All I Want for Christmas is Health Insurance

December 25, 2013

in Is It Just Me?, Nutella: I Can Eat a Jar The Size of My Head, Why It's Hard Being Me

The Old Town Astronomical ClockRecap: At last report, I was slowly dying (aren’t we all?) while waiting for a marketplace minion to sell me some health insurance. Or not sell me some, exactly, but unfreeze my application so I could pick an insurance plan. I use my cell phone for work, so I’d made the call on the wireless house phone. I put it on speaker, then walked around with the phone sticking out of my pocket for hours, because I couldn’t chance them picking up while I was doing something unimportant like getting on with my life.

You know how in old melodramas, they cut to clock with its hands whipping around the dial, to indicate the passage of time? That was me on hold. And to picture how much time I wasted this month trying and failing to get health insurance, substitute that other stock image of pages flying off a day at a glance calendar.  Or maybe visualize me, frozen, holding a phone, while family members zipped around me, having fun, occasionally checking to make sure I was still breathing.

How did the story end? On my third application, I figured out a way to answer the questions that pleased the minions, and the completed form got through. I got to pick an insurance plan. The company I chose has no record of my existence, so unless they get the information from the state soon, I’ll still be in insurance limbo for 2014. But I did manage to finish an application, so that’s something, I guess.

But there are two uninsured unhappy versions of myself floating around in computer limbo, and if this were a horror film, they’d somehow come to life as zombie miscreants bent on taking down the government and eating the brains of the insured.

That would suck.

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