I fear pain. Not that I have a low tolerance for it, but because I can't afford pain.

I can't afford to be sick, because I haven't had something in more than a year that I know I should have: Health insurance.

From the age of 9 until I turned 21, I was covered by either the State Children's Health Insurance Program (SCHIP) or a combination of low-income insurance. But for the past calendar year, I have been playing Russian roulette with my health. It's a game I'll play until I get a job with benefits or the policies of this country change.

I am not alone. Twenty-nine percent of Americans between the ages of 18 and 24 are without health insurance -- because their employers don't offer it, they can't afford it or they are unemployed. I belong to the "unemployed" category as a full-time college student.

These days, politicians seem to focus all of their attention on insuring children -- and rightfully so, perhaps -- but forget about a section of the population that can vote for them.

There should be a way to extend CHIP to college students who come from low-income families. I come from a single-parent household, and my mother is unable to work because of multiple sclerosis. The government through Supplemental Security Income (SSI) covers her health care. Since she could not work, my mother was able get me insurance only through CHIP, which expired when I turned 18.

That forced me to find some way to insure myself. I first found Health Partners, a not-for-profit HMO, but the company didn't cover many of my doctor's visits.

So I moved to Keystone Mercy. That policy expired when I turned 21. So for the last 15 months, I have searched for a healthcare plan that is cheap and covers prescriptions, but I have found nothing. There is no 1-800-Safe-Auto plan for health care, which only reiterates the need for universal health care.

Penn State does offer an "accident and sickness insurance plan" for students who do not have health care or whose coverage doesn't pay for procedures at Penn State. The coverage isn't free, though. It costs $1,107 annually for students to be insured by the university. That's a formidable price for a student who needs the assistance to pay tuition. I already need a student loan for expenses so that I can cover my rent, monthly bills (cable, credit card, car insurance and cell phone) and food. My monthly expenses are usually more than $1,000, and I still need some money on hand in case of an emergency, especially for the occasional late night sandwich. Since I work nights at The Daily Collegian and go to class during the day, I am unable to hold down a part-time job. This situation requires me to borrow around $10,000 per year for expenses outside of education, which when combined with loans I need for tuition, I will graduate with around $80,000 to $100,000 of debt. Could I borrow more money to cover health insurance? Sure.

But should I have to saddle myself with additional long-term debt for something that many others around the world enjoy without worry?

Being uninsured means every health decision needs to be thought out. I play the same game every time something goes wrong: Is this pain bad enough that I can stomach paying the bill? Can over-the-counter medicines treat this?

This strategy applies to doctor and hospital visits. I haven't been to my asthma doctor in two years because I can't afford the $100 fee. Even a visit to a family doctor costs more than $40. Most college students aren't burdened with the need for daily medicine, but being an asthmatic, a disease I have struggled with since I was 10, I need to take a pill and use two inhalers to be at peak physical condition.

When I was on CHIP or Health Partners and Keystone Mercy, paying for medication was an afterthought. I would get the white prescription paper, hand it in to the pharmacist and receive my pill or inhaler. Now, I must plan out when to buy my medicine because without insurance my monthly prescription bill for just pills is more than $250 -- $135 for 30 Singular brand-name pills and $124 for a generic allergy pill. The inhalers that are required I haven't purchased since losing my coverage. So I have become a mathematics professor, and I figure out how much it will cost to split my prescriptions in half each month -- 15 pills a month.

The total is still more than $100, and taking a pill every other day does not mean it will work even at half strength. Without any consistent income to speak of, I haven't had a full supply for more than a year. I am now blessed with a chronic cough that has people mistaking me for a cigarette smoker. To me, the 2008 Democratic presidential candidates have been underwhelming when discussing healthcare. Sen. Hillary Clinton's plan has some specifics that I agree with -- allowing the public the chance to get the same insurance that is available to Congress -- but it still falls short in the area of college students like me.

Clinton, Sen. Barack Obama and former Sen. John Edwards have all discussed health care during their campaigns. All of them say their goal is to provide universal coverage. Obama's plan would cost $50 billion to $60 billion per year, while Clinton's and Edwards' would cost closer to $100 billion. Each candidate would pay for the healthcare plans by allowing Bush's tax cuts to expire on schedule in 2010. The Republican candidates' plans are much more confusing. There's talk about vouchers, refundable taxes and retail walk-in clinics. The top three contenders are all avoiding the word "universal," trying to draw up plans, no matter how complicated, to avoid the idea of covering every American.

Until something changes, I sit here and wonder if that pain in my chest is heartburn from the peppers-and-sausage sandwich I just ate, or something that requires medical attention -- and a hefty bill.

Mark Myers is a senior majoring in journalism and is the night sports editor for The Daily Collegian. His e-mail address is mcm291@psu.edu.