My pre-existing condition is that I’m human.
As a human being, I am both strong and fragile. Accidents, maladies, genetic variations, viruses and other smack* happens to me. I grow and grow and grow, then I stop growing and just be-be-be, until I begin my descent (i.e., deteriorate ) and, eventually, die (of one thing or the other).
I don’t know what’s going to get me or when. The possibilities are endless.
“It” is every where – in the food, in the water, in the vessels in which the food is packaged and prepared. It is in the air. It is in the radiation beaming from space, across the room, and into my ear. Some people weather these daily assaults and live long lives nonetheless. Others succumb and fall along the way, sometimes even as babies who did nothing more than be born. Each of us is invaded by one “it” or another.
Picture this: two sisters. They have the same mother, same father. They grow up in the same household, eat the same foods, drink the same water, and attend the same schools. One sister, after feeling poorly and out-of-sorts for a while, is diagnosed, at age 23 with an autoimmune disease. In subsequent years she will be denied coverage because of her pre-existing condition. As if it is her fault.
My pre-exiting condition is being human. Are you really not gonna cover that?
*a phrase from back-in-the day used instead of s**t.