Editor's note: YO! Youth Outlook blogger Eming Piansay relates her recent experiences with health care as part of YO!'s week-long blog-a-thon on health care reform.  To learn more about the blog-a-thon, and to read other health care blogs, visit YO! here.

I stood outside the Members Service office at Kaiser, with my heart wedged uncomfortably in my throat. The helpful people at the pharmacy had informed me I was no longer listed as a Kaiser member.

For the past twenty-three years I have been consistently secure through my father's health coverage by his work.  Doctor's visits became so regular and easy that it never once dawned on me that I wouldn't have the luxury of them anymore. Then, I graduated from college and my security blanket got ripped out from under me, and doused in kerosene. The funny thing about health coverage is that for some weird reason they think that, by the time you've finished with school, you have gotten your shit together to the point where you have a full time job that pays for your health care.

I'm hopeful I'll get that soon, but for the time being I have the constant fear of getting run over by a car, or developing some kind of cancer in my nose.

On the one hand, I think its great that our government is finally taking a look at the broken system of health care as a whole and trying to figure out what no longer works and what needs to change.

There's really nothing like staring at the Kaiser Member Services assistant and trying not to cry while explaining your situation. There was an elderly woman in front of me who had just retired, and her co-payments on her medication had just gone up. She was asking the guy to "help her." But there was nothing he could do. I knew it. The people behind me knew it. Everyone but her knew she was in a no win situation. I silently wondered to myself if whoever sat behind that desk ever considered going home and blowing their brain outs after hearing story after story about how Kaiser members needed X Y and Z services but they are either no longer covered, or their insurance no longer covered them for certain things. I would be sitting in the back room with my head between my legs and a box of tissues crammed into my bra for safekeeping.

Post Health Care Hell is scary place. My trip to the free health clinic was a sobering experience after getting kicked from my insured health care bubble. I was the 2nd to last in line out of about ten other women in the small waiting room.

I fiddled with my phone. I stared up at the wall photos of people who worked there. I watched the women move back and forth behind the wall of glass, getting paper work together, typing up patient records etc. The hours ticked away so slowly, long with my remaining sanity.

But I hung in there. I waited. And despite only seeing the doc for less than half an hour, I walked out with my little green health care card. Woo hoo, go me.

Granted, the little green card won't help me much in terms of car accidents and random dengue fever incidents but it is nice to have it.

I sincerely hope that I, and other Americans not insured get something good out of this overdue health care debate, because Post Health Care Hell is fun for no one. Everyone deserves health care, no matter their current place atop the social ladder, or income, period.