Health Insurance: Turning 40 Is A 25% Increase
I recently turned 40. As a birthday gift my health care insurer kindly increased my fees $70 a month. Boy, I sure must be valuable! Blue Cross, here’s a thank-you note just for you:
Dear Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts,
You gave me quite an ego boost there! I discovered that turning 40 increased my value 25%. When I called the Massachusetts government’s Health Connector thing to find out why I was now valued at $xxx a month, on the cheap-o plan, the lady said insurance fees usually increase every five years, for the rest of my life. I said, “That’s crazy.” But I meant “crazy” as in “I’m so honored.” She said, “I know.” So the only way to reduce my value will be death. Or taxes. I forget how that saying goes. (When I was 39 I knew.*)
Hey, could you take my temperature, I feel a bit ill? Ha ha! Just kidding!* We both know you don’t provide “actual” health care. Just the illusion of it, wrapped in sparkly red wrapping paper that I say to symbolize black and white insurance forms with teensy check boxes and “HMO” and “Tier 1” and “PCP” (Ha hah! Talk about a “drug” plan!); because, after all, I don’t pay doctors or hospitals, I pay you, you take a profit and then you give some to doctors or hospitals. O’ course, first they need to spend 50% of their week filling out your red wrapping paper to complete the circle of giving.
That is, if I ever needed a doctor or hospital. Either way, you keep my moolah. This is nice because it provides a built-in thank-you gift from me: my way of giving back. Cheers!
Fondly,
P.L. Frederick
* A little joke. Please don’t take this as evidence that I am in anything less than perfect health, or that I use my insurance, for anything, ever. We know what that’d do to my valuation!
Dear Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts,
You gave me quite an ego boost there! I discovered that turning 40 increased my value 25%. When I called the Massachusetts government’s Health Connector thing to find out why I was now valued at $xxx a month, on the cheap-o plan, the lady said insurance fees usually increase every five years, for the rest of my life. I said, “That’s crazy.” But I meant “crazy” as in “I’m so honored.” She said, “I know.” So the only way to reduce my value will be death. Or taxes. I forget how that saying goes. (When I was 39 I knew.*)
Hey, could you take my temperature, I feel a bit ill? Ha ha! Just kidding!* We both know you don’t provide “actual” health care. Just the illusion of it, wrapped in sparkly red wrapping paper that I say to symbolize black and white insurance forms with teensy check boxes and “HMO” and “Tier 1” and “PCP” (Ha hah! Talk about a “drug” plan!); because, after all, I don’t pay doctors or hospitals, I pay you, you take a profit and then you give some to doctors or hospitals. O’ course, first they need to spend 50% of their week filling out your red wrapping paper to complete the circle of giving.
That is, if I ever needed a doctor or hospital. Either way, you keep my moolah. This is nice because it provides a built-in thank-you gift from me: my way of giving back. Cheers!
Fondly,
P.L. Frederick
* A little joke. Please don’t take this as evidence that I am in anything less than perfect health, or that I use my insurance, for anything, ever. We know what that’d do to my valuation!
Comments