By Phil DePaolo
Last October, the popular folk singer Vic Chesnutt played a show at The Music Hall of Williamsburg, a concert I’d planned on going to, but missed. Vic toured often so I figured I would get to see him the next time he came to New York, in the spring or summer. But that will never happen. Vic Chesnutt died Christmas Day in Athens, Georgia, after committing suicide by an overdose of prescription muscle relaxants. He was only 45 years old.
Chesnutt was paraplegic since he was 18 years old. He was paralyzed after a drunk driving accident in 1983 which left him with only limited use of his arms. Yet against all odds, despite the paralysis, he was able to develop fantastic guitar skills and became famous for playing bass, rhythm, and lead in the same song with the dexterity of only two fingers. He was one of the greatest performers I’ve ever seen. He was a giant on stage.
Vic produced and released more than 16 albums, he recorded with such luminary musicians as Emmylou Harris and Michael Stipe, and he was the subject of a documentary, “Speed Racer: Welcome to the World of Vic Chesnutt.” Vic also had a role in the Academy Award-winning film “Sling Blade.” He also performed at the Kennedy Center. He did all these things, even while confined to a wheelchair.
The American health care system would ultimately cost Vic his life, because Vic, who was able to earn some income, was not considered disabled, and was ineligible for Medicare. For two necessary surgeries his insurance paid $100,000, and he was billed an additional $70,000. He made payments until he couldn’t afford to, then the hospital demanded payment in full. Then it filed suit against him, which resulted in a lien on his house. The sheriff came by and tacked the notice on his door.
Vic was an outspoken critic of U.S. health care, and was well aware that he would need more surgeries for his condition. “I’m not too eloquent talking about these things,” Chesnutt said, “I was making payments, but I can’t anymore and I really have no idea what I’m going to do. It seems absurd they can charge this much. When I think about all this, it gets me so furious. I could die any day now. Right now, I need another surgery and I’ve been putting it off for a year because I can’t afford it. And that’s absurd I don’t want to die, especially just because I don’t have enough money to go into the hospital. But that’s the reality of it. You know, I have a preexisting condition, my quadriplegia, and I can’t get health insurance.”
“I have been amazed and confused by the health care debate,” he said. “There is no doubt about it; we really need health care reform in this country.
Jem Cohen, one of Vic’s closest friends, said in an NPR interview recently after his passing, “Vic was very open and honest about whatever state he was in. And so we knew that he was having some kind of a mental breakdown. There were, you know, bouts of terrible depression and insomnia, and in between him being his usual funny and smart Vic. But this was serious, and it was clear to people, and people scrambled to get help for him. And he was actually quite open to it. He was open to help. And so for people to think maybe he rejected that or just simply wanted to kill himself, I don’t think that’s right, personally.”
“He tried to get better, and the people around him tried to help him,” said Cohen. “There was a local nonprofit health care center that tried, and a lot of steps were taken right away. But he was in a serious crisis, and when it came to dealing with a certain level of crisis, in my opinion, the system failed him. I mean, there were limits to what the emergency options were in his city. For one thing, there used to be a psych ward at the hospital and there isn’t anymore. And then, you know, there were bureaucratic tie-ups and things are always made harder for people in wheelchairs, and so on. In the course of that struggle, Vic took an overdose of the prescription pills, the muscle relaxants that he had to take every day, which he’d taken for many, many years. You know, and that’s what happened.”
Michael Stipe added, “My understanding of Vic’s insurance was that it only covered catastrophic conditions or emergency kinds of situations, and Vic would wait and wait and wait and wait until he couldn’t take whatever compounded things were going on with his body. And then he would be taken to the emergency room, at which point his insurance would kick in and pay for part of the cost. But I think that these compounded other issues and other problems that he had, and made it very difficult. And as Jem said, we have a system in this country that completely—absolutely and completely—failed him as a person, and I think fails so many people.
On December 22, Vic was going to be admitted as an inpatient at a private psychiatric care center, according to longtime friend Erica McCarthy. Vic was about to be picked up for the facility when the center called to report their van’s handicapped lift was broken. Vic was asked if he could give the facility three days to resolve the complication. Around 11 p.m. that night, it is believed he swallowed the pills, and, on Christmas Day, after being in a coma two days, Vic died. “That’s the big tragedy of Vic’s death,” says McCarthy. “He was seeking help and he was rejected.”
Chesnutt admittedly attempted suicide three or four times when he was in his 20s. Jem Cohen said, “Vic’s death, just so you all know, did not come at the end of some cliché downward spiral. He was battling deep depression but also at the peak of his powers, and with the help of friends and family he was in the middle of a desperate search for help. The system failed to provide it. Rest in peace, Vic, I’m sorry U.S. health care failed you.”
I’m sorry too, Vic. It’s a shame you could not get the help you needed. I hope our system can some day learn to provide all Americans with dignified health care.
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