I've had a month from hell. My car was totaled, I got whiplash and developed a
floater in my right eye that looks like something a Siamese cat threw up after
eating a gerbil, and it's a balmy 72 degrees in my refrigerator (but I do enjoy
watching the baby birds nest in the egg compartment). I'm fairly certain
food poisoning is going to be next on my To Do list.
As a result of this series of unfortunate events, I have spent most of my time
lately listening to Rod Stewart sing old love songs while on hold with insurance
companies, doctor's offices, repair professionals, and mob hit men. And
no, Rod, I don't want your body. I'm still holding out for George Clooney.
But one thing has become clear: I need to dump my health insurance. The one I
have now - You've Been Declined Indemnity - has a $5,000 deductible and doesn't
cover anything that has already been identified as a disease or injury by the
American Medical, American Dental, American Psychological, or American Veterinary
Associations. But if the American Library Association thinks I'm sick, I am in.
I thought about holding off on the whole insurance thing until a Democrat gets
elected to the White House and we click our heels together three times and voila!
universal health insurance is available to all of us except Rush Limbaugh since
his prescription medication bill would drive the whole thing into bankruptcy in
the first year. But I need to do something now about this suspicious mole that
looks a little too much like Karl Rove break-dancing for my comfort.
Fortunately, yesterday the AARP sent me a health insurance package. I don't
know why I'm on their list because I'm still thirty-something. Well, parts of
me are. But hubby is a quasi-senior, so I guess I can sign up through him. And
you wonder what young beautiful women are thinking when they marry
octogenarians. Take it from me, they're thinking, "Finally, a guy who will let
me get some shut eye!" And "Cool, AARP insurance! I can have that weird mole
looked at now!"
Of course, given my past insurance history, I'm reading the Exclusions Section
of the brochure very carefully before making any decisions. I wouldn't want to
switch insurances only to discover that while the premiums are low, I have to
drive to Saskatchewan for
doctor's visits or get a note signed by my parents every time I see a
specialist. I went over the section titled "What is NOT Covered" with a
fine-toothed comb. It was my dogs' flea comb and it picks up everything.
I'm okay with section 2.B which specifically excludes: "Services provide by your
immediate relatives or members of your household." I think this is excellent
advice in any situation, especially considering that my husband's approach to
health care consists of the words "Let's squeeze it." Fine for a pimple,
but questionable when the situation involves an impacted wisdom tooth or
fractured fibula. We have a koi that occasionally suffers from a faulty swim
bladder that causes him to float vertically instead of horizontally. My husband
squeezes him on a regular basis. And damn it, the fish still lives, which
doesn't help prove my case that squeezing is not an acceptable treatment modality.
Section
2H excludes "Stays or services caused, wholly or partly, by
intentionally self-inflicted injury, or attempted suicide, while sane
or insane."
Apparently if you can skate that fine line between sanity and insanity,
like
most of the Bush administration seems to be able to do, you're in like
Flynn.
What's unclear to me is if I slice off a thumbpreparing a bagel, how do
they determine whether it was an accident or an intentional
injury? After all, you know the old saying, "There are no accidents."
Maybe I
really want my thumb gone so I have a good excuse for not learning to
text
message.
Speaking of the Bush administration (which I was, but it was so long ago we probably
both forgot, so I'm reminding you...), 2L rules out: "Stays or services for
injury or sickness resulting from or caused, directly or indirectly or wholly
or partly by any future act of war, even if the war is not declared." How about
a war on grammatically iffy sentence structure? Or the war on drugs, the war on
teenage pregnancy, the war on poverty, the war on the climbing deficit, the war
on trans-fatty acids, the war on fashion that went out in the 80s, etc.? Everything in our country is some kind of battlefield
and you're bound to get caught in the crossfire. Just yesterday, I got a bruise
when someone grabbed a pair of platform shoes out of my hands and yelled,
"These are just wrong for someone your age!"
You know, maybe this switching insurance isn't such a good idea. Maybe I should
just send a photocopy of my mole to Hillary, Obama, and John Edwards to see if
they think I can wait.
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Quirkee Voices 
(0 vote)
