On Living Without Insurance

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I haven’t had health insurance in a very long time. It’s been at least five years, but probably more than that. My part-time job offered dental and vision insurance but I missed the cut-off date for that when it rolled around. Getting on my mom’s insurance or through my school was out of the question, financially. (The amount you have to pay up-front for one semester of student health insurance is outrageous.) And I’m sure there were other options I could have looked into, but I’m not certain any of those would have been what I needed.

Aside from keeping up with yearly doctor visits, I haven’t felt a huge burden of not having health insurance. It hasn’t been scary, just very inconvenient. It means I can’t go to the doctor when I’m sick or think something is wrong with me. It means I have to keep putting off a visit to the doctor, unless my condition worsens. Since graduating high school, I have had three medical “emergencies”.

• December 2007. I had a hacking cough for about 3 weeks before I realized I probably needed to see someone about it, to make sure it wasn’t something more serious. It was keeping me awake at night and I had no energy during the day. (This was also around finals week.) I went to student health services at USF where I was tested for bronchitis and a slew of other things. Close to $100 later, I was given a prescription for some type of medicine to help me sleep at night and the name of an over-the-counter medication to help me during the day, Mucinex. Yes. I paid $100 to be told to take Mucinex. Wonderful.
• September 2010. I sliced my thumb while doing the dishes, granting me my first visit (as a patient) to the ER since I was in fifth grade. I was x-rayed and stitched up by Dr. Handsome and a few weeks later, given a $2,500 hospital bill that I have yet to pay. Oh, fun!
• March 2011. I started experiencing pain on the left side of my body, around my back and the side of my stomach. I was convinced I was dying but kept it all to myself until the pain got worse and I started seeing little scabs growing where the pain was. At first, I thought it was hives. I was in my last semester of college while also trying to train for a half-marathon I really didn’t want to do. Stress caused my hives! But when I showed it to my grandma, she told me it was shingles. I went to a emergency clinic where I waited, staring at an AIDS poster for one hour, to be seen. It was shingles, easily solved with an antibiotic. This ended up costing around $100, including the visit and prescription. (Although had my doctor not approved a generic prescription, it would have been closer to $350. Ouch.)

Are we noticing a pattern here? Living without health insurance can be VERY expensive. I consider myself very, very lucky I haven’t needed it in more extreme cases.

I’m thrilled about finally being able to have health insurance. I’ll be able to see a gynecologist for the first time in my life. (Yes. I’m serious. I’m seriously anxiety-ridden I am going to find out something is terribly wrong in my nether regions.) I’ll be able to finally see a regular doctor and get some blood work done. I’ll be able to go to the dentist for the first time in, oh, 3 years. Most of all, I’ll have peace of mind. If I get sick, I can see a doctor. If I have an emergency, I can go to the hospital and safely know (some of) my bill will be paid. I won’t have to worry and fret that there is something medically wrong with me.

It always grates on me when people gripe about their co-payments and how much they had to pay out-of-pocket for this procedure or that procedure. First of all, be grateful you live in a country where you can receive healthcare. Be grateful that you can be seen quickly and given the treatment you need, by some of the best physicians out there. Be grateful you have insurance. Maybe your co-payment isn’t exactly what you want, but at least it’s something. Something is better than nothing. Be grateful you can afford to have insurance, or grateful you have a steady job that offers it. Stop the complaining. Maybe our healthcare system needs a lot of work but at least we have one. If I have an emergency, I have my pick of where I want to go from a dozen different hospitals all within driving distance. And maybe you only have one, but at least you have one. Our healthcare system may need work, but at least we have it in place.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some doctor appointments to set up...

On Quitting 13.1

I didn't want to write this post.

I didn't want to admit that I took on a challenge too big, that I couldn't do something it seems everyone and their mother has done or will do in the upcoming months. I hate failure more than anything, especially when it comes from myself. Past experiences have led me to an obsession with achievement and winning, never failure.

I've been training to run the IronGirl Half-Marathon for a few weeks now. At first, I was incredibly excited. What an amazing accomplishment this will be! I told myself to enjoy the process, not worry about how long a distance of thirteen miles is. This was for the experience, not for any sort of time goal. The important part was to enjoy it.

At first, I was shooting to finish within 3 hours. If I could make it within that time frame, I would be incredibly happy with myself. Then I started to realize how hard it would be to keep up that pace, when I'm walking a good portion of it. I'm not a fast runner by any means and neither am I a fast walker. (Darn short legs.) I began to tell myself to forget about finishing within 3 hours. Instead, focus on finishing my miles and preparing my mind for race day. Enjoy the experience.

I wasn't enjoying anything. My runs were painful and almost every long run made me cry and beat myself up in frustration. Every run made me question why I was doing this. Why did I shoot for such a lofty goal when it's still hard to run just a mile? Is this something I want to do or am I doing this for other people? Am I doing this to fit in to this crazy blogging world where everyone seems to love running and training for marathons? (At least in the healthy-living world. And not that there's anything wrong with that.)

I stressed myself out to the point of shingles. My body had to physically let me know I was under major stress and needed to make serious changes before things got worse. My low immune system also played a role in this, but so did stress. Stress about training, about the race, about how others would view me as a quitter if I dropped out of the half-marathon.

To be completely honest, I didn't want to admit on this blog that I was quitting again. I didn't want to let everyone down. I had so many people rooting for me, telling me I could do this. I hate the connotation of being a quitter, but I guess it's a label I have to take on. Because I am. I'm quitting. I'm dropping down to the 5K, from 13 miles to 3.

When I made the decision, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt free. I felt as if I could finally breathe again. But it also sucks. I know I'm going to feel awful come race day with all the half-marathon runners and me - still running baby 5K races. But I also know it's the best decision. My body - physically or mentally - isn't prepared for 13 miles. As much as I pushed myself, my body finally pushed back and told me enough is enough. This isn't a decision I made lightly or in the heat of the moment. It's a decision that feels right.

My plan is to keep running, but keep the distances small. Build up my stamina and endurance so my body will be ready to tackle a half-marathon some day in the future. Start with one-mile runs and gradually increase, as I feel my body getting stronger. I want to give this running thing its fair shot because I so badly want to be a runner. I want to be one of you guys.

April 10th doesn't feel like Doomsday anymore. It feels like a normal day where I will go out and try to kill my previous PR of 42:32. So maybe it's not quitting. Maybe it's just being smart.

Sources: x, x

This Week

This week wasn't a good week. This week was full of ups and downs. Full of pain and burning. This week was one where I only opened my tracking journal once. This week was more about dealing with my physical pain than focusing on my eating habits. More about lounging around, napping and taking care of myself. Less about go, go, go and run, run, run. This week I learned that I need to slow down. I need to build up my immune system. I need to take care of myself. This week I gave myself permission not to track my food and focus instead on getting better.

It was a tough week. I didn't work out once because when my blisters grew, I knew the worst thing I could do would be to aggravate them by sweating and pulling on them. Plus, for most of the week, it was a struggle just to walk without them burning or stinging so that was never even an option. I'm not someone who pushes through the pain and exercises anyway. It's a struggle for me to get my butt to the gym on good days, so on bad days? Forget it. Not happening. I will say I miss exercising. I miss pumping those endorphins into my system and feeling amazed about what my body just did for me. And there were times I wondered how I would be able to survive if I had to wait weeks to exercise again. I never thought I had such a strong pull for exercising, but I guess I do!

As for my eating habits, the last thing I felt like doing was writing down every single thing I was eating. Sure, I was most definitely emotionally eating this week. But you know what? I don't really care. It was an odd week. It wasn't as if I had a test coming up and I was eating my emotions because of that. It wasn't because I had a little cold, or had some rough days at work. No. I had shingles. Shingles! I'm still a little weirded out by the fact I got this virus, but I gave myself permission for the week off. I tried making healthier decisions but, for the most part, I took a chill pill from it all. Sometimes, you just have to have weeks when you emotionally eat. It's not like I'm never going to do this again. I probably will. I'll probably do it in the next few months. And sometimes, you just have to give yourself a break. Take a look at what's causing you to emotionally eat and decide if it's worth it or not. Sometimes, it is. At least in my world.

That's not to say I'm not trying to kick this emotional eating habit. I totally am. And if this were a test, a rough day at work, or being delivered bad news - I wouldn't give myself a break. But illness? I give myself a break when I'm ill. (And also, why does my appetite always increase when I'm sick? If I'm going to get shingles, at least suppress my appetite! Geesh!) Since I started the program close to two months ago, this is only the second time I've had a week like this. For me, this means I'm doing pretty good. (This used to happen every 2-3 weeks.)

All in all, not my finest week. But I have owned it and I'm looking forward to next week. On Tuesday, I woke  up to discover my blisters looking tremendously better and feeling good. Yesterday was the first time since last Tuesday that I finally felt like myself again. The burning/stinging is minimal and nothing near what it was at the beginning of this. I've taken it super easy this past week and I think my body has calmed itself down. (Although I still think it was more of a low immune system and the stress I'm under just caused it all to come to a head.) I'm attempting to get into some light exercise today, so I'm looking for suggestions. I want something that's not going to pull too much on the sides of my body, where my blisters are. A walk on the treadmill? The elliptical? What would you guys suggest?

Stats 

Starting Weight:  159.2 lbs
Current Weight: 154.8 lbs
Net Difference: -4.4 lbs (+2.6 lbs this week)
BMI: 28.3 (+.3 this week)

School, Stress, and Shingles

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It's been a while.

Well, only 5 days since my last post, but it feels like forever. I had to take a big step back from blogging this week (and probably will continue until I'm done with school) because I got overwhelmed. I looked at my homework list, realized I almost missed completely an assignment, and realized I was in over my head. It didn't take long for me to figure out what had to go first: blogging. And by stepping back, I was able to regroup, make out long to-do lists, and get stuff done. This semester isn't too heavy on homework and projects and tests, but it's all those little things that I'm trying to do now so I'm not overwhelmed with everything in April. But it's better now. I know I have to keep school and work and exercise and downtime at the forefront of my mind and leave blogging to when I can get around to it.

I don't think I can stress enough how much I am loving my classes this semester. My creative writing and literature classes are everything I have ever hoped for. I am totally in love with all the work I'm doing for those classes, especially those long reading assignments. My past five semesters as a journalism grad have been filled with interviews, research, and paper writing - nothing that excited me or fueled my passions. I am now realizing I want nothing to do with the journalism world. It's not where my passions - or my talents - lie. Some days, I flirt with the idea of getting my teacher certification and teaching middle school. Some days, I think about missionary work or getting involved in a ministry. Other days, I just want to keep inside my bubble and do something that comes easy for me. But the best part about this time in my life is that my future is so wide-open. It's a little scary but mostly thrilling to realize how much life I have yet to experience and how many milestones I have yet to achieve. And I can't wait to take this little blog along for the ride.

But enough about school, let's talk about shingles!

Shingles? Yes, shingles. (AKA, adult chicken pox.) Guess who was diagnosed with shingles last night? Yours truly. Quite a fun way to spend a Friday night, if you ask me!

It all started on Wednesday when I started feeling pain on the left side of my body, close to my hip. It felt like I had bruised my side or pulled a muscle and noticed two red marks that looked like insect bites around the area where it was hurting. For the most part, I shrugged it off, thinking it wasn't something major. I would ice it tonight and try to stretch out my hip flexors. No big deal.

Oh, but Thursday, I realized something was up. Still experiencing pain and little red marks began forming on my skin all around my side. They began to make a trail towards my belly button and down my upper thigh. At this point, I started to worry. I was in pain but nothing excruciating. The marks didn't itch or hurt, but they were there. I asked about it on Twitter, where Stephanie mentioned shingles. I didn't want to believe that, so I shrugged it off again. (Plus, hi, I have no insurance. I don't make visits to the doctor unless it is absolutely necessary. At this point, I didn't think it was.) At first, my mom and I thought it was a bad reaction to an insect bite. I am slightly allergic to insect bites where some can make me swell up and develop lots of redness around the bite. But I've never had a reaction like this...and I've never been in pain. (Just itchy/uncomfortable pain.) Then, after my mom looked at them again, she thought they looked like hives. Hives? Oh, I can do hives! Hives is nothing! Yay, hives! I figured the stress I was putting on myself to complete this half-marathon was the reason behind my hives. I kept pouring Benedryl lotion on the marks and taking baths to hopefully heal it.

Then, on Friday, after still experiencing a lot of pain in my side (and now my back), we went to see my grandma. She has a nursing background, took one look at them and said, "Oh, that's shingles!" No. No, no, no, no, no. I cannot have shingles! Shingles is something old people get. I'm 23 and fairly healthy (ish). Heck, I'm training for a half-marathon. People training for half-marathons don't get shingles! She advised me to get to a doctor ASAP, so my mom and I found an urgent care clinic a few blocks away. It took me about an hour to see a doctor, where I worried it was some strange disease that would give me 3 days to live. (My mind, you guys. MY MIND!) Less than 10 minutes after seeing the doctor, he diagnosed me with shingles. I have adult chicken pox. Awesome. (Oh, and did you know anyone who has had chicken pox still technically has it? It just lies dormant in your body. For some people, it stays dormant. For others, it rears up it's ugly head in the form of shingles. Interesting!) Basically, there's no real reason why a person gets shingles, but it has been linked to low immune system. I know I have a low immune system thanks to those lovely kiddos who like to sneeze and cough all over me. I get sick every 2-3 months. (Meanwhile, I can't remember the last time my mom had a cold! Not in the past 10 years, at least!) It's also linked to stress which causes a low immune system.

Basically, they put me on an antibiotic and told me to take Advil for any pain. (Although, I haven't yet filled the antibiotic because it rang up at $282! There is another kind that rings up for just $30 so I'm waiting on the phone call to see if the doctor will approve that one.) The pain isn't too bad. I can do all of my normal activities, although I'm laying off exercise until this clears up. At it's worse, the pain is at a 3 or 4. But, most of the time, it doesn't hurt at all. It's just ugly to look at.

And that's about it. There's nothing much I can do about it, although I'm taking about two oatmeal baths a day. (LOVE!) I'm just trying to relax and let it run its course. It's been a stressful few days, but I'm glad I have an answer and a solution. (Plus, I think this gets me out of housework for at least the next week, right?)