There are a lot of things that millennials as a generation are killing — from the diamond industry to Applebee's — but it's only now, as we're staring down the weed-filled road of aging, that some articles are starting to ask, "What's going to end up killing us?"

A study by Blue Cross Blue Shield, which would probably like to keep us alive longer, if only to have us pay our premiums for more years to come, does depressing market research with its data. The first ominous news: "(T)he major decline in health, on average, begins at age 27."

I just did the math on that and recoiled at how that's closer to a decade away than the five-ish years it feels. What was happening then? Oh, yes, the decline of my metabolism. I had proudly told my husband-to-be that back when I was 20, I could eat a pizza by myself and not gain any weight.

It's OK. Even I scoff at myself in that memory now.

But it's likely that there was a portion of that freewheeling optimism, or rose-colored hindsight, left, and that it gave the study this result: Nearly 83% of those millennials studied considered themselves in good health. My somewhat cynical present-day take on that, however, is that it's likely they're in good health because they have no choice not to be in good health.

Last year, I went to the hospital for two days after a visit at a freestanding emergency room. I had pushed off all symptoms until, while self-doctoring on the internet, a symptom popped up that was described as ER-worthy. I still called the free nurse line first, and the person I spoke with told me the same thing — get to a hospital, you fool. And ... I still called my husband and mom to consult the situation, who both told me to just go. What kept stopping me was knowing that if it was nothing, I'd still likely have to pay a hefty bill.

So instead of focusing on my health, I bargained with the ER to let my husband drive me to the hospital. The doctor argued with me, asking why. I flat out told him I had bottom-of-the-barrel insurance.

While, thankfully, I've been able to take part in the Affordable Care Act, my husband and I consider it insurance only against catastrophic events. Even that day, when it was evident that I should probably worry more about myself than the money, I joined the ranks of those who are insured, kinda sorta, but not really.

For a two-night stay during which I didn't have any actual procedures but had an infusion of miracle drugs that seemed to patch up what happened internally, the bill turned out to be more than the cost of my car loan. After explaining the situation, and paying with a credit card, the hospital knocked down the bill to a seemingly arbitrary lower amount.

And, of course, I got the bill from the doctor who saw me at the ER for 15 minutes and, turns out, was not in contract with my insurance company. But that wasn't something I could control or vet when I came in. I've decided to pay him only a small negotiated sum every month as insurance that he should stay in cahoots with the universe to keep me alive if he wants to get fully paid.

My story isn't an anomaly; it's increasingly the norm and a framework of fear for daily life that not only my generation faces. But, as millennials untether themselves from the norm of traditional careers with good benefits and seek to create a society with different options that include flexibility, and maybe even that mythical work-life balance, they perhaps won't be as tethered to the idea that we're doing health care right.

Oh, and a last fun side note of that study: The No. 1 health condition affecting millennials is major depression.

Cassie McClure is a writer, wife/mama/daughter, fan of the Oxford comma, and drinker of tequila. Some of those things relate. She can be contacted at cassie@mcclurepublications.com. To find out more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: klimkin at Pixabay