Paranoia reigns until the insurance kicks in


January 29, 2002

I have always been the paranoid type. I subscribe to the legal system of Murphy's Law: What can go wrong, will go wrong. Every time my I hear a strange noise or smell an odd odor while driving, I am convinced that my car is going to either break down or explode. I think the weather has it out for me. I suspect my cat is thinking evil thoughts whenever he looks at me funny.

And now, I have a sore throat, and I am convinced that it's going to require serious medical attention. And this paranoia is made worse by the fact that until March 1, I am uninsured.

I've been nervous ever since Friday, when I got a tickle in my throat. Over the weekend, my throat got more painful. On Monday, it was just as sore, and -- oh dear God no -- do I feel swelling on one side of my neck?

Oh no. I just know it. I have an infection. I have tonsillitis. I have a tumor the size of Ted Kennedy's head. I HAVE ONE OF THOSE SIGOURNEY WEAVER-STYLE ALIEN THINGS IN MY NECK, AND IT'S ABOUT TO POKE OUT OF THE SKIN AND GO "GRRR!" OR WHATEVER THOSE THINGS SAY.

That's what the natural, neurotic Jimmy says. The calm, rational Jimmy (estimated ratio: six parts neurotic, one part rational) says it's probably something minor -- a little case of strep throat, or a flu -- that will require nothing other than some rest, lots of fluids and some Theraflu. At worst, it will require a doctor's visit and a prescription, costs which would dent my meager budget, although it won't break me.

I never would have been in this situation -- of ridiculous paranoia -- if I had insurance. But here's what happened: When I lost my job in October, about the same time that many other people were losing their jobs, I elected not to get COBRA coverage (which stands for "Consolidated Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Act," which in plain English, is the law that allows for people to continue with their former employer's insurance program). Why did I decline, you ask? Well, COBRA is expensive -- $250 per month, if my mind serves me right -- and I was without an income. This is why, in many cases, COBRA is stupid, and I am not talking about the "omnibus" part.

Take a guy's job away, leave him broke, and tell him he has to shell out major cash to keep his insurance. Brilliant! (By the way, officials estimate that about 20 percent of us don't have health insurance now, a problem that's gotten worse as the economy has gotten increasingly hideous.)

I then looked into the possibility of getting some short-term health insurance through a company like Blue Cross. That would have cost me only $80 per month -- but that's still $80 per month that I didn't really have. And the coverage wasn't stellar, either -- if something major went wrong, I'd still be shelling out some major dough.

Therefore, I decided to wait until March 1, when the insurance at my new job kicks in. And all was well and good until the throat tickle hit, and visions of throat-violating aliens started dancing in my head.

Now, I am kicking myself. When the alien pops out and makes a major mess on the carpet, I am going to have to go to the hospital and stay there for seven months, and it will cost millions, and I will be forced to live the rest of my life driving a Yugo and eating government cheese, and I'll have a really nasty scar on my neck, which will probably give me that not-so-fresh feeling. This is a major pisser.

Yikes. You know what's really sobering? Even if my sore throat ends up being the result of nothing more than a cold, there are a fair amount of uninsured people who will not be so lucky. They'll end up financially ruined because of an illness -- or we, the taxpayers, will end up paying for it. Then there are the folks who will end up not getting medical attention when they really need it -- and their lives will be ruined because of it. And who knows what could happen to me between now and March 1?

Sheesh. That's enough to make one paranoid, isn't it?

Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who wishes his cat would look the other way. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and a column archive can be viewed at www.jimmyboegle.com. 1