Bill Dalton: Ka-ching!

Never dreamed that this would happen to me, but if you live long enough, you become a living, breathing, walking profit center.

Not for yourself, for what I call the Medicare Health Insurance Complex.

There may be silver on the heads of us 70-somethings, but below is a pot of gold dying to be mined — or plundered — by doctors, dentists and anyone else wearing a white coat.

However, only if you have health insurance. If you pay “out of pocket,” that mine has played out, and the white coats go prospecting elsewhere. But Medicare remains a rich vein to be tapped, at least until 2033 when it’s predicted to go broke.

Here are just a few examples. (Since it’s my medical information, I’m immune from prosecution for violating HIPAA, unless the FBI’s Kash Patel decides otherwise.)

A recent visit to the cardiologist found that everything is fine with my ticker, at least for now, and I was almost out the door when the doctor said: “It might be a good idea if we order an echocardiogram.”

“Why?” I asked. “Just to establish a baseline,” he said.

Uh-huh. A baseline.

Now, I’m not going to argue with a guy who went to med school, especially when it involves my heart, but I got a whiff of something that smelled like, oh, I don’t know ... money.

“OK,” I said, since it wasn’t coming out of my pocket because I have Medicare Advantage/private health insurance, meaning I’m covered up the wazoo. (Wazoo’s a medical term. You can look it up.)

Speaking of my wazoo, next was a visit to the gastroenterologist who treats my stomach issues, the likely result of working 40-plus years in the stress-free atmosphere of a daily newspaper. (Or maybe it was all those martinis after deadlines. Whatever.)

Doctors are trying to wean me off medication for acid reflux since there are studies associating my particular pill with, oh, what’s the word, it was there a minute ago on the tip of my brain stem, oh yeah — dementia!

“Do you still have heartburn with the lower dosage?” the doctor asked. “Yeah, but no worse than on the higher dosage,” I told her.

“Oh, that’s not good,” she said.

Huh?

“We should probably scope you to see if there’s anything to worry about, you know, like cancer,” she said.

Uh-huh. Nothing like the “C” word to get your attention. Or your money.“But I’m fine,” I said. “Well, it’s up to you,” she said, “but I’d strongly advise it.”

Ka-ching! Sorry, Medicare.

Next up was the dermatologist to check for suspicious moles — she didn’t find any — but she did have concerns about the medication for a minor skin condition.

“How long have you been using this stuff?” she asked. “Probably years,” I replied. “It works great.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” she said. “I’m giving you samples of a creme that doesn’t contain steroids. See how that works.”

I took the free sample — the first taste is always free — but then checked if my insurance covered it. It sure does, but only 60 percent of the cost, which for a tiny tube is more than $1,000.

Ka-ching! That’s more expensive than cocaine. (Or so I’ve heard.)

I won’t even mention the crowns my dentist wanted to put on a couple of molars until we discovered I didn’t have dental insurance. Now that I do have dental insurance, she insisted those crowns can’t wait any longer.

Ka-ching!

I’ll stop now because there’s nothing more boring than listening to an old fart talk about his health.

The problem is the longer I live, the more likely I’ll need even more expensive health care, like a knee replacement, a hip replacement, a quadruple bypass or who knows what. (Botox maybe?)

So, if doctors can just keep me alive a little longer, they can keep “mining” me and Medicare until there’s nothing left to medicate, fix, or replace.

Life is cheapened a little when you realize you’re being kept alive as nothing more than a profit center — fattened like a steer before the slaughterhouse — but I guess it beats the alternative.

Dead broke.

— Bill Dalton is a former reporter and editor for The Kansas City Star and worked for several Michigan newspapers. He spends summers on the family farm near Fennville. His novel “The Bank Game” — a crime thriller — is available from Amazon along with “Dalton’s Bend.”