With the caseworker's help, we make the decision to try to get insurance approval for Peace close to where we live. It's an in-patient rehabilitation facility near Healing Wings. Piper can come after work or maybe at lunch without having to drive to another county. It ranks the best facility in the state for the care I need. The caseworker is trying to get approval from the insurance carrier today. If all goes as planned, we will leave tomorrow-Piper in her car and me in another ambulance. I argued to ride with her but the caseworker, who's name I can't remember, pointed out if I'm able to ride with my wife and don't need the medical attention provided by an ambulance, it's unlikely the insurance company will agree I need full-time physical therapy.It irks the shit out of me we have to play fucking games to get an insurance company to say it is or isn't okay for me to do this or not. To think it's in some clerk's hands whether I receive the therapy I need even though the doctor h
Walking down the halls of the third hospital in our tour around the state, I have to say this is, thus far, my least favorite. The lights seem dim; the walls need a fresh coat of paint, there are no people in the halls, it's unnervingly quiet. Nothing about this place screams life, and I inaudibly wonder how many people simply come here to die. It doesn't even have the typical sanitized smell-it's musty, like old people.I peek in the open doors as we follow the attendant pushing Moby's wheelchair to his room. Maybe it's simply because people who have strokes are typically elderly, or considerably older than Moby, but everyone I see looks like a wax statue. There's no color in their skin; no movement in their bodies; no one is visiting with them. They're just all old. Decrepit. Waiting to perish.I can't leave Moby here. There's no way I can leave my bright, vibrant husband to die inside these walls. His spirit will never make it here, not for any length of time much less the four
If I thought being in a hospital with Moby had been stressful, going back to work, dealing with the house issues, and Moby still being in rehab brought a whole new meaning to the word. I've only been doing this a few days but I'm so exhausted I've started talking to myself at night when I'm home alone. I hope my loss of sanity is temporary, and I try to celebrate the little accomplishments, but I'm nearing a point where I'm going to be unable to function. Rationally, I know it's transitory, but my ability to hold onto a positive outlook is waning along with my energy. The weekend will only bring more of what I'm already facing. I have weeks of work to catch up on for Healing Wings, I haven't cleaned the house or the condo in countless days, and both yards need attention before the neighbors start complaining. Jotting down my weekend to-do list, I begin to dread each new day starting. I fall further and further behind with each sun that sets. The medical bills were already star
I hate this place. I've only been here a week, but I can't deny what it's doing to me mentally. I see my personality changing, the darkness breaking my spirit, the long days of rehab doing nothing for my psyche but forcing me to acknowledge just how bleak my future is. Every day, I see a physical therapist for an hour, an occupational therapist for an hour, a speech therapist for an hour, a psychiatrist for an hour, and group sessions, that while they only last an hour seem endless. I'm the youngest person here, other than the staff, by at least thirty years. I have nothing in common with anyone surrounding me except they too have given up the fight.It's hard to stay positive, or even motivated when nothing in my body functions the way it did just a few weeks ago. If I hear one more time, your brain has to form new pathways to relearn the tasks you once did I may punch someone in the throat. I don't want to learn new pathways, I don't want to learn to walk again, I don't want someon
My palms are sweaty driving to the hospital. Moby asked me not to visit him last night. It hurt my feelings. I could tell he was in a dark place, and I should be by his side, but I respected his wishes and went home. I caught up on sorting through the bills, and made some calls to different doctor's offices working out payment arrangements. I had no idea they'd give us discounts for paying in cash and not breaking the payments up. Armed with this knowledge, I organized the bills into different stacks, the smallest first, calling each provider, asking for a discount and wrote checks to every one of them dropping them in the mailbox before I left. I promised myself I'd work on the second stack today.With those bills in my purse, I'm making the drive to the hospital to join Moby in a physical therapy session. I'm not sure why he wants me to come, but if it's important to him, I'm not going to question it. Cam waved me off when I asked about leaving for a couple hours. Somehow I've mana
Sitting in my office at Healing Wings an hour later, there's a light knock on my open door. Standing in the doorway is Sutton. "Hey, friend. Long time no see." I try to hide the hurt in my voice unsuccessfully."I'm sorry I haven't been around. I had reserve training and have been gone the last couple weeks. Don't be mad."I had forgotten she was out of town and now feel like a total ass. It's not like she can tell Uncle Sam she's going to be a no-show. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad.""What's got you down then?"I hand her the stack of bills, not just medical, but the bills from the condo, the house, utilities, cell phones, and everything in between. She looks through them, looking up with pity in her eyes."Don't do that, Sutton.""Do what?""Look at me like I'm pathetic. I'm going to be okay; I'm just a little overwhelmed. I was so proud of myself yesterday, I got rid of a huge stack of medical bills and saved a bunch of money paying them, but they just keep coming, and they'
I wake to the phone ringing incessantly beside my head. The noise is perpetuating the headache I was hoping to avoid."Hello?" I answer groggily."Hey, Fish. I got an offer on the condo."Sitting straight up in bed, the fog in my brain instantly clearing. "That's great! Tell me about it.""Piper, you can't be insulted when I tell you what the buyer's offering. This isn't personal, and it's not a reflection on your home. Okay?"Shit. That can't be good. If your real estate agent has to start with a warning, this won't be something we can accept."Okay. What is it?""You really have to keep an open mind about this Pipes. Don't make a rash decision.""Jesus, Rachel, just tell me already.""It's a cash offer for twenty thousand less than you're asking.""What? That's insane. It was already below market value, and you dropped the price yesterday!""I realize that, but keep in mind you don't owe what you're asking, and a cash offer gets the responsibility of the condo o
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. How can the insurance company tell a doctor I no longer need to be here? Isn't it the doctor's job to determine that?" I'm trying to stay calm but having my caseworker tell me the insurance company is denying inpatient treatment beyond this week is skyrocketing my blood pressure. "I understand your frustration, Mr. Cooper, I truly do. I'm still arguing for another week, but I wanted to give you a heads up in case I don't win.""I can't walk on my own! Our house is not handicapped-ready. Piper isn't a nurse. She has to work. Who's going to help me with PT?" The questions come pouring out as fast as they pop into my head like a popcorn popper with no lid."When do you think your wife might be here today?"I understand Piper is the rational one of the two of us, but this is pissing me off. "It doesn't matter, does it?""I thought it might be beneficial for us to go over some other programs that might be able to help you if you're released this we