Clowning Around or Chronic Illness & Insurance Companies

Now and then I have to deal with this thing called an Insurance company. They help cover the cost of my chronic illness. Or so they say. Sometimes it feels as if they are trying to kill me instead. I can’t say I’d blame them given the nature of the business they are in. I cost a lot of money to keep alive.

Today just happened to be one of those days where I had to call the Insurance company. I’m sure the lady I first spoke to is a lovely person and she was only doing her job. Which apparently is to make the chronically ill and somewhat frustrated patient jump through six hoops which gradually decreased in size.

When I managed that feat, I was passed on to a man who told me point-blank “it’s people like you that make premiums go up”. Well thanks, I thought. I needed that. Must be my new super power. He wanted me to jump through flaming hoops while juggling sharp knives. If I couldn’t do it, he would deny my claim for coverage of a medication. That a doctor, actually specialist, prescribed.

Now stop and think about this. I am being asked to basically kill myself, through the sheer exhaustion of these mental exercises just to get coverage for something to keep me alive. And the kicker? The more exhausted and sick I get; the more medications will be prescribed which will require me to join the circus full-time.

Today I managed to get the required coverage for the medication. There will come a day when this won’t be the case. And then I will have to consider the options of paying on my own for the medication at the cost of bankrupting myself and then not being able to pay for anything including my medication or skipping the medication, so I can cover other bills for housing and food and dying because I cannot get the medication required to keep me alive.

Next time you see a juggler consider that those of us with chronic illnesses, especially the expensive kind, are performing these feats on a regular basis just to stay alive. Each of us wondering what will happen when we can no longer manage that many sharp knives or itsy-bitsy hoops of flames while riding a unicycle backwards. Because my friends, that’s how the Insurance company makes me feel. Now if you will excuse me, I seem to have dropped my red nose somewhere and I need it to get into an impossibly tiny car with some of my other friends who happen to have large feet…


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