Thick, white envelopes addressed to Kimberly Green - the name I use only for official business like my driver's license, tax returns, and... my health insurance card. I have been dreading their arrival, as I have always dreaded their arrival over the past 19 years. They are summaries of my hospital stay and totals of how much has been submitted to my insurance company for their payment and the total as to which the insurance company has agreed to pay.
Other envelopes arrive as well. Statements and bills from radiologists, anesthesiologists, pharmacies, other specialists that took care of me during my surgery and recovery at the hospital. They have become their own small pile on the corner of my kitchen table. I am reluctant to open them, reluctant to feel the familiar shock from the totals of my care, trying to stay in my denial a bit longer. But they must be opened.
I am both blessed and lucky to have health insurance. We own my policy, meaning that I am not a part of a company plan of any type. We had to buy a policy when the owner of the small business that Ken worked for, for several years, could not afford to provide to us. He was generous though and as a part of Ken's compensation plan paid half of our premium. My insurance premium (I say 'my' because Ken now enjoys Medicare and Tessa has her insurance through her company. So the premium is for just Torrie and me) is astronomical - more than some college tuitions. My deductible is also five figures.
But thank God I have health insurance. I pray those people in Washington come up with the right plan if any.
Being flat on my back the past 10 weeks, I have watched television - a lot of television. I have become a news junkie and have immersed myself in the healthcare battle. I feel like I need to be as informed as I can be because if any new plan is put into place that would allow my insurance company to raise my rates anymore due to having cancer, etc. we would no longer be able to afford it. I might not be able to get any other insurance due to pre-existing conditions. I am truly afraid.
And I feel guilty. So much guilt, all of the time.
I must open the envelopes...
And for a 10 day, operating room and 2 days in ICU, my bill is almost $500,000, of which we will be responsible for a significant portion. I don't know how (yet!) we will do this.
I have been blessed with two extremely intelligent children. They have both worked since they were 15 and were recipients of many grants and scholarships by the wonderful Catholic Universities they have and are attending. Both have worked while in school, too. Having them both be able to attend college has been Ken's and my only goal. We have two years left...
I have been blessed with a wonderful, loving community that has helped us in so many generous ways. My wish is to be able to reciprocate in some way. I want to get back to my little studio. I need to get back to my little studio or I fear I will not be able to afford to keep it. I have not made a dime off of it yet, but while I've been there leading meditation and running the boutique it has been wonderful. I feel that it has so much potential. There's the guilt again; not being able to help Ken support our family.
Ken.
My sweet, loving husband that has never left me during all of this. Who right now is out driving for Uber, still in pain from his broken collarbone. Because he must. Because we need the income. And yet he still kisses me goodbye and tells me that he doesn't love me, he's 'in love' with me. Still.
In 2015, I spent more than 40 days in Yale Hospital with MRSA that I contracted in surgery. He drove the 1-1/2 hour trip each day and never left my side. He worked from my bedside. I recovered and came home and his reward was being laid off. Was it because of me and being with me while I was so sick? Was it because his boss didn't want to pay half of our ever-increasing premium? More guilt.
To pay the astronomical bills from that hospital stay, he sold our beloved home in Newport. Our family spent countless hours on the beach there, the kids grew up with wonderful summers. Ken proposed to me there and we were married there. It was our escape. Ken had owned the house for several years before we married, he loved that house so much. He never once told me it was my fault because of all of our bills. I told myself it was my fault enough for the both of us.
In 2016, I found myself feeling very good and decided to open my little studio Mindfulness and Matters. I grand opened on September 7 and then on September 15 was hospitalized with a terrible infection that had unknowingly been brewing. I was in the hospital a couple of weeks. The infection left me with a drain in my abdomen that had to be checked and moved weekly (under anesthesia) for months. I was finally able to return to work in late November. So in early 2017, we did the only thing we could do to get on top of the bills... we sold our home of 20 years. Much more guilt.
This recovery has not only been brutal (my surgeon explained it will be upwards of 10 months for me to feel halfway normal) physically, but it has been especially brutal emotionally. I have suffered from anxiety/depression for years and it kicked into high gear when I came home from the hospital the second time. I wanted to be alone, I ignored phone calls and text messages, I didn't want visitors. (If I have not apologized yet to you, I'll get to you!) Fear gripped me and still hasn't let go. How will we pay for all of this? What about our future?
I have let my mind run amok - meditation hasn't even been able to calm it. All of this money that has been spent on me and me not able to contribute weighs on me like a ton of bricks. Bankruptcy? The money that we pay towards these enormous bills is a drop in the bucket and its money we NEED for rent, insurance, tuition, etc. Blah, blah, blah.
Where is my faith? All of the miracles that God has given me, why would I doubt that he would not provide now? In the direst times, He has always given us just what we needed and I know He will again. I read a few days ago that God wants us to feel safe to rant to Him and perhaps that is what this post is all about. I'm ranting and pouting like a child, but I know He understands.
And right now, God is probably shaking His head and smiling at me saying "oh Kim of little faith, wait for it. Don't give up before the miracle. I am always with you".
And I know in my heart He is.
Namaste,
Kim
