THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 2, 1995 TAG: 9507020058
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MARIE JOYCE, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 154 lines
Dale Barrett didn't realize she was about to have a seizure that February afternoon. The left side of her face felt tingly and numb.
She and her sister, Deborah Snyder, had just finished lunch at a seafood house in Virginia Beach. Dale was driving them out of the parking lot when she hit the brake.
``Debbie, I don't feel right,'' Dale said. Suddenly, her tongue stuck out and her face contorted and turned shades of gray and blue and yellow. Her foot slipped off the brake, and the Chevrolet Corsica drifted into busy East Little Creek Road.
Deborah's babies were in the back seat.
Deborah leaped out and dashed into the road, flagging down the oncoming cars. A doctor pulled over to help. He fired questions at Deborah: ``Did she have a seizure? Is she diabetic?'' All Deborah could say was ``I don't know. I don't know.''
The staff at DePaul Medical Center did a CT scan and found a tangled nest of veins crouching on the surface of Dale's brain. It had to come out, as soon as possible.
That was 4 1/2 months ago. Today, Dale Barrett, 24, is still living with a time bomb in her head.
She waits because she doesn't have health insurance at her job, and she can't pay for the surgery. If she quit work and went on welfare, Medicaid would pay for the operation. But Dale won't quit work - or lie on welfare applications.
A year after President Clinton's health care proposals died in Congress, there are still 40 million Americans without medical insurance.
Dale's story will probably have a happy ending, largely because her sister crusaded relentlessly to find a program that will help because of some special circumstances in Dale's case.
But there are plenty more out there like her, and no government program to help them.
Dale Barrett came to Hampton Roads last year for a fresh start.
She had lived all her life in Springfield, Ill., relying on her protective mother. When her mother died of cancer, Dale suddenly was on her own, and in charge of her 10-year-old brother, Donald Harris.
Deborah urged her sister to move to Virginia Beach. There were more opportunities and good schools for Donald, she said. Dale also liked the idea of living near the beach.
Dale found an apartment and got a part-time job working in the meat department at Farmer Jack, along with Deborah's husband, Jerry. She hoped become full time.
The first months were fun and exciting. Deborah, 31, had left home when Dale was still a child, and they had never been close. But their mother's death had made them realize how much they needed each other. The family had slumber parties at the Snyders' house on weekends. They spent Christmas together.
Early this year, she had two likely seizures that were diagnosed as fainting episodes. It wasn't until after the incident in the parking lot that they found out what was wrong.
The mass of extra blood vessels sits under her skull above and in front of her left ear. It's called a cavernous angioma, and she has carried it around all her life. She had the seizures because one of the weak vein walls leaked, and the blood, oozing into the closed box of the skull, pressed on and damaged a small amount brain tissue.
Bleeding is always a risk with one of these knots, and the risk skyrockets after the first bleed.
The operation costs roughly $5,000 - not counting the visits beforehand and the therapy afterward.
Although she had insurance at her last job, Dale can't get insurance at work until she has been there for 22 months.
OK, thought her sister. We'll try Medicaid.
But Dale didn't qualify. She makes $5.15 an hour, and her brother receives a small Social Security benefit from his mother's death.
She also owns a cemetery plot on top of her mother's grave in Illinois, and a 5-year-old car.
Someone familiar with the system told the family they should try to persuade a used car dealer to reassess the car for less.
``If that's the game we have to play, we don't want to,'' Deborah said. ``Why should we have to lie about our living arrangements when we don't have anything anyway?''
Others advised her to quit her job and take the Medicaid.
Dale refused. Working is the only thing that keeps her sane. The job, she says, ``is something that this can't take away from me yet.''
It's ironic, says Dr. Jonathan P. Partington, her neurosurgeon. ``She would have been better off if she lied or if she quit her job and became indigent. And, believe me, this is not uncommon.''
Dale, Donald, their cat and their cockateel all moved into the Snyders' three-bedroom home while Dale waited for surgery. She would need help if she suffered another seizure.
They share the space with the Snyders' five children, a dog and another cat.
The family has watched Dale sink under the weight of her problems. She's pale and listless. She goes on long crying jags or sleeps for hours during the day. She loses her temper easily. She terrifies her sister with talk of stopping Dilantin, the medicine she takes to control her seizures.
Depression often accompanies brain injuries, said her doctor, but the financial stress has made Dale's worse.
``I hate myself because I got it,'' Dale said one recent afternoon, sitting in an armchair in the living room. She stared at the floor. ``I hate (what it does) to my family because I'm putting them through it. I hate it so much.''
Deborah, who sat next to her, started to protest, but Dale lifted her head and set her jaw.
``You can't see through my eyes. . . I don't see. . . how can I put it? It's killing everybody.''
Deborah's eyes were rimmed with red. ``It's not killing everybody,'' she insisted.
Deborah Snyder went to the library and got the addresses and phone numbers of local members of Congress.
She sat in her car and poured quarters into a drive-up pay phone at a gas station - the Snyders don't have a phone.
She called churches, television stations, newspapers. At one radio station, the sympathetic staff put Dale's plight on the air. Most places rebuffed her or referred her to someone else.
``I didn't realize something so life-threatening would mean so little,'' she said.
Partington said he would do the surgery for free. But that wouldn't take care of the other bills.
Finally, Deborah learned that the state Department of Rehabilitative Services helps people with disabilities that interfere with their jobs.
``People end up on our door very frustrated, confused. They feel that they've been passed on and on and on,'' said Jim Grubbs, a counselor with the department, who helped Dale with her application for the state and federal money.
But, he cautioned, vocational rehabilitation money isn't an option for most people who can't pay for their medical treatment, and he's worried this article will bring a slew of people to his door. ``We cannot function as a substitute to insurance.''
Dale qualified partly because she may need physical and speech therapy and other services before she can return to work after the surgery, said Grubbs.
On Wednesday, Partington's office told Dale she could schedule the surgery. The rehabilitation money had come through.
The family is relieved. But the world doesn't look the same to them.
At times, Deborah says, all the rebuffs have made her question whether she was wrong somehow for getting so upset about her sister's problem.
She has always thought of herself as middle class, even though the family scrapes to get by. Her husband works. They love each other. They take care of the kids. Now she realizes that some people look at her sister and see something else.
Every time she and Dale have entered a doctor's office or hospital, Dale is always asked: Do you have insurance?
Deborah admits that she didn't care about the health insurance issue when the whole debate was going on in Washington. She has insurance through her husband's job.
``Now it's become the greatest issue in my life,'' she said. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
VICKI CRONIS/Staff
Deborah Snyder, right, has helped her sister, Dale Barrett,
diagnosed with cavernous angioma - extra blood vessels in her head.
by CNB