Cancer at 23: How Health Insurance Failed Me

"I'm too young for this," I thought. It wasn't the first time that those words had crossed my mind in the past few months. I thought it when I was diagnosed with advanced thyroid cancer. I thought it when the company I was working for began facing financial problems and my paychecks were bouncing. I thought it when I learned I would be dependent on a prescription drug every day for the rest of my life. And I thought it again when I got the bill. In spite of having insurance, I had been billed in full for my surgery and two nights in the hospital. The total was $20,759.89. I was 23 years old.

I had never felt healthier when I found out I had cancer. I was seeing an allergist in March of 2007 to get a refill of my asthma medicine when she noticed a large lump in the center of my throat. I was immediately sent for an ultrasound and a biopsy. The tumor was more than five centimeters wide and had apparently been growing there for months. The consensus was unanimous: It had to come out.

My first thought was, "I can't afford this." I was making an entry-level salary in the publishing industry and barely scraping by as it was. I didn't know much about cancer, but I knew it wasn't cheap.

Compared to other cancers, thyroid cancer is relatively easy to treat. I would undergo radiation, not chemotherapy. The treatments would carry few, if any, side effects. Still, I needed health insurance to pay for the radiation, and I was about to lose mine. My supervisor at work told me that she could only guarantee coverage for eight more weeks.

Up until that point, my perspective toward health insurance could be described as ignorant bliss. I had insurance through my school until graduation, and my mother helped me set up insurance to cover me until I landed a job. I had no idea how expensive it was or how horrific living without it could be.

I was rushed into surgery, and as soon as I could, I began the radiation treatment. By the first of June, I was stabilized. Other than some pain, swelling and a small scar in the center of my neck, I thought I was done.

By September, I found a new job. Though its benefits didn't kick in until I had worked there for 90 days, I was getting health coverage through COBRA, a continuation of the benefits I had through the insurance my former job had provided. At $300 a month, it was more than I could afford on a receptionist's salary, but I had to take the drug Synthroid every day and couldn't pay for my prescription without it. I also needed frequent -- and costly -- blood tests to monitor the calcium deficiency the surgery left me with. I couldn't not have insurance.

Then I got the bill. It came in the mail almost six months after my operation. The total for the surgery, the painkillers and the two nights in the hospital was a few thousand less than what I make in a year. But its amount was probably less shocking than the fact that there was a bill at all. I couldn't understand why my claim was being denied by my insurance company. Before I had the surgery, I had cleared everything. I had been told by more than one person that all of my surgery-related costs would be completely covered. Aside from the co-pays for each appointment, I was not supposed to be billed for a cent.

I began making phone calls, attempting to figure out what was going on. I could only call on weekdays, during my lunch break, and by the time I got through the 800 number's main menus and actually was able to speak to an actual person, I was out of time. On more than one occasion, my cell phone dropped the call. I did not have a private desk or phone, so I had to make the calls standing in the break room of my office.

It took two months, countless phone calls and more than one very high cell phone bill before I got through to someone who told me that my claim was denied because I had a lapse in coverage, so the cancer was considered a pre-existing condition.