No diabetes. No hypothyroidism. No treatment sought for anxiety and depression. No extensive abdominal surgeries and hospitalizations. None of these things were part of my medical record when I was last responsible for health insurance.
That all changed with a judge signing off a piece of paper a week ago. I could have placed immediate focus on getting my name changed and getting myself off a mortgage, but as a chronic babe, the most important thing was getting myself onto my own health insurance.
So many things had been held up in the air – prescriptions pending, appointments to schedule, and hikes to take in the gorgeous Colorado foothills.
But not without an insurance card, or at least not without knowing I was officially covered retroactive to last Monday, so thankfully the temporary information became available to print Friday afternoon.
I ended up taking my clumsy and awkward self out for a fantastic hike Saturday morning.
While the health insurance information was gladly unnecessary due to remaining fully intact at the conclusion of said hike, I realized how much more safe and more secure I felt knowing it was in my backpack. At the same time, I realized I felt a little more daring and a little less afraid to choose unknown paths.
And most importantly, I realized I had ensured a little more of my independence.