Tags: family, finances, health, trials and tribulations
It never rains, but it pours.
I got a call from Detroit on my office phone. “Did you get my text?”
Well, no, obviously I didn’t. Because if I did, I would have called right away, or left, or something. She’s in the hospital. Stomach pains and eventually some vomiting.
My fear–aside from the most obvious of things–is that they’ll need to do surgery at some point. My other fear is that she’ll just have to live with it, and be increasingly debilitated as time goes by.
But she said not to worry about leaving right away and coming to the hospital just yet. She’s familiar with the routine. I think she feels if she acts like it’s not a big deal, then it won’t be, and she’ll be okay.
Then I get a call from the ex-wife. Did I get her message the other day about Mitchell? He cut his hair really short, pierced his tongue, and wants to put gauges in his ears. Christ in a side car. Yes, I got that message. Yes, I’m going to have a talk with him.
Well, never mind that. My daughter Miranda fell at school. She’s been having problems with her knee post-surgery. It seems like she can feel a pin coming loose. Her knees are giving out on occasion.
Linda can’t leave to pick her up, because she obviously wants to dump all this on me. I barely have gas money to get home, much less–
“I’ll take care of it.”
I check my bank accounts. One has 9 dollars, one has 8. I’m driving the big truck, which gets phenomenally bad gas mileage. I have a shitty check waiting for me at Pizza Hut, and a check for 9 dollars from ATT, God love em. For what, I have no idea.
Between a dozen phone calls on my ride home–I left work early–I get someone to get her a ride home and leave a message for the doctor to call me back for an appointment.
Once I’m at home, I am informed that the gas is turned off. Outside, the sky is blue and clear; it’s a gorgeous spring day.
The doctor’s office calls back finally, and I make an appointment for Saturday. I did not know they Saturday appointments, but this is a good thing. I can pick her up Friday night, have her spend the night, take her to the doctor in the morning, and then take her home. And then go finish this project at Bunny’s house that she already paid me for.
A few minutes later, the big bad bill collector from the doctor’s office calls me. I owe some money. They had been billing the wrong insurance company–their fault, I’m sure–and I owe 330 dollars. They want me to make a payment on it when I come in. I’ll try. I’ll really, really try.
It’s starting to hail.