On July 16 at 2 a.m., the repo man came to his home in Schuylkill County, loaded the truck on a flatbed, and drove it away in the dead of night.
"I cry when I think about that truck," he says. "It's humiliating to me that I can't pay my bills."
His is a common humiliation. The magnitude of the crisis is well known: 46 million uninsured, according to the U.S. Census Bureau; 80 million struggling to pay medical bills, according to the nonprofit Commonwealth Fund; premiums paid by workers doubling in 10 years, according to the journal Health Affairs; and at least 18,000 people a year dying because they lack health insurance, according to the Institute of Medicine.
This series, in the coming weeks, will bring those numbers to life.
Stories like these are hidden and rarely draw attention - a temp worker who can't get a cancer test until she gets insurance; a home health aide who can't afford a hernia operation; a young rock and roller who gives a fake name to avoid an emergency-room bill.
These aren't exceptional cases. And that's the point.
Daskus, 41, grew up in Minersville, three miles from Pottsville, in small-town central Pennsylvania. He has worked since he was 19. He was in trade school to become a cabinetmaker, but his father died, and he worked to help support his mother.
For 16 years, he worked for Schuylkill Products, a company that made concrete highway bridge beams. In 2006, he took a job with Tredegar Performance Films, closer to his home, operating a machine that made plastic wrap for paper towels.
He was earning about $2,000 a month, with a raise due when he hit his one-year anniversary. He was paying $256 a month out of his check for health insurance for him and his wife.
In the summer of 2007, he had fatigue, fever and flu symptoms that he couldn't shake. He assumed this was just the consequence of working staggered shifts - nights, days, then nights again - which can wear a man out fast.
