Where We're Going We Don't Need Roads?

Today I went to orientation. I've lost count of how many times I've been orientaterized. This time, it involved big cartoon posters each the size of a twin bed. My boss Heather presented at my table of ten people where she unfolded one of the posters depicting a hospital. When I first looked at it, I thought of the second Back to the Future movie where Marty travels through time to year 2020 (or something) when cars and skateboards fly.

On the poster, front and center, was an ambulance with wings flying in front of the hospital over "Status Quo Boulevard." On the front grill read the Health System's mission statement under the Region's purple and teal logo.

"They're called learning maps," said Heather as she handed out the first flashcards for us to read to each other around the table.
Ooooo. Learning maps. Sweet.
On the second learning map, there wasn't a hospital in sight, no flying ambulance. Instead it was a cartoon waterfall with a four-gated dam on top running down into a little river with mini-tributaries.
"What do you see here?" asked Heather smiling and rolling down the sleeve of her teal sweater.
"Niagara Falls," said the Indian rad tech sitting next to me. A few people laughed.
"It's the financial cycle of our company," said Heather.
Sure enough. The dam's four gates represented our payer mix: Self Pay, Medicare/Medicaid, Other Commercial Insurance, and Blue Cross Blue Shield. We read more flashcards and placed them in corresponding boxes on the map. As we discussed insurance statistics, I realized something.

For the first time in 23 years, I have no health insurance. Zero.

This means I could be ambushed on the street by five adolescent thugs with knives intent on murdering me for gang initiation; I could survive only to arrive at the ER with no insurance in need of immediate surgery and hundreds of stitches and sutures; I could come through surgery too weak to work or move to California, only strong enough to take a car ride with my sister. Of course, I couldn't use a seatbelt because it would hurt the hundreds of stitches zigzagging across my body. Of course, while I'm telling my sister about the attack, she fails to see a car stopped in front of us, so we hit it going 60 mph. Next thing I know, I'm on the pavement 30 yards away from the wrecked vehicles, bleeding once again, somehow still alive. Next thing I know, I'm back in the ER with no insurance facing my surgeon who tells me if I had worn my seatbelt I would be dead because it would have ruptured all of my sutures. Not wearing my seatbelt saved my life? Not wearing my seatbelt saved my life. But that won't help me pay off the hundreds of thousands of dollars that I owe. My medical debt. No insurance. Maybe it will make a a good story, and I can win a competition for the Moth podcast. Oh, wait. Ed Gavagan already did that. Check it out: http://www.themoth.org/listen. He didn't have insurance either.

For the last week, I've been playing phone tag with people in Wisconsin and Maryland trying to figure out how to stay covered. I knew time was running out for coverage under my mom's policy since I just graduated from college. Not that anyone contacted me about it. No, I just knew. Lucky for me. Or not because my coverage still lapsed for 48 hours, the perfect opportunity for the gangsters to get me.
This is where I could write about the millions of Americans without health insurance and the difficulties they face. Or I could narrow the scope and write about Nick L. and Ben F. who don't have insurance either, probably won't have it for a while, and probably don't really need it as long as they stay away from the thugs. I could write about these things, and it might be worthwhile, but I don't really feel like it right now.
I feel like...
First of all, I should say, as of this afternoon, I now have health insurance. Bring on the thugs...No, don't. But at least bring on the summer sports and maybe a visit to the podiatrist because you've gotta take good care of your feet, you've just gotta.
I've had my share of transitions, I think. But none have ever been so exciting or so full of anxiety. I need a learning map for my life, and let's hope Ed Gavagan's thugs put things back into perspective for me.