IT works in Mysterious Ways

In the years B.C. (before cancer, but you probably got that) Rich and I had a plan. I was going to work part time and that paycheck would be pure gravy, and he would retire and we would have the time and money to enjoy life. It took a bit of doing to get him to retire sooner rather than later, but I had a strong intuition about it, and his union was rapidly dissolving his benefits through massive mismanagement so the timing came together.

Unfortunately, the union screwed things up more than we knew so that when he retired there was no way we could afford to pay the premiums to keep me on his insurance. So I would have to work full time so I could get my own insurance. One day, when I was renewing my insurance for work, for reasons I cannot explain, I added Rich to my insurance as secondary coverage. When he asked me why I had done that, I had no answer. I was just clicking through the on-line enrollment confirmation and decided to click yes for spouse for secondary coverage. Six months later Rich was diagnosed. If it weren't for the secondary coverage we probably would have lost our house.

For as miserable I was in the three years, three weeks and two days I worked in that office, I can make a list of the miracles that happened for us because I was there, and all of them relate to the contacts I made, the people I bonded with, and the skills I acquired. I never would have known how to put his team of doctors together, or who to choose, or how to ask questions. I wouldn't have half the skill set I can now bring to my current employer who is a joy to work with. Most of all I wouldn't have Lynn.

Never regret your time in Hell.

So we've been coasting along pretty well, all things considered, and we acknowledge our blessings EVERY DAY. But I must have gotten too comfortable. I say this because every time I get too comfortable I get slapped down.

My employer's previous insurance company took a dump, as often happens these days and you have to go find another company. It happens. We filled out the forms again and it was all pretty much the same old same old..
A few weeks went by and the new insurance cards came in the mail and I never gave it a thought. Until I got my paycheck yesterday. My out of paycheck premium deduction is now $1,000 a month. For me who has NO pre-existing conditions and Rich who only needs secondary coverage at 20%. Mind you he can never have radiation again, he's currently on no treatments and there's nothing left for the AMA to offer but experimental treatments which insurances don't cover anyway. Any other time someone sees his diagnosis code and figures there's just a few weeks to go. Apparently, this insurance company is looking for a major investment from me. Nice.

Personally, I couldn't care less. Like Otis says, “It is what it is.” What this means is my play money is gone. HSN and QVC might feel the hit because I'll have to pare down my Christmas shopping list, and therefore my UPS guy might miss my down-sloping driveway on the edge of a blind S-curve (or not). We'll probably reschedule our weekly date to once a month. And it's going to take a bit longer to save up for our next remodel project. Whatever. I've been poor, I know how to do it. This ain't even close—it's a minor adjustment. The economy will suffer more than I will. The critical point, and the reason I will be able to sleep at night, is that the insurance company will not suffer at all.

Rich didn't see it that way. He looked at my check and there was no mistaking the pain on his face. He worked through the disbelief as I assured him it was not a mistake, this is just how it is, blah, blah, blah. He got quiet for a bit and I let him. Then I had to intervene in his silence and pain because despite being post-menopausal, I still have just enough estrogen flowing that I need to fix the boo-boos.

Finally he was able to speak over the lump in his throat. “This isn't fair to you,” he said. “You work so hard, you've done so much, you've given up so much and now you get kicked again and it's because of me. You'd be better off if I died.”

I need to announce here that there was NO self-pity in his words. He said it innocently as if he'd just discovered the reason the check book wouldn't balance, and he was sad because he was the one who'd transposed a number.

Wow. How does one respond to that?!?! Luckily, my estrogen level is low enough that I don't jump feminine all over his sorry ass. I resisted the urge to lecture him on the many, MANY blessings we have received and that we are SO well off as to almost demand a daily pang of guilt. Instead I allowed a perfect period of silence to elapse before I took his hand and smiled and said “Well. What do you think I should do?”

I can't really explain what happened after that. Neither one of us said anything else. There was nothing to say. Everything was understood on some level that defies words.

He slept on it and I slept on it. Except for the pain I feel for his pain for feeling guilty for how his cancer is hurting me, we're doing okay. On my driving home phone call I reminded him how the universe bumps and jiggles and turns on a dime and that Now is not Forever and we have no idea what the future holds that may already be in the works and just around the corner. Maybe Oprah is following this blog The bottom line of our bottom line is that Reality is merely the conviction of your perception. And he agreed.

Magic works in mysterious ways. Stay tuned.


ON A TOTALLY UNRELATED NOTE......your tip of the day

Why, why, why, when a law enforcement officer pulls you over do they ask you if you know why they pulled you over???? Seriously?
You should probably just say “Yes,” with a big smile and leave it at that. I like to answer stupid questions with a more intelligent question, like, “yes, do YOU?” That, however, would be like spitting in the wind. So...

I have determined that there is only ONE correct answer to that question. And it goes like this.....

“Because the Fuck Up Fairy just landed on my shoulder?”