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The post man sprinkles me with bills. How many have I managed to accumulate, considering I have not yet had my MRI or surgery? Did their computerized billing system over heat? Reluctantly, I open the first white envelope.

“This is not a bill” it reads. Then what is it?

It is a letter from the insurance company informing me that a claim has been filed. The three next envelopes have the same date, June 19th, but all are for different amounts. What is going on? Ah, one is from the doctor for his time, one is for the laboratory for analyzing my cells, and the third  is for the  use their equipment.

In small print, all the bills confirm claims have been filed with my insurance company. Then in large bold letters, all three bills say: It is your responsibility to pay.

I realize: this is just the beginning of bill-o-mania.

Without as much as a glance at the content, I empty an old ring binder. Voila, a fresh storage facility for my medical bills. I take a yellow marker and high light the date, the “service provider,” the description and the code of what was done, as well as the amount.

This is going to take organizational skills I don’t possess. After all, some days I feel I already have the famous “chemo brain.” Should I need chemo therapy, my mental stamina will hardly improve.

I place my “new” medical ring binder in the book shelf and notice one more white envelope on my desk. It is from the Cobra Services Administration:

We are changing from Blue Cross Blue Shield to Guardian. If you do not respond to us with a check in the amount of $849.23 within ten days from the above date, we assume you do not want continued coverage.

Are they @*&%# kidding me? Why would they assume I don’t want health coverage just as I face my biggest expenses since paying for a university education and buying a house?

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