Hello folks, I am a young cancer survivor, I was 34 when diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and now I am 39, I am currently in remission and trying to keep it that way, but I am unable to get health insurance and because I "work" for a living and don’t sit on my ass, I don’t qualify for any state or Federal aid programs, and the Major Risk Medical Insurance program in CA where I live is still way too expensive and my employer doesn’t offer insurance. I am forced to try and get health insurance on my own, and as no company will take me on, I have been trying to pay out of pocket since 2006. Things have reached critical mass as now I don’t even have any more available balances on my credit cards for even a modicum of basic care and follow up. That’s the scoopage on me and below is a rambling bit on a dream I recently had – oh it was so great, it was euphoric, it was utopia, but it ended as all good dreams do, by waking up to my life just as it was when I went to sleep the night before, and that just totally sucks.
SCREW THE PUBLIC OPTION, SCREW THE TRIGGER I WILL PAY CASH
I had the strangest dream last night. It was like a fairy tale come true. Screw the Public Option, screw the damn potential of a do nothing, useless trigger, I will be living the high life from now on. Able to get health care wherever, whenever I want and not worry about massive bills or being treated like a second class citizen when I go to doctors offices. Finally, I shall be free of monetary constraints and be able to pay out of pocket for any damn tests or see a specialist whenever I freaking wanted.
I dreamt I won the CA State Lottery!
Every week I manage to scrape together anywhere from $3 to $5 to purchase my lottery tickets, I go with a set or two of regular numbers and then throw caution to the wind and try some quick picks, I know, I am that crazy! In my dream, it had finally happened – I won! The dream was not number specific, not sure which numbers got me the loot, the beginning was a bit hazy, me looking exceptionally cute and happy-go-lucky on a little stage with lottery officials, the obnoxious Big Check in my hands, it’s so big my little 5 foot frame allows just my eyes to peer out over the top of it, but I don’t care. Flashbulbs are going off, questions are flying at me from all directions by the assembled local and national media – "Ma’am, Miss what will you do first with your winnings? "Any plans Miss?" "What is the first thing you will buy?" Oh the sheer joy!!
I shock them all and pretty much silence them with "I am going to make an appointment with my oncologist for a long overdue follow-up visit and this time I am going to keep it."
Huh? What? Well that was not expected. I suppose most folks just answer with, "I’m going to buy a fancy car. I’m going to take a big trip to Fiji" "I will pay off my mortgage or buy a new, bigger house." "I am going to buy the Fox News Channel and dismantle it, piece by piece and turn it into a shopping channel, and make Glenn Beck sell steak knives."
Not me my friends, no for me it will be CT scans, doctor visits, maybe even obtaining that overdue blood work I’ve needed. Wow! What a big deal.
And - and it’s a small thing but exciting nonetheless, instead of parking 4 blocks away from my doctors office in Santa Monica, CA to avoid paying the minimum $18.00 parking charge in his building, I’m going to pull right up to his building and with a devil-may-care flourish grab a parking ticket and descend in my trusty, 14-year-old Ford Escort, named Phoebe Buffay, into his underground parking lair, replete with BMW’s and Mercedes and all kinds of fancy pants cars, yes park right next to them, because I am a rich woman, I am one of them now.
"Why look Phoebe Buffay, we are right next to this big old Rolls Royce and today we can afford the $18.00 to park right next to him, while I’m in with the doc you can chat him up, maybe get a date out of it." Oh life is grand.
Next, my dream takes me into the doc’s office, with me paying the full out of pocket cost for the visit without batting an eye, gleefully handing over a whopping $200.00 to cover the cost of a 10 minute conversation with my doc-inator and when they send me over to UCLA Santa Monica Hospital for blood work and a CT/PET scan, instead of hesitating, and pausing to calculate how much that little adventure will cost me, I just hop back into Phoebe Buffay, who by that time had gotten the digits for not just the Rolls, but a few Beamers’ as well, and scooted my cute butt over to the hospital. Not a thought about money, credit cards, or bills in my head, just getting the health care I need to get to keep my non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma at bay and stay in remission.
What an easy breezy dream, the money, the health care, the fame, the lack of bills, it was all too much for my overstressed brain and then I woke up! Damn! It all seemed so real, I checked my arm, no band aid where blood work should have been drawn, I looked around, no digits from a Rolls Royce for Phoebe Buffay the 14-year-old Ford Escort (man she would have looked cute on a date too) – back to a life of struggle, and worries, and bills and dealing with an illness that I can’t afford to deal with. The credit cards are maxed out, the docs and hospitals want full payment up front now and my cute little working class butt still doesn’t qualify for any state or Federal aid. WTF!
I wanted Single Payer, and that was cruelly ripped away. They dangled a public option, and now I just don’t know until the President’s speech this week where the hell that idea is going, and the horror of possible co-ops or triggers or simply doing nothing in all the rumors flying around this past holiday weekend have left me mentally exhausted and not knowing what to believe anymore. Dreaming that I won the lottery to pay for my health care is so pathetic I know, but I woke up and just for an instant I felt a great weight lifted off of me, it was a feeling I hadn’t felt since just before I lost my insurance coverage in 2006. I liked it, it was a damn good feeling, but now - now back to the struggle – I still have my lottery ticket, we’ll see what happens Wednesday – hey it could happen - wouldn’t it be nice?
Peace out!