A little all over the place
“You’re my friend, Daddy.” Yeah, that’s what I am living for right now. How long does unconditional love last? I thought it was good with dogs. Babies are still only lasting two hours between feeds. Consuming during the day, flat out exhausting at night. Everyone else is still hangin’ tough.
Overwhelming medical bills apparently have their benefits, at least for the insured. We just got a bill for our hospital stay (not including the doctor’s fees) totaling nearly twelve thousand dollars. This was in addition to a ballpark estimate of ten thousand for all the prenatal care. Thankfully we had already met our yearly deductible and the stay was covered. What happens to all the good folks who don’t have this insurance? We just watched the movie Sicko, which admittedly is biased and a soapbox for Michael Moore, but provides a startling image of our health care in comparison to several other industrialized nations and some not-so-industrialized.
This leads me back to government cheese. I have been trying to write the past couple of days and wax poetic about using food vouchers (calling them food stamps seem so pedestrian and even more pitiful). The process is simple, in a government kind of way. We qualify for six things:
1)milk
2) cereal
3) eggs
4) beans/peanut butter/non-milk protein
5) juice and
6) government cheese
(Jana actually qualifies for a couple more through breast feeding, oddly enough, tuna and carrots.)
We have specific brands and even more specific sizes of product for which we qualify. We are encouraged to use coupons and look for sale items whenever possible. This seems fair enough, although is quite labor intensive, and unlikely that many people other than those of us a little embarrassed by our dependence will go the extra distance. We can’t combine our purchase with non approved items, and ID is required in conjunction with the voucher at each transaction.
As I approach the register, I find myself casing the store. Looking for friends, patients, coworkers, and other casual acquaintances that may catch me in my unseemingly deed. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I work for a living. I pay my taxes. And most importantly this is only a bridge. In six months, I will have a real job. Despite my occasional quiet financial desperation, I know deep down that in six months I will be remarkably marketable, and am well trained to make money. Why is this uncomfortable? Is it just me? I hand over my voucher and my number of items is gratefully few. I sign, bag and go. I don’t purchase additional items as this might draw attention to me. This is only temporary. I am thankful for the support we have.
Overwhelming medical bills apparently have their benefits, at least for the insured. We just got a bill for our hospital stay (not including the doctor’s fees) totaling nearly twelve thousand dollars. This was in addition to a ballpark estimate of ten thousand for all the prenatal care. Thankfully we had already met our yearly deductible and the stay was covered. What happens to all the good folks who don’t have this insurance? We just watched the movie Sicko, which admittedly is biased and a soapbox for Michael Moore, but provides a startling image of our health care in comparison to several other industrialized nations and some not-so-industrialized.
This leads me back to government cheese. I have been trying to write the past couple of days and wax poetic about using food vouchers (calling them food stamps seem so pedestrian and even more pitiful). The process is simple, in a government kind of way. We qualify for six things:
1)milk
2) cereal
3) eggs
4) beans/peanut butter/non-milk protein
5) juice and
6) government cheese
(Jana actually qualifies for a couple more through breast feeding, oddly enough, tuna and carrots.)
We have specific brands and even more specific sizes of product for which we qualify. We are encouraged to use coupons and look for sale items whenever possible. This seems fair enough, although is quite labor intensive, and unlikely that many people other than those of us a little embarrassed by our dependence will go the extra distance. We can’t combine our purchase with non approved items, and ID is required in conjunction with the voucher at each transaction.
As I approach the register, I find myself casing the store. Looking for friends, patients, coworkers, and other casual acquaintances that may catch me in my unseemingly deed. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I work for a living. I pay my taxes. And most importantly this is only a bridge. In six months, I will have a real job. Despite my occasional quiet financial desperation, I know deep down that in six months I will be remarkably marketable, and am well trained to make money. Why is this uncomfortable? Is it just me? I hand over my voucher and my number of items is gratefully few. I sign, bag and go. I don’t purchase additional items as this might draw attention to me. This is only temporary. I am thankful for the support we have.
posted by rob at 1:16 AM
2 Comments:
Not that I have the same exact situation, but I make so little working while trying to get my degree that I qualify for state health insurance (because I no longer have any otherwise). It embarrasses me that I need the help and I blame it on how I was raised. We just didn't go down and get state assistance; it's what people who couldn't (or, in my parents' opinion, who were too lazy) work did. We worked hard, even if it meant a lot of sacrifices elsewhere.
But you're doing what you can for your family to survive and that's what important. What those people think of you (which is why you hide it, you don't want them to criticize) isn't anything...because you are your son's best friend :D
Say, you are your kids' provider and you are doing the best you can right now. Jackson's therapy is well worth it and just consider this period as one of those times when you'll look back and be able to say--"I understand" to someone else. These experiences are what prove that you guys are super parents and also what a great physician you are. Hold you head up high--cause you do pay taxes-- and the whole purpose of these programs is to keep you from having to quit Jackson's therapy or your training. Jana is a beautiful mom,too. D&J in Bethel
Post a Comment
<< Home