Alright, let’s break this down. One hurricane—just one freaking hurricane—blows through North Carolina, and suddenly, our whole healthcare system’s like, “Oops, no more IV fluids!” I mean, what, did we build our nation’s entire medical supply chain out of popsicle sticks and wishful thinking?
Turns out, that’s exactly what we did. You’ve got Baxter International, this corporate octopus that controls 60% of our IV fluid supply. Sixty percent! It’s like betting all your chips on a horse with a limp—and that horse just got hit by Hurricane Helene. Now, Baxter’s North Carolina plant is down, and the nation’s hospitals are out here rationing fluids like we’re living in some post-apocalyptic dystopia. Who knew Gatorade was about to become the new IV bag?
Remember Hurricane Maria? Yeah, that storm wiped out another Baxter facility in Puerto Rico back in 2017. And what did we do after that? Did we diversify our supply chain? Nope. We doubled down on Baxter! I mean, why fix a problem when you can just sit around and wait for the next disaster to slap you across the face, right?
And here’s the kicker—this isn’t just about IV fluids, folks. Nope, this disaster is just the poster child for all the other medical supply monopolies we’re hanging by a thread on. Insulin? Controlled by three companies. Epinephrine injectors? Mylan’s been running that racket for years, jacking up prices like it’s a hot stock on Wall Street. And sterile injectables, the stuff we need for surgeries and cancer treatments? Yeah, that’s also run by just a couple of big players. It’s like we’re running a hospital with spare parts from the dollar store.
So now what? Hospitals are “conserving” IV fluids, which is just code for, “We’re screwed, but we’ll stretch this out like it’s the last roll of toilet paper in a frat house.” Doctors are pulling MacGyver moves to treat patients—swapping IVs for oral antibiotics and hoping dehydration can be fixed with a hearty glass of water and a prayer.
But let’s not pretend this is some freak accident. This is greed, people. Baxter has cornered the market, and we’ve let them. They own the game, and when their one precious plant goes down, the whole country’s healthcare system is left standing around like a bunch of helpless idiots at a deserted gas station.
What did we learn from this? Nothing. We’re gonna keep letting these monopolies run wild, and every time a storm hits, we’ll be right back here, rationing meds and holding our breath, hoping that the one company we rely on gets its act together.
In the end, this is what we get when corporate giants control life-saving supplies: fragile systems, overpriced products, and patients left in the lurch. So unless someone at the top grows a spine and breaks up these monopolies, we might as well start building bunkers and preparing for the next time Baxter’s empire takes a hit. Cause it’s not if it’ll happen again—it’s when.
