The oh-I-could-never-do-that response

September 17, 2012

Sometimes we do things that are hard.  Occasionally something is easy, but often it’s hard.  Very hard.  Damn hard.  We do it to improve our health.

So why do we do these difficult things?  Are we gluttons for punishment?  Do we enjoy the challenge?  Are we masochists?

Or are we people in pain?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.  The last one, right?  Me too.

And that’s why it pisses me off when someone hears that I’m eating a very restricted diet, or that I live with constant pain, or that buying groceries on a bad day is a huge effort, and their response is “Oh, I could never do that.”

At this point I figure they say this for one of two reasons (but please let me know if you think of another!):

  1. They don’t believe that my symptoms are as bad as I say they are.
  2. They can not possibly imagine how bad my symptoms are, because they have no frame of reference.

I want to believe that it is usually #2, that they just can’t imagine daily nausea that is so bad, you’re willing to cut your favorite foods out of your diet to be rid of it.  But really…. who couldn’t imagine that?  And if it’s #1, that just pisses me off to no end.  After all, these aren’t strangers, these are friends and family who are saying this.  They aren’t suggesting that it isn’t worth it for me to try these “drastic” measures of changing my diet or trying new supplements, but they say that they would never be able to do it.  Maybe they’re trying to suggest that they’re too weak to try and therefore I’m strong?  But in the context, that’s not how it sounds.  It sounds like the pain could never be so bad that it would be worth giving up desserts on the off chance that it might help.

So for all of you doubters out there, have someone whack you as hard as they can in the knee a few times with a hammer.  Now, would you rather have someone do that every hour, or would you rather give up chocolate forever?

Yeah, I thought so.


Could I be healthy?

September 13, 2012

When I wrote a couple weeks ago about being hopeful that maybe my health could improve one day, that was based on my own gut feeling (so to speak) that I could get better.  My doctors have not expressed that kind of hope in many years.  My new naturopath has seemed more optimistic, but she has never spoken about our end goal, and I was not ready to ask.  I was afraid to ask.

Today I steeled myself.  I took a deep breath.  I stared blankly at a spot on the opposite wall.  And I asked: “What do you think my prognosis is?  What’s our goal?”

She surprised me with her answer: “That you’ll go back to work, and that at the end of the work day you’ll still feel good and be able to do things.  That you’ll go out and do things on weekends.”

Obviously she misunderstood, so I clarified: “No, I mean, what’s our realistic goal?”

Imagine my shock when she said that yes, that’s the realistic goal.  So of course I asked when she thinks that might happen.

“Within about 1 year from now I expect you’ll be back at work.”

What?!?  I had figured she had a positive outlook for my recovery, but this was more than I had expected.  I didn’t quite believe it, and I still don’t.  1 year seems like such a short time.  After all these years of my body destroying itself, could I really be “cured” in 1 year?  Of course, I wouldn’t really be “cured,” but to be so much healthier seems like the ultimate cure to me.

Of course, she thinks that 1 year is too long.  She practically apologized, explaining that if I had gotten treatment sooner, before my conditions had taken such a toll on my body, then she could have reversed their affects more quickly.  Still, she has helped me more in the last 3 months than my other doctors have in the last 8 years.  And she says that we’ve “only scratched the surface” in terms of treating me.  So maybe it’s possible?

1 year.  12 months.  I can’t seem to grasp this.  Could it be possible?  Could I be relatively “healthy”?  Could I work full time and support myself, and still have the energy to see friends, pursue hobbies, date?  It just doesn’t seem possible.  When I wrote about my hopes before, they felt like a far-off dream.  I figured maybe in a few years, if I was lucky…. but 1 year?  That feels so soon.  Next fall.  Dare I hope?  What if it doesn’t happen?  Would I be too crushed?  But then, what if it does?

Some people dream of buying a bigger house, or driving a fancy car, or flying all over the world in a private jet.  I only want my health and my loved ones.  Could I really be within reach of having it all?  Could I be healthy?


Salt in the wound: losing health insurance

July 12, 2012

Apparently the universe saw my post from yesterday and said “Screw you!  We’ll make sure you’re not ‘bored’!”

Today was bad.

This morning I decided to call HR at my old employer again.  I started calling about a month ago to find out what my health insurance status was now that my long term disability claim has been denied.  The person with all the answers was out of the office indefinitely. The other, let’s call her Joan, wasn’t calling me back.  I figured I should try again today.  I looked at the clock: 8:56am.  Too early.  I read the news.  I read email.  I read random web sites.  I ate breakfast and took my pills.  I did more reading.  Nice morning, right?  As I was about to start my physical therapy, I realized I could finally call HR.  I couldn’t get Joan on the phone but I got someone else, let’s call her Ruth.  Ruth checked with Joan and came back to the phone, asking me, “Have you received a COBRA packet in the mail?”  And from there my day went to shit.

For those not from the U.S., let me explain.  While every other industrialized country provides universal health insurance to their citizens, the U.S. does not.  There is currently a new law that will expand coverage, but it does not cover everyone, and we must still pay for health insurance ourselves.  No, I’m not kidding.  It just make sure we won’t be turned down by the insurance companies.  And then there’s an election coming up and one of the presidential nominees wants to repeal that law, which will only make things worse.  But I could write an entire book on my thoughts about that.  So moving on….  Most of us get health insurance through employers.  Getting it ourselves, without an employer, is very expensive.  When I left my job last fall I got to keep my health insurance.  However, when my long term disability claim was denied, I lost my health insurance.  By law, I am entitled to COBRA.  This allows me to keep my health insurance for up to 18 months (possibly 29 months if I can prove disability) and all I have to do is pay exorbitantly high rates.

Obviously this is bad.  I’m ill so I have to stop working, my long term disability claim is denied, so now I have no income and no health insurance.  This is very very bad.  I start wondering how much COBRA will cost me.  $500?  $600?  And when does it begin?  Does it begin today?  When my LTD was denied a month ago?  When STD ended back in April?  I could owe $2000 in back payments!  Very very bad.

Ruth in HR didn’t know anything, and I can’t blame her – it wasn’t her job.  She promised that Joan would call me back, and asked would I be able to talk this afternoon?  That’s when I lost it.  I do not like to cry in front of other people.  I just don’t.  And I lost it.  I started sobbing about how I was freaking out and I just needed to know.  I’d been trying to reach Joan for weeks and she could call me any time, she could call me at midnight, I just needed to talk to her!  And through the sobs, I could tell that Ruth felt awful about it.

Later I ran into a neighbor I’m friendly with while I was doing laundry in the communal laundry room (with the phone by my side) and when he asked how I was doing, I started crying again.  How embarrassing!  I had good reason, but it was still embarrassing.

I spent the next 5 hours bringing the phone with me everyplace.  I got all the way to the bathroom in my apartment, then trudged back to the living room to get my phone and bring it with me so it would be nearby while I peed.  I took it to the microwave to heat up food.  I had it next to me while I researched my Medicaid (state health insurance for the poor and disabled) options.  I had it on my lap while I briefly thought about going back to work.  (Then I pictured what I’d have to do, and realized I wouldn’t last through the first week.)  I had it with me on the bed while I lay there and cried.  I skipped my shower, just in case.  I wanted to get that call.  Of course, she didn’t call.

As the end of the workday approached, I tried calling Joan and she didn’t answer.  So I called Ruth instead and asked to speak to the head of the department.  Ah ha!  Joan came on the line, apologizing profusely.

At this point I should interrupt myself and say that I don’t blame Joan.  She was covering for the person who normally handles this and the department was understaffed even before that person had to take a leave.  I worked with Joan when I had to set up STD and she was very nice, though hard to reach then too.  This is not her fault.  In fact, she has been sympathetic and kind through the entire thing.

So Joan came on the line and started by simply confirming that my LTD was denied and that I was appealing it.  And here’s where the story finally took an upswing.  But to understand it fully, I should mention that I have a big mouth.  It runs in the family.  My mother’s side are all talkers.  We kid each other about it, and my father’s side jokes about it too, finding us all amusing.  I’m perfectly happy to spend an hour or more on the phone with a friend and not even notice the time flying by.  I can be overly chatty, and sometimes it gets me into trouble.  Often I don’t know when to shut up.  But this time, it saved me.

Joan asked if the LTD company had given me a timeframe for reviewing the appeal.  A normal person would have said, “I haven’t filed the appeal yet, so no.”  Not me.  Oh boy.  No, me and my big mouth started in on, “Well, no, but even if they had I wouldn’t believe it, after they delayed my claim by several weeks and lost part of my file.”  She was horrified and angry and wanted the story, so I told her the whole thing.  And that’s when she told me something crucial that I wish I’d known earlier (but I guess it did make perfect sense once I thought about it): the insurance company has to answer to them!  My employer pays this company and expects their employees to be treated fairly.  And lucky for me, Joan is the person they report to.

To compensate me for my horrible treatment, she would immediately extend my health insurance for two more months as of today.

TWO MONTHS!  I could have fallen over!  I was shocked, relieved, happy, amazed.  This doesn’t fix everything, but it gives me some time, some breathing room.  Medicaid applications are processed in about a month, so I can apply several weeks from now and with any luck, if they approve it, I’ll have Medicaid when my employer-provided health insurance is cancelled.  Whew!

Oh, and as a bonus, she’s going to call the supervisor of my contact at the LTD company and discuss this whole thing.  I planned to address it later, after my claim was settled, but she’s doing it now.  Great!

I did a lot of crying today, which is unusual for me.  At times I felt alone and helpless.  I was angry, confused, and angry again.  Then somehow, unexpectedly, I got a small boost.  It won’t last long, but I’m grateful for it.  I’ll still lose my health insurance, but at least this time I’ll see it coming.

Now I just have to hope my lawyer can file that appeal quickly!


Blown away by support

June 27, 2012

I did the math.  Then I did it again.  Sadly, it just didn’t add up.

Let’s see, there’s rent and phone and electricity and gas for the stove.  There’s groceries and health insurance and medications and gas for the car.  There’s all the other little expenses that pop up, though not all that many any more, since I’ve been cutting back a lot.  As if that’s not enough, there’s the new naturopath and new tests and new treatments that aren’t covered by insurance.  There’s the lawyer.  And there’s no income.  I have savings, but they won’t last forever.

I was turned down for long term disability insurance.  I have hired a lawyer to appeal the denial, but of course that costs money.  If the appeal works, I would get paid in February or March and they insurance company would pay me everything they have owed me to that point – almost a year’s worth of payments.  If the appeal doesn’t work, then I’m totally screwed.  Great.

At best I need to find a way to pay for everything until March.  At worst I need to cover a much longer period of time.

My savings can last a while, and actually, if I didn’t hire the lawyer or try new treatments, I might even be able to make it last until March. Well, at least until January.  Unfortunately, I need the lawyer and I must try to improve my health.  I spoke to my parents and we agreed that I’d ask my grandparents.  My parents said they’d find a way to help me if my grandparents couldn’t, but I know it would be hard for them.  They are finally near retirement and I’d hate to see that put off for this.  Plus, my grandparents have offered to help me many times.  They want to help me, and since they can’t physically do anything, they want to financially help.

Now, I know that my grandparents have some money.  They aren’t rich, but they have enough to take care of themselves and to leave a bit to their kids.  Still, I hated to ask.  Maybe it’s an ego thing, but I’ve never wanted to take handouts.  This time I had to admit defeat.  I simply need help.

Today was the day to ask.  My stomach was in knots.  I was nauseated.  I couldn’t eat lunch (a rarity for me!)  My biggest fear was that they’d want to help (because I knew they would) but that they wouldn’t be able to give me as much as I need.  I figured $10,000-$12,000 would cover my gap.  Could they afford that much?

I steeled my nerve and began by explaining the insurance denial.  It just happened a few weeks ago and I hadn’t told them yet.  I hadn’t wanted to worry them.  Then I told them a bit more about my treatments, filling in some details from what I’d told them before.  Then I started to explain about the money.  Before I could finish asking for help, they both said that they’d give me as much as I need.  I hadn’t even mentioned the numbers yet.  For now they wrote me a smaller check, and said that as soon as I spent that, I should come back and they’d write another.  No hesitation.  No asking me what my expenses are.  I said I could pay them back if I win the insurance appeal and they adamantly said no; they don’t want to be paid back for this.  They just want to help me.

The only negative response?  That I didn’t come to them sooner.  Actually, my grandfather was a bit angry that I didn’t ask for money a while ago.  I had to explain that I didn’t know it would be an issue until 2 weeks ago, and even then I hadn’t figure it all out yet.  He was only mildly placated.  He made me promise over and over and over that I would tell him immediately if I needed any more money, or even if anything else changed with the insurance and of course with my health.  The last thing he said before I left was reminding me of that promise.

Our family is far from perfect.  I’ve written before about my strained relations with my sister.  And there are plenty of other issues too.  But I’ll say this: we all support each other, no questions asked.  Having the financial support helps a lot.  But having the emotional support makes me feel like maybe I can handle all of this crap after all.  I could never put a price tag on that.

P.S. Don’t my grandparents just have the best smiles?