Did we even have summer?

Papa began chemo and radiation the first week of August, in fact, his first chemo was on his birthday. The nurses gave him a coffee cup with a bow tied to the handle, filled with Hershey Miniatures... I think they have a cupboard stocked with them. I always thought that it was chemo that was the worst but in Papa's case I am wrong. It took about two weeks of radiation treatments before the effects really showed up. For him it was the fatigue that bothered him the most, that and the unrelenting nausea. The doctor ordered Compazine for mild nausea and Zofran for the more severe nausea. I make sure we never run out of those meds.

Our days were fashioned around the packing and moving-in of the kids, me watching the grands and Papa's treatments. Radiation took very little time actually... only 12 minutes for the treatment, but sometimes we had to wait to get in for his appointment. Then too, just the fact of having to GO, of working it in to our schedule, put a crimp on the day. Radiation was every day, Monday through Friday. It becomes a drag very quickly. Chemo was every Wednesday, for at least an hour and a half. The staff at both places was great and at chemo they have personal TV's for us to watch and snacks and those little diversions help.

At the end of August I made two important steps, tasks that I had been dreading because a negative outcome in either could mean disaster for us. First I went to see the IRS. The very words "IRS" strike fear in the hearts of most people... myself amoung them. We had gotten in debt to them so quickly years ago and I never believed we would ever be able to get them paid off. We lost two deductions at the same time and then my working added to our tax liability. Another factor was Papa's job and the per diem pay he received. He was not able to use many of the deductions for truckers. I was hoping that I would be able to put a hold on our arranged payments till Papa started receiving his disability. I have to say the agent was very helpful and sympathetic. I am boo-hooing like a waterfall, about to scream because of the tension I am under and she hands me tissues and basically said..."there there." Our account was put on hold for as long as we need it and she said that we can make a compromise settlement if we can come up with a few hundred dollars to offer the IRS.

A few hundred to erase several thousand? I will find it somewhere, even if I have to get it from my kids.

The next day I finally went to the Department of Human Services... welfare, and applied for medicaid for Papa. Our bank account was now low enough that we could qualify for at least some help. The office was packed to the walls, standing room only. I expected to be there all day. I filled out my papers, handed them in and about 45 minutes later a woman called my name. When I went to see her we began conversing at the side of the room, and she proceeded to tell me what documents she needed me to bring to my case worker. I am embarrassed to say that I started crying right there in the waiting room in front of all those people. In my defense I have to tell you, I cry very easily, I am a big sap. I cry at favorite hymns in church, Christmas Eve service, I cry looking at family photo albums... I cry when holding my grand babies, at their profound beauty and purity. I cry at movies and my kids laugh and take bets at which point my water-works will start. They watch me rather than the movie.

The DHS woman took pity on me and showed me to her office where I apologized and explained our situation to her... that we had very little income and our insurance was coming to an end. My husband needed months more of chemo and many more radiation treatments. She quickly glanced through my forms and told me not to worry. She said that she was a supervisor and while she had only a very small case load herself, she was going to personally handle Papa's case. She said that the paper work was only a formality and she could tell me that his case would be approved for full medicaid. I left her office feeling better than I had since this ordeal had begun. I knew that my husband would not be turned away because we could not pay. I did not have to worry that I might have to sell our house to pay the bills. There actually was help out there for us. I think that night I finally was able to sleep, the sleep of the blessed, I felt that we would be ok, that now we would be able to get through this mess.

All this time of course, the Healthcare debate is raging around us. As much as I know the outcome will affect us, I have not been able to follow this as I should. I have no idea what is going on around me. I watch the news and read the paper but nothing is absorbing. I found that the days were flying by at an alarming rate. My mother-in-law used to say (she is long dead) that the older one gets, the faster time goes by. This is certainly true. I remember at age 8 the summers were forever and full of endless possibilities. But this summer was like the blink of a fire fly... it drags a bit and leaves a shadow of it's light behind. We never did have a real "Michigan" summer. No scorching hot weather, so muggy that it makes it hard to breathe. The cicadas were hardly even heard this year.


Soon Labor Day was here and my son Ben hosted a BBQ at his home, ostensibly for friends and family, but it was really for Papa... to give him a chance to see most of his kids, to enjoy a bon fire, good food, good friends, good fun. We had a lovely time and he was able to eat a hot dog and some baked beans and some grilled chicken. Of course he ate too much... an old and bad habit. In times past Papa's stomach could keep up with his eyes but not anymore. If he over eats he pays dearly with pain and nausea and general someone-please-put-an-end-to-my-miseryness