Jessica Schein

Where is the ‘Care’ in ‘Health Care’?

Due to recent circumstances I’m not going to get into here, as of the 1st of 2013 I needed to find a new health care company because my benefits ended on 12/31. As a full-time freelancer I knew I’d have to buy an individual plan so I did my research and came across Regence Blue Shield, which was even recommended to me by two different friends. It seemed to me a good fit. Four preventative care visits are covered during the calendar year and the price was right, coming in at under $300 per month.

Despite being diagnosed with melanoma last year, thanks to Obamacare I wasn’t too worried about being denied coverage and about ten days after I “applied” I was granted access to a whole network of physicians who would take care of my needs. My card arrived in the mail a week later and I tucked it into my wallet feeling every bit the responsible 33-year-old I am.

Then this week I received another note from Regence. It was both pedantic and confusing so I called to find out what was going on, only somewhat alarmed at this point about the phrase “pre-existing condition” being used no less than five times.

The woman I spoke with was chipper and eager to help. I asked her to explain what the letter meant and she told me that because of last year’s melanoma diagnosis they would not cover any related expenses until September 30, 2013—a full ten months from now. Before I could even get a question in she warned that such out-of-pocket dermatology or other costs could not be applied to my $5,000 deductible.

To put it mildly, I was irritated. As anyone who has ever dealt with an ongoing disease or illness can tell you, they’re costly—and I’m one of the lucky ones. My stage 1 freckle didn’t require anything more than a number of dermatologist appointments, a visit to a plastic surgeon for its removal, and nine stitches. While not the six digit bills I’ve heard of others enduring it still wasn’t cheap and in case you’re wondering I actually went back and added up my bills. Had I not had insurance, I would have paid out five grand. (I’m going to ironically point out here that this is the same number as my deductible). 

And I’m not done. I have a dermatologist appointment every few months for at least the next year during which, if I’m lucky, I have only a few moles scraped and then sent to a lab to be tested and processed. If I’m lucky. Once, my doctor took off eleven. While doctor’s bills are undoubtedly pricey, labs cost a hefty fee too. 

So the real question is why am I paying $225 a month for health care to a company that has no interest in caring for me? And furthermore who are these politicians, businessmen and women, and lobbyists that think this is okay? 

Because I’ll tell you right now, it’s not.

I like nice, tidy endings—maybe that’s the writer in me. Who knows? But I know that there is no sweet conclusion to this story—just paperwork, confusion, and a lot of anger. 

PSA: Don’t Wait to Get Your Moles Checked

For years if someone told me to pick the place I’d most like to spend my time I’d always say, “in the sun on the beach.” To me perfection is being stretched out on a cushioned lounge chair, chilly coastal waters threatening my spot as the tide rolls in, with a stack of books at my side. In fact, as I write this, I’m smiling. Yes, I love the sun and surf that much.

Then yesterday my dermatologist called. The changing mole we’d both assumed was fine but had removed anyway isn’t in fact fine. It’s melanoma. Yes, it was caught early on, and yes, I will be fine after a deeper excision that will confirm it’s not spread, but as my doctor wished me a good weekend (okay, buddy) he said, “It’s a good thing you noticed it. If this has been 6 months down the line, you wouldn’t have been so lucky.”

In the past I’ve come across skin cancer stories on WebMD or CNN. Some articles cite young people who, like me, are lucky. Others talk of the less fortunate. All mention the dangers of the sun. Whenever I read those pieces I’d come up with a caveat to explain away the melanoma. “Oh well I’m sure she went tanning when she was a teenager,” I’d tell myself. Or even, “He clearly doesn’t wear sunblock.” It’s a coping mechanism, of course—the “that can’t happen to me” approach.

But, guys, it can.

Here’s my history: I’m 32-years-old, I’ve never been to a tanning salon, and although I spent summers in the sun as a kid I’ve always—always—been vigilant about putting on sunscreen. I wear a 15 SPF on my face every day, even though in Seattle the sun is pretty rare. Thanks to my grandfather’s Sicilian heritage my pale, olive-tinged skin is more likely to darken in the summer than turn red. In fact, I can think of only one burn in my life that turned crispy and no, I’ve never had sun poisoning. Last but not least, although cancer (breast, leukemia, non-hodgkins lymphoma) is prevalent on my dad’s side no one has had melanoma in my family. Ever.

This morning when I couldn’t sleep I spent some time on the Internet researching skin cancer. The first link I came across was for this article, somewhat ironically published earlier this week, which explains that the number of melanomas found among women under 40-years-old increased by more than eightfold between the 1970s and 2000s. But the news isn’t all bad. Because people are more aware of their skin now there’s been a decline in the number of deep melanomas, which are harder to treat.

So here’s my plea: check your own skin as well as that of your partner’s. You know yourself best and if something looks odd, get it checked out. I’m glad I did, because if I hadn’t mentioned to my dermatologist that a mole I’d had my entire life was losing its even border and looking like a splotch of paint, well… I don’t want to think about that.

As for me, I’ll never stop reading by the ocean or the pool but from now on, in order for the sun to reach me, it will have to get through an umbrella and an SPF of 60 first.