I have health insurance, through the school. Yes, I have health insurance. Yes, not everyone does. Yes, I am well aware that in a catastrophe I would be much much better off than someone who was not currently as fortunate as I am.
Here's what I'm confused about.
What, exactly, in the non-catastrophic sense, is it doing for me?
Last fall I did two things. I went to the emergency room for what I suspected was appendicitis but turned out to be a burst ovarian cyst (yeah it was super fun) and I had a physical.
Both of these were pre-cleared by my insurance company and were carried out at a location my insurance company thumbs upped.
I've entirely lost track of who is sending me what bills. I've been billed by the hospital, the ER, the ultrasound people, my doctors office (three separate times), and literally more labs that I can count without the bills arrayed in from of me.
I don't want to add it all up right now, because it will depress me, and obviously you don't need to know the details. However, with the $250 bill that came today I very very definitely crossed a sad sad line in the life of Emma's bank account.
The bill was for two tests that my doctor said were part of the standard college physical. Which apparently, although it's required, my college insurance doesn't cover.
To add insult to injury, my insurance company mailed me a check that came in the same delivery as the $250 bill. The check was for four dollars and thirty one cents. It came with no explanation, but I assume they discovered that a doctor in fact used a less expensive plastic blood container instead of a glass one - you know, while I was crying in pain - and I was due a refund. I can't think of any other explanation.
I understand that healthcare is expensive. What I don't understand is why I paid for insurance if the insurance DOESN'T ACTUALLY STOP ME FROM PAYING FOR ANYTHING ELSE.
All of this is why Drew, of Toothpaste for Dinner, is my hero today.