immediate meeting.

My boss came around and told everyone there was a meeting immediately. Immediate meeting could be trouble. We had an immediate meeting after a couple of people were laid off in March. But this immediate meeting was about benefits. Last month, we had all been given enrollment applications to two different health insurance plans. My boss explained that the cost of our plan was going up 17% this year, and we were going to be shopping around. Funny, the exact same thing had happened the year before: the 17% increase, the enrollment forms, the immediate meeting. We had ended up staying with the same company last year by negotiating some new deal or other. I wonder if the health insurance marketplace is one where you can negotiate terms, provided you make a bunch of people write down the medical history of each family member three times.

We were told that our coverage was getting just a little bit worse. No big deal, an extra $5 on your copay and a higher deductible. The insurance representative reassured us that we would only pay more if used the copay. Sure! And if you don't go to the doctor or get any prescriptions at all, the coverage is completely free!

He also told us about high-deductible plans and health savings accounts, which he indicated we might switch to next year. It was a bit confusing, being given a handout about one health plan and then having a completely different one explained to us. Not that insurance benefits aren't confusing as heck anyway. We learned that we were actually benefitting from a age and gender advantage. Everyone turned to look at me, one of two XXs in a sea of XYs. Apparently the insurance company sees women as walking time-bombs, liable to produce another wet and screaming risk at any moment. Perhaps the actuaries feel that I am 17% more likely to get pregnant this year. The discussion overall was interesting, though it was clear that the agent had some strong opinions about the way healthcare should work.

It started slowly. Someone asked a question about why rates were increasing, another person made a joke, and pretty soon we were having the health care debate right there in Conference Room A. Two or three people were talking loudly across the room about government-run health care in a manner that reminded me of Sunday afternoons from my childhood, my dad in his recliner, watching the McLaughlin Group. "Not now," I muttered, not in any mood to listen to oversimplified quippy answers to real problems. I was sort of surprised to see the vitriol. Fine, I listen to NPR, but I knew that a lot of people were against the health care legislation. Then I realized that while two or three were making a lot of noise, another twenty were sitting silently. A couple of them even seemed to be doing that same tense squirming in their chairs that I was doing.

I already gave myself away here, but I'm one of those bleeding heart liberals. And it's funny, I didn't care a bit about healthcare reform until last October, when Josh took a spill off his bike. He did not have insurance, which meant that they took him to the hospital across town rather than the one two miles away from the curb that caught his head. The bills kept coming in the mail, each from a different department or billing office, all of them confusing. Stitches cost a certain amount, but then there is the cost of the person to put them in and the anesthesia and the time he laid in the bed as they sewed up his face. As the debt mounted, I realized what it was like to have an emergency for those outside the safe, clean walls of employer-provided health benefits. I had no idea what anything cost, because everything was $15 to me. It turns out that things are pretty darn expensive.

Ambulance ride, emergency room visit, a couple dozen stitches, CT scan: $12,000.

That is all behind us now, or at least there hasn't been a bill in nine months or so. If you pay within 90 days, you get a 50% discount. Which is sizeable, but I get the feeling that most uninsured cyclists don't have $6,000 lying around. I don't know the answers, and I don't feel comfortable making proclamations about incredibly complicated and nuanced problems that I don't even know all that much about. But the existing scenario does not make sense. The hospital sends you a bill for an amount, but it's not the actual cost, because you get an instant discount? So what is the actual cost of stitching someone up? Also: $12,000? Are you freaking kidding me?

I'm not trying to convince anyone of anything, nor am I even trying to start a discussion here. That should be clear, as I've barely put forth an opinion other than "Bike wrecks are expensive." I just had kind of a weird meeting this morning, and I haven't written much lately, and I thought it might be nice to write something relevant once in a while. I'm glad something is being done, even if I don't know what the right thing to do is. I don't expect the first bill to be passed to be perfect. But it is encouraging that most people recognize that the system as it exists is broken. It might be a while before we get it right.

Until then, wear your helmet.