Insurance

I won't pretend that I have ever been a huge lover of insurance companies. I have been known to raise my voice somewhat when they are mentioned, and occasionally, if my kids are not in earshot, use a profanity or two when referring to their latest swindle/shnakiness/incompetence/general take-your-money-and-leave-you-for-dead attitude.

So to say that I have form when it comes to complaining about insurers would be fair.

What isn't fair, in my opinion, is that businesses who provide travel insurance in Ireland are being violently discriminatory to the thousands of Irish citizens who are now - *gulp* - survivors [kills me to use the word, but there it is].

Those of us who have "Cancer" in our past medical history, or in our presenting complaint. Those of us who have to tick the box, "are you on a waiting list for any tests or procedures?" EVERY time we fill out a form. Those of us who are living our lives as perfectly normal people, but have a steaming vat of hot malignant oil teetering over our heads at all times. 

We would like to get away from it all. We would like to dip our chemo-banjaxed toes into the warm waters of the Caribbean. We would like to swoop and shriek on Disney-fied rollercoasters with our delirious children. We would like to take a big red marker to our bucket list and marvel at the Northern Lights, or track Tom Waits down in some dingey SoHo dive, or do the backstroke in the Canadian lakes. Or whatever the f*ck we are physically able to do, because, well, you know, dying an' all. 

And yet if we dare to take ourselves off on a plane to another country, the very kind people who very kindly sold us that lovely cheap multitrip travel policy, or the other sound folks who sold us that pretty hefty health insurance policy, will turn around with an appalled hand-over-mouth look if we tell them that we have A Preexisting Condition. It's like admitting to having a criminal record for liquidising cats, or something. You know, I'd almost actually prefer if it was leprosy that I had, because then being treated like a proverbial leper would at least make sense. 

Most insurers simply say No. 

"No we don't cover that." 

"I am sorry, but we are unable to provide a quote in these circumstances". 

"We are not in a position to provide cover given the information you have submitted".

I get that there are formulae. I have a vague understanding of risk stratification, and actuarial calculations, and whatnot.

But I suspect, strongly, that these calculations are based on very old medical data, when yes indeed anyone with my kind of cancer would be travelling nowhere except in a nice shiny hearse. 

The UK companies seem to have been able to adjust their figures, and a number of different firms now offer relatively reasonable rates for single- and multi-trip policies for patients who are in the middle of chemotherapy or who have been given terminal diagnoses. They are unable, or unwilling, to cover people who are not resident in the UK. Now, I don't know much about this kind of thing, but as we are still pre-Brexit, are there not some kind of EU agreements about this stuff? Also, if the insurance you are selling is specifically for someone who will be somewhere other than their home country, surely it shouldn't matter where their journey started? 

I have heard of two women, with almost identical stage 4 diagnoses, who both applied for travel insurance for a single trip. One lady lives in the UK and was travelling outside of the EU, and the other lady, who lives in Ireland, is taking a trip to Spain and has an EHIC card. The British lady's disease has, on paper, a worse prognosis, and her treatment plan is one with slightly more risk of side effects. They both declared all of their medical information and disclosed every bit of detail about their condition that was requested. 
The British lady's quote was £48. 
The Irish lady's quote was €280.

I am looking forward to travelling to New York City (my first time there!) in July for the MWIA congress. However, all of my planning and preparing for the trip has been slightly marred by the fear of the dreaded US medical system, where I will be bankrupted if I cough funny and someone foolishly calls me an ambulance. I will need the equivalent of a DNR sign around my neck, except it would say "Do Not Treat At All, In Any Circumstances, I Can't Afford It". (DNTAAIACICAI doesn't really have a great ring to it, though.) I did look into maybe getting some insurance, though I knew it was going to be a long shot. 
These were my quotes:

No
No
No
€693
No
No
€679
No

For a five-day trip. 

22,000 people per year are diagnosed with cancer in Ireland. The Irish Cancer Society quotes a figure of a 1 in 2 lifetime risk. This encompasses a broad range of diagnoses and prognoses, and many of these people would not be deemed to be "high-risk" travellers. But many more would be, especially those who have received their treatment within the past five years. The insurance companies are excluding themselves from a massive, and growing, market, based on outdated statistics and old-fashioned attitudes to stage 4 cancer. 

I am the last person to advocate on financial services' behalf, but I strongly feel that they are missing a lucrative commercial trick here.

And we all know that that is their favourite kind.