My new beautiful plastic card

My eyes lit up when I saw the envelope. I snatched it out of the tiny mail slot in front of my apartment in Brooklyn, and held it in my teeth as I hastily unlocked my front door. I dropped everything I was carrying immediately upon entering. I tore through the envelope, rifling through the random papers, pre-stamped envelopes and glossy pamphlets, finally coming to the fruit of my labor: a tiny card. I held it in the palm of my hand and marveled at the way it caught the light. It was beautiful and I held it close to my chest and smiled. Success.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined being this excited about a tiny plastic card. But this card represented my future and my safety net. It represented a return from a dark time in my history. Five months of being without health insurance were ending next week and I breathed a massive sigh of relief.

Gone are the days of being extra careful crossing the street. Gone are the late nights, looking up at the ceiling wondering if that bump on my arm is going to kill me. I have a place to go now-a network of doctors who will see me. And it will only cost me a $20 co-pay.

At the end of December last year, I was dropped by my health insurance plan. The news came out of nowhere and without warning, in the form of a very confusing bill that seemed at first glance like my premium was getting lowered. But closer examination told me that they were ending my coverage. There was no appeal, they said; I would need to apply for a new plan, and it would be more expensive.

They told me it was for missing a payment. I didn't remember missing a payment. But, it was certainly not out of the question. I was surprised nonetheless. I am in relatively good health and rarely visit a doctor. You would think that I was the kind of person who they would love to keep. You'd think they would have at least called me and told me about the late payment. Sent me some sort of warning before dropping me.

But they didn't and I was busy with work at the time and after spending an hour or two on the phone with a totally unhelpful representative, I decided not to fight it and entered the ranks of the uninsured.

I began the search for a new health insurance plan and in the meantime went to Ecuador and traipsed around in the swamps of Mississippi without health insurance. One of my traveling companions took malaria pills; I freaked out every time I saw a mosquito.

When I was at NYU, I was extremely well covered. There was a good medical center on Broadway and Waverly. They were open every day and it was right across the street from where most of my classes were held. They had all sorts of services available to students. Most importantly for me was physical therapy.

I have a bad back; the Pontier slouch. My posture is terrible?compounded with the fact that I sit hunched over a computer screen all day, almost every day. My back hurts very frequently. At NYU, I was going to physical therapy a few times a week and it was helping. My old health insurance didn't cover physical therapy. The new one does.

These are the things they don't teach you about in college or high school. Instead, I feel like my brain is full of practically useless math equations, grammar and film theory. Why not a course on health insurance, how it works, what's a good deal, what's a bad deal, and how to get it. I would have appreciated that. Still would, come to think about it.

Maybe they should also teach you about student loans and credit cards. Perhaps some basic cooking, laundry and banking tips. They really just leave you hanging out to dry with all this life stuff.

The card is tucked safely in my wallet, one less thing to worry about, for now.

- Zac Stuart-Pontier