Gosh, is that the time day already??!
Someone – we won’t mention any names (Rose) – has just pointed out that it has been 8 days since my last post. My reaction was: “Really? Oops!”
And so I sit on a Wednesday afternoon, wondering what the hell happened to Tuesday. I recall Monday all right… ah yes, now I remember. I spent all day yesterday trying to find health insurance for me and The Husband. Things like that will suck up a whole day without any qualms and the next thing you know you’ve lost a day.
It’s all part of moving to a new country. We have settled in spectacularly well here but there are still things that have us fumbling around in the dark at times. Health insurance is one of them. First you have to get your head around how the health system works. Then you have to find a private health insurance plan that suits you. Do you have any idea how many private health insurance companies there are in Australia?!
The good news is I think I’ve found the right product for us, at the right price.
The bad news is I suspect we’re going to have to go through this process all over again when we start looking at life insurance and all the stuff that goes with it (and by “we”, of course I mean “me”).
This Health Insurance thing was sparked off when I received a letter from the government reminding me that as a new migrant I have a year from when I registered with the public health service to get some private health insurance if I want to avoid the LHC Loading surcharge (long story – check the link if you’re interested). The point is that it felt really good to be officially here, so much so that they sent me a letter in order to try and make my life easier in the long-term. It wasn’t a mass form letter that they would send out to the whole population. This was specifically for me, based on my personal circumstances.
I know many people hate the idea of “Big Brother Watching You” but in fact I am really glad to have moved to a new country and feel like I have been accepted into the population to the point where the government is actually looking out for my interests. It may sound strange to some but when you leave your home country there is a feeling of displacement that can go with it. We spent 8 years in Ireland and all that time we only ever felt we were fighting to be able to stay there. As a result it never felt like home. There was nothing to make us feel welcome, or like we belonged there.
So okay, we had to fill out 3 tonnes of paperwork, fork out a load of cash and wait almost 3 years to be able to move to Australia but you know what? It turns out it was worth it. We’re here, they know we’re here and they’re doing their utmost to make us feel that we belong.
So yeah, good on ya, mates 🙂