Medicate Me

Yesterday I applied for health insurance. Last semester, I was covered under the plan through the husband’s school. It is a decent plan, and for him, it is an excellent option, but as the wife of a grad student, I was paying quite a bit more money than makes sense. Frankly, though, it didn’t occur to me that I could apply for my own insurance until a couple of months ago. The husband and I have always had the same insurance plan, either because only one of us had coverage through a job, or because one of us had a plan that was clearly better. But even a quick glance at premiums showed that I could be paying a lot less.

Me being a researchy kind of nerd, I did some intense googling, browsed library shelves, and even used library databases to find all of the information about shopping for health insurance that I could. While this did little to help me find a plan, it did leave me pretty freaking pissed off. Did you know that you have a file, held at a single agency called MIB, that is basically like your credit report, only about your health? And that if a health insurance company ever rejects you, or chooses to give you a higher premium than originally quoted, that fact is noted on your record and will stay there forever, impacting all future decisions that health insurance companies will make about you? (You’re entitled to one free copy a year, by the way, which I am totally getting, unless I forget, which is, of course, what they want to have happen. The bastards.)

So now I’m worried. One of the books talked about some companies assigning higher premiums based on seemingly small problems such as seasonal allergies. It’s been a while since I watched Michael Moore’s Sicko, but I remember that it featured a woman who, after being diagnosed with some sort of problem with her reproductive system, was retrospectively kicked off her plan for not declaring that she had went to the doctor about a yeast infection several years back. I don’t have any major medical problems, and none at all that require ongoing treatment, so I would be surprised if I was rejected outright. But I am worried, perhaps to a paranoid degree, that I’m going to get my premium bumped up above the quoted rate, and it’s going to be reflected in my permanent record just like in high school, only unlike in high school, someone other than the principal actually cares.

Not to mention the fact that, on principle, I hate the idea of shopping for what should be a basic right. I hate that I’m gambling with deductibles and premiums and maximum out-of-pocket expenses, balancing the slow but constant money leak of premiums against the potential giant money explosion of an accident or serious illness. And it’s all skewed in favor of the insurance companies.

All of this is to say that I’m very stressed out right now, and if you see me twitching or exhibiting other odd behaviors, please – PLEASE! – don’t call a doctor. At least not until I get my application results