Working for the Man. Getting screwed by the Man's Insurance Plan.

My insurance card is not laminated. It is so symbolic (emblematic?) of the coverage this plan provides, which is to say, THE BARE MINIMUM.
You people are killing me. I cannot go to the hospital. I cannot go to the eye doctor. I cannot get sick or die because nobody will pay for it.
DAMMIT.
If I passed out right now, hit my desk, and toppled over, the mice would fall out of the ceiling and eat me before this health plan could file and refuse my claim.
It sounds bleak because it is.