Terminal narrative

This story might as well begin with onboarding at my most recent full-time position a little less than two years ago. Having relocated in order to accept it, I declined to enroll in the employer-offered healthcare insurance plans.

I was to be our household's sole income earner until my spouse found work, and considering other more immediate costs (rent, utilities, food, etc.), none of the plans on offer would be affordable, I presumed.

Then last fall, after a promotion and a raise, and after my spouse had found steady work, I sought treatment in a local emergency ward after a particularly sustained episode of uncontrollable vomiting.

These episodes had been occuring sporadically for the past few years. I'd checked into an emergency room once prior but had recovered quickly enough to be discharged with nausea medication and no specific diagnosis.

Last fall, the doctor who reviewed computed tomography scans of my torso concluded that a hernia surgery almost two decades prior caused scar tissue to form and then contribute to an obstruction of my small bowel.

This time I was discharged only hours before the doctor recommended surgical intervention.

He hadn't explained the long delay before symptoms developed. I suppose I didn't ask. Our interactions were brief and few, though pleasant. To their credit, the staff were teriffic overall, one and all.

The CT scan and 24 hours' observation cost almost $5,000.

The hospital's accountants gave one year maximum to pay off the balance, demanding payments over $400 per month.

A couple months after I was discharged, my former employers issued a company-wide notice that healthcare insurance policies were changing. 

This entailed creating an account with a third-party consultancy company and attending mandatory webinars in anticipation of a one-week enrollment period for coverage during the upcoming year.

I created an account, attended the webinars and reviewed the offerings. Although my spouse had been working overtime for over six months and I had been working full time the preceding 20 months, the premiums/deductibles were wildly unaffordable.

The enrollment window, just one week, was as busy as any other at the newspaper. On Friday, as the window closed, I panicked. Opt in or opt out? Both options were nauseating. I left work early and went home.

The window to enroll closed and I did not respond. I had waived the consultancy company's offer to enroll in an "Individual Coverage Health Reimbursement Arrangement" by default, as before.

Xmas eve 2025. Photo by Chelsea

But over the weekend, those of us who had not responded were notified via electronic mail that the time to enroll had been extended by several days.

And on Tuesday the week following, a little after 6 p.m. ET, the consultancy company sent a text (SMS) message to my personal device, warning that it was my "Last chance to get health insurance!"

Figure 1

Figure 2

Figure 3

As shown in figure 1, subsequent advice to reply STOP was clipped by a "View all" feature which I did not initially explore.

Instead, I quipped that opting out seemed irresponsible while opting in was mathematically impossible and thanked them for a "Sophie's choice."

The company representative persisted, offering to schedule more consultations (fig. 2).

Shortly after this interaction, I was browsing recent releases from channels I follow on YouTube. 

One from the news service Reuters was a 35-second clip of video footage from the arrest of Luigi Mangione.

I shared it in the SMS thread with the consultant.

"Don't talk with me again," I added (fig. 3).

Less than 48 hours later I was summoned to a video conference call with my former employer's director of human resources and the deputy publisher who had hired me, in which call I was summarily terminated and denied opportunity to appeal.