It is too much distance. This time I don’t know how long it will be. I am the only earning member. There is no one else in our house to go with her. We have decided to try naati medicine in Sindhanoor. (brother of patient with cancer of the breast)
So, the woman switched to herbal medicine. Four months later, the condition of her left breast worsened with constant bleeding and excruciating pain. Her brother refused to accompany her to the NH as he would miss work for a long time. Although she came with her son, the hospital delayed reopening her file to seek authorisation and refused her pain relief medications. This made her decide never to return:
They asked me to go back home, as the approval would take long. They said they will call once the money is released. It is now ten days since I came back. They have not called. I would rather live with this disease and die than go back to that hospital. (woman patient with cancer of the breast, Raichur)
Despite persuasion and intervention by the researchers, the woman refused to return to the NH. She then moved to a prayer group in a local church, while her disease took its relentless course.
Discussion and Conclusion
This qualitative study illustrates how insurance schemes have complicated and fragmented clinical care provisioning where it is nearly impossible to hold any single entity accountable. The two ‘business models’, RSBY and VAS, involve outsourcing the entire implementation of the schemes to the insurance company or a third-party administrator (TPA). Such a system is opaque, complex and unaccountable. Both insurance schemes are characterised by exclusion at multiple levels of everyday illnesses, outpatient care and non-surgical medical conditions common among women.
Even when their conditions are ‘covered’ by the schemes, women suffered exclusion, once again, at various stages of accessing care: obtaining ‘cards’, ensuring that the cards are functional and finally, seeking treatment under the scheme. Each of these stages is fraught with uncertainties and discrimination, and one cannot be sure if one will actually get treatment, to what extent the treatment will be ‘free’ and how much one has to ‘pay’ for the ‘free’ treatment. The cost of ‘free’ treatment seriously limits women’s access to timely care and takes a heavy toll on their survival chances, particularly among single or elderly women and those suffering from serious chronic illnesses. Many women without access to ‘necessary’ documents and a ‘suitable’ disease are left out of even the screening camps. Those who do get through the subjective ‘selection’ process, then have to move to a hospital that is located in a city some distance away from where they live. If a woman patient has no attendant, then, again, she is passed over in the health care delivery process. Refusing the most humane intervention of providing pain relief to those battling cancer, and in unbearable pain, is not only a gross violation of medical ethics but exposes the NHs’ predatory motives and the strong class bias against the ‘poor’. Women who suffer complications are left completely in the lurch. Furthermore, deaths are neither investigated nor any remedial measures initiated to prevent violative processes. Neither RSBY nor VAS has a functional grievance redressal mechanism. Patients are not even aware that they can approach anyone to register their complaints.
The private sector utilises these publicly funded insurance schemes to expand its market in the rural areas at the cost of patient care, rights and lives. These publicly funded insurance schemes thus play to the logic of the market. Several primary and secondary-level public facilities across the state, including Bangalore urban, are largely dysfunctional, and are without doctors, essential medicines and equipments, leading to unnecessary maternal/neonatal complications and deaths. This article lays out how exclusion and complex provisioning rules are operating principles of these schemes, and how purchasing of services from the private sector can lead to unethical collusion. As demonstrated in this article, prevalent patriarchal norms and commerialised health care converge on the bodies of poor working-class women and feed off their pain and suffering, for profit ultimately perpetuates structural drivers of ill health and disease.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The article is based on a study and a film project on health insurance schemes in Karnataka and the authors would like to acknowledge the support provided by the Council for Social Development, New Delhi, and Oxfam India, for the study and the film project respectively.
