Graduated, Unemployed & Un(der)Insured (Preview)

8/14/2019 Graduated, Unemployed & Un(der)Insured (Preview)

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Why You Need to Stop What Youre Doing Right Now to Purchase Health Insurance

AND How to Pick the Provider & Plan Best for You

Copyright 2010 by Heather R. Huhman

Published by Come Recommended7707 White Cliff TerraceDerwood, MD 20855

Email: [email protected]

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by anymeans without written permission from the author or publisher.

Special thanks to the entire Come Recommended team, especially Beth Farrar for

the design work and Kristina Allen, Mollie Crist, Lindsay Elias, Tyrone Gayle, SarahMorgan and Sarah Tiambeng for the time they spent helping me research this ebook.

by HEATHER R. HUHMAN

2
http://www.bethkfarrar.com/http://www.bethkfarrar.com/http://www.bethkfarrar.com/http://www.bethkfarrar.com/


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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction 5-20

TheRisksofGoingWithoutHealthInsurance

Cant I Still Receive Medical Care without Insurance?Can I Afford Health Insurance?Dont Put Yourself at Risk

21-27

23242526

27KnowYourRights 28-33

Th OptioneGradSchool

The Fine PrintStudent Healthcare Clinic

34-36

343536

ShortTermHealthInsurance

I Graduated & Dont Have a Job Yet. Now What?Quick TipsShop AroundBenefits of Short Term Health InsuranceCons of Short Term Health Insurance

37-43

373839

394141434344

LongTermHealthInsurance

I Got a Job Offer, But Health Insurance is Not Included. Now What?

Long Term Insurance

45-48

4546

4748Em soredHealthcareployerSpon

HMO vs. PPOHMO

49-51

495150

by HEATHER R. HUHMAN 3


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PPO 5051Co nAct(COBRA)nsolidatedOmnibusBudgetReconciliatio

I Had Benefits, But Lost My Job. Now What?What Constitutes a Qualifying Event?OK, I think COBRA is Right for Me. Whats My Next Move?

52-55

525353545455

ShoppingAroundforHealthInsurance 56-58

HealthcareReform

and

You

Whats Up with the House Bill?OK, Now What Exactly Does This Mean for Me?Through the House, Into the SenateSenate Healthcare Bill? Why Should I Care?

59-63

606061

616263

AbouttheAuthor 64

DiscountontheNextE-Book 65



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INTRODUCTION

It wont happen to me. Were all guilty of thinking thatmyself included.

My health issues started fairly early in life, the more personal of which I wont gointo here. Im going to focus on one particular ailment that began when I was a 15

yearold freshman in high schooland will be with me now until the day I die.

I was a star softball player. At that point, I had been playing for nearly 10 years,most of which was in a competitive fastpitch league. My team had even won theIllinois State Championship and placed 14th in the World Series one year for our agegroup. It was my dream to one day qualify for the Olympic teamand things were

looking good that year.

It was the day before our first game of the high school season. (Once you hit highschool, you cant play on a competitive traveling team during the high schoolseason.) I was all set to be our starting third basemanand the fourth hitter (cleanup) in the lineup.

We were playing a scrimmage (half of our own team playing the other half), and Iwas first up to bat. Adrenaline pumped through my system like mad as I stepped upto the plate. It was the first time we were playing on our new fieldwe even playedon it before the varsity girls. I remember telling our coach we shouldnt play on the



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field so soon after laying the sand because it would be too soft, but she dismissed myconcern and I quickly forgot I even mentioned it.

The field was so new we didnt even have the homerun fence up yet. Perhaps if thathad been up, what Im about to tell you would never had happened. I pelted the firstpitch so far it almost landed on the soccer field where a team was practicing. But

since it couldnt be labeled an official homerun, I took off.

I was easily the fastest runner on our team. (I know this because I always won oursuicides.) I rounded second before the girl even reached the ball. But I didnt slowdown.

As I rounded third, I heard my coachwho was standing by third baseyell,Heather, stop! The sound of my name had an immediate effect. I stopped. Hard.

My left foot dug deep into the soft sand. I turned to return to third base because theball was finally coming back into the infield, but I fell over. My coach threw herhands up to stop the game. I felt no pain, but my left foot was literally dangling frommy leg.

Why did you stop me? I asked. Because you were going to score too quickly, shereplied. To this day, I dont know what she meant by that.



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Hmmyour xrays are clean, the doctor continued. Lets try another two weeks ina cast.

I was injured at the end of February, and this dance would continue until May.Meanwhile, since our softball season didnt end until June, there I wassuited upand attending every game.

As I mentioned, they finally decided to go in surgically in midMay to figure out whatwas going on. The problem? My leg had gone clean through my ankle, destroying thecartilage and a good chunk of bone. The doctor removed the floating pieces, put meback in a cast, and I missed only one game.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. What I didnt know was, at the time, therewasnt a surgery to actually fixthe problem. All they did was remove, not replace.There was now a hole in my ankle. But, I dutifully went to physical therapy threedays a week in hopes of at least playing on my competitive travel team in the fall.

Im not sure if this is a requirement in every state, but our high school requiredeveryone to pass the presidential fitness test, which included running a timed mile.

But I cant run yet, I told my gym teacher in early September. I have a note frommy doctor.

She didnt care. And let me tell you, thats the fastest mile Ive ever run. I might be agreat sprinter, but a longdistance runner I am not. I knew I was injured badly about



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asked me. We headed out, and changed course toward the hospital after a fewminutes on the road. My gut was telling me not to be stubborn.

Five hours in the emergency room (so much for getting to our destination beforedark) resulted inyou guessed itclean xrays. By this time, my ankle was the sizeof a softball. Were going to cast you, just to be safe. No,please,dont, I thought. Not

again.

The vacation went poorly, to say the least. It was a resort for active people. So muchfor our racquetball set in the trunk. Poor Brett did most things on his own, althoughI didnt let him leave me alone in our condo for more than a few hours at a time.

Two days before we were supposed to head back, I received a call from my

orthopedic surgeons office. Can you come in a day earlier? Hes no longer availablefor your scheduled appointment. We packed up and headed out.

I want a MRI, I told him. I wasnt about to accept the xrays results. Even though ithad only been one week instead of two, my ankle was huge, and I still couldnt putweight on it.

I just know he thought I was a hypochondriac, but he wrote the script. We met againa week later to discuss the results. I was missing approximately a centimeter of boneand cartilage in my ankle. For such a tiny joint, thats a lot. (Oh, and my ligaments inthe area were torn, causing the severe swelling.)



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Remember how they couldnt repair my ankle in high school? Well, the surgery wasnow available. It involved taking parts of my knee, putting them in my ankle andinserting pins to keep everything in place. My situation was particularly tricky,however, because of the exact area I injured. The surgeon would actually have tobreak my ankle in order to get to the affected area.

Because the surgery involved both my knee and ankle, it would take two surgeons todo the job. (Apparently no one doctor works on both knees and ankles.) I called ourinsurance company to make sure the surgery would be covered, as did the surgeonsoffice. In both cases, we were told Id only owe a $275 copay.

Unfortunately, both doctors werent available at the same time until December 3,

2008. And I didnt meet the knee surgeon until going into the operating room.Youll never know pieces of your knee are missing, he told me. This is a routinesurgery. We take from parts of the knee you dont actually use. Ok, I thought. Letsdothis.

The first words out of my mouth when I woke up were, You put a tube down my

throat, didnt you? Yes, indeed they had, although I wasnt told why. My throat hurtso bad. My entire body hurt like Id been in a car wreck.

A machine above my head kept beeping. Keep breathing, the nurse would tell me.Whatwashappening?Whattimewasit?WherewasBrett?



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The surgery was supposed to take 45 minutes. I went in at 1 p.m. and was out at3:30 p.m.twice as long. I woke up around 4:30 p.m., and Brett was notified Id beout soon. However, I couldnt move and cant even describe the pain I was in.

Beep, beep, beep. Keep breathing. One nurse shift was over, and another began.

Then another. Can you please get my husband? I asked.

Brett came back and told me how long hed been waiting since they told him I wasjust about ready to go home. I know, I said, but I dont think Im ready. They keptgiving me more pain medication, which was making me nauseous.

Looking back, I cant believe they let me leave that evening. It was around 11 p.m.,

and I was still having breathing problems. I was so scared Id stop breathing in mysleep that I made Brett stay up all night with me. Two days later, I returned to theknee surgeon (because he was available of the two doctors). My pain was incredible,and the drugs they originally gave me were not doing the job.

At that point, he told me one of my lungs partially collapsed during the surgery

hence the problems breathing. Whenwere

they

going

to

tell

me?Probably never, hadI not come in complaining.



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He took a look at the pain pump installed in my leganother little surprise I didntknow about until I woke up from the surgery. It was dispensing correctly, so he gaveme some stronger drugs.

I would be back to their offices approximately twice a week over the next month anda half with all sorts of problems. The receptionists knew me by first name. And, call

me crazy, but I had a feeling the doctors thought I was exaggerating my condition.

I originally was told Id be able to go back to work on January 2, 2009. SinceNovember 7, I hadnt been in the office because I was a liability. (I worked on the11th floor, and what if there was a fire?) Luckily, working for a healthcareorganization, my employer understood and allowed me to work from home.

Throughout December, Brett and my dad would take turns caring for me. I couldntget up and move on my own. Its hard to imagine too many things worse than agrown woman asking her father to help her go to the bathroom.

I wasnt allowed to shower until the stitches came out, so sponge bathing in thekitchen (since I couldnt make it past our first level) it was until December 27, 2008.

My sistersinlaw thoughtfully bought me a beautifullysmelling Bath & Body Worksset for Christmas. Best present I ever received.

Although I still couldnt walk, I finally returned to the office on January 26, 2009. Bythat time, I was at least in an air cast and crutches and able to put some weight on



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my leg. And with encouragement from coworkers, I ditched the crutches within aweek.

However, I had complained numerous times to my doctors that I wasnt receivingappropriate physical therapy care. Since Id been through it several times before, Iknew what to expect. And because the physical therapy office was actually owned

and operated by the group of surgeons, I thought theyd take my complaintsseriously. At that point, they were probably sick of me and just looking to offloadme.

Things still werent right by March. I started with my new physical therapist onMarch 3, 2009. She did more during my evaluation appointment than the othergroup had done for the past several months. Thats why I called her the next day

when I couldnt reach either of my surgeons.

I stepped out of the elevator exiting the Metro train, and my leg locked up. (I waslater told this was not the proper terminology, but what else do you say when youcant bend your leg at the knee?) Not only that, but the pain was worse than when Igot out of surgery.

My office is about 150 feet from that elevator, but I couldnt make it. In typical, D.C.area fashion, people walked right by me as I lay on the ground. I actuallycontemplated calling 911just to get someone to drive me over to my office so Icould get out of the cold.



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I finally crawled up to the doors and got inside. My physical therapist offered wordsof comfort, but not much else. She couldnt explain what was happening to me.

The following day, I reached my knee surgeon. He was just as baffled.

After another MRI, he decided to go back in the knee to plug up the hole. Itshouldnt be causing this problem, he said, but well see if that helps.

I didnt know it at the time, but the pieces they took from my knee were supposed toregenerate on their own. Hindsight is a beautiful thing. Perhaps I should haveknown that, since my ankle never grew back, my knee wouldnt either. Or at leastthe doctors should have.

But first, I want to rule out nerve damage, he continued. He sent me to see a painspecialist. After all Id been through over the years, this is actually when the worstbegan.

The pain specialist took one look at me and said, Theres no way you have nerve

damage, but Im going to perform a few tests just to make sure. He proceeded topoke and prod me, asking me all sorts of weird questions like, Do your toenailsalways grow at different rates? This time, I thoughthe was crazy!



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Ill be damned, he said 30 minutes later. You have reflex sympathetic dystrophy. Iwant to see you as soon as possible to begin treatments. He handed me twobrochures that were supposedly going to answer all my questions about thedisorder and the treatments. Unfortunately, they did neither.

So, I turned to my good friend Googleand immediately became scared out ofmy

mind. Reflect sympathetic dystrophy, or RSD, is an incurable, chronic painconditiona key symptom of which includes continuous, intense pain out ofproportion to the severity of the injury, which gets worse rather than better overtime. As it turns out, the pain starts in the injured area, but can spread throughoutyour entire body, paralyzing you if a doctor does not get the disorder under controlsoon enough. Whatdoessoonenoughmean?I wondered.

Again, I checked with my insurance company before beginning the treatments andwas assured Id only owe a $20 copay each time.

For the first treatment, which involves sticking a tube in your spine and injectingmedicine into it, I didnt have most of the typical RSD symptoms. By the third (andfinal of its type allowed in a years time), my entire left leg felt like it was on fire. I

was having trouble wearing pants, skirts, you name it. (I dare you to try explainingthat to even the most understanding of bosses!) I wasnt sleeping at all because thesheets hurt me whether I was on top of or underneath them.

Theres nothing more I can do for you, the pain specialist told me. What?No!

http://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htmhttp://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy/reflex_sympathetic_dystrophy.htm


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I desperately called every pain specialist in my insurance companys directory,trying to find someone who knew how to treat the extremely rare RSD. Finally, thevery last doctor on my list seemed to know what it washed written severalpapers about the disorder, according to his bioand agreed to see me very quickly.

It was now the end of May, and I could barely walk. The condition had spread to myright leg, and I was using a cane. The doctor entered the room, took one look at me,and screamed down the hall for one of his colleagues.

Whos been treating you? he asked. I gave him the original pain specialists name.Apparently, he used to work in their practice, and left on notsogreat terms.

Wow, Stewart messed this one up big time, he said in front of me and my husbandto the other doctor. What are your thoughts?

They devised a treatment plan, and sent me to another one of their offices inVirginia for the actual procedures. Turns out, the original treatment I received wasthe wrong one for this condition.

Again, I made a call to the insurance companythe same $20 copay would apply.Within three days of seeing the second pain specialist, I was on the table receivingthe most complicated epidural nerve block ever performed because of the extent ofmy condition. Three tubes would be inserted simultaneously in my spine, followed



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Throughout the pages of this ebook, youll learn your health insurance rights, whatCOBRA is, why you might want to consider graduate school, different plans offeredby employers, short and longterm insurance options, how to shop around for apolicy and the potential impact of healthcare reform. Its all here.



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Graduated, Unemployed & Un(der)Insured (Preview)