The new GP referred me to Parkview's RN Care program. From what I understand, it is about looking at a patient holistically and seeing what services she needs. I had a home visit with a nurse last week and I have a home visit with a social worker this coming week. I had a phone interview with a medication assistance program specialist.
The latter is trying to find ways I might qualify for help with my medications, even though the income from disability is above the national poverty level, which precludes me from any assistance programs that have been presented to me to date. It doesn't matter that I spent about half that income on medical and live on the other half. What matters is what comes in the door. Honestly, it still boggles my mind that I am living on ~$9,000. Of course, it helps that I pulled money out of retirement to pay off the house. Still, real estate taxes, car insurance, house insurance, health insurance, gas, and utilities are quite a chunk of change. All those fixed expenses leave very, very, very little for things like groceries, household, and clothing. When my mother was here, she brought up going to the movies. That is such a foreign concept for me now.
The absolute best news that Pfizer changed the income limits for its program. If she is right, I could qualify for getting Celebrex. That would be just plain awesome ... a huge relief. Of all the things that I take, she only found one other program for my asthma inhaler, but I had to prove that I have spent $600 out of pocket on prescriptions for the year. No problem. Well, problem. I couldn't just submit my spreadsheet. So, I got my beloved pharmacists at Target to print me out a summary of my prescriptions since January 1st and went to fetch it today.
My goal this weekend is to fill out the application that the specialist sent in the mail and that arrived today. I still have to figure out how to copy my disability statement as proof of income. You know, when you are no longer in an office, making copies of all the things that everyone seems to want is quite difficult. And costly if you are on a poor woman's budget. After all, if you are spending oodles on copies, how in the world could you afford COSTCO pizza once a month? Or shredded carrots in your salads??
I did have very, very, very good news regarding the pacemaker surgery bill, though I am mightily conflicted about it. You see, Parkview gave up on arguing over the bill. They received ~$9,000, the surgeon only getting a measly $270. That meant that instead of the $2K-$3K bill I was expecting, my cost was only $159.11. That made my monthly statement from Parkview $266.67. I remain in shock. But I think Medicare played dirty with that pre-authorized surgery in a pre-authorized facility.
I actually cannot pay that bill yet because I am paying the last of my sewage repair installments. Well, I cannot pay it until the 27th, which would make it come due in August, since July's bill has the last of the sewage repair installments. Initially I was thinking, so giddy over the bill, that in July I could start buying groceries again like a normal person, something I haven't done since the sewage disaster at the end of January. However, with the larger than normal Parkview bill, I won't be able to start regular grocery shopping until August. I mean, gee, it would look silly, I think, to divide that $159.11 into installments, even if it is a bit hard on me having several doctor's appointments each month. Still, it would be rather churlish of me to grouse over paying off the pacemaker surgery, eh?
All that money stuff makes the brown edges on the leaves of my completely un-economical birthday tree (an Acer campestre Carnival) even more worrisome. I really didn't bat an eyelash at the investment of the tree, although perhaps almost every other poor person would have, because it is most lovely and definitely added "curb" appeal to the back yard and much yard happiness to my life. After all, shouldn't a 49th birthday have a bit of special to it? Pool all that money and plunk it down (along with cashing in reward miles) without looking back. Only if it dies (surely there is a warranty?? I never thought to ask!), I will drown beneath the guilt. There would be no sense about those dollars and cents then.
All sorts of thoughts are plaguing me and chief amongst them is how most variegated plants require extra-special attention and then I wondered about shade. However, I Googled enough to learn that the soil is fine and the full sun is fine. So, my fingers are crossed that it is just water ... that I dropped the ball on watering and my throwing down some hasty mulch last night and watering the past few days will ... save it.
After all, I just cannot get enough of the sight of these magnificent leaves! [I refuse to photograph the brown and curling edges.] Is not the joy of such glory worth a non-economical purchase? SIGH.
I think ... I think a part of me is feeling punished. Like I reveled in the small hospital bill instead of thinking only humble and grateful thoughts about it so I have to now lose my tree as penance. I know that is not how God works ... or the universe since I am not exactly feeling it is God punishing me so much as ... well, Murphy's Law.
I do try ... no ... I do work very hard at being thankful and grateful for the things that I have. I think my friends my be just a tad bored of hearing about just how thankful I am for both my Mother's surprising help and for how the living room turned out. And my mattress. Oh, the mattress!! Quietly, daily, I work to thank God for the blessings I have since I have far, far too many thoughts bewailing my wretched physical condition. I work, honestly, to thank Amos for his love and affection since I sometimes take him for granted and sometimes get to perturbed with him when he is, after all, just being his very normal canine self. I take the time to be thankful and grateful for rain and sunshine, both. For this magnificent house. For the tastiness of the recipes I have learned. For doctors who are tying to help the near un-help-able. For music. For my friend's art. For chocolate.
But the sight of those brown leaves scream condemnation at me. I am a bad gardener. A bad yard investor. A bad steward of the monies God has provided me. And bad people are punished.
Ah, my mind.
Stinks, doesn't it?
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