The Captain Is Out to Lunch

When you are young and broke and without insurance, even a minor health scare can be enough to knock you completely off track. I had one of those this week.

For the past few days my jaw has been hurting on the left side. At first I thought it was a toothache, a word rarely uttered by the insurance-less for the nightmarish visions of gap-toothed smiles it conjures. I figured I had a few days before the real pain set in and I’d be reaching for an ice skate and a rock, so I let it ride. But as the week went on, the dull pain was spreading out through the left side of my face, turning into a headache that hung over the left side of my head like a cloud.

Yeah, I know. Sounds bad.

I started completely freaking out. After trolling the Internet for a while, I became convinced that I had a sinus infection. I spent the morning at work Googling natural cures until the girl who sits in the next cubicle began insisting that without antibiotics, I was on the fast track to brain damage. So I did what any rational person would do. I started looking for shady online pharmacies where I could buy antibiotics.

I told my cubicle mate my plan.

“Do you get dumber as the day goes on?” she asked. “Just go to the health center downstairs.”

Problem. The health center is for actual staff members. I am what is lovingly referred to as a “contingency professional.” What does that mean? It basically means I’m a full-time temp. After moving to New York, I found that the “contingency professional” status is common for those on the lowest rung of the ladder, a state of professional purgatory that can last for months or years.

“Just don’t tell them that you’re freelance. Just walk in and say I’m sick.”

It sounded like a plan to me. I walked downstairs to the health center, trying to look as preoccupied with illness as possible when I approached the receptionist. She asked me to provide my employee ID number, my insurance information and my primary care provider. I told her, I have none of these.

“Oh, you’re freelance,” the receptionist said. “Well the nurse isn’t going to be able to see you.”

“Well I don’t want to see her,” I said. “I simply want to talk to her. Ask her what she would do—hypothetically—if someone were to walk in with a specific set of symptoms.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. The nurse came out and looked at my blank check in form and told me to go sit in the back room.

When the nurse came in, I laid all my cards out on the table. I told her that I didn’t have insurance or a doctor or a dentist. I told her that only a few months ago I sold all of my worldly possessions and got on a plane, bound for New York, to try to “make it.”

Before I even finished my Oscar-worthy speech, she was poking and prodding, looking in my ears. Seeing me.

The nurse assured me that it was just my TMJ (a problem that I’ve had for a while and with which the nurse was also afflicted.) The cause? Stress.

“Eat healthy. Exercise. Get some sleep. Have a little fun in your life.”

When the nurse and I came walking back out, we were both laughing. The receptionist didn’t look a bit surprised. The nurse gave me her card, recommended a couple of dentists who could set me up with a night guard and told me to check back in with her in a couple weeks.

Obviously, my disaster was averted. But the question remains, what would I have done if it was serious? The first reaction that I get from people is, of course, get some insurance! But that’s easier said that done. Plans that I’ve seen start around $100/month. That’s $1200 a year. How many times do you go to the doctor a year? $1200 worth of visits? Probably not.

Fortunately, in New York, there are places you can go if you are ill. New York Magazine did a great story on the young and uninsured last year, which included a great resource list.

All the same, the life of the “contingency professional” tends to feel like a life without a contingency plan. And that’s scary.