When I am in Alabama I tote around a giant 24 ounce mug compliments of The University Of Alabama in Birmingham Hospital system much to the non-amusement of my child and other companions. Yes it seems that I am quite the spectacle at Family Holiday parties in a cocktail dress and the ubiquitous mug but then I tell one and all “this is my Seven Thousand Dollar” cup. Just like those tee-shirts that said “Mommy and Daddy went to Vegas and all I got was this tee-shirt.” I went to UAB hospital for yet another bladder surgery and all I got was a 7k mug-OH, I had insurance. ALLIANCE FOR AFFORDABLE SERVICES OR FIRST HEALTH NETWORK a part of the Mid West National Life Insurance Company of Tennessee.

Issuer:80840
ID: 2404501471
Name: Marcia Sherrill
Vision: Group 9660663
Dental: 2444501471
RXBin: 004336

A beautiful policy from the Damn Them To Hell Mid West National Life Insurance Company of Tennessee. And seven thousand dollars in debt. Phone calls and faxes and talking with countless representatives assured me that I was indeed NOT COVERED and not because it was a pre-existing condition. NO. Because they didn’t cover two procedures on one day. WHAAAAAAAATTTTTT? I had scrambled to get insurance when mine was peremptorily cancelled thanks to my divorce settlement-I may have built a successful designer label-Hell, I was the label but the court in its infinite wisdom did not think that a $27K payout and a couple months of insurance was a worth 24 years of 16 hour workdays. I may have had a full page story in Town & Country but most days I’d be cleaning the sewing machines in the factory, or chasing down suppliers or hustling the samplemakers to hurry, hurry, hurry Elle was coming to the showroom. So, I had little time to shop around for insurance and everything in New York was scads of money-500 bucks a month minimum and then a friend recommended an insurance agent and let me name him here for one and all-Bishop and he assured me that I could get GREAT insurance and it was cheap. Four pounds of documents arrived and WOW it all seemed perfect-OK they wouldn’t cover Prozac ‘cause it seems that my anxiety disorder was a re-existing condition-BOY WAS IT! And I’d written an article about my anxiety for Avenue Magazine entitled Prozac Poster Girl so   I was busted no matter what insurer I went to so after a desultory reading I signed on the dotted line. Everything went swimmingly. My co-pays were low, they covered my doctors in New York heck they even had dental. With a husband who treated my dental hygiene as a “luxury expenditure” I’d gone 3 years once without a dental visit and earned 13 cavities. My dentist threatened to call my ex who would later spend countless thousands on my daughter’s palate expander, braces, retainer, back to braces and now permanent retainer. I glued on loose crowns with dental fix at the Duane Reade drugstore. So, I went happily along and planned a surgery that would hopefully restore my bladder to pre-childbirth elevation. A surgery that was the turning point in my divorce-I refused to see a mediator until the bladder was fixed-in 10 years there was never a convenient time for me to be away from work. Of course not. Work was everything to him, so I knew that if I didn’t get that surgery before the divorce I would get screwed and I did. He filed on me after I told him I wanted a divorce-or rather I was indiscrete with God Knows WHO in Atlanta because nether my Momma or my best friends had an inkling we weren’t the perfect couple-classic emotionally abused spouse behavior, Well, I had shot a pilot in Atlanta and it was grueling and went on for 3 18 hour days and I must have talked-been foolish enough to admit that this Pilot or my latest book Schiksa: Getting in Touch with Your Inner Jew would sell and I could leave-I knew that if I went unprepared I would get the “scorched earth” treatment of our ex-backers and anyone who crossed him. Anyway, delirious with tension and exhaustion and slap-happy with my girlfriend and Executive Producer, Jill, I must have said something in front of someone. I never did figure out who? Now ten years had passed with me saying “I call my bladed my new best friend because it so loves to come out and greet me. Don’t make me laugh or my friend will be out-I will be over in an hour and I will have my BFF bladder behind me in a little red wagon.” My brother, Billy, was horrified but not my husband. Every time I mentioned my bladder brother Billy would scream-“not your friend!!!! Don’t say it is out” So, armed with my insurance I went to the hospital for a same day procedure that turned into an overnight stay since my blood pressure fell rapidly and I was a “FALL RISK.” I only remember my sweet Doctor, Dr. Varner and his hottie assistants howling with laughter as I felt the anesthesia hit and asked coyly on the operating table if they wouldn’t mind adding a Brazilian wax to the scheduled procedure. My bladder was lifted back into its old pre-baby days and I was on the mend and deep in debt and while I will pay these folks off in time I am sure that there are others out there who like me buy insurance that is NOT insurance. Insurance that is masquerading as INSURANCE as in Hop In That Hospital Bed INSURANCE and it ain’t. Do not do what I did and believe every sweet talking insurance agent with a dashingly patrician first name. Buy insurance with any group that you can or buy individual Blue Cross. You can still envy me my mug!