"If Worse Comes to Worse, I Mean, We'll Just Pay For It."

Those were the words I uttered to the nurse my last day in the hospital after my diagnosis.

Before I left, I was told that I would not be allowed to leave unless I left with medication. The problem was, I didn't have health insurance then. I had never thought I would need it. People always ask me, "well won't you be covered under your parent's health insurance?"
But, we always self paid. There wasn't any reason not to - my mom and I were healthy people.
It was a decision out of my control anyways, a decision that my mother or my parents controlled. I didn't care - I wasn't paying for any of my medical expenses anyways, of which there were few. Shots when needed (I hated shots so much), the optometrist, contact lenses. I was picture perfect healthy and hadn't been in the hospital for anything since the day I was born.

Rewind back a couple of years, and the picture of me was this:

All I can think is oblivious. Innocent to all of this nonsense that my world now runs amuck in. Diabetes is what I live, breathe, eat, sleep. Do you know what it's like to go to bed every night and in the back of your mind, remember that there might come the night when.... you don't wake up? See posts on your Diabetes Facebook page about another soul lost - another coma leading to death from hyperglycemia, or a night time low caught too late?

The difference between me and a lot of the people I meet every day is that I am bitterly, lucidly aware of my mortality. Every day. That sounds over dramatic. But as it does, it is true. Don't misinterpret that statement, though. I live by the mantra, "look around the room, around the world. Everyone you see has problems that are as big to them as yours are to you." Diabetes is my problem, it's true - and other people have problems, big and small both. We all have our struggles to deal with. This blog is simply my take on how this particular problem of mine effects my life every day. And what I mean by a more lucid, heavy awareness of my mortality is just the fact that someone like me literally has the power to take their life and hold it in their hands. I hold my life before me, close my eyes and see the fragile thread that it is. It is a beautiful gift that God has bequeathed to me. Extinguished in a second, and yet it is the only absolute that I have ever known, is what I have experienced within the walls of this body I call my own.  And every day, I make a decison. 

I will treat myself. I won't give myself too much insulin. I'll give myself the right amount -- how I treat myself today will effect myself 2, 5, 20 years down the road through possible complications. 

My life now effects everything I will every experience in the future. And when I'm low? Sometimes I sit there, and I look up at the ceiling, I close my eyes, I think - my life kisses the lips of death if I choose not to treat. It's literally that easy to slip away. And the beautiful thing is, that I always will treat myself - there is and never will be any doubt about that. But every time I think this, I am reminded again of just all the reasons of why I do. And life means so much more because of that. I fight not because I have to or ever wanted to, but this fight came to me, and demanded that I face it.

And when people say, "I could never have Diabetes. Oh, I hate needles to much. I'd rather die."
Part of me is upset, because I never wanted this struggle, just like you wouldn't want it.
But the other half wants to take their hand, look them in the eyes, and let the walls I have built around my life fall for just that moment as I say:

"That's the beautiful thing about humans. We never truly realize how strong of fighters that we are until that's what we have to be."

And can I take a moment to call that out in regards to myself? I have a lot of flaws, for a human. More than I care to admit. But despite all of my flaws, if I had to pick one characteristic about me that I found most pure and unpolluted, that I was most proud of, that was my shining feature, it would be this:

My drive. That spark within me, a fire that will never go out. I will never give up. I am resilient. No matter what challenges face me, I may need my moment to cry and rebalance - but I will do what it takes to adjust and overcome. And I always, always will. It's who I am, to the very deepest core of me.

And so the point of all this long, drawn out dialogue was this - let me bring it back around -
I never thought about healthcare until I had to. I looked down on government insurance assistance programs. I had lofty views, and now I'm stuck on the receiving end of a government aide program that I am at the mercy of to give me the medicine I need while I am a student with no insurance coverage. And now, I'm losing that too.

The moment in the hospital - when I told the nurse, "Oh, if worse comes to worse, we'll just pay for the medicine so that I can leave." - That was when Diabetes hit me for the umpteenth time in the face:

This singular fact - Living with Diabetes didn't just suck. Living with Diabetes was very, very expensive, as the nurse sucked in a breath, looked at me and said, "It's not likely, sweetie. That medication is very, very expensive."

And sure thing, long story short, life got complicated fast, with numbers like these:

Hospital stay for the 5 days: $21,000.97 (something like that)
Insulin and supplies for the month: $800.00
Doctor's visit: $75.00
Lab work: $400.00

I now have different motivations, different perspectives on health care than I did before. But I will go into politics later. If you're reading this now, just know this - I am scared. I went to the insulin companies themselves and found out I might qualify for patient assistance programs that provide free insulin to people uninsured like I will be. The problem is - Mercer requires health insurance, and health insurance is either expensive, or has huge copays, or doesn't cover the insulin I need, which makes it even worse, in a sense, and more expensive for me to have insurance than to not. How F***** up is that? The very system that is supposed to "help" me requires me to purchase insurance that I would literally be likely better off without. And so now, I'm back at ground one,  and reeling to figure out what to do.

Switch my residency to GA and apply for Medicaid here?
Purchase Mercer's health care policy (which doesn't help my case) and beg the drug companies to still consider my Patient Assistance Program Application? There's another $1800 a year -
Seek insurance elsewhere? If it doesn't cover my insulin, simply depend on what I've saved up for the next few years and buy as needed?

Basically, I realize I'm just going to have to ride out the next couple of years. Three more years, I tell myself. Three years... and maybe I have a shot of finally getting coverage and getting out of this non-insured, or arguably even worse, under-insured nightmare.

I want to cry, but I'm telling myself that God has this covered, and we'll figure it out. I feel alone sometimes, but the kindness and the help of others reminds me that I am not alone, and I'll never have to be. And while I still feel tempted to finish this blog, go sit on a bench in the cool, nostalgic fall weather outside and let the tears of overwhelmed-ness pour down my face, I realize that now is not the time.
Strength is what I need, and strength is what I have. I will fight, like I always have done.

I will make a way.