My Guide To Surviving Cancer – Health Insurance

I’m amazed at how this pesky little cancer problem has changed the entire way Steven and I view life.  The thought of the day is about the way we now rate matters of importance and concern, and how it has changed tremendously.  Today I’m weighing in with work.  And by that, I mean my day job.

My whole approach to my job has become a new experience.  I used to insist that a job be fun, interesting and challenging for me to stick around.  If free drinks were part of the deal, that made it even better.  When the spark was gone, and work became, well, WORK, I’d move on.  (Even though that sounds like I couldn’t hold a job that is not at all the case.  I’d always have a new one before I left the crappy one.  What can I tell you?  People like me… and want to have me around!

Now however, I’m like one of those guys you see on the side of the road with the sign “WILL WORK FOR FOOD”.  Only my sign reads “WILL WORK FOR INSURANCE”.  Until cancer, insurance benefits were never the main focus of my employment decisions. Luckily, Divine Intervention put us on the right path before we ever knew we needed to be there.

Steven’s medical problems were discovered a mere 4 months after I began my current job, which has the best insurance program I’ve ever had.  And I am grateful every day for that.  But that has changed my approach to my work situation for the first time ever.  I’m a designer who is tied into the builder/new home industry and we all know how fabulous that is right now – about as fabulous as hemorrhoids when you have diarrhea.  Coming to work is a barrel of laughs, if you’re someone who laughs at car crashes.  But since I don’t want to be working in a situation that forces me to say, “Do you want fries with that?”, I’ve become a lot less apt to utter the phrase, “Kiss my ass” when work gets to be …work.

I guess I’ve kind of become a company guy, or at least more of one then I ever have before.  I don’t really like losing that much of my renegade attitude, but it’s necessary, since one day of chemo without insurance can cost up to $10,000.  For a co-pay of $40.00, all I really have to do is suck it up and roll with the punches.  In the grand scheme of things, it’s really not such a bad trade off.

Again, I go back to the lucky thing.  We have been lucky enough to have built an excellent medical team of doctors and specialists who keep that pesky cancer at bay.  And I just have to remind myself that when I have a crappy day at work, what I’ve really done is racked up another free PET scan!  Now, if I could just get Beefeaters on the prescription drug plan, I’d be all set.

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