soap shavings

I'm scared that the insurance will just stop. Like someone with post-traumatic stress disorder or the Depression-era kid all grown up and still saving soap shavings, the legacy of US healthcare (or lack thereof) and my personal experience with same, follow me into the present. I don't trust that we really have insurance and that it'll really keep paying for this prenatal stuff. My past, my historic lack of money, and my lack of faith in my country's social netting, color how I experience this new respite of a husband with a full-time job and benefits. It seems nearly impossible.

I catch these little thoughts floating toward the back of my brain that maybe if I just skip a test here or there, limit my doctor's visits, try not to stick out, be a quiet, well-behaved child, eat all my veggies, the gods of insurance won't notice me, will leave me be, keep paying the bills, won't visit upon me their wrath, won't wake up from their giant's nap, snap the tiny ropes we'd secured around their ankles while they were sleeping, sniff the air once and come for me, wild-eyed and hungry.

I'm simply not that far away from my past, when I looked through the couch cushions for change to take the bus to work, or when I lurched from the dentist's chair and ran from the office sobbing after they told me their "plan" for me and how much the payments would break down to.

Recently, before the pregnancy, I had a CAT scan done because blah bla bl... The doctor's office got pre-approval from the insurance company and I was free to go be injected with disgusting liquids and radiation. Soon afterward, we received a bill. As you might imagine, it wasn't a small bill. We decided the insurance payment just hadn't caught up and put it aside. Then we received another bill. My husband (or my "guarantor" as I like to call him) filled out some form and mailed it back. No worries. We'd be clear now. Then we received the third bill. And that's when I started to panic. My anxiety level made living with me unbearable until we finally got it straightened out. During my drama, my mind raced. We don't have anything - what could they repossess? The cats? I hyperventilated and chewed on my hand.

Having insurance hasn't solved the issue. Fear is imbedded in memory.