Today was going to be just a normal day at the office.
Meet with scheduled clients, get some paperwork squared away, finish off some database issues. Rather, I received two stories ...
Coming through the door first thing, there was Kim. A woman of small build, a scruffy, quiet voice.
She's been driving bus for a local school district for a couple of years. It's a good Teamsters contract, and even has health coverage.
The challenge is that she works 5 hours a day, 9 months out of the year.
As you can imagine, being around children in the spring and winter can expose you to some serious bugs.
"I didn't know that I was sick," Kim shared, "I did my laundry on Sunday, folded it, and laid down. The next thing I knew, it was Wednesday and the phone was ringing."
She went to the local Franciscan hospital, and was diagnosed with severe pneumonia. It took her a few weeks to completely recover.
She had a big folder with her. It was all the paperwork regarding the hospitalization and the costs associated with it. When I asked Kim if she'd received help from the hospital, she said it was recommended to her that she declare medical bankruptcy, so the hospital could get paid.
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My next client, Cindy, is expecting her first child in October.
Cindy and her husband both are working class. Not in union shops. She works in the hospitality industry, and has had outstanding reviews by her employer.
They had mapped out their summer months to prepare for the baby. A new apartment with a second bedroom for the baby, a schedule to save money for the time she would need off from work. All the things responsible parents will do, they did.
Her mom, Katrina, was excited to throw a baby shower in August, so Cindy could get a good chunk of baby things.
At of June, she developed a cough and went to see the doctor, on her husband's insurance (her employer does not offer the option).
By July 2nd she was in intensive care and quarantined with a confirmed case of N1H1.
"It was so bad, they had to stick a tube down my throat to get the Oxygen into my lungs," she told me, "they brought in the anesthesiologist, he gave me a shot as my husband kissed me on the cheek, saying 'I love you'."
For about the next two weeks Cindy was in a medically induced coma. Her husband was distraught, the baby shower was cancelled and their summer plans, saving plans and moving plans all put on hold.
"To that point, everything was on track."
By July 17, she had been moved out of quarantine, into the ICU, and eventually sent home.
She's back to work, but her once full time schedule is down to two days a week. Her husband is back to work, too.
I have yet to hear about the bills.
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Finally, a man in his early 50's, also a union member with good benefits and a good wage, comes into my office.
He is a responsible guy, takes a bus to get to work. Last year the hours were cut, but he's stayed on because he's fiercely loyal to the company.
One morning he needs to run a little to catch the bus, "then, BAM! it sounded like a firecracker, and I went down. My knee blew out. Just like quarterbacks in football, you know, when you see them go down? That's what happened to me."
He had the surgery required, but the recovery time dropped him below the required hours for maintaining his insurance benefits.
Oh, and it was en route to work, so Labor and Industries won't cover it.
His bill, $21,000.
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What's your story?