What The Health-Care Reform Bill Means To Me

By Bill Craig
I'm an unemployed medical professional.

I have only COBRA insurance until the end of this year (my birthday - how ironic is that?)

Right now, thanks to my sweet wife and a small pension from 17 years of employment, it's "affordable" at $139.00 a month. After that, unless the President signs a bill extending that, it jumps to $380.00. When it does, I will no longer be able to afford medical care for my dementia.

That means no more prescription meds, (currently running $80.00 a month, not including doctor's visits ($40.00 co-pay - $30.00 for my psychiatrist).

My SSDI is still pending, I am not eligible for Medicare, I cannot afford life insurance, can't get food stamps (our combined income doesn't meet the $1500.00 cut-off).

Medicaid? Still waiting to hear.

I can't even die without being a burden on my family. No life insurance. Bankrupt.

I have limited myself to one meal a day so that we can save money, in opposition to my wife's wishes. I just don't want to be a burden on her.

Beginning this Saturday, I'll get my one meal a day from "Angel-Food Ministries", (pre-prepared, frozen) for ten days. She won't even have to cook for me.

Cell-phone service ends on the 16th. The only things I have spent money on are toiletries and whatever I can contribute to what bills absolutely HAVE to be paid.

So what does all this mean?

If the bill doesn't pass, I may as well be homeless, and to be honest, I have seriously considered it.

So every time I see a commercial in opposition to Obama's bill, I am wondering what these people are thinking?

There are 36 million of us. Are they forgetting that?

In all fairness to myself, I am not the only person responsible for my problem (more about that later, when I can write about it, and believe me, it WILL be told).

So that's what it means.

And I don't mean to imply that I'm just sitting on my ass, feeling sorry for myself. I am TRYING to work, but unfortunately the only jobs available aren't medically-related and I have even tried to go to work as a "bag-boy" at a nearby supermarket. Just nothing available befitting my skills, nearby, so that I can at least ride my scooter (one of my few possessions I have not been able to sell) to work.

Am I bitter? Damn right, I am. It's the bitterness and anger which keeps me going.

Pride is something I had last March. I hated like HELL asking my Doper friends for help, since I am used to giving it, not asking for it!

Do me a favor, okay? Do NOT reply to this blog entry. I don't wanna read what you might write. I feel shitty enough as it is.



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Thanks,

Bill

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