I’ve been applying for new health insurance. I KNOW. But after doing just ridiculous amounts of research (and getting awesome tips from all of you), I discovered something important. California is requiring private insurance companies to offer maternity insurance by July, but none of them have to advertise that they will offer it until then. Many of my applications are hedging my bets. And, if any of them turn me down, I will qualify for the Pre-existing Condition Insurance Plan. So for once, I am feeling confident that I will get maternity coverage before I turn 87.
I don’t know how many of you have applied for private insurance; this is my fourth go-round. Crazy. Every time I’ve applied for my own insurance I’ve had to complete a paper application, THEN a phone interview. Is this standard? I don’t know, it seems to be for me. I actually like the phone interview, because it allows me to explain the parts of my insurance application that a provider would find “unsavory.”
What’s “unsavory?” You might guess my pregnancies, but you’d be wrong. The thing that every single insurance provider wants to talk to me about is the medication I started taking after Maddie died. The conversation usually goes like this:
Insurance Representative: Your records show that you were on Klonopin from 2009 to early 2011. Was this for depression?
Me: You could say that. I started taking it because my daughter died unexpectedly.
Insurance Rep: I’m so sorry to hear that.
Now, at this point, three out of four reps will say something like:
Insurance Rep: I am SO SORRY, but I have to ask you these questions because they are required. I feel awful. OK. Is the condition “cured?”
And then I give a sarcastic laugh and say yes, and the rep says, “I know you’re not ‘cured’ but you’re no longer taking medication so I am going to mark you as such, OK? I’m so sorry.”
It’s awkward for everyone.
But the other day. The other day I was talking to a man who identified himself as a doctor at the beginning of our call. He went through the typical questions (has anything changed since you submitted your application, etc) and then got to the medication history.
Insurance Rep: It says here you took Klonopin for an extended period of time. Was that for depression?
Me: Yes. My seventeen month old daughter died suddenly. So you could say it was for depression.
Insurance Rep: Wow. I am so sorry. Wow.
Me: Thank you.
Insurance Rep: Did you ever have thoughts of killing yourself?
Me: No. …………is that a question for the application?
Insurance Rep: Yes. But I am surprised. If it was me, I would totally kill myself.
It’s an inappropriate situation for that sort of comment. Like, is that a trick question/statement/emotion? Are you going to deny me coverage based on my response?!?! But I am told this sort of thing with regularity. “I wouldn’t know what to do if my child died. I would die. I don’t know how you survive.”
I suppose this is meant to be comforting…like, good on ya, Heather! Ya lived through something really shitty! But I find myself almost irrationally annoyed by it. I think this is because I didn’t do anything special. I didn’t do ANYTHING. I just existed through the worst parts. Literally, I merely existed – I ate just enough, drank just enough water, and slept. And honestly, I truly believe that’s what most people would do.
This is where language fails me a bit, because the whole thing is tricky. You can say, “I don’t want to live in a world without my child.” But to actually not want to live, LITERALLY want to end your life, it’s a completely different level. And I truly believe (and I’ve definitely written here before) that ending your life disrespects the child. You have to parent their memory. You still have responsibilities to your baby, no matter how old he or she was at death.
Me: You don’t mean that. You would feel terrible, because it is a hideous, dreadful thing. But you wouldn’t kill yourself. You would live, because that’s what you have to do.
Insurance Rep: Nah, I’d definitely take a handful of pills. Anyway, it says you stopped taking the medication, are you cured?
I will never be cured. But I will always want to live.
Rebecca says:
When my son died I wanted to die. I never did anything actively to make it happen but I did very little to ensure that I had a good life. I plodded through the days in a haze of parenting a baby and a 4yo & grieving for my son.
I survived because I had: lots of family support, medical support, mood stablising medication, friends and somewhere deep inside me the desire for my life to be happier once more.
I still grieve my son. I will never be cured but somedays I still wish I could be with him.
Some folks don’t have the support that I had. Some folks don’t have even a tiny glimmer of hope. I don’t think it is anyone’s right to judge them on that. That is their reality.
Heather says:
I don’t understand – to judge them on what? Killing themself?
Emerson says:
To judge them on feeling hopeless is what I think Rebecca means. If you never felt truly hopeless enough after losing your daughter to feel like life is worth living, that’s great (and I mean that sincerely, not sarcastically) because it kept you stable. Some people lose that stability and truly see no other way out; no light at the end of the tunnel.
I’ve never lost a child, and don’t have kids, but I’ve lost people I love and I can see how people, particularly those with underlying mental health conditions or other factors, can go plummeting into a deep, scary depression after the loss of a child. Reasoning with them that they “owe” their child something doesn’t really work at that stage. People that are suicidal aren’t functioning on a logical plane, so trying to logic it out is fruitless, and so is judging them for what they’re going through.
Rebecca says:
Heather – Firstly I am really sorry that you had to put up with such a ridiculous & invasive process for health insurance. I am lucky enough to live in country that provides both maternity & mental health services for free. You can have private cover if you choose. I imagine that they ask stupid questions too. In my experience lots of folks say insensitive things to people who have lost loved ones. “Aren’t you over it by now?” would have to be my worst.
And yes I did mean judging people who in a state of hopeless have committed suicide. I hope never to lose a loved one that way but I have friends whose family members have done just that. Our comments on suicide can hurt those people.
Sarah says:
I may be misreading your comment, but I don’t think Heather is judging anyone. She is saying how she felt, how she feels, and telling us about an encounter with a singularly insensitive person.
I’m so very sorry for the loss of your son.
Becca Masters says:
Just wow.
We dont have that kind of system here in the UK and you only get asked that kind of question if you go to your doctor with depressive symptoms.
I’ve suffered with depression on and off since I was 15. Always having thoughts but never acting on them mainly because I don’t like pain and also id be too worried about what people would say. Mind you that’s probably why I’m mentally challenged at times because I worry too much about what othe people think/say/do compare to my own actions that I make myself sick. It can be a vicious circle.
Personally if I found myself in your situation heather, losing a child, I can honestly say I don’t know what I’d do, but I can’t be sure I’d never kill myself. I’d be too scared. And probably too busy trying to cope with my feelings to do anything else!
karen says:
The one way we are really affected by depression medication over here in the UK is insurance – Life, sickness, redundancy, etc. My cover cost is horrendous and doesnt cover suicide (duh), as I take medication for depression. I suffered on and off for years and learnt to manage my situation…then I have a child with severe learning difficulties. My GP put me back on anti-depressants because I can talk to people until I’m blue in the face but it wont help because until he leaves home, or gets locked up, I will have my very angry, abusive and violent teenager at home with me. The pills keep me sane!
Would I kill myself though, no. Though the thought crosses my mind, the reality for those left behind is too much. Even if it was one of my children, I would still have to go on because it would just be me who’d lost them, it would be my family, my husband, our friends, their friends, the school, all of them would be grieving too.
Becca Masters says:
That was meant to say “CAN be sure I’d never kill myself” jeez auto-correct. Make look like I’d kill myself why don’t you! Gah!!!
edenland says:
Utterly appalled right now. That guy was completely unprofessional and way out of line, Heather I am *so* sorry you had that conversation with him.
People need to just stop and think more, before they say such stupid, thoughtless things. When Dave was really badly sick, people would stop me in the street and tell me their brother-in-law’s uncle died from the EXACT cancer Dave had. I’d watch their lips move and think … are you seriously fucking joking with me right now?!
Some people are so unaware. It would be funny if it wasn’t so hurtful.
And nobody, nobody can predict how they would react if one of their children died. I find it so insulting that he said he’d kill himself … like, his kids (hypothetical) death would mean more to him than yours.
XXXX
DefendUSA says:
Heather…
It is standard to do phone interviews. And remember, they ask you about meds you have taken as kind of a test. There is an actual database that tracks scripts you take.
I agree that the questioner’s comment was uncalled for, and your last sentence is what you should have said to him, that dumbass.
Alison says:
I’ve never had to do a phone interview, but maybe it’s because my history is relatively mild? I don’t know. My first pregnancy was horrific, but that was due to inadequate doctors. :-X For individual insurance, I just do the online app and then wait 2 weeks for a letter. I guess if there were questions, they’d call, which makes sense.
That said, I can’t believe some of the things they have said to you. I am sure reps aren’t the only ones to say oddball things. I also cut them some slack, because when faced with a person who has faced something so traumatizing, a lot of us don’t know the best thing to say at the time. Still, I’d be so tempted to tell these people they have no idea what they’d do until they’ve lived it. People throw words around so easily, statements like these, and they don’t think twice. It’s similar to when people say, “I couldn’t live if such and such happened” but many people live through horrifying ordeals each and everyday, and I think a lot of us forget that.
In happier news, I am happy that eventually you’ll have maternity coverage. Yay for your state requiring this.
Lynn from For Love or Funny says:
After reading your conversation with those insurance dudes, I think I’d much rather do my own taxes without a calculator than talk to those insensitive creeps.
Lisa D. says:
This post is exactly the reason that I type in your url ever single day. I think for most of us, losing those pieces of our hearts that we put out into the world is unfathomable, and it’s amazing that you and Mike have more than survived it–you’ve done it with grace and strength and brought another beautiful little light into the world. I’m continually awed by you and your family– you inspire me, and I think you probably inspire everyone that stops by your blog on a regular basis to see how you’re doing and how little Annie is growing.
Jenny says:
I think it is a common verbal response that people don’k think through before they say it. Our close family friends lost a daughter at age 4. They battled Neuroblastoma for 2.5 years before she died of a secondary infection/ complications. Whenever I hear people respond that way (and they still do, to her mother and father, or regarding her mother and father) I always wonder if they think about what a faux pas it is.
Does this response mean that they think the parent’s grief isn’t enough, I.e. it didn’t physically kill them but they think their grief would physically destroy them? Believe me, their grief is profound. However, just as they pushed past the diagnosis and treatment to provide the best, albeit short, life for their daughter they also push on to honor her memory and parent her sibling. I am amazed at how much they do to honor Alexa, just as you honor Maddie. Their foundation can be found at http://www.princessalexafoundation.org.
Blessings to you and your family. I know that you will never be “cured”. Your Maddy was a beautiful soul.
Meghan says:
I have no clue how I would cope with such a loss, but as a human being speaking to someone who has had such a traumatic and devestating loss, I could never speak to you the way that “Dr” did. The loss of a child is not just a casual conversation you voice your opinion on during a phone interview…I”m sorry he was a douchebag.
Shan says:
First of all..what an ass. I don’t think anyone can say what or how they would react if put in the horrible situation you are STILL living through every day. You just don’t know until it happens, and hopefully it never does. I’m sorry you had to deal with such a knucklehead Heather.
CM says:
That is so unprofessional and rude. I would file a complaint against the company. Those phone calls are recorded so they will have a record of it.
Becky Campbell says:
Whoa! Can you say “highly inappropriate”!? I hope you called in and spoke with his supervisor! There is no way this man should be speaking with potential customers! There is no way any of us could know what we’d do in such a devastating situation! How irresponsible of him to speak in such a definitive way to someone who’s actually living through it! What if he said something like that to someone “less than stable” and it triggered a relapse in depression…or worse! Ugh! I’m so sorry you had to deal with such a nimrod!:(
Love, hugs and blessings!!!?
Susan C. says:
First…the process. Based on answers to your application, the underwriter decides he needs more information (i.e., recent significant weight loss/gain, certain medications such as anti-depressants or hypertension meds, etc.). This prompts the phone interview. It’s all part of the process….20+ years in the industry for me.
Second….each call is recorded. Each company representative knows the calls are recorded, and knows that their job is rated on the performance of those calls. For the last rep to say what he said to you is completely unprofessional and unacceptable. His task is to ask you objective questions regarding the medication, not to offer his subjective comments. At the very least, I think you should contact the company to report his comments. If I was auditing his call (which I have done), I would recommend immediate disciplinary action.
Okay….anyway….you are an incredible woman who continues to surprise me with the strength and fortitude to get through each day.
Aliesha says:
I just wanted to say how beautiful I thought this post was. You and Mike are incredible parents to both of your girls.
Micaela says:
As if the loss you have suffered is not enough you have to deal with rude insensitive comments! *hugs*
Anna says:
I was so glad you wrote this post. I’ve been wanting to ask you how you felt when people would say to you “how do you do it?” or “I would kill myself.” I lost my father in a car accident when I was 12. Which now that I’m a parent I know that losing a child would be a whole other thing completely. I have a friend that lost her son unexpectedly and she told me how frustrating it is to get those statements from people. She said it was like if she didn’t kill herself that she wasn’t grieving enough. It made her feel like she was a terrible person that she was going on with life. Well like you said as much as you can possible just continue with your life. This totally opened my eyes when she said this. It really is probably the worst thing you can say to someone after losing a child.
Colleen says:
I hope you get insurance soon, you are a great parent and deserve to have more.
Julia says:
Heather….great post. While you will never be cured, I do see “healing” in your words. xoxo, Julia
Jen says:
Seriously? Seriously this “dr” would end everything? I thought that the standard industry statement is that suicide is selfish, it won’t solve the problem, only cause more harm than good, blah blah blah. Yes, after the death of a child you feel like you want to give up and not live life, but the fact of the matter is that you have to! You gave an great answer and you and Mike are fabulous parents for your girls!!!
Jenn says:
Hi Heather,
People say the DUMBEST things when a child is lost!!! I will NEVER forget after my 10 month old God daughter passed away very suddenly some of the total DUMB ASS comments people said to my friend!!
Four days after her baby passed, my friend received a call from a real estate agent they were working while I visit. He called as a follow up call after he took them to see a house. I could hear my friend explain why she hadn’t gotten back to the agent (her daughter died the day after they viewed a house).
Well, OMG Heather!!! You would have thought the guy lost his baby. He actually interupted my friend and said ” UUmm, I’m sorry…I…I can’t really talk right now. You just really, REALLY upset me by telling me this news. I just saw you and the baby. I wasn’t ready for you to tell me this”. THEN…He HUNG UP on my friend!!!! Can you believe it?!?!? I must say it was the first time since our loss, we laughed right out loud and too this day, we still smile when we talk about that guy.
Too be honest, the ONLY thing that is keeping us from moving to a warm place in thee in Canada we get free insurance (but you can buy your own as are used to treat many other things as well.
All the best my friend! xo
Heidi says:
As an employee of UnitedHealthCare who works in the underwriting department(actually doing the phone interviews) I am shocked that they would ask “Are you cured”… typically the questions are standard for every applicant that has “depression” however we are required to ask when you last had symptoms or treatment. It does make for awkward conversation and I’ve been brought to tears myself with what people like yourself have to go through. I’ve been reading your blog(while at work Lol) for a long time and give you and Mike so much credit for the way you help others by sharing your experiences and stories. I hope that your insurance struggles soon come to an end and you get the maternity coverage, I can’t wait to hear of new baby news! Annie would be a GREAT big sister!
Katie says:
I yelled a lot of bad words while reading this. What’s wrong with that guy? Filter, yo, filter! Gah!! I’m so sorry.
Linn says:
I think you and Mike are incredibly brave and strong for continuing to forge a beautiful life that is happy for Annie while admitting that terrible grief and pain are and will always be part of it. I’m not surprised that guy was a doctor. They can get so dehumanized.
liz says:
Wow- just wow. You handled this so well.
Emily says:
Wow. I hope that call was recorded and their superiors heard that.
My mom went through trying to get my brother insurance (he’s 26 and self-employed). He got declined immediately for “allergies” – he’s never sick! He’s like the healthiest person I know! She called the insurance company and they said that now he could apply for Medicare (or one of the Medis) – apparently you need to get declined first. I’m like, who created this system? And seriously, who does not have a “pre-existing condition”.
Oh, and then there’s the whole thing about immediately denying my infant son’s claims because he’s not in the system. Um, you see that maternity/c-section claim that you paid for? Do you know how this works? I do *get* it, but it’s seriously asinine.
Megan Bell says:
Amazed as alway by your strength and raw honesty. I worked with grieving families for 2 years (I’m an organ transplant coordinator-work on the recipient side now but worked on the donor side with families that had lost their loved ones prior to this) and was constantly reminded how strong and resilient the human spirit is. By choosing to continue to live, you are honoring Maddies memory everyday.
Laura says:
Rude, insensitive ass. ‘Nuff said.
“You have to parent their memory.” So beautiful.
giselle says:
Heather, I am so sorry you had that horrible conversation. That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about and was just being a jerk. No one knows how they would feel until it happens to them and even then, you can’t say that it would be the same for someone else. Everyone has their own horrible experience. You should NOT have killed yourself and I am so grateful that you didn’t. Your family is too. Maddie is too. Thanks to you her memory lives on and you do wonderful things for other people in her name. Please don’t ever think that you didn’t make the right decision or that you should have killed yourself b/c that jerk said something so stupid. You have done everything right.
Kelly says:
I think that you handled that quite well. I am just stunned that anyone would just say such a thing to anyone.
Angi says:
Good for you, Heather. Just…good for you.
lauren says:
hugs for you. I think people should think before they speak.. somtimes a simple I am so sorry, this must be hard will do.
as for how you are dealing with all of it, you are amazing.
Brooke says:
I’m so sorry that you had to endure that conversation. And although I think that guy (being a professional on a business call) was WAY out of line, comments like that totally make me cringe because it’s the sort of thing *I* would have said before my daughter was stillborn and I had to endure life without her. A friend of mine actually lost one of her twins just a few months before we lost Eliza, and I remember saying to my husband, “I don’t think I could survive that. I would just want to die. I would just completely fall apart.”
And yes, I would have traded my life for my daughter’s if I were given that option (as I know you would have). But it’s frustrating to hear someone say they would die because no one really knows how they would react to that situation until they’re in it. It’s also frustrating because mostly I feel that there’s nothing especially strong about surviving. I have no special talents that make me any more equipped for this than the average person. I wake up in the morning with my heart still beating and that. is. all. I don’t have superhuman strength, I’m not incredibly courageous, and I still miss her so much it takes my breath away sometimes.
At first I think I kept living because I didn’t have the strength or stomach to do otherwise, and then, eventually, it became clear that there are other things to live for, even with the sadness that we feel. I’m lucky enough to have an amazing husband, a loving family, wonderful friends, obnoxious but endearing pets. There are people I want to stick around for. And I think it’s so beautiful what you said about wanting to honor and parent our child’s memory. I don’t want my daughter’s legacy to simply be a tragedy. I want her also to be remembered for the love she brought into our lives. And I see the same thing on your blog. I know that’s what people associate with Maddie, which is a really lovely thing and a testament to her parents and the way you guys continue to care for her.
Abby says:
I lost my nine month old five months ago and I often think how much I wish I wasn’t living. But that is not the same as wanting to kill myself. And, I agree about parenting the memory. If I was gone, who would be in charge of making sure everyone remembered Maxie? To be sure, what I am doing right now is not living. I sleep in as late as possible, wear the same clothes every day, see a couple of therapists and watch a boatload of tv. And cry a lot. Just as many people seem confused about why I haven’t killed myself as people who wonder why I am not yet over it. People are sick and cold. Your blog is one of the few things that gives me hope that we might really live again one day.
Procrastamom says:
Abby, I’m so sorry for your loss and I wish you well.
giselle says:
Abby, I am so sorry for your loss. You will live again and I’m so glad that you have Heather’s blog to help get you through somehow. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Sadie says:
This is the most powerful & beautiful and thing you have ever written. This post is going to change lives and bring strength to those who need it.
Solenn says:
There are people I want to stick around for. And I think it’s so beautiful what you said about wanting to honor and parent our child’s memory. I don’t want my daughter’s legacy to simply be a tragedy. I want her also to be remembered for the love she brought into our lives.
Valerie says:
To inject a little (morbid) humor into the unimaginably tacky conversation, someone once said something similar to a friend of my mom, who was going through an equally difficult time… Her response? “Well, hmmm… What do you suggest I do, should I shoot myself, or take poison?” Shut ’em right up!!
With love and laughter to you and your BEAUTIFUL family…
Val in Ohioooooooooo
Molly says:
You are always so eloquent. Good for you for setting him straight.
Bianca S says:
WOW it sounds like you got a professional jerk on the phone there. Way to go for how you dealt with them x
Heather Friedrichs Lyman says:
I never comment, but this has me fired up. People say the most insane, horrific things that might as well be daggers through the heart. How could he not know that what he said implied that you didn’t suffer as much as he would have had he lost his own child? Hopefully that’s not what he really meant, but what an insensitive idiot. There is no greater suffering inflicted upon a human being than the loss of his/her child. You are an inspiration to keep putting one foot in front of the other and honor your child by living life.
Heather Friedrichs Lyman says:
I never comment, but this has me fired up. People say the most insane, horrific things that might as well be daggers through the heart. How could he not know that what he said implied that you didn’t suffer as much as he would have had he lost his own child? Hopefully that’s not what he really meant, but what an insensitive idiot. There is no greater suffering inflicted upon a human being than the loss of his/her child. You are an inspiration to keep putting one foot in front of the other and honor your child by living life.
Dana says:
I loved this post. It really hit home for me, and I am grateful to you and Mike for your courage in sharing your journey with us all. Much love to you.
Julie says:
“You have to parent their memory.”
What an absolutely beautiful statement. And you are doing an astounding job doing just exactly that. Maddie is beaming with pride at her strong Mama.
Glenda says:
The Rep. = Very unprofessional!!!!
“I will never be cured. But I will always want to live” = Beautifully said.
Julie S says:
Heather- I am constantly amazed at the grace in which you live your life. I am so sorry that you have to deal with people that have the emotional maturity of 12 year olds. I’m hoping you are insured soon and can put this process behind you.
em says:
Aren’t those calls recorded? Maybe you should call in to complain. How unprofessional. I’m sorry you had to go through that.
Molly says:
Can I just point out the underlying atrocious problem here? We need universal health care. NOW. What you’re describing is a business-like conversation about a deep human tragedy that is occurring between strangers. This is ABSURD! It’s basically a microcosm of for-profit health care. Our lives, our health, our tragedies, our depressions, should not be part of a business. These conversations are awkward and horrible because they should not have to happen.
And about the generic “I would kill myself” comment: those annoy me too, because it seems to me to be a way for the other person to deny the reality of someone else’s suffering. Sometimes other people have to live with grief that to others is unimaginable. If you can’t imagine it, just say, “I can’t imagine.” Don’t say, “I would kill myself.” Ridiculous and callous.
Kat says:
It’s almost comedic when people say what they would or would not do in that situation, when they’ve never been close to it. How does anyone have ANY idea what they would do? And what in the world does any of that have to do with insurance?? I’m so glad you called him out on that!
And also, my Mom said the exact same thing when she lost her second husband. She said, “people think when an extraordinary lost has happened that they would just never speak again or curl up and die…life doesn’t happen that way…your body simply goes through the motions and keeps on surviving even when you’re broken.”
All that to say…let’s just hope that guy never has to find out what he’d do. How nice for him.
Shawna says:
I appreciated the honesty and introspection you shared in your post. And good grief! Now we know why he’s working phones for an insurance company and not an office with life human contact. Thank goodness you weren’t calling a crisis line or anything.
katrina @ They All Call Me Mom says:
Wow. I think him even discussing the topic of your child’s death and how you dealt with it or how he would have dealt with it if it were him is TOTALLY unprofessional. He was taking it to a personal level. I might have been rude and said, “Next question please” once he went there, because dude, I don’t really want to hear what you “would have done” — it didn’t happen to you, right? So how can you really know?
He can’t.
No one can know until it happens to them. No one. We can all say that we’d do this and that, or even think that we’d do this and that. But we cannot possibly know. I cannot possibly know what it feels like to lose a child. I can imagine it, but I how can I really know?
I’m sorry you have to go through all this crap just to get insurance for maternity.
And the “are you cured” question. So laughable. As if. I mean, as IF anyone is ever cured from a loss like that. Why can’t they just ask, “Are you still taking the meds?” I mean…isn’t that what they really need to know? Maybe not. I don’t know. I just think that’s a dumb question to ask anyone who has lost a loved one, especially a child.
Michelle says:
Your words about parenting her memory and never being cured but wanting to live are so beautifully said. You do such an amazing job honoring Maddie’s memory.
Tricia says:
I am with you Heather, I live to honor my boy.
Boy, if we had a dollar for everytime we lived through one of these insensitive conversations, we could do some serious charity work! But, the circumstances here really bring it to a new level. This person has something to hang over you, it’s more than unprofessional…I can’t even come up with the right word.
On my good days I realize that people don’t mean to be insensitive and I respond similarly to you. But on my bad days, I feel judged and a weight of having to be some kind of role model. It can be exhausting. Do you ever feel that way.
Heather says:
Oh yes, I definitely get tired from it. It is a heavy burden, to have to grieve, and do it while others are watching – even if you aren’t writing about it.
Ash says:
Fantastic post.
And as a side note… I’m not a complainer, personally, and I doubt you are either, but… consider calling and complaining about this guy, if you haven’t already. Lord knows what other asinine comments he’s making to people, and he could potentially do some very real damage.
Lanie says:
I hate that you are having to go through this insurance craziness. I wish that people in these types of jobs were given somme sort of sensitivity training. Or common sense training – if such a thing exists.
Beautiful post – I too love your last line “I will never be cured but I will always want to live.” Take care.
Leigh Elliott says:
How unprofessional of this “insurance rep”. I would consider speaking to someone or writing a letter about your conversation.
Skye says:
That is so awful I don’t know what to say. Thank you for sharing your life with us and showing that there is a way through something so awful. Even though you will never be “cured”, you still give hope that life can go on. I’m sorry some people say such terrible things.
Meredith says:
What the fuck is wrong with people?! They suck. That’s what’s wrong. Some people suck.
Shell says:
First of all, I’d like to apologize that you had a deal with a jackass who has clearly lost nothing more precious than his virginity.
I began reading your blog several years ago, before Maddie sadly passed, and was impressed by the way you and Mike dealt with the health issues as a unified front. I cried for days when Maddie was so cruelly taken from you.
It put my own experience in perspective. You see, my son’s father battled me for custody for years. When I inevitably ran out of resources (mental, emotional and financial), he won. I was depressed, and I’ll admit, suicide sounded pretty good at the time. UNTIL – and this is key – I imagined my first-grader at my funeral. That meant I had no voice in the matter. I was going to live, not for me, but for him, even if I had to live through hell just to be able to see him. (His father went out of his way to cut me completely out of our son’s life.)
My son is an adult now, and has never heard my side of the story. It’s irrelevant. Once when he was teenager-angst-ridden-angry with me over something stupid, he threw that I wasn’t around in my face. I handed him a cardboard box filled with the court records and told him to “read all about how I abandoned you and never cared”. The whole 8 years of court battles was quite well-documented. He didn’t take me up on the challenge, thank God, because he may have wound up hating both his father and I for some of the nastiness that box contained. (I had an alcohol-soaked purging party with that box shortly after my son registered to vote.)
As others have noted, I would register a formal complaint with the insurance company. Nothing will heal a figurative hole in one’s heart. Telling a depressed person to “suck it up” or “get over it” doesn’t work very well. If that medication helped you to function/cope/live, it was worth every penny. Kudos for your strength and composure for not reaching through the phone cord and ripping the dude’s heart out through his boy parts.
Jennifer says:
As a person who asks others if they want to kill themselves as a profession (I am a psychiatric screener in an ER), I am appalled by this man’s response. I deal with depressed, anxious, suicidal and homicidal people on a regular basis, so you can imagine the kinds of stories and horrific details of people’s lives that I hear. Part of the job is to be able to be non-judgemental and OBVIOUSLY keep your own personal feelings to yourself. If a person has been through a traumatic experience I certainly offer my condolences, but never try to make the interview about me and what I would do under similiar circumstances. I hope you can get insurance soon because I can’t wait to read about your next pregnancy!
Ashli says:
Wow. How insensitive! My mom works for a health insurance company and when I told her this story, she was appalled. She would definitely be the more “I’m so sorry” type person and then do her best to get you some good maternity coverage. Insurance people can be such douche bags sometimes.
Debbie says:
Hi Heather,
I’m a semi-regular reader, I visit every once in a while. This post is really gets to me. I have lots of thoughts but I guess I just want to say thank you to you. I think that reading your story gives us all a different perspective, one that the average person will never experience themselves, and makes us more sensitive people. I am the type who blurts random things out without thinking first, and the stuff that man said sounds like something I would blurt out without realizing how it would make you or someone like you feel.
This was powerful. Thanks.
And merry christmas!
Claire says:
I HATE that comment! I think it somehow implies that they love that person (their child, their mother, their best friend, etc) more than you love your child, mother, best friend, etc… because here you are still living and they love their person so much they couldn’t. ARGH!! I know people don’t truly mean that, but that’s how I take it.