I’m one of many Americans; a 9-5 hard working folk, who gets paid in peanuts, and has no benefits, no retirement, no nothing. I do though, have a pretty wicked toothache.
Back in the 90’s life was good. My mom could still claim me, and I was still qualified to use her dental, and her health insurance.
Then I graduated. I worked a 9-5 job at McD’s and had no benefits. I mean I at least had the option, but I got paid so piss poorly that I’d literately be working just to pay off the insurance had I signed up for it. Ain’t nothing free, in this land of the free.
I figured though by this age, I’d be set. Have my shit in order, have a few puppies, have dental insurance, a nice car, and maybe even health insurance.
I have none of the above. I can’t afford it.
A few months ago I found myself in the emergency room though, and then and only then did I realize the importance of health insurance.
I got a pretty wicked dog bite. Ripped through my skin and left a nice 2 inch hole in my leg. I needed to check myself into the emergency room, where I waited with flu infested folks, folks with bloody arms, green growths on their lips, bleeding eyeballs, and folks who were literately barfing on the floor.
I felt ill just sitting in the emergency room. Felt I likely caught some rare disease because clearly the folks sitting in this room were sick; sick in ways I personally had never seen.
My dog bite was nothing compared to what some of these folks had. At any rate, I signed a few forms, and an hour later finally got someone to take a look at my wound.
I was relieved to finally be taken into a nice small clean room, away from the sick diseased patients in waiting. Inside this room sat a doctor.
This doctor asked who my doctor was.
I thought I was funny when I said ‘Um.. I thought you were- Doc’.
See I haven’t seen a doctor since I got my ass prodded with a needle as a 7 year old.
At any rate, this chum didn’t find my joke to be all that funny, so he went and asked again.
I said this time more seriously; ‘I ain’t got no doctor, doctor.’
I then got a lecture on how important having a doctor was… blah blah… this and that.
He pretty much made me feel like shit. I mean hell, I can’t have a ‘doctor’ if I have no insurance, and I certainly can’t afford to crap out bundles of cash to have a doctor either. I’m a mother frikkin statistic. Obama help me.
At any rate, he was a doctor, and at that time and place, he was MY doctor. Nuff said!
He took a look at my leg, I lied about my weight, signed some more forms, and was sent back out into the emergency room to wait with the zombies.
Another hour goes by, and finally I am seen by another doctor.
I figured I would be getting stitches, however seeing that they couldn’t stitch the bend in the back of my leg without it tearing, the doc simply doused my leg with iodine, stained my pants, and sent me on my way with a big fat band aid. Had I known they weren’t going to stitch it, I’d never of showed up.
A month goes by and the bill arrives. $300 for the doctor, and $890 just for sitting in the disease infested emergency room for 2 hours!
Holy hell, that’s literately $400 some odd dollars an hour. For that price, I should have been served caviar, shrimp cocktail, lobster, and some fine imported wines and cheeses.
Instead, for that ridiculously high price I got to sit and dine with diseased humans, and I munched on $1.00 crackers from a vending machine.
This is absolutely unacceptable. That price is practically my entire monthly income! At any rate, I had the option to fill out this form for poor people. They call my kind a charity case. Uninsured, too poor to afford insurance, yet too rich to qualify for welfare. Go figure. I’m an in limbo case.
I filled out the forms, copied my W2’s, and sent them on their way.
I got a nice fat decline letter back stating I didn’t show proof of income. Yeah, I guess my W2’s were fake huh!?
I called the hospital finance department where they told me I did not send my W2’s in. GUH-REAT! So basically my W2’s are likely in the hands of some illegal immigrant secretary… my social, my name, my address…. loves it!!!!
I sent them in again, with the same decline letter back. At this point I’m livid. It’s as if they are trying to purposely make sure I do not qualify.
It’s embarrassing enough being called a ‘charity case’, but every time I had to call and argue about my lost W2’s, and threaten them by telling them they are going to pay for my wasted postage, and stolen identity- they get pissy on me!
At any rate, this will be my 3rd attempt at sending my information away to the hands of this clearly incompetent financial department.
All the while, I’ve got this aching tooth going on in the back of my mouth. It throbs, has a heartbeat, and without any dental insurance, it’ll likely be another big fat bill in the $1000 range. I wonder if dental care has a charity case option; you know, one where they can decline me every time I send them my W2’s, like the hospital does. Sigh.
-Also published this on Hubpages