In America healthcare is a privilege (and that sucks)

I don't have cancer. I don't need dialysis. If these conditions rank 10 on a scale of 1-10, my needs are a -4. However, I do have a few issues that require the attention of a trained professional, and were negatively impacted when I lost my job and the healthcare benefits that came with it.

Before I continue, can we all agree that COBRA, while well-intentioned, is one of the least practical ideas in the history of mankind? Things more practical than COBRA: Shammie mops, Snuggies, pots made specifically to cook pasta - pretty much anything sold on late night infomercials is a more practical expense than COBRA, unless a family is dealing with a life-threatening or chronic condition such as those above. If the average American could afford $500-1500/month for health insurance, we would actually have the power to demand action of our insurance carriers through the use of our buying power. I was actually one of the lucky ones. Mr. Carlson and I were able to jump onto the benefits offered by his employer, so I didn't actually have one day without insurance. But even then, there is still a trauma of starting over with all the bureaucratic shit that becomes neccessary when you start that relationship anew.

In addition to annual check ups and the occasional flu or cold visit, I have two conditions for which I get ongoing care. I have a keloid scar on my upper back that should be treated monthly with steroid injections.  In my case, my keloid causes discomfort daily, exacerbated by constant irritation from my bra strap. It creates lightning rods of pain down my back. I have not had treatment for my keloid in over a year.
Unfortunately, the default for any keloid treatment is that it is a cosmetic issue and not covered. However, my reasons are not cosmetic, and it took over a year to get my insurance company to approve coverage for this treatment. Now I have to start over.

But the truly horrible aspect of changing insurance is that I have lost my psychiatrist. A doctor I worked with for almost 5 years. Someone who knew about my issues, recognized when I wasn't being honest with myself, and whom I had built rapport and trust with.  And not because I don't have insurance, but because she isn't covered under my new plan. It's also quite ironic to loose this relationship during the trauma of loosing my job.

I am lucky. I don't have cancer or need dialysis, and my needs are minor in comparison to those that do. And I didn't loose access to insurance in general. I am lucky that I still have access to the medicine I require at an affordable price. But why is luck a prerequisite to mental or physical health? And more importantly, why do we let it be?

I am a Superhero.

I have never crossed a radioactive spider, and no - I can not fly - but I do have a super power.  Like most superheroes, my true nature is best found at night. During the day, I hide behind a false identity and glasses. And like most superheroes, that thin veil can be shattered by the simplest bit of logic. It's really the social contract of my world that allows those around me to ignore the gaping holes in the plot.

The power didn't come from a failed science experiment and it is not driven by the insatiable urge to avenge a loved one's death. My origin story is more of a montage than a comprehensive narrative. It's not even a cool montage where I learn to dance or do kung fu. In fact, as time goes on my montage shows me trying less and less.

You see, my secret power is the ability to make myself feel worse about myself than is humanely possible. My self-doubt has super human strength. I can become invisible to those around me. My lazer vision catalogs my every flaw. And my true identify and alter ego have never been seen in the same place at the same time.