A Sick Girl’s Tribute to Her First Love

Current status: Clothed in four layers, a scarf, thick wool socks, lying in front of a space heater on a heating pad set onCarie Sherman high and topped with not one but two down blankets. I still feel cold. (Thanks low grade fever that won’t go away.)

I consider sharing this fact on social media, where my friends are busy sharing pics of skiing, marching, babies, working out, laughing, loving, traveling. Living.

I choose not to post.

I’d hate for them all to feel jealous of my perfect life.

Wait. What?

Anyone who has ever struggled to find meaning and purpose in their life has likely read the advice to return to the things you loved when you were a child, way back before the world decided who you were and what you stood for and how you moved about your day.

Flashback to my 9-year-old self: Surrounded by my worn copy of On the Banks of Plum Creek by Laura Ingalls Wilder, six old copies of Reader’s Digest, the current issue of Country Kids magazine, a blanket draped over my head, a flashlight. Sitting behind Dad’s chair on the metal furnace register, burning my butt because I jacked up the heat far above the mandated 68 degrees.

This was my happy space. (Until I was busted for turning up the heat.)

I called my mom this morning to ask her when I stopped being this girl, this girl who put reading above all else. She said sometime around high school, I swapped novels for textbooks and farm kid articles for Teen Beat. “You were go-go-go,” she said. “You still read. Just short stuff.”

“And what about movies?” I asked. She laughed.

“You didn’t have the attention span to watch a sitcom.”

Fair enough.

So from high school through my early thirties I continued to go-go-go, playing and socializing and experiencing and traveling and booze-hounding. This stopped six years ago when I got sick. And now I’m often stuck at home while everyone else goes out to play.

But then, a miracle. My partner and second true love bought me a Kindle. Every book that had ever been written was a single click away. (We did have to change Amazon’s “one click settings” when my habit exceeded my budget.)

When I was healthy, I rarely gave myself the luxury of a reading day. If you saw me in public with a paperback, I was using it as a cover for my coffee addiction while pretending I could go five minutes without checking my phone.

Nowadays I collect books like sweet old ladies hoard cats. And I still feel sorry for myself for missing out. But then I think about 9-year-old Carie, back there in Iowa freezing on the farm in the middle of January.

Little Carie would see my life today for what it really is:

Perfect.

I’d rather not be sick. But I’m ever-so-thankful for the reminder of my first true love.



One Patient’s Story about The Accountable Care Act

I know that the Accountable Care Act – known by most as Obamacare – isn’t perfect. But with all the uncertainty that now Carie Shermansurrounds the act, I wanted to share my story about what Obamacare meant for me.

When I got sick, I was on a group health plan through my partner’s work. My condition required me, at first, to see my rheumatologist monthly. Even with a group health plan, it was $60/visit for the copay alone. Tack on the necessary X-rays, MRIs, lab testing, prescription medications, and I was spending hundreds of dollars a month just to keep myself out of the hospital.

Our financial situation was such that I needed to work. I wanted to work. But working a traditional 40-hour workweek wasn’t feasible. I was too sick.

So I started my own business. And my business quickly became successful—in spite of my illness. I loved writing, and I could literally write from my bed if necessary to meet client deadlines. Some days were tougher than others, but I was contributing to our family while doing the best I could to feel better.

Then my partner’s situation changed. And we were without health insurance. We stayed on COBRA for as long as we could. Then we faced the task of purchasing individual health insurance in a pre-Obamacare world.

I imagine the underwriters receiving our application laughing their assess off as they marked our application with a big red DENIED.

Because of pre-existing conditions, we couldn’t get coverage. My three-person family was without health insurance until Obamacare made coverage open for everyone.

A lot of people argue that letting everyone into the insurance pool is the reason that costs have gone up. Which of course has merit. But without basic coverage, sick people like me didn’t have access to the preventive measures that make up the bulk of caring for people with chronic illness. Without seeing my doctor regularly and coverage for my prescriptions, what might have happened?

I’ll tell you one thing: I could have gotten sick. Really sick. The kind of sick that requires a late night visit to the emergency room. The kind of visit that causes people like me—people who work, who are contributing to this economy—to deplete savings, to overextend credit, to declare bankruptcy.

The ACA gave us coverage we couldn’t have had. The coverage alone was costly, but it limited the amount of debt we could have possibly gone into had we required hospitalization. And it allowed us to budget for preventive care, which helped us to stay relatively healthy.

I hope more is done to address the cost of care in our country. But I hope everyone thinks long and hard about what it will mean to take health insurance away from the 20 million folks who have the insurance they need to at least attempt to be responsible stewards of their own health care.