Also known as the true life adventures of a pianist and piano teacher who hit a big bump in the road a few years back:
I am a self-employed piano teacher and pianist. I have supported myself for nearly 25 years in this manner, and have managed to buy a house and accumulate a small retirement account. In 2000, my monthly insurance premium was $200. In 2004, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and underwent surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, and ongoing hormonal therapy. I was fortunate (some say foolish) to be able to continue to work full time through all that, missing a total of about five days of teaching.
I am thrilled to report that I am winning my battle against breast cancer, clear scan following clear scan, but I find I am am now basically an indentured servant to my insurance company and doctors. About 45% of my gross (not net--gross) income goes directly to health care costs. My insurance premiums have skyrocketed to over $2000 per quarter, and the deductible and co-pay have increased. I just received my renewal notice, and once again I’m facing a double digit percentage increase in costs. I am barely keeping my head above water. I have cancelled my daily newspaper, my cable TV, and anything else that is not essential to my business. Still the rates go up, and I have no recourse. I cannot shop around for a lower premium--no one else will sell me insurance at this point, although I am a non-drinking, non-smoking, thin yoga practitioner with no family history of cancer. The sad truth is I have more anxiety waiting for my next insurance renewal notice than I do waiting for the results of the latest scan.
In the midst of my struggle to stay afloat, I could not help but look longingly at my tax dollars as they went to failed investment bankers. I have a great product, conduct my business ethically and honestly, and believe I deserve to stay in business just as much as they do, but health care costs are making that increasingly difficult. I don't deserve to end up a cancer patient on public assistance (not implying anyone does), and I know that wouldn't be good for me, the economy, or the musical education of my students. I have stacks of letters from parents who say I changed their lives and those of their children, for the better.
Under the current proposal I would be required to continue to buy insurance from the company that 1) tried to rescind my policy after I was diagnosed, going so far as to hire an independent investigator to comb through my records and pepper me with ridiculous requests for information coupled with threats of dropping me if I didn't take the time and effort to reply, or if I made a mistake (bear in mind I'm working full time on chemotherapy at this point) 2) fights claims for so long that some of my debts have gone into collection, ruining my credit even though I have managed to pay every penny I owe anyone so far.
It is not a comfort to know that I might receive a subsidy under this plan. I don't want to take taxpayer money, even rich taxpayers, and shovel it toward the insurance company. Not only is it morally repugnant, it is simply unsustainable.
I can't wait for a trigger. Just yesterday I spent time at my desk with my anxiety level through the roof, figuring out how to pay the $4000 in premiums and uncovered expenses I owe this month. Now I am (they are, actually) going through my retirement savings at an alarming rate.
If single payer is a pipe dream, then at least let me buy into Medicare, or a public option.
I know I'm one of the fortunate ones. I'm insured, they didn't drop me, I received great care at Georgetown University Hospital, and so far I survived. But I'm hanging on by my fingernails and crying over my bills when I should be celebrating being one of the fortunate ones who beat the odds, enjoying whatever time I have left on our beautiful planet, and helping my sisters who are on the same path.
UPDATE:
Several commenters have pointed out that I could go get a job that provides benefits, instead of continuing to be self-employed. That's certainly a thought, and at this point I am healthy enough for employment outside my home. I consider changing careers almost daily. But aside from the logistical difficulties--in this economy, would anyone hire a 51-yr-old woman under continuing chemotherapy? What if they dropped their coverage? Become an itinerant, not caring how I spend my days, just seeking a job that will assuage the hungry insurance monster?
Here's why I'm not there yet:
When I got sick my students cooked my meals, cleaned my house, mowed my lawn, and wrote me the most touching cards you can imagine. One was a "petition" started by a 6-yr-old that said "I hope you live". When a parent saw it she was aghast. I loved it.
I had an incentive program while I was on chemo. I had a big box of hats, some funny, like Viking horns, or Cleopatra beads, etc. If the student had practiced every day they got to pick which hat I wore during their lesson. If they hadn't, I got to pick a hat for them to wear and they had to look at my bald head for the duration. It was hilarious. I think it may have kept me alive.
Now some of those students are starting to take professional jobs in the community. I recently went to see one, who has a significant disability, play her first show, "The Wizard of Oz". Many of them have younger siblings who have been eager to start as soon as I was well. I have had pregnant women call me to try to get on a waiting list.
I have wanted to be a music teacher since I was tiny. Now I may have to abandon my first love, my life, and the people who stood by me when I was sick. I hear what you are saying and on a superficial level it makes so much sense. But I want you to understand what you are saying when you say, "Just get a job with benefits"
Also, at the risk of providing too much information, I will confess that I struggled with infertility for all my reproductive years, until I was diagnosed (No I didn't take any fertility drugs--stop trying to blame me! I don't know why I got cancer). I believe it was a major factor in the demise of my marriage. Now, when people ask me, "Do you have any children?" I can answer, "Yes, I have 45 and they never grow up and move away". At my new job, when I am asked the question, I will have to say, simply, "no, no children".