risking health insurance

As New Year's Eve approached, Regine, 29, faced a massive credit debt, along with mortgage interest rate increases and rising oil prices. Stressed, she resolved that the time had come when she had to cut all non-essential spending -- or lose her apartment -- and like millions of other people around the world she put quitting cigarettes on the top of her list of New Year resolutions.

"I couldn't bear to lose my apartment, not after I'd worked so hard to raise a deposit and keep up the monthly repayments," says Regine, "and if push came to shove I would rather starve than find myself back in a rented room."

"I'd tried to quit smoking many times before, what smoker hasn't?" sighs Regine, "and because it was so important for me to get out of debt I really needed to succeed this time -- there was absolutely no way I could justify wasting any more money on cigarettes, especially since my smoking habit yellows the ceiling of my living room so quickly that I have to pay to get a professional cleaner in every year."

"Having tried nicotine patches and gum before without any luck -- and having no willpower whatsoever -- I resolved to see my doctor and get fixed up with the latest quit smoking drug," says Regine, "but before I got that far I came across an article warning smokers about the suicidal side effects of the most popular new drug, Champix, and I freaked out."

"Apparently, there were 5,157 complaints about Champix in just one week in the USA where it is taken by four million people), and seven deaths and more than 1,300 complaints in the UK (where it is taken by a quarter of a million people)."

"I suppose if you divide the number of people taking the drug with the reported deaths and complaints the figure doesn't look too bad," says Regine, "but the thought of the slightest risk of ending up with a psychiatric problem and slashing my wrists was just too much for me to deal with."

"Even if the side effect was headaches, nausea and vomiting I still didn't think it was a good trade-off," says Regine. "If the whole purpose of taking the drug is to prevent withdrawal symptoms then why on earth would I take something that may cause equal if not worse problems?"

"If the drug cannot guarantee to make me feel good while relieving cravings and withdrawal symptoms, then it is utterly useless."

"Also, if the drug cannot guarantee to stop you smoking for at least a year it is also utterly useless," adds Regine, "and that seems to be the case with Champix, too. Only 22.5% of smokers on the drug had successfully quit in the trials. That is not a huge number and it probably consisted of strong will-power people who would have quit successfully with or without the drug."

"Pfizer, the drug company associated with Champix, has now been forced to add a suicidal warning on the product, but why was the drug allowed on the market in the first place if it is so dangerous?" asks Regine. "For God's sake, seven people have already died on this drug. It looks like the drug company, with a nod from the government, is just experimenting on us."

"We're just smokers, aren't we?" sighs Regine. "We're expendable human scum as far as the drug companies, the government and our health care systems are concerned. They don't care. It's as simple as that."

"Well, that put an end to my New Year resolution to quit smoking," says Regine. "If there are no guarantees to stop me smoking safely, then I'm doomed to remain a smoker. And, that being the case, the government is also a thief and a thug for increasing tobacco tax to the point where some people may have to lose their home."

"Crossing cigarettes off my list, that left health insurance, my automobile and my beauty salon expenses."

"Like cigarettes, driving and receiving beauty therapy make me feel good -- health insurance, on the other hand, is merely an insurance policy and is by far the most expensive bill I have to pay (because, ha ha, I disclosed I smoked and then I had to pay more)."

"It's a total care private health insurance -- I took it out over and above normal health care because I wanted first class care should I ever fall ill, here or overseas," explains Regine. "I have never used it in the seven years I've had it, and probably never will. It's an insurance policy, that's all."

"In the current climate of 'bash a smoker' -- and my trust in drug companies, governments and health care now being a big fat zero -- I had a sinking feeling that should I ever end up needing healthcare, the PC health insurance company could very well find a sneaky way to deny me what I needed on the basis of continued smoking."

"On that basis, I'd be a mug to keep on paying for something I'm never going to get."

"Once I deducted that huge expense from my salary I felt positively rich," laughs Regine. "I figure that I should be able to pay off my credit debt within the year, if I'm careful, and I don't have to stress myself unnecessarily by trying to stop smoking again."

"And stress is what it's all about."

"I know it sounds bad that people have to go without health insurance in order to keep their homes -- or choose cigarettes over health insurance," says Regine, "but when you factor in the incredible stress of daily life and trying to make ends meet you really are way ahead in health and happiness once you cut out a huge expense you really don't need."

"It's going to be happy new year for me after all," says Regine, "but my heart goes out to those four and a quarter million Champix guinea-pigs who are now back where they started, most of them a lot worse off for the experience, too."

Regine's story first appeared as suicidal quit smoking drug

noise sensitivity & sleep deprivation

Tara is 51, divorced, works in the banking industry and remains living in the old house she moved into twenty-five years ago as a blushing young bride.

"I'm more like a flushing old woman these days," laughs Tara, "but my problem is not so much menopause as the noise of garbage collection."

"I never noticed the noise when my kids were home," says Tara, "but now that they've left home it's really getting to me."

For women like Tara who have spent most of their lives sleeping to the sounds of children in the house, learning to fall asleep and stay asleep when the kids have left home can be a big problem.

"Empty nests do tend to rattle a bit," laughs Tara, "but it’s definitely not the sounds of snoring kids that I miss. On the contrary, I couldn’t wait for them to leave home!"

Tara is kept awake at night by a new system of garbage collection, and although she laughs about her situation it is a lot more serious than she admits.

"I fall asleep okay," says Tara, "but once I hear the garbage collection noise that's it -- I can't get back to sleep and I guess I'm suffering from sleep deprivation. I have a tendency to start nodding off early afternoons at work and everybody is noticing how tired I look."

"The city has brought in a bizarre new system of garbage collection that sends a truck down one side of my street on Sunday night and the following night, on Monday, he does the other side of my street."

"On Tuesday night the garbage is collected on one side of the adjacent street, and on Wednesday the other side of the adjacent street gets done."

"I have no idea what the garbage collector does Thursdays to Saturdays, but I wouldn't be surprised if he works as a merchant banker," laughs Tara. "Everyone diversifies these days,"

"The point I'm trying to make is that from Sunday to Wednesday - particularly Sundays and Mondays - I am awakened by a monstrous garbage collection unit bumping and grinding its way from bin to bin," sighs Tara, "and from Thursday to Saturday I wake in anticipation of hearing it."

Having her sleep pattern determined by a garbage collector does not please Tara at all, and having her work productivity jeopardized by her inability to get a good night's rest does not please her either.

"I can remember when I first came here 25 years ago," says Tara. "Way back then we had an old tin garbage bin and one guy drove the truck and a couple of guys would pick up the bins and chuck the contents into the truck, doing both sides of the street, as well as the adjacent street, on the same night."

"Sure, it was abominably noisy, much worse than now," says Tara, "but we only had to put up with one night of really bad banging and clanging and cuss words, and that was it. Perfect peace for the remaining six nights."

"I can't remember exactly when the giant green plastic wheelie bins replaced the tin bins, but it must have been about ten years ago," says Tara. "They were the butt of many silly jokes such as: Q: "Where you been? A: "At my mother's." Q: "Liar, where you wheelie bin? A: "I wheelie bin down the pub."

"As far as I can remember, the introduction of wheelie bins didn't disturb my sleep," says Tara. "It is only since the garbage collection route changed that I started noticing the noise."

"I heard that when the wheelie bins were introduced thousands of casual workers were put out of a job," says Tara. "And I suppose it is not politically correct to call the garbage man what he is any more. Instead, I guess he calls himself a sanitation engineer. He is neat and clean and dressed in a uniform. What a change from the sort of dress the old garbage collectors wore -- colorful old boots, shorts, jerseys and beanies."

"The garbage collection unit picks up bins automatically, without need of a human being to touch them and it's less dangerous and more hygienic and efficient than the old system," says Tara, "but I don't understand why it was deemed inefficient to turn the truck around and do the other side of my street at the same time. Instead, the truck just keeps on going in a straight line, returning the next night to do the other side of my street. It's crazy!"

"One night, just for fun - or in a mood for revenge - I deliberately turned my wheelie bin around so that its handles were not pointing towards the road as directed by the instructions on the bin," says Tara. "I wanted to sabotage the system, I wanted the driver to actually get out of the unit and do some old-fashioned garbage collection work. Unfortunately, my bin wasn't emptied that night!"

"Sure, I've tried using earplugs but I ended up sleeping through the alarm and was late for work, and I've also tried complaining to the local authority to get them to change the route and system back to how it was and they didn't take any notice of me."

"You can't stop progress!" laughs Tara.

"Someone suggested that I should make 7pm my bedtime and get up at 2am," says Tara. "It would assure me 7 hours of blissful sleep but I'd have no life!"

"Another suggestion was to soundproof my home and do some double glazing," says Tara. "It would be costly, but then I worried that I wouldn't be able to hear things I wanted to hear - such as birds singing in the morning - or things I needed to hear - such as an intruder trying to break into my place."

"Yes, I really do hear birds singing in the morning on the fringe of the city where I live," says Tara, "and occasionally a house gets broken into, too."

"A further suggestion was to try recording the noise of the bumping grinding garbage collection unit and learn to go to sleep with it," laughs Tara. "Frankly, I would rather send the recording to my local representative in his fortress home in the hills and let him hear what the plebs have to put up with."

"One thing I will not do is take sleeping pills," says Tara. "And another thing I will not do is move out of the city completely to get away from noise because I've worked out that it is only because it is relatively peaceful where I live that noises sound ten times worse than they would in the heart of the city. In a whisper quiet rural setting, the slightest noise would wake me!"

"Using that logic, if I were to move at all it would be closer to the city in a really noisy area," laughs Tara. "It sounds crazy, but when you live with constant noise you get used to it."

"I'd miss the birds singing, though, if I moved," says Tara."I guess I'll go back to earplugs and buy half a dozen alarm clocks to make sure I wake up in time for work!