Today is day #1 of my last cycle of chemotherapy.  My last infusion is tomorrow.  (Yay!)  One of the things I have learned from my experiences – and from talking and reading about others’ experiences – is that cancer care costs a fortune.  I knew this in theory, but that is different than seeing the bill.  Each month, my oncologist bills $37,969 for the infusions I received today and $13,695 for the infusion I will receive tomorrow.  That does not factor in costs such as transportation and housing for those who have to travel and even live away from home to get their care.  With all of these costs, it is no wonder that people lose their homes, turn to eating ramen noodles, borrow from everyone they know, etc., just for a chance to live a longer, cancer-free life.

So many of these stories remind me of how fortunate I am.  Fortunate to find an oncologist close to home and avoid the costs of traveling and living away from home.  Fortunate enough to have a decent health insurance plan.  Oh, I have complained about it more than once, usually at the beginning of the year when I learn some co-pay has gone up (again).  Fortunate enough that my cancer is somewhat common and the chemotherapy was readily approved by my insurance.  (They have been rather stingy with the number of anti-nausea pills they will cover, though.  😦 )

Even with decent health insurance, my share for each month would have been $3,300 (x6 months).  Chemotherapy, unlike a doctor’s visit, is treated like medicine under my plan, and my share is a percentage of the medicine’s cost.  While I try to avoid plans that charge percentages for this very reason, I missed this one!  But, again, I was fortunate to have a “catastrophic limit” in my plan.  This limit is the maximum amount I have to pay out in any year for each person on the plan.  Combined with all of the expenses leading to my diagnosis, I reached the limit with my first round of chemotherapy on March 30.  (Again, though, I was fortunate to have chosen an oncologist who establishes interest-free payment plans.)  While I may whine about increased co-pays and worry about whether my anti-nausea medicine will last the month, I am very fortunate to have my health insurance.  Very fortunate indeed.

Not everyone is so fortunate; many have either no insurance or minimal insurance coverage.  Everyone should have health insurance – good health insurance, the best insurance s/he can afford.  Without it, after an accident or an encounter with a disease like cancer, anyone can go from healthy to spending a fortune to return to health.