Wrong number

So, last week, I got a call while I was making dinner.  It was a market research firm, asking
how I felt about health insurance companies here in Utah.

Telemarketers and door-to-door salesmen are way, way down on the list of things I'm willing to spend attention on.

This time, however, I thought, "I have just completed itemizing my deductions, and having our advocacy efforts for insurance reform squashed for a second year in a row.  Yes, I will tell you how I feel about our insurance company."

To summarize, I gave the insurance company low marks.  I gave our care providers high marks.  Our doctors and teachers and therapists are awesome.  Our insurance plan, which does not cover autism is not.  Our insurance company which lobbies our state legislature to make sure they don't have to, is not.  It is the opposite of awesome.

The phone call lasted for what seemed like a really long time, even though my answers were quick.  I had to hang up on her when the meltdown started (Ben's not mine), but apparently there were a couple more bits to the survey that I missed.

A few days later, they called back.  This time, I didn't answer - potty training trumps all.  The second time, I was exiting a car on a busy street, about to go on a much-needed night out.  I wouldn't have answered, but I thought it might be the babysitter.  I fear I may have been abrupt with them.

The third time was tonight.  Dinner was on the table and Ben seemed relatively stable, so I answered (this is from memory, and may not be exact):

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm calling from Lighthouse...is this the person who responded to our survey the other day?"

"Oh yes. Ben, put that down."

"We just have a few more questions. Have you seen any advertising for SelectHealth recently?'

"I don't recall seeing any. Okay, I'll get you more juice...eat your squash!"

"How about TV ads?"

"We watch TV over the internet and avoid all ads. Here're some trains."

"Radio?"

"Public radio. Eat your squash."

"Billboards?"

"Okay, I'll get the BLUE train."

(I have to put the phone down for 2 minutes to go find the BLUE train)

"Sorry, billboards? Maybe...wait...I did see an ad on a bus."

"Great! How did it make you feel?"

"I remember thinking SelectHealth...wow I really hate those guys!"

"What?! Why?" (the interviewer sounds amused)

"We were on our way to speech therapy.  SelectHealth doesn't have to cover any of his therapy because he's autistic.  I know that SelectHealth lobbied the state legislature to keep it that way. Use your fork to eat your food, please."

"Oh, ok. Well, that's all my questions. Thank you for your time."

"No, no, thank you. Bye. Do you need to go potty?"

Balls.

18, 532.  That's how many balls were displayed in the Utah-shaped enclosure.  I showed up late to the event on Capitol Hill, and there was only clean-up to do.  I held out a big plastic bag while Home Depot volunteers scooped balls into it with a shovel.  We filled up bag after bag, until the pit was not very deep.

Mirella said, "At some point, it's easier to pick them up one-by-one," so I squatted down and started picking up balls.  After a few minutes, I stopped and looked at the ball in my hand.  This is a child I'm holding.

We had bags and bags of them...big bags, stuffed to the brim, and there were still so many on the floor.  I looked at the bags against the wall and the remainder in the pit.  I wonder which one of them is Ben?

I don't know if this display had any effect on our legislators, but it got me right in the feels.

So, that's a lot of balls kids.  I was impressed by Senator Mayne when SB55 was discussed in the Business and Labor committee.  She was an educator for many years and talked about seeing the impact of autism on not just the kids, but the families too.

I shouted at my monitor when I heard this Fox News story on the meeting.  Towards the 2:30 mark, the reporter says something like "there are about 18,000 parents watching this debate with a real investment in its outcome."  I'm sure it was just a brain fart on his part, but it usually takes 2 parents to make a child, so that would be 36,000.

It's not easy to be the sibling of an autistic kid either.  Utah has the highest rate of children per couple in the country, but let's say it's 2 for easy math.  Two grown-ups and two kids times 18,532 = 74,128 people whose lives will be directly impacted by this bill.  It's not as straightforward as that, of course -- some people have multiple autistic kids, and this bill won't affect uninsured people, and so on.  On the other hand, I'm not including grandparents or classmates or friends or co-workers or any of the other relationships that wind up being altered by one kid with autism.  When you help one kid...just one, you are helping all those people too.

Okay, enough talk...time to go make dinner.  A family's got to eat.