A few years ago, my wife and I fell into an opportunity that we couldn’t pass up. We got a chance at the dream that many Americans have: We got the chance to start our own business. Now, it’s not a huge business. It’s definitely a small business. We rarely have more than three employees – and that’s including my wife and myself – at any given time.
When we first started this business, we thought we’d found the end of the rainbow. We live pretty far back in the sticks, so a drive to any “real” job would take at least 45 minutes one way. And it’s not 45 highway minutes – this is 45 mountain minutes (which means that if you get behind a coal truck, you’re going to be late).
We didn’t get rich then, and we’re still not rich. You’d be hard pressed to even say we’re comfortable. We still live paycheck to paycheck like most people. We don’t eat in fancy restaurants or have steak for dinner every night. We don’t have fancy cars. Hell, my truck is old enough to buy alcohol legally. But we were okay. We could pay the bills enough to keep the lights on and the water running.
We had both been out of work for a while, so we didn’t have any insurance. Her last job hadn’t offered it at all, and while mine had, who can afford COBRA? Certainly not us, and it had been more than 18 months anyway, so that wasn’t an option. We started looking into it, got some quotes.
In early January a girl happened to come by the house. She was working for such-and-such insurance company. I don’t remember the name, and it really isn’t important. She showed us a good policy for health and life insurance that would take care of both my wife and I if one or the other happened to fall ill and, God forbid, pass away.
We loved it. It was exactly what we were looking for. And even more so, it was within our budget. We would finally be able to go to the doctor when one of us got a sinus infection or some other kind of ailment. Our insurance would start on February 1st, and we’d be covered.
On January 28th, I had my first heart attack.
Over snowy and icy roads, my wife rushed me to the hospital in our car. Why didn’t we wait for an ambulance? 30 minutes for one to get here, and then the ride time to the hospital. We made it from our house to the hospital in less than 20. They determined that yes, I was having a heart attack. The bad part was that since they were just an ER, they had to fly me somewhere else. They were little more than a glorified triage center.
The closest hospital with a cath lab (the guys who put stuff in your arteries to keep you from dying) is almost two hours away by car, so they called in a helicopter to fly me there. Approximately 20 minutes later, I was on the table having a catheter inserted into my heart.
Oh, I also died while on that table, and they had to shock me with the defibrillator to bring me back.
Turned out I had 95% blockage in one of the main arteries in my heart. Hadn’t I felt this before? Hadn’t I had trouble? Why hadn’t my regular doctor found this during a regular checkup?
After a couple of days in the ICU, then a couple more days in the med-surg wing, I was sent home.
When you have a heart attack, they give you some different medications to try to stop the pain. Morphine and Demerol – both in high doses – are not unheard of. And then to have died on the table and been shocked back to life, and then have had more pain-relieving drugs, I’ll admit, I was high as a kite (but I wasn’t in pain!).
This was when the nurse came in with the papers for me to sign. My wife wasn’t there yet – no room in the helicopter, so she had to drive over herself, and then there was some trouble with getting up to see me and nurses and receptionists being jerks. So I signed these papers. Apparently, I agreed that I had no insurance and agreed to pay in cash within 30 days the full balance of my total hospital bills.
What was that total? Oh, around $85,000. (That doesn’t include the $28,000 helicopter ride.)
Three days. Three more days and I would have had insurance. But now? I still can’t get insurance.
Well, I mean, I guess I could, if I wanted to pay $1800 a month for it. For me only. Not for my wife. And that $1800 wouldn’t cover anything that has to do with my heart condition (or the heart attacks I’ve had since then). Because, you know, it’s a pre-existing condition. Nor would it cover any medicines that keep my heart condition in check, trying to keep me from having yet another heart attack.
“But couldn’t you get state assistance?”
Nope. Make just over the limit to even apply for it. Too much to get assistance, too little to afford a monthly policy.
“Donations and charity will help you pay for it! Surely your church and family will help!”
I had a lot of people praying for me, and while I definitely appreciate that, it sure didn’t help when I had to figure out how to make a payment each month. As for church and family, a bake sale and a $20 bill here and there don’t really add up to over $100k. Nor had I been able to go to the doctor, unless it was the ER, in years, which explains why my “regular doc” didn’t catch any of my heart problems – I didn’t have one.
So, I’m still paying on it, a little at a time. I have to. If I don’t, I’ll lose my house, my car, my business. And again – that $100,000 was just the first heart attack. There have been more since then.
So to all of you who are pushing against the ACA, against making it possible for someone like me to be able to get insurance at a realistic price, insurance that will cover something, and might let me live another year or two, you can all just jump in a lake.
If you’re opposing the ACA because of what you’ve heard, then you need to do some reading and find out these facts for yourself. But more than that, you need to take a look at the people around you. Your family, your neighbors, the people you work with. Are you in a place that you could afford to cough up $100k to help them if some tragedy happened? Because if you’re not, then you should be supporting the ACA, not posting stuff on Facebook trashing it when you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.
This political posturing is playing with people’s lives. Specifically, my life. So yes, I feel pretty strongly about it.
This is my life, folks, and I plan to fight for it just as hard as you’re fighting against it.
Congress, you folks need to get your collective shit together. Shutting down the government is ridiculous. You folks are supposed to be representatives of the people. Well, I’m one of the people, and you sure as hell don’t represent me. And from the looks of recent polls by all news sources, you don’t represent anybody. You represent your handlers – the people who control the parties, and the businesses and corporations who put you there.
There’s an old saying that says something about being American by the grace of God. Well, I’ll tell you this much. I’m here, and I’m alive by the grace of God, but these days I’m ashamed to be an American.
Best,
Clyde O. Watson
Your Face Is Politics 