HIPPA, Airplanes and Afternoon Naps

We all work hard to maintain the HIPPA rules on privacy of medical information, and I, for one, am grateful. I don’t want everyone or anyone to know about my medical problems. They are my business, but apparently, not all people share this opinion.

What is it about getting on an airplane that prompts some people to let down their defenses and feel compelled to tell perfect strangers the most intimate details about their state of health?

I recently was trying to survive a trans-Atlantic flight from Germany in a very small coach seat when I realized I was surrounded by passengers telling other passengers about their medical trials and tribulations.

The man across the aisle was talking to the man in front of him who had turned around and was draped over the back of his chair. They did not speak in hushed tones. The first man was going into great detail about his experimental spinal surgery that would’ve cost $100,000 had he undergone the procedure in this country. Instead, he paid $23,000 to have it done in Thailand and seemed happy with the results. He went on at length about his symptoms before the surgery, his physician, his vitamin regimen, his post-op course and his family. He’d recently given his teenage son a new car for his 16th birthday (he’ll regret that decision) and had been bankrolling a daughter who wanted to be a movie star.

And, oh yes, he had three ex-wives.

The man draped over the back of his seat didn’t let the opportunity to pontificate about health care delivery and his problems pass. After all, he’d been a good listener, so when there was a break in the conversation, he jumped right in.

Without even trying hard to listen, I learned he had been career military for 32 years and was currently seeing doctors at a military hospital. He was taking drugs for hypertension and hyperlipidemia, and was trying to lose weight, but “it’s tough,” he said. He was pretty satisfied with military medicine, but his wife, sitting next to him, was not. She had developed many problems following a hysterectomy, performed the day after Christmas two years ago. (In case you’re wondering, I got so intrigued I began taking notes.)

Behind me sat a woman I’d guess to be in her 30s and another woman, perhaps in her 70s. The younger woman was a first-time mother and concerned about the quality of her 4-year-old daughter’s poops. The older woman went on about “raising children in my day,” her son’s prostate cancer (he was in the “watchful waiting” mode), and her own medical problems which included osteoarthritis, a hip replacement and dizzy spells. I zoned out when she began describing her litany of medications.

Fortunately, my fellow passengers eventually tired of all the medical talk and settled in with their books and movies – except another man just across the aisle who had a major snoring problem. He enjoyed his nap, but I’m not sure the rest of us did.