Photo Credit: Seamus McKiernan
Like a lot of other young people, I never thought about health insurance until I got sick. I was 22, and my adult life was just beginning. But less than a year after walking across the stage at my college graduation, I received an unexpected diagnosis — acute myeloid leukemia — and with it came a flurry of consultations, tests and appointments. From early on, my doctors told me I would need chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant.
Before I made that first phone call, I confess I didn’t know exactly what the word “premium” meant. And “co-pay” sounded to me like what happens when friends split the bill at dinner. Certainly, the term “lifetime limit” had no meaning to me yet. The last time I could remember getting sick had been a two-day bout of food poisoning during my junior semester abroad in Egypt. Now, I was facing cancer — and I was beginning to get worried about coverage from an insurance plan I knew virtually nothing about.
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