A Day In The Life, Financial Tetris, and Small Yays

Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com

Early Morning

7 am:  What time is it? You can’t do anything until 8 or 8:30, S, so go back to sleep.

7:52 am:  Request to cancel telehealth appointments, explain reasons for cancelling, try to resolve Astronomical Bill aka Bonafide Problem. The same Bonafide Problem we’ve worked on resolving for the past eight months that they swear is fixed but always isn’t. AB aka BP is the result of miscommunication and not processing insurance claims correctly, but this time it has messed up my accounts. And I’m ticked off.

8:00 am:  I’m put on hold, transferred to another department, and transferred again, all while listening to what would otherwise be cool music if I weren’t so agitated.

Promises, more promises, and possible (God, I hope so) refund.

9:00 am: Borrow $XX.00 from stepdad for possible fees created by issue, find out I’m not the only one who has experienced this hot mess, and that The-Medical-Facility-That-Shall-Remain-Nameless is notorious for doing what they did. Thankfully, all overdrafts and fees are waivered (hooray).

9:52 am: Debate returning stepdad’s money since I didn’t use it. Glance at gas gauge. Ask myself, If the arrow is pointing precariously toward the little red icon, can I drive for, say, four more days before refilling? Self to self, And how has that worked for you before, S?

I keep $5, text stepdad, and return the rest to him.

10:20 am: On to the next hurdle. But I need a snack. So, I plop a bag of peanuts and a Pay Day candy bar onto a conveyor belt. They’re both $1.19, so I go with plain peanuts. Less sugar, perhaps? Maybe when I have my A1C check the doctor will thank me, or I’ll thank myself.

10:30 am: Question, what can I put with coleslaw? Chicken wings?  M doesn’t eat chicken. Burgers? I can’t digest ground beef, and I can barely tolerate ground chuck. I look at the prices and have a slight panic attack. It’s honestly the wrong grocery store for buying meat, and the least horrifying packages are the packs of ground chuck, so burgers it is.

Conflict, do I use the $5 that I’m holding for gas, or do I dip into bill money? I contemplate riding on E but then adult reasoning kicks in.

11:00 am: “Seven dollars on pump four, please.” Self to self, This’ll barely get me home.

11:30 am: Stop at car insurance place. I’m due a retro credit, if that’s a word, for the multi-vehicle discount per month that I was promised August 2023 but haven’t gotten since…forever. “Has it been credited, and if so, what does that make the bill for this month?” I ask, all excited. The receptionist gives a figure, and I realize it is suspiciously close to what I already pay. So, I ask how much they’ve credited. “$2.22,” she says.

 Of course, the person I spoke to initially isn’t in. Of course, the computers are down. Go figure.

Afternoon

11:45 am: My chest hurts which reminds me to call the cardio clinic. Ironically, I must cancel my next checkup because I can’t afford it. I relay my dilemma to the scheduler who asks if I want to reschedule.  I don’t foresee having any more money later than I have now, so I tell her no, not yet. I request my medical records and leave a message for their heart monitor tech.

12:00 pm:  Self to self, Six more days. Six more days of meals to figure out. What can we eat for six more days at, say, $4 a day that is heart-healthy, glucose appropriate, and inflammation-free. Think, S, think.

12:10 pm: Chest still hurts. I need a chill pill, but if it cost anything…welp.

12:15 pm: I get a text from Mom. She wants to know if I can go with her on an errand. I SO don’t feel like going anywhere with anyone today. So, I text Not today and tell her about the last few hours. Then I change my mind and agree to go with her on her errand.

12:20 pm: While waiting for mom I recalculate and try to come up with a sensible formula for the rest of the month.

PLAN A

XXX.00

XXX.00

XXX.00=_________________       BUT THEN HOW WILL WE EAT                 ???

PLAN B

XX.00

XX.00

XX.00=___________________      BUT THEN HOW WILL I PAY THE ELECTRIC BILL              ????

PLAN C

X.00

X.00

X.00=______________________  I GIVE UP            ???

12:40 pm: Nephrologist, reschedule. Chiro, reschedule. Rheumatologist? I need that one, asap. I’ve already gone too long, and my finger is all crooked and hasn’t worked right since September of last year. Ophthalmologist? Despite paying the balance down, another checkup will wreak havoc. But my eyes are swollen, and I’ve had no shortage of folks telling me that my eyes “look weird.” They’ve been weird for so long I can’t tell the difference, so I glance in a mirror. Something is definitely wrong. I snap a picture for proof just in case my eyes decide to behave on the day of my checkup.

1:00 pm: Mom toots her horn. I wave to let her know that I’ll be out in a minute. Mid-wave my stomach misbehaves.

No, S, no…

1:00-1:15 pm: Stomach turbulence

1:20 pm: (Mom) “You’re still going? We can stop by my house if you need to.” (Me, while gripping stomach) “Yes, I’m dressed now so I’m going. Let’s ride.”

1:30 pm: A small blessing (hooray, hooray, hooray)! Less calculating now and a little more leeway. Head to Dollar Store.

2:00 pm: Heart monitor tech returns my call. We discuss options. I ask if my loop recorder can just…come out of my chest or turn off or maybe send a remote scan less frequently (I get billed every time it sends a scan. Not the full cost but costly still. Every month.)

Tech says they could turn the remote part off and I could manually use my clicker whenever I have an episode. However, I’d then have to drive 30 miles to the clinic and have them read it there. That’s gas, driving, a clinic fee, and a reading fee. Plus, sometimes my heart stops for a bit while I’m asleep. So, how would I manually capture that if I’m…asleep? I ask the tech and there’s a long, awkward pause.

We both decide that I’m better off leaving things as they are, and the tech recommends I set up a payment arrangement.

2:30 pm: I call for a payment arrangement and I’m told that the current bill can only be split into 2 payments aka 2 months. I mentally divide.

Lord Ham’mercy.

2:45 pm: I call the hospital where I had my in-house sleep study and ask about payment arrangements. The billing clerk informs me that it’s “only $XXX.00” as if that’s chump change or four quarters, and no matter how many times I say I can’t pay the bill in one installment, even if it is “only $XXX.00, she repeats the same thing. So, I say thank you and hang up.

3:00 pm: Ditto. See above. Same thing, different place.

3:10 pm: I get a text from a friend asking if I can type up a resume. I don’t feel like thinking or mentally exercising my brain anymore today, but I ask her when she needs it. She says she needs it by Wednesday. I need the money, but I’m exhausted. Still, I agree to do it and we confirm for tomorrow.

Early Evening

4 pm: Someone washed their hair (my kids have hair down their backs), and now the tub is stopped up. We already have a plumbing prob (see earlier post on plumbing prob), and water has been sitting in the bathtub for two hours already. I pour Dollar Store generic Drano and pray it works its magic. I text Mom and ask if we can borrow her bathroom.

5:51 pm: The Dollar Store $1 Drano didn’t do anything, at all. No magic. Water is still sitting in the tub.

6:30 pm: Mail, bills, and mail. But also, another small victory, another hooray (yay, yay, yessss)!

And how was your day?   😊

I Am

From the prompt, I Am From Poem

This was kind of fun!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I am from cast iron skillets

From scrambled eggs (with cheese) and Sanka

I am from the belly of four Queens

Strong, resilient, shades of blue

I am from hydrangea that bloomed beside the house

One of many unsuccessful hiding spots during hide and seek

I’m from Sunday dinners and warmth

From MB and BB, hills, Sampson, Cherokee

I’m from the worriers and wanderers

From “If you want something done, do it yourself” and

“Boys and girls can’t be just friends”

I’m from Let your light shine among men; All of you are children of the most High

I’m from every aisle of the grocery store, an abundance of ethnicities 

Stirred into a pot

Peas n okra and lard,

Kale and romaine

From the grandfather who insisted on salad with each meal 

To EB who packed an extra chicken leg or bologna sandwich in every to-go bag

Somewhere in Grandmommy's possession is our life in pictures, boxed up when

her mind was better able to remember where

Packed away is our history



sms aka Cerebral Introvert
1/2024

The Power of Family

Well, here’s an official hello and happy (hopefully) 2024 to everyone. We survived the holidays. Yay. I enjoyed myself, mostly resting and wrapping up the house project. In the hoopla of crowds, wintry weather, and indoor gatherings, I caught…something, but I’m OK now.

Two weeks into the new year, my grandmom fell and broke her hip. Any accident at her age is concerning, so when I got the call that she’d tolerated her surgery well, I was relieved. Relieved but anxious.

The next day of recovery wasn’t as great. Scans showed Grandmom suffered a stroke. Moreover, tests showed a blood clot.

My uncle flew in from Florida, and my other uncle drove here from Georgia. All of us showered Grandmom with prayers and love. And do you know what? The power of family and faith has either turned her mindset around or given her the strength to fight. She went from being unable to talk to saying a word or two to using full sentences in a matter of a week, albeit slowly and sometimes hard to decipher. But progress just the same.

I can only imagine what she really wanted to say to PT when they came in messing with the leg affected by her stroke, but with keen ears I heard, “Lort, what…y’all…tryna…do!”

Sunday, she wiggled two toes(on the side touched by the stroke). And at the threat of a feeding tube, and after much coaxing, she took two bites of something unidentifiable. My mom said it was pureed.

Even in a crisis, though, I can count on my family to cut the mood with a dash of humor. “This is NOT your fried chicken and collard greens, Ma. We know this. So, don’t even try to figure out what it is, because we don’t know. Just swallow it for us. Can you try for us?”

“Uh-uh.” My grandmom shook her head adamantly, like someone ordered to finish cauliflower on their plate.

Of course, her mishap is no laughing matter, and I’m still worried about the blood clot (terrified is a better word), but guys, if you could have seen her contempt when my uncle lifted the lid on that food tray and said what he said.

I’m glad that she is doing somewhat better and that she is able to see and feel the love. Mind and body work together, and sometimes it takes knowing that you’re not alone to push through. I don’t think anyone else could have gotten her to eat aside from my Uncle E. He’s the baby of her bunch and (conspiratorial whisper: the rumored “favorite”). But even still, there have been so many special moments in the past seven days. She smiled for her youngest grandchild and despite her dementia recognized him, which is amazing considering she went days without being able to do much of anything.

I hope your 2024 has been eventful in a good way. I hope no one had to deal with a virus or broken hip. And I hope that throughout the year you’ll experience the love of friends, family, and new things.

Until next time,

Who We Are

Several weeks ago, I was at my mom’s wasting time while waiting on clothes to run through a wash cycle. Normally, I don’t wash my clothes over there, but my machine was misbehaving, and I was tired of tinkering with it. But anyway, while looking for something to do, I noticed something. Beside the sofa was a basket filled to the brim with paint, brushes, pastels, and nearly every other art medium one can imagine. My eyes then went from the basket to the walls. Seascapes, landscapes, abstracts—all drawn or painted by Mom.

Stray beads rolled around the kitchen table. Bits of fabric lay draped across a chair next to a sewing machine. All clues of who my mother is: an artist, a seamstress, a craftswoman.

As I stepped outside to soak up some of the end-of-summer sun after putting my clothes in the dryer, I almost tripped over my stepdad’s tool bag aka doctor’s bag. The locals call him the “car man”, and as one travels down his graveled driveway, they get a glimpse of vehicles in various stages of “sickness”. A hoisted engine here, a car jack and spare tire there.

Bolts and screwdrivers spilled out of his bag and onto the ground, and as I slid them out of the way with my foot, a realization set in. Our homes reveal a great deal of who we are as individuals.

YOUR TURN: What does your home reveal about you? Feel free to comment in the comment section.