This morning we had a very detailed health care meeting to talk about a new insurance program at work. I love that my company cares enough to provide this benefit to its employees. And I love that our new insurance broker brings us bagels and cream cheese. You could probably get me pumped about most things on a Friday morning if you brought me bagels and cream cheese.
Health care is among those issues I care about the most. I think it’s something everyone should have available to them. I’m not a politician or a financial guru, so I don’t know exactly how this should work logistically, but I know there are countries where this is working. You can nit pick all you want on faulty care in these countries, but trust me, we have that under our current system. Something has to change and that’s why I voted the way I did in November.
Even as an uber conservative teenager in the early 90’s, I remember reading about Hillary’s proposed national health care plan and not understanding why most of the Christians I knew were so anti-anything Hillary (or Democratic party for that matter.) To me, her plan seemed entirely more humanitarian in a WWJD sort of way. (And if you need me to translate that accronymn, e-mail me at my new sparkly e-mail address and we can chat – queenofquirky at the g-mail.) But what did I know? At the time and in the circle of Christians I was influenced by, loving Jesus meant voting/supporting/ being Republican. End of story.
I’m so thankful for the influencers later in my life who helped me connect my compassion for people with my political beliefs and my (albeit very private) faith.
I’m also thankful for the people later in my life who put health care in its place. Back in Rocky Mount, there was this one copy editor –an uber hot, uber liberal, women’s rights hippie with a killer knack for vintage fashion. She was outspoken, opinionated and self-confident. I had never met anyone like her.
I think she was my first girl crush.
With a flash of her golden smile, a flick of her long, thick hair and the sway of her hips over her long legs emphasized by platform heeled sandals, she melted even the crustiest of editors in their chairs.
Colleen knew how to capture a room. During a similar meeting with our health insurance representative, she did just that.
Following a long presentation detailing co-pays and deductables and a tiered pharmacuetical plan, Colleen raised her hand.
“Excuse me. Could you please share with us where Viagra falls in the tiered plan?”
Our precious, very Southern H.R. lady looked horrified. The rest of us choked back laughter. Oh, Colleen. Where is this going?
The gentleman sweating in his suit showed her that Viagra could be purchased under the cheapest tier.
“Nice,” Colleen pointed out. “See, I take great offense to that because my birth control is in the highest tier – see, it falls in the $X tier. So what you are telling me is that my right to protect my reproduction is less important to your company than a man’s right to ensure he has a boner.”
Colleen, wherever you are, I will never forget your ability to take down the man. I hope you are still kicking and fighting in your sexy shoes.