You Want Frustration? Apply For Healthcare As A Retired Cop

I don't want to rant here....but I'm going to. For those who'd rather not read angry words today, feel free to navigate to another page where there's sunshine, butterflies, rainbows and unicorns, because there ain't gonna be any of that here.

Having turned sixty-three on the 27th of last month and being retired through Ohio Police and Fire Pension Fund, the time of year has come where decisions need to be made concerning healthcare coverage, with the current pre-Medicare enrollment period ending after December fifteenth.

Last year, OPF decided to opt out of providing affordable (emphasis on 'affordable') health coverage for its retired members, changing course to a third-party vendor.

It was, and apparently still is, a disaster...especially for those of us under age 65.

This third-party vendor, Aon, made available a very short list of health plans to me, all through Medical Mutual; I couldn't go out and find my own plan, which would have disqualified me for a $685 monthly stipend to help cover premium costs, nor could I enroll on my wife's plan, provided by her employer.

I paid $1313 every month for healthcare in 2019, aided by the OPF stipend, but the coverage was terrible. The yearly deductible is $6500, and not a single one of my current physicians is in network.

"But that $685 a month from OPF..." you say? Well, that has a cap. These last three months of 2019 took $3,939 directly out of my rather shallow pockets. I'm retired on total disability, you see, and secondary employment would endanger my pension, so getting another job isn't an option. Besides, my lower spine couldn't take the added demands.

Which brings us to today.

OPF changed its rules regarding the stipend this year, I'm sure due to the howling of us retired pre-Medicare coppers and hose-draggers. Now we can go out on the open market...but our outside plans must be compatible with those outlined in stipulations set forth by the (Un)Affordable Care Act back in 2008. As an aside, back when that went into effect, my monthly premiums more than doubled; you know, so you, I and every other working stiff could pay for the healthcare of those streaming across our borders illegally and those in our population that are able-bodied but refuse to find gainful employment, choosing rather to remain on the generational government dole.

My current health plan's premium will increase to over $1500 a month in 2020, a plan that I didn't use at all in 2019. Everything was out-of-pocket; doctor's visits and prescription drugs. I skimped on my scrips in order to make a supply last longer and only saw Doc Becker twice, both times a six-month checkup for my diabetes. Other ailments that popped up, which should have included seeing Doc Becker? Nahh...

So, as our last few days of searching for something that resembles a decent health insurance plan (which, like the aforementioned unicorns, doesn't exist) dwindles from days to hours to minutes, I pause to wonder where this madness will end; why, after giving 31 years of my life to serving the public and putting myself in harm's way for the good of the citizenry, I can't afford my yearly December checkup with my cancer specialist. Why I have to endure pain of varying degrees daily in my metal-reinforced lower spine, metal knee, shoulders and hands, all due to on-the-job injuries. Why I can't afford a nine hundred dollar invoice that comes with getting pain-relieving injections in those hands and shoulders. I have to sleep in my recliner nightly in order to sleep at all; can't sleep on my back or sides anymore.

It all just makes me want to throw up my hands and quit, stop the checkups and medication and take my chances. We all have a number attached to our lives, a number unbeknownst to us that, sooner or later, will come up.

The Good Lord willing, mine will be much later rather than sooner...provided He guides my bride and I to that unicorn healthcare plan.