Aly Hawkins

[Previous "Stories I Like to Tell" posts here.]

There are stories I like to tell, and there are stories I don’t like to tell but that need telling. This is one of the latter. I’ll try to make it interesting.

I got laid off last October, by a publishing company for which I worked for almost five years. The industry as a whole has been hard-hit by the economic downturn, and nearly every publisher has had to make drastic cuts. Of course, getting laid off was a shock, and I was sad and disoriented for awhile. But I had been thinking about striking out on my own as a freelancer for more than a year, and it turned out that losing my job was exactly the kick in the pants I needed. I’m happy to report that I’ve been working steadily and bringing in a livable income for about eight months. (More work is always welcome, nudge-nudge!)

There was (and is) a problem, however. We had terrific health insurance through my employer, and continuing that coverage through COBRA would have cost nearly $800 a month (for two people!). This we could not afford—it was more than our rent! “Not to worry,” we said to each other. “We’ll apply for an individual policy—a bare-bones, catastrophic-care, astronomically high-deductible policy that will be a stop-gap for emergencies until such a time as we can afford more comprehensive coverage.” Paying for health insurance—just like paying for car or renter’s insurance—is part of being responsible adults, and going without on faith that we’d never need to see the doctor was not an option.

We got turned down flat by every private insurer to which we applied—and we applied to a great many. I have Hereditary Hemorrhagic Telangiectasia (whew!), a genetic disorder that, in my family, results in occasional gastro-intestinal bleeding. (I tell my mom, “At least I got your brains and good looks, too.”) As you might imagine, HHT is considered a pre-existing condition—it being all genetic and whatnot—and we found out right swiftly that no insurance company would touch me.

In the middle of all that drama, my kidneys went all wonky (because random G.I. bleeding and starting a new business and trying to find health insurance were not enough to keep me occupied). When the problem could no longer be ignored, we discovered that our county has a healthcare program for low-income families—which, at that time, we were. I have received outstanding, affordable care since we were accepted into the program, and am incredibly thankful for the last resort offered by our local government.

But . . . the program is offered for 12 months at a time, and at the end of December we will lose our last resort. We’ve worked our way out of low-income-ness and will no longer qualify by the end of the year. We will renew our quest for healthcare coverage at square one.

I know there are people who are worried at the prospect of a public health plan. They’re worried that a “public option” will hurt private industry or that healthcare will be “rationed” (take it from me—it already is!) or that the costs will far outstrip the benefits. These seem like legitimate concerns, and honestly, I’m not far enough down in the healthcare policy weeds to give an adequate answer to them.

But outside a public plan, I come up with only one option: Get a job with health benefits. I am open to this option—not thrilled with; open to—but am almost certain it would mean a complete career change, given the current condition of the publishing industry. (It occurs to me that I must write a post about the state and future of publishing. Stay tuned.)

I love what I do. I want to keep doing it. If possible, I’d like to keep doing it without a boss. I have time to go to my many doctors’ appointments, to garden, to cook, to hang out with my husband and other resident mammals, and to (occasionally) tinker with my own writing projects—and still get my clients’ work done. I don’t savor the idea of trading all that work-life balance away to punch the clock at a job that’s likely outside my training, expertise and satisfaction.

Bring on the government-funded healthcare, I say. But maybe you have other ideas . . . ?