The last time that I had health care was in 2001. Since the age of 16, the longest amount of time that I have spent unemployed has been two months. I show up to work on time, don’t cut corners, and am relatively efficient. I’ve never stolen from an employer, unless you count ballpoint pens.

For me, my American Dream is to enjoy my work, have friends, be a productive member of the community, be healthy and safe, and not have my power shut off. Making shit loads of money has never been a goal of mine. I am aware that the choices I have made affect whether or not I get health insurance. Hartford is the insurance capital, after all. I could easily go into any number of corporations and get hired on the spot—that says more about their standards than my own egotism, by the way. I’d probably make more money and have insurance, but I would not feel like my work was meaningful or that my skills were being used. It’s not much of a joke when I say that working at such a place would send me into intense therapy. I’ve worked at places where I did not believe in what I was doing, and have no desire to return to that.

That’s the choice I’m being asked to make– live free and neglect my health, or be miserable but have a doctor ready to prescribe medicine. It’s not fair that my physical life is connected to career choice.

There are other choices, of course. I could marry into health care, but that would essentially be prostituting myself out so that I could say I had a PCP. I could take advantage of the system by going to the emergency room for treatment of every ache and pain. My employer does allow workers to buy into health care, but the rates are too high for a single person. If I had two other people to put on the plan, it’d make sense, but as it is, I’d have very little take home pay. So, then, how would I pay for rent, car insurance, food, gas, or electricity?

Health care is a hot issue right now, with Michael Moore’s new film and the 2008 election coming up, yet most of the talk about health care comes from people who have it. It’s good to have allies, but it’s not the same to imagine a problem as it is to experience it. Having no health care means that my “right to choose” is more abstract than concrete. Because I’d have no way to cover all of the costs associated with child birth and any possible health complications, I am essentially forced to postpone having a family. I figure that I can accept postponement for about another 5-7 years, and then after that, my reproductive choice is again limited by nature. Not having health care means that going to the dentist every six months costs money, but less than delaying it, which could result in multiple fillings or root canals. It means avoiding certain sports like hockey and skateboarding because a broken bone would be a financial burden, and not just a lot of physical pain.

At the presidential candidate forum yesterday, Edwards, Clinton, and Kucinich all promised universal health care. I want to believe that our leaders care about whether or not their constituents have long, healthy lives. Between insufficient health care and the war, I’m led to believe otherwise.