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I HATE BEING IN DEBT. It makes me feel anxious and uncertain, as though my finances are out of my control. If I don’t pay all my bills in full every month, I feel trapped, and I’m endlessly restless until I get free.
I understand that other people manage their finances quite differently, and are happy to pay their bills in installments. Not me.
Years ago, I made a small bet on a minor thing. It was during a celebration with friends and family. There was some back and forth with a family member that culminated in me saying, “I’ll bet you a dollar on that.” The bet was accepted, and I lost.
I immediately stood up, pulled out a dollar bill and insisted it be accepted. My gesture came in the middle of dinner, in front of the other guests. It created an awkward moment. I later realized I’d felt compelled to pay my debt right away and in front of others, because I didn’t want to be known as someone who didn’t pay a bet.
I also didn’t want to be like my father.
When I was a child in the 1950s, I learned that my father owed money. He came into the bathroom, and I watched as he used the sink to burn some bills he owed. Not long after, he deserted the family, leaving behind my mother, me, my sister, my brother and a mountain of debt. My story of the bill burning was part of the evidence used in the divorce proceedings that followed.
Unfortunately, the debts didn’t go up in smoke along with the past due notices that my father burned. My mother paid what bills she could, and friends forgave personal loans. I don’t know precisely what happened to the rest. Still, despite our poverty, she paid regular installments for years.
In my desire to differentiate myself from my father, I resolved never to owe money under any circumstances. Small wonder then that I’d rather make a spectacle of myself paying off that silly bet.
While I abhor debt, I make several exceptions. We have a mortgage on the house, but my anxiety about the debt is allayed because I view the mortgage as a contract we’re fulfilling.
I also have “debts” in the form of my annual pledges to charity. Those must be paid in full, but I pay those obligations on my own schedule over the course of the calendar year.
I also make an exception for medical bills. In early January, I had surgery to fuse all my lumbar vertebrae. Now full of rods, screws and bone spacers, I’m progressing through a long and challenging recovery. I don’t fret about the resulting medical bills, including those for post-op therapy, when they arrive in the mail. My health insurance will cover the majority of the costs eventually, and I’ll handle the rest in due time.
I’ve learned not to send money immediately when I receive a bill for medical services. That only confuses matters. Waiting for the final explanation of benefits before sending any payment makes things go more smoothly. This can take quite some time, but I accept the need to wait for the final amount due.
Sadly, millions of people in this country don’t have good health insurance and end up with astronomical medical debt that they can never pay, assuming they’re able to get treatment at all. Debt becomes their prison.
In gratitude for my situation, I contribute to Undue Medical Debt. This group has been buying up medical debt owed by individuals and families. They’re a four-star charity on Charity Navigator. Communities, counties and states are joining the movement.
Contributions to this charity help erase billions of dollars of medical debt for individuals and families. I view my contributions as carrying on the help that my family received when I was a child. With my donations, I help to break the yoke of debt for others, open the door to their debtors’ prison, and allow them to go free.
Tom Scott is a retired Episcopal priest. He and his wife live in Evanston, Illinois. They love retirement because they get to see more of their children and grandchildren, and they can spend more time at concerts, the opera and the Chicago Botanic Garden. Check out Tom’s earlier articles.
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Another piece of advice that we learned this year is to save money for the January onslaught of prescription costs that are included before reaching the catastrophic level. We had updated my husband’s insurance to my state pension one, and got caught with an $8K bill by March for 90 day refills. Previous years, we had been refilling his medications monthly.
In principle, a dollar bet is as significant as a thousand dollar bet. If you make a bet and you lose, you pay what you owe. Otherwise, your integrity becomes suspect. It doesn’t matter if the people around you are uncomfortable. This is about your honor, not their comfort levels.
But let me add one peripheral observation about these kinds of small bets. Some may scoff at this, but I learned from a wiser friend (who often made bets) as I entered my 30s that if you WON a bet, you needed to collect what you won. That is almost as important as paying what you lose. Until then I was often the person who said “never mind”, or I often had people suggest that they didn’t need to pay, since it was all in fun, and I deferred. But anyone who does that is walking down a one-way street, going the wrong way. You always pay, but never collect.
I took my friend’s admonition to heart. I found nice ways to make sure I collected. As I got older, I was shocked at golfers who lost bets who tried to slip away. It truly is a measure of honor and integrity to pay, and they failed. My rule was usually to collect (or pay) before we walked off the course, or in some cases, before we left the lunch table. It is important to settle things in both directions. The funny thing is that no one really complained about being held to task.
One of the many absurdities of the medical system in this country is those who are uninsured and least able to pay are expected to reimburse medical providers the full sticker price for services. These providers meanwhile never expect to be reimbursed for the list price by insurance companies that are best positioned to pay.
When I read, “My health insurance will cover the majority of the costs eventually,” my first thought was, wow, this guy is an optimist. Health insrance, even when it is supposed to, pays? I have top tier medical insurance, but just had an experience where it took many hours over months to get prior authorization for a medication switch they required for treatment that had been ongoing and successful for more than nine years. Someone inside told me that they were doing this to all patients. I understand why. They wanted to save money by eliminating treatment for less persistent than I.
Then I continued reading. Undue Medical Debt is a major issue. Thank you for providing this information.
Tom, Ditto on best wishes for a full recovery.. Hope you heal quickly and completely. Thanks for sharing your story.
wishing you a speedy recovery and small medical bills.
Very nice article, Tom. It’s easy to see how your father’s behavior impacted your deep emotions on this subject.
But like you, I learned not to pay large medical bills right away. I vividly remember opening my first bill when my cancer adventure began. It was for $104,688.37. Trying to control my stress, I called my health insurance company. The guy chuckled and said, don’t pay it, wait until it’s at least 30 days past due to make sure the whole coverage process is completed. I did that for the entire four years and it worked out perfectly. I still do it with even the routine medical bills.
Undue Medical sounds like an interesting charitable idea. I donate every month to Remote Area Medical, which puts on huge free healthcare events in rural areas where medical care isn’t available or people simply can’t afford it.
Thank you all for your kind and thoughtful responses. As it happens, my sister and brother abhor debt as much as do.
I am told that after a surgery like mine, one may expect a recovery to take 12-18 months. I certainly am not racing to the finish line, but my surgery was a real success and I am grateful. The recovery will be—with therapy and exercise—all it can be.
Wishing you all the best on that, Tom. The toughest part will be the day when you’re really sore or tired and the thought creeps in that maybe it’s okay to skip your therapy exercises just for this one day. Fight that thought right down to the ground and pummel it. Much of your future quality of life will depend on what you do every single day. Go go go.
Mike, I am stiff, sore, and uninterested in exercise every day of the week that ends in “y”. I just do it. Thanks for the encouragement.
Swimming everyday can help with a speedier & better recovery.
Thank you for your personal story. I never liked being in debt either. A countdown to freedom was always running in my head, while paying monthly vehicle, mortgage, or my husband’s student loans.
Happily one personal loan nurtured my path to a comfortable life: paying off my parents’ $3,000 PLUS loan for my undergrad education. They had agreed to fund my first two years of housing and tuition. All the other expenses of those four years would be mine. The payments were about $66 a month and upon my graduation I took over the payments. I believe I paid it off within two years. Thankfully my final year I received a tuition scholarship, so my 1980’s “waitressing” (now serving!) and savings covered the rest.
Tom, to begin I hope you get relief from the agony of your back problems. Regarding Undue Medical, the city of Toledo has partnered with a similar entity, RIP Medical Debt, in order to help people with their crushing bills. I do find it sad though, that many people who could be helped with subsidies to buy insurance via the Affordable Care Act have chosen to go without health insurance.
Sadly many have done that based on false and misinformation they choose to believe. The average health insurance subsidy is $526 per month and over 19 million out of 21 million enrolled receive a subsidy so for many not have insurance is not a financial issue.
Richard, you just nailed the topic of my soon to be published article. I hope you like it.
During the covid pandemic I know someone who went to the emergency room at a local hospital. Other than 1 scan, they were treated in the waiting room due to covid crowding. Turns out just to have been a kidney stone, but since it was their first they had no idea and consequently they thought their life was in peril so they went to the nearest hospital which wasn’t “in network”. They had a bronze ACA policy, but their share of the $30K emergency room bill was $8K. They had very modest jobs, so $8K was huge to them. So even with policies, medical debt can be crushing.
I totally agree. They were responsible people, doing what was best for them. Hopefully they can get some help.
RIP Medical Debt is the old name for Undue Medical Debt. It seems the name just changed.
Thanks, Reverend Scott, for an inspiring story, and for telling us about a worthy charity. Years ago, when I lived in a small upstate New York City, the local paper published the financial judgments in humiliating detail (probably legally required): name, address, amount and debtor. The addresses were almost always in poor neighborhoods and the debtor was usually the local public hospital. One particular amount was so frequent that I came to understand that it was the cost of an emergency room visit. I knew these folks had no chance of securing loans for cars or higher education until the debt was paid. Very sad, and it seemed unjust.
Rev. Scott, thank you for a very meaningful article.
my husband and I used Charity Navigator in preparing our wills and found it a trusted resource.
your article reminded me of a placard sign I saw just yesterday. It said “kindness is everything.”
Nice story Tom. It’s inspiring to see that you were able to turn your negative childhood memories into a positive by helping others get out of debt. Good for you.