Every now and then I have a moment of panic about the fact that I don’t have life insurance. I tried to get cover before we had children when I *only* had diabetes, and found it a bit tricky.
Once you have a baby (and unwittingly give all your personal details to every company that might want to market at you as a new parent), you receive regular postal reminders that you are inviting disaster upon your loved ones if you don’t have life insurance. Responding to one of these friendly nudges, I decided to actually get on and get a policy sorted. I wrote this poem about the experience:
Please excuse me if I seem a little strange –
I just got off the phone
To a nice insurance lady
From the comfort of my home.
She told me ever so politely
How much it would cost
To pay my way to peace of mind
In case of, well, the worst.
So many current negatives
That I can’t quite forget,
‘Joint replacement’ is a ‘”No” for now
Because it hasn’t happened, yet.
Looking forward to life’s next thing
Should be exciting, full of possibility
But after this series of questions
It feels a bit different for me.
I know I cannot add a single hour
By counting ‘ifs’ and ‘whens’,
But understand it is draining,
Living life through this lens.
I hope I have years – no, decades,
Before the conversation gets longer
Before there are more “Yesses” than “Nos”
And my resolve has to be that bit stronger.
After a two-month wait, I was rejected by the insurance broker in a one-line letter. So I still don’t have insurance, but am choosing not to worry about it. And that next marketing letter is going straight in the bin.
The Chronic Parent 