A brief post script to yesterday's post... I had a comment on my blog from yesterday (which I published) that said: "Why don't you just give yourself a break? I think all grieving sucks. If your kids and dog are fed, then sit in the dark in your want." (I'm guessing she meant to write "if you want") This deserves a little response.
I write the struggle because even though I am frustrated, self-deprecating, self-defeated, and dulled... I *know* that this is where I am and that the only way out is through- so I have to go ahead and fight through it. This is not a cliche- it's true and it is hard. One of the things I have learned through the rough spots is that the struggle is necessary. If I don't fight and struggle, I lose. So- what I expressed in the blog was my way of fighting through it- voicing it gave me power and the depression ridiculousness. I know I need to grieve, I know I need grace. But my grace comes by the fist and yell here. If I stop moving and sit in the dark- I lose. The kids and dog being fed is not enough. Life does not give me space to be depressed- so when I experience it- it hurts and inconveniences. When I experience it, my kids do not have some innate ability to stop being 3 years old and 8 months old. They whine, spike fevers, want to play and cut in new teeth. This is the hardest part. But it is also the struggle that keeps me going- keeps me moving through to the other side. I cannot sit in the dark. I also don't really want to sit in the dark. I want to live my life. SO I struggle. I grow. It hurts. And like I fool- I do it in public at the smallest hope that even in my darkness- I give light to someone going through a similar thing. It feels embarrassing, but I refuse to hide it and go sit in the dark. I won't give in. This is not about grieving- this is about the darker shadow of depression that tries to piggyback on my grief. I'm shining a big fat spotlight on this thing- and I'm going to make it through.
The struggle is necessary. I don't want to sit in the dark.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
My way of grieving sucks- how about yours?
Guess what- I still have a blog in editing about my Grandmother and memories. I started it- felt good about it- then I was interrupted and now I don't feel like remembering. I feel like crap. Apparently when I grieve, I get depressed. I'm not naming it to claim it- I'm naming it to shit on it. Because it needs to go AWAY. I don't think it's a healthy normal way to grieve. Not this brand. There's a difference between feeling sad and feeling numbly a nonentity.
In an effort to give a vacuum of existence a space and handles... I'm going to write honestly about how I am doing. What I am doing. Here's my caveat- I don't write this to get apologies, affirmation, or anything like that. If you feel so led- fine- but I'm writing it so that by some odd chance someone out there who has the same useless method of grieving won't feel completely alone. It's about to get real here folks.
I'm feeling escapist. Visions of Florida lure my fantasies. I want to lay out in the sun, eat berries and chocolate, forget about the children and sleep for 10 hours straight every night. Oh holy Lord, yes. I want to skip winter. And rain- if it's going to rain- give me a damn thunderclap.
I'm annoyed, frustrated, and angry. At myself. I know that everyone grieves differently, everyone lives differently. I'm tired of my wrongs being the worse kind and my rights being the most painful. When I grieve, I seem to slip into the lethargic brand of depression. I stop cooking, cleaning, producing anything. I start eating and whining. My house, which was already hanging by a thread toward disaster's abyss- has fallen deep deep inside. I have no idea when I last cleaned anything in any of my bathrooms. Seriously. I haltingly and with great delay do dishes, laundry and feed my children. Often this involves dialing a delivery number. My eating habits, which were surprisingly good- are now surprisingly awful. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now I look 3 months pregnant.
I feel fat at all family functions. I know I am not overweight- but it is rough being the biggest girl in your family. Don't forget your petite sister-in-law. Even she doesn't have the decency to be normal for me. This is vain and honest. I want to be the hot one for once. Nope. I'm awkward, pale as a ghost and bumpy on the sides in a family of either athletes or "oh i just couldn't eat I was so stressed." What bullshit. I eat a bag of chips and salsa when I'm bored. You don't want to see stressed.
I am tired of having all of my negative effects be so damn negative. Why didn't I get the "clean to get things off your mind" gene? Or how about "lose your appetite" during a brief period? Even my clock is off. This has been all my life that it is off. I get my energy soar at 11 at night. I feel like dead weight between 7am-4pm. Rare is the day I jump out of bed with the sun in my eyes and head. Especially now. Besides it doesn't shine here anyways. Grey skies. Daily.
My most recent personal triumphs? They came through huge sacrifice and painful learning. I'm maturing- and I feel it like stabbing growth pains. My success comes in the form of becoming less important. It's appropriate- but I'd like to learn a lesson in accomplishment, talent, something uppy. Why dos my personal growth have to come in the form of humility? Sometimes being the "bigger man" really just makes me feel silenced and small. But to grow is to learn that some things really are not worth arguing and it is not important that you are right, but rather that you are still able to function in the relationship. Woo-freaking-hoo for being mature. It hurts- which is part of the maturity part- enduring it. It exhausts me.
Every accomplishment feels like climbing Mount Everest and every defeat feels like taking one wrong step and falling off a cliff.
There must be people out there like me. When things get tough- their very own soul rebels against the will to thrive. They retreat. They shut down. They do only what is necessary to do life. They get spurts of joy that keeps them moving toward the day when the stupor of whatever it is that has possessed their life wears off. They feel defenseless, defeated, tired. I'm sorry- but I do not want to have my soul respond this way. It is pissing me off.
People say- have grace- be gentle with yourself- give yourself time. It becomes frustrating and self-destructive when it feels like your "natural process" is about as difficult to recover from as the thing that you are processing. Surely there are healthy and unhealthy ways to grieve? When do I get to wake up from this coma? I promised myself that I would not do it this way when Grandmother died. I went through this with Memaush and while I still miss her every day- I did not need to grieve in depression to process and honor her death and life. But my soul didn't get the memo "no more destructive and time-warping depression." It's like my soul craves the dark cold corner- retreating there with the first excuse. I AM SICK OF IT.
Let's be honest- If I lost a child to some horrible disease- you wouldn't find me rising up and forming some fundraising foundation as a coping mechanism. I would be living in the in-law quarters at my parents' house, staring at the sky with a blank look on my face.
I'm tired of having everything thing about me not having a flip side. Grief does not give me sadness and memories- it gives me numbness. Turmoil does not give me triumph- it gives me strength to be trampled.
Aagh! I do not want my eyes to adjust to the darkness! I do not want to accept the lethargy! Why do I have to work so hard to find light and optimism? When I find that place- it is not a natural gift or ability. It is a fleeting vision that I have to focus and yet open-handedly grasp. If I try too hard, it falls. If I don't try- it never comes.
In the house I have an overwhelming urge to throw things away "Hoarders" style. And yet candy wrappers and junk mail lay on the table for days. Junk mail people are evil. Bruno brings in 625 lbs of dirt daily- and with the grey sky and rain- let's upgrade it to mud. He also now pees in the house occasionally, which we have finally ruled as a behavioral issue. I want to give the dog away. I want to get a job so I don't have to feel bad about not playing with the kids all the time. I can't make decisions and stick to them. I crave my family- putting them up on thrones they are sure to fall from.
I am Sarah, grieving via depression, and I am sick of myself for it.
My way of grieving sucks. How about you?
(fyi- i am not suicidal, my children are fed and my dog is taken care of. yadda yadda, etc- this is just me doing grief straight up lazy zoned-out style and being honest about it.)
In an effort to give a vacuum of existence a space and handles... I'm going to write honestly about how I am doing. What I am doing. Here's my caveat- I don't write this to get apologies, affirmation, or anything like that. If you feel so led- fine- but I'm writing it so that by some odd chance someone out there who has the same useless method of grieving won't feel completely alone. It's about to get real here folks.
I'm feeling escapist. Visions of Florida lure my fantasies. I want to lay out in the sun, eat berries and chocolate, forget about the children and sleep for 10 hours straight every night. Oh holy Lord, yes. I want to skip winter. And rain- if it's going to rain- give me a damn thunderclap.
I'm annoyed, frustrated, and angry. At myself. I know that everyone grieves differently, everyone lives differently. I'm tired of my wrongs being the worse kind and my rights being the most painful. When I grieve, I seem to slip into the lethargic brand of depression. I stop cooking, cleaning, producing anything. I start eating and whining. My house, which was already hanging by a thread toward disaster's abyss- has fallen deep deep inside. I have no idea when I last cleaned anything in any of my bathrooms. Seriously. I haltingly and with great delay do dishes, laundry and feed my children. Often this involves dialing a delivery number. My eating habits, which were surprisingly good- are now surprisingly awful. I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Now I look 3 months pregnant.
I feel fat at all family functions. I know I am not overweight- but it is rough being the biggest girl in your family. Don't forget your petite sister-in-law. Even she doesn't have the decency to be normal for me. This is vain and honest. I want to be the hot one for once. Nope. I'm awkward, pale as a ghost and bumpy on the sides in a family of either athletes or "oh i just couldn't eat I was so stressed." What bullshit. I eat a bag of chips and salsa when I'm bored. You don't want to see stressed.
I am tired of having all of my negative effects be so damn negative. Why didn't I get the "clean to get things off your mind" gene? Or how about "lose your appetite" during a brief period? Even my clock is off. This has been all my life that it is off. I get my energy soar at 11 at night. I feel like dead weight between 7am-4pm. Rare is the day I jump out of bed with the sun in my eyes and head. Especially now. Besides it doesn't shine here anyways. Grey skies. Daily.
My most recent personal triumphs? They came through huge sacrifice and painful learning. I'm maturing- and I feel it like stabbing growth pains. My success comes in the form of becoming less important. It's appropriate- but I'd like to learn a lesson in accomplishment, talent, something uppy. Why dos my personal growth have to come in the form of humility? Sometimes being the "bigger man" really just makes me feel silenced and small. But to grow is to learn that some things really are not worth arguing and it is not important that you are right, but rather that you are still able to function in the relationship. Woo-freaking-hoo for being mature. It hurts- which is part of the maturity part- enduring it. It exhausts me.
Every accomplishment feels like climbing Mount Everest and every defeat feels like taking one wrong step and falling off a cliff.
There must be people out there like me. When things get tough- their very own soul rebels against the will to thrive. They retreat. They shut down. They do only what is necessary to do life. They get spurts of joy that keeps them moving toward the day when the stupor of whatever it is that has possessed their life wears off. They feel defenseless, defeated, tired. I'm sorry- but I do not want to have my soul respond this way. It is pissing me off.
People say- have grace- be gentle with yourself- give yourself time. It becomes frustrating and self-destructive when it feels like your "natural process" is about as difficult to recover from as the thing that you are processing. Surely there are healthy and unhealthy ways to grieve? When do I get to wake up from this coma? I promised myself that I would not do it this way when Grandmother died. I went through this with Memaush and while I still miss her every day- I did not need to grieve in depression to process and honor her death and life. But my soul didn't get the memo "no more destructive and time-warping depression." It's like my soul craves the dark cold corner- retreating there with the first excuse. I AM SICK OF IT.
Let's be honest- If I lost a child to some horrible disease- you wouldn't find me rising up and forming some fundraising foundation as a coping mechanism. I would be living in the in-law quarters at my parents' house, staring at the sky with a blank look on my face.
I'm tired of having everything thing about me not having a flip side. Grief does not give me sadness and memories- it gives me numbness. Turmoil does not give me triumph- it gives me strength to be trampled.
Aagh! I do not want my eyes to adjust to the darkness! I do not want to accept the lethargy! Why do I have to work so hard to find light and optimism? When I find that place- it is not a natural gift or ability. It is a fleeting vision that I have to focus and yet open-handedly grasp. If I try too hard, it falls. If I don't try- it never comes.
In the house I have an overwhelming urge to throw things away "Hoarders" style. And yet candy wrappers and junk mail lay on the table for days. Junk mail people are evil. Bruno brings in 625 lbs of dirt daily- and with the grey sky and rain- let's upgrade it to mud. He also now pees in the house occasionally, which we have finally ruled as a behavioral issue. I want to give the dog away. I want to get a job so I don't have to feel bad about not playing with the kids all the time. I can't make decisions and stick to them. I crave my family- putting them up on thrones they are sure to fall from.
I am Sarah, grieving via depression, and I am sick of myself for it.
My way of grieving sucks. How about you?
(fyi- i am not suicidal, my children are fed and my dog is taken care of. yadda yadda, etc- this is just me doing grief straight up lazy zoned-out style and being honest about it.)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Numbness
I am so unoriginal. A week after my Grandmother's death and I feel: numb. I am struggling to find the space to grieve... something inside of me is blocking the channels- and I mean brick wall block. I have sort of been dazed these last several days. I finally got some actual tasks accomplished a couple days ago- which wore me out until today I am doing laundry again. I have yet to have made dinner. I think that's my signal to myself- when I have all the ingredients and a willing helper- but still don't make dinner. I suck at grieving. Just cry, dammit! It's the numbness that is allowing myself to hover over myself in this weird "look how stupid you are" way.
I am currently enjoying a hot chocolate with bailey's in it at oh say- 3pm. It's 5 o'clock....somewhere? The sky is the perfect depressing color of grey. It's almost laughable how predictable all of this is. Mom called today to let me know that I will be receiving Grandmother's ashes in the mail towards the end of this week, maybe early next week. Really?! It's macabre! My Grandmother will be delivered to me in the mail. In a box. And I have no emotion. I think part of my soul is SO afraid of getting all gross and depressed that it is trying to protect me from the grief. Stupid soul- if I don't feel it- it will come out some other way! Release! Drop it! Let go!
Part of my extended denial stage is the result of a strange sort of isolation and limbo-land. I am no less than 12 hours driving from any one member of my family. Sure- at least we're on the same coast, yadda yadda. Guess what? It sucks for me, so it sucks. We're in limbo because Grandmother will be buried in Arlington cemetery - the national one. Did you know that there is a wait list for burial? It will be no less than a month, maybe up to 2-3 months wait. We don't even know that for sure because the cemetery sent my Dad an *EMAIL* saying: um- we have no freakin idea when your turn will be... but we'll contact you...eventually. So- no service in sight. No plans to instruct my soul on proper grieving time. My family wishes to do the whole thing at once since traveling twice is not easy or cheap and people want to be at both the memorial service and burial. I get it- but come March, if I don't do something now- it's going to be an emotional whiplash.
So I've decided to have my own memorial service. I need to knock the wall over somehow. When Grandmother comes in the mail- I'll talk to her and come up with a plan. Then I'll play some songs, say a prayer, write a note- I don't know- SOMETHING. Because numbness is not how we humans were made to be. I'm fighting it. I'm sure sometime next week I'll be a blubbery mess and be so angry at myself for wanting it. But it sure beats this crap. I'm done with grey skies and pizza. I want homemade vegan meals, sunshine or a thunderstorm- hell- give me a fat snowstorm. (bring it) I want crying and no mascara wearing days. I want to heal. And I don't want to wait until Arlington National Cemetery calls to start my journey. So shove it- understaffed important cemetery.
So there. Maybe I'm angry now. No. Not really. Still numb- but I feel it rising.
I am currently enjoying a hot chocolate with bailey's in it at oh say- 3pm. It's 5 o'clock....somewhere? The sky is the perfect depressing color of grey. It's almost laughable how predictable all of this is. Mom called today to let me know that I will be receiving Grandmother's ashes in the mail towards the end of this week, maybe early next week. Really?! It's macabre! My Grandmother will be delivered to me in the mail. In a box. And I have no emotion. I think part of my soul is SO afraid of getting all gross and depressed that it is trying to protect me from the grief. Stupid soul- if I don't feel it- it will come out some other way! Release! Drop it! Let go!
Part of my extended denial stage is the result of a strange sort of isolation and limbo-land. I am no less than 12 hours driving from any one member of my family. Sure- at least we're on the same coast, yadda yadda. Guess what? It sucks for me, so it sucks. We're in limbo because Grandmother will be buried in Arlington cemetery - the national one. Did you know that there is a wait list for burial? It will be no less than a month, maybe up to 2-3 months wait. We don't even know that for sure because the cemetery sent my Dad an *EMAIL* saying: um- we have no freakin idea when your turn will be... but we'll contact you...eventually. So- no service in sight. No plans to instruct my soul on proper grieving time. My family wishes to do the whole thing at once since traveling twice is not easy or cheap and people want to be at both the memorial service and burial. I get it- but come March, if I don't do something now- it's going to be an emotional whiplash.
So I've decided to have my own memorial service. I need to knock the wall over somehow. When Grandmother comes in the mail- I'll talk to her and come up with a plan. Then I'll play some songs, say a prayer, write a note- I don't know- SOMETHING. Because numbness is not how we humans were made to be. I'm fighting it. I'm sure sometime next week I'll be a blubbery mess and be so angry at myself for wanting it. But it sure beats this crap. I'm done with grey skies and pizza. I want homemade vegan meals, sunshine or a thunderstorm- hell- give me a fat snowstorm. (bring it) I want crying and no mascara wearing days. I want to heal. And I don't want to wait until Arlington National Cemetery calls to start my journey. So shove it- understaffed important cemetery.
So there. Maybe I'm angry now. No. Not really. Still numb- but I feel it rising.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Grandmother- denial stage
My Grandmother died on December 7th, 2011 at 7:15am. My Mom called me at 7:19am to tell me.
As I sit to write this (writing as an act of grief), I am pretty sure that I still haven't quite grasped the concept that my Grandmother is gone. Life goes on so quickly, you hardly have time to even think the words "gone" and "died." All you get is "dinner" and "funeral" and "sorry" and "Christmas shopping." The last few days I have been lethargic, not having the will or the energy to do much of anything productive. I don't think it is another grieved depression like I experienced with Memaush, but instead I think my soul doesn't know how else to slow down other than to turn off. It doesn't work of course. Turning off means the thoughts turn to "oh crap, I didn't make dinner." I'm jealous of my sister, my parents are with her for the weekend to celebrate her daughter's 1st birthday. They will be sharing stories, offering hugs, being together in a moment of grief and celebration. I feel isolated up here, with no one who shares my memories. The phone is a gift, but no substitute for the dinner table.
Grandmother was my last living grandparent- maybe that is part of the reason why I am so slow on the uptake here- it's the end of a significant part of my life and who I am. Her death was neither a surprise nor an expectation. She got sick, and any time an 89 year old gets sick- there really is no telling which way it will go. She slowly breathed her last while holding the hand of my mother- the daughter she never had (she always said this about my Mom as her daughter-in-law).
It was time. She was ready. I still need space to let it fill my mind, my memories, my heart, my soul. I still need the space to find the period rather than the leaving it at a ...
I'll write more when I'm ready.
As I sit to write this (writing as an act of grief), I am pretty sure that I still haven't quite grasped the concept that my Grandmother is gone. Life goes on so quickly, you hardly have time to even think the words "gone" and "died." All you get is "dinner" and "funeral" and "sorry" and "Christmas shopping." The last few days I have been lethargic, not having the will or the energy to do much of anything productive. I don't think it is another grieved depression like I experienced with Memaush, but instead I think my soul doesn't know how else to slow down other than to turn off. It doesn't work of course. Turning off means the thoughts turn to "oh crap, I didn't make dinner." I'm jealous of my sister, my parents are with her for the weekend to celebrate her daughter's 1st birthday. They will be sharing stories, offering hugs, being together in a moment of grief and celebration. I feel isolated up here, with no one who shares my memories. The phone is a gift, but no substitute for the dinner table.
Grandmother was my last living grandparent- maybe that is part of the reason why I am so slow on the uptake here- it's the end of a significant part of my life and who I am. Her death was neither a surprise nor an expectation. She got sick, and any time an 89 year old gets sick- there really is no telling which way it will go. She slowly breathed her last while holding the hand of my mother- the daughter she never had (she always said this about my Mom as her daughter-in-law).
It was time. She was ready. I still need space to let it fill my mind, my memories, my heart, my soul. I still need the space to find the period rather than the leaving it at a ...
I'll write more when I'm ready.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Hearing Aids and Healthcare vs Health Insurance
I am about to venture into a topic I know everything and nothing about. I have worn hearing aids since I was diagnosed with congenital hearing loss around 18 months of age. I have had access to varying qualities of health care my entire life. I have been a dependent on my Father's military medical benefits, his civilian benefits, and currently my husband's medical benefits through the United Methodist Church. I have never been uninsured. I'm very blessed.
I just dropped $6,095.00 on new hearing aids. They are top of the line, digital hearing aids that will last between 4-7 years. I'm hoping to stretch them to 8 years. I am not a candidate for a cochlear implant. I do not function on "cheap" hearing aids (that's another post altogether!). Hearing aids are typically not covered under most insurance company policies. Mine is one of the most. I looked online for reasons why insurance companies exclude hearing aids from their coverage. I found this article: http://califmedicineman.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-insurance-companies-dont-pay-for.html (forgive me- I'm not up to date on creating links). This article is written by a doctor in California and is not completely researched, but not completely bogus either. The summary of this doctor's point (I believe) is that insurance companies are intended to insure against catastrophic events (ie- homeowners insurance pays for when the house burns down). SO health insurance is intended to pay for when you surprisingly have to have surgery. In this theme, the happenstance of a heart attack is insured, but the certainty that a hearing impaired person needs hearing aids cannot be "insured" because that person will definitely, always need hearing aids- so it isn't a "what-if," catastrophic possibility. I can see on paper why this makes sense. Why would you pay a company to cover all your health needs if your health needs are 100% predictable? You cut out the middle man and pay for it yourself. The company has no profit capacity if they cover the predictable.
It hit me as I read some of the comments on the blog entry.... regardless of the logic of money- people need hearing aids and only the financially stronger folks can afford it. I have yet to pay for my own hearing aids with my own money. The last set were paid for with help from my parents and my Grandmother. This time I guess you could say I paid for this set, except it was through the yearly inheritance check from my Grandmother- hardly my own bootstraps. We do have savings- but they would have been completely depleted- 4 years of savings would be whittled down to next to nothing. In a year when it is likely that we will be moved, and possible that we will need to purchase a home- it would be bad not to have savings.
So I think the question: "Why don't health insurance companies cover hearing aids?" -is really the wrong question. The question is rather, why do we have a system of health insurance that hardly substitutes for a lack of a system of health CARE? Think about it. If the catastrophic events were the only things that broke the bank- health insurance could be fairly simple. Hospital visits and major surgeries would be covered. Health CARE is a concept that folks need care to live- for most people this includes a host of 100% necessary and predictable things. For everyone- those needs are different. For the unfortunate, those needs are more and complex. The simplest problem with how our systems operate currently is that health CARE is not affordable. So we look to health insurance to fill the gap. Health INSURANCE is trying (and failing miserably) to be the system for all health needs- when it really should just be for the house burning down. Health insurance companies are now in powerful position over our health care. This is bad. Those who are unfortunate enough to have been born with any physical or mental disability are either uninsurable or without proper care. Essentially, under this broken system- if you don't have money and you do need health care- you're screwed.
Take the basic argument for hearing aids. Hearing impairment fits under one of those "stupid amounts" statistic. As my friend Katy describes, a stupid amount of pumpkin pie is the amount you should just eat because it is too small to put back in the fridge and too much to throw away. Hearing loss over the whole population is too small to have lobbying might, but too big to include hearing aids as an included service. Too many elderly need hearing aids. Too few young people need them. I found several sites that say 1 in 5 hearing impaired people that need hearing aids actually wear them. I think some of this is due to the fact that hearing aids are an acquired taste, but largely the cost seems to be the main deterrent. For insurance companies- the argument is that they cannot justify the young paying higher premiums to cushion the cost of the elderly needs. This argument seems shaky at best, since elderly are generally more expensive and have more health care needs and costs than younger people regardless of the hearing aid issue. $6000 every 5 years is a lot to us, but is it that much for an insurance company? I honestly don't know. Again- I think the issue is that we don't have a system of health CARE in place, and so our health insurance industry is under identity crisis- providing both catastrophic insurance and basic needs when and where it wants, with profit in mind.
All I know is this: hearing is a big deal. If I don't have hearing aids- I cannot function as well in the world. I cannot participate in the economy, workforce, or socially in any way that would not require significant assistance from others. With hearing aids, despite my severe to profound hearing loss- I have even fooled some people who are surprised to learn that I cannot hear. My Grandmother needs hearing aids. Before she deteriorated to her current state of dementia, her hearing loss acted as a compounding factor in social and intellectual decline as she isolated herself because she couldn't hear. Once I got a hold of her and got her fitted with better quality hearing aids (like I said- a whole different post)- it was too late in her stage of dementia and ear health. Now her hearing aids are more of a safety feature. She may not be able to carry on a detailed social conversation, but she can hear "STOP!" There was a man who wrote a comment on the blog I linked above- he was 45 years old, his marriage was suffering from communication issues and his finances could not handle another investment in hearing aids. With hearing aids he is probably fully capable of social interaction and holding a skilled job. Without them, he is forced to retreat into his shell and figure out another way to function in the world.
This is a problem. Hearing aids are just one of a plethora of examples of how we are not close to solving the issue of health CARE in America.
What do you think? I want to petition the government or someone to help insurance coverage of hearing aids- but I think this is asking for the wrong thing... There is a much larger problem here. Any thoughts? Ideas?
I just dropped $6,095.00 on new hearing aids. They are top of the line, digital hearing aids that will last between 4-7 years. I'm hoping to stretch them to 8 years. I am not a candidate for a cochlear implant. I do not function on "cheap" hearing aids (that's another post altogether!). Hearing aids are typically not covered under most insurance company policies. Mine is one of the most. I looked online for reasons why insurance companies exclude hearing aids from their coverage. I found this article: http://califmedicineman.blogspot.com/2007/12/why-insurance-companies-dont-pay-for.html (forgive me- I'm not up to date on creating links). This article is written by a doctor in California and is not completely researched, but not completely bogus either. The summary of this doctor's point (I believe) is that insurance companies are intended to insure against catastrophic events (ie- homeowners insurance pays for when the house burns down). SO health insurance is intended to pay for when you surprisingly have to have surgery. In this theme, the happenstance of a heart attack is insured, but the certainty that a hearing impaired person needs hearing aids cannot be "insured" because that person will definitely, always need hearing aids- so it isn't a "what-if," catastrophic possibility. I can see on paper why this makes sense. Why would you pay a company to cover all your health needs if your health needs are 100% predictable? You cut out the middle man and pay for it yourself. The company has no profit capacity if they cover the predictable.
It hit me as I read some of the comments on the blog entry.... regardless of the logic of money- people need hearing aids and only the financially stronger folks can afford it. I have yet to pay for my own hearing aids with my own money. The last set were paid for with help from my parents and my Grandmother. This time I guess you could say I paid for this set, except it was through the yearly inheritance check from my Grandmother- hardly my own bootstraps. We do have savings- but they would have been completely depleted- 4 years of savings would be whittled down to next to nothing. In a year when it is likely that we will be moved, and possible that we will need to purchase a home- it would be bad not to have savings.
So I think the question: "Why don't health insurance companies cover hearing aids?" -is really the wrong question. The question is rather, why do we have a system of health insurance that hardly substitutes for a lack of a system of health CARE? Think about it. If the catastrophic events were the only things that broke the bank- health insurance could be fairly simple. Hospital visits and major surgeries would be covered. Health CARE is a concept that folks need care to live- for most people this includes a host of 100% necessary and predictable things. For everyone- those needs are different. For the unfortunate, those needs are more and complex. The simplest problem with how our systems operate currently is that health CARE is not affordable. So we look to health insurance to fill the gap. Health INSURANCE is trying (and failing miserably) to be the system for all health needs- when it really should just be for the house burning down. Health insurance companies are now in powerful position over our health care. This is bad. Those who are unfortunate enough to have been born with any physical or mental disability are either uninsurable or without proper care. Essentially, under this broken system- if you don't have money and you do need health care- you're screwed.
Take the basic argument for hearing aids. Hearing impairment fits under one of those "stupid amounts" statistic. As my friend Katy describes, a stupid amount of pumpkin pie is the amount you should just eat because it is too small to put back in the fridge and too much to throw away. Hearing loss over the whole population is too small to have lobbying might, but too big to include hearing aids as an included service. Too many elderly need hearing aids. Too few young people need them. I found several sites that say 1 in 5 hearing impaired people that need hearing aids actually wear them. I think some of this is due to the fact that hearing aids are an acquired taste, but largely the cost seems to be the main deterrent. For insurance companies- the argument is that they cannot justify the young paying higher premiums to cushion the cost of the elderly needs. This argument seems shaky at best, since elderly are generally more expensive and have more health care needs and costs than younger people regardless of the hearing aid issue. $6000 every 5 years is a lot to us, but is it that much for an insurance company? I honestly don't know. Again- I think the issue is that we don't have a system of health CARE in place, and so our health insurance industry is under identity crisis- providing both catastrophic insurance and basic needs when and where it wants, with profit in mind.
All I know is this: hearing is a big deal. If I don't have hearing aids- I cannot function as well in the world. I cannot participate in the economy, workforce, or socially in any way that would not require significant assistance from others. With hearing aids, despite my severe to profound hearing loss- I have even fooled some people who are surprised to learn that I cannot hear. My Grandmother needs hearing aids. Before she deteriorated to her current state of dementia, her hearing loss acted as a compounding factor in social and intellectual decline as she isolated herself because she couldn't hear. Once I got a hold of her and got her fitted with better quality hearing aids (like I said- a whole different post)- it was too late in her stage of dementia and ear health. Now her hearing aids are more of a safety feature. She may not be able to carry on a detailed social conversation, but she can hear "STOP!" There was a man who wrote a comment on the blog I linked above- he was 45 years old, his marriage was suffering from communication issues and his finances could not handle another investment in hearing aids. With hearing aids he is probably fully capable of social interaction and holding a skilled job. Without them, he is forced to retreat into his shell and figure out another way to function in the world.
This is a problem. Hearing aids are just one of a plethora of examples of how we are not close to solving the issue of health CARE in America.
What do you think? I want to petition the government or someone to help insurance coverage of hearing aids- but I think this is asking for the wrong thing... There is a much larger problem here. Any thoughts? Ideas?
Friday, December 2, 2011
5 Hour Layover
I just got back from my family Thanksgiving, or Chrisgiving as we call it. We alternate holidays with the in-laws. When my family gets together for Thanksgiving, we celebrate Christmas as well: Chrisgiving as my sister, Jessa coined it. This year we had the opportunity to go to south Florida where my parents live. In the last few years we have met somewhere in Tennessee to accommodate my sister's pregnancies/baby born times.
To say that the weather was nice is like saying the beach is cute. Amazing. Weather. I'm still in cold shock. I had a wonderful two weeks with my family, and Thanksgiving with the whole gang. What I want to write about now is the little glitch on the way down to Florida.
I'll title the trip: 5 Hour Layover. Being a smart Mom, I booked myself a nonstop flight with my two sons (Jason was traveling separately because of his work schedule). We were to leave Wednesday morning (a week before Thanksgiving, avoiding the crowds) at 1030am and arrive in West Palm Beach at around 1pm. We had to get up early to make it to the flight on time. The boys slept fairly well and I had packed mostly everything the day before. Jason woke me up to feed the baby and start getting ready for the day and I went to the bathroom and went right back to bed. Suddenly my stomach was wracked with intense pain. Fetal position pain. I thought: crap, I can't travel sick with two kids. I told Jason what was happening- tried to um.. work things out- but to no avail except some dry heaving. He continued to get things ready just in case and I fell back to sleep after the pain finally subsided long enough to allow me to sleep. Meanwhile Jason called to find out how much it would be to change the tickets. $600. Because US Airways wants you to fly AND vomit with them. I woke up about an hour later feeling pretty normal. I gave Jason the go and took a quick shower and we shoved ourselves out the door. We got on the road around 9am, with an estimated 30 minute drive to hopefully be at the airport an hour (tight) ahead of our flight. Not so. DC traffic strikes again and we arrived at 10am.
The woman at the counter confirmed what I learned at the check-in kiosk: I'm too late. I've missed my flight and now I have a 3 year old, a 7 month old, two car seats, a stroller and a suitcase with no flight plan. Luckily Jason was still with me as I attempted to work some magic with the airline person. No magic was had. She was inexplicably slow (as she checked me in for a 1040am flight and then realized that it too, was not going to work). I think she was honestly trying (without much gusto or personality- but trying) to help me. There were two options: a flight leaving at noon with a 5 Hour Layover in Charlotte, or the nonstop flight the next morning. Policy was that she had to put me on the next available flight, since I had missed my flight. I begged her to put me on the 1030am flight. She looked like she might have wanted to. Then Mr. Airline Manager came to the scene. The woman visibly stiffened. I was screwed. She said that I wanted the 1030 flight and he spoke about me in third person, two feet from my face. "She MISSed her flight, so SHE will have to be put on the next available flight..." etc. I begged him- showing him the cute faces of my children and explaining why we were late. The grace button was not pushed. Jason had been hanging behind with the kids and came up for an update. I gave the update, laced with a little acid about the helpfulness and grace and mercy of the employers.
Then it dawned on me. I couldn't change a damn thing. We were going to either fly the 5 Hour Layover or pay $600 to change the flight. Either way it sucked, and I was going to have to deal with it. I decided to change my attitude. (For those who know me well- this was an act of extreme growth on my part.) SO I decided that we were going to make it. It was going to be ok and we were going to get there. And you know what? It for real made the day doable. I KNOW myself, and if I hadn't made that grown-up decision to stop sulking or simmering, the day would have been a disaster. Instead I made it through the tough moments when I was physically exhausted from walking a 3 year old and steering a 7 month old while the 3 year old tried to wander off or stand directly in the middle of airport "traffic" and the 7 month old screamed himself to sleep. In the end, there were actually some sweet moments and I was able to appreciate them.
Basically I was shoved in the back of the plane for the first flight and there was one empty seat next to me. I hoped it would remain so- but as I saw a woman continue to walk to the back of the plane, I knew she was my seat-mate. The moment she recognized where she was sitting was the best, most real expression of panic that I have ever seen in my life. I would pay money to see it again. She frantically looked for empty seats, refused to sit until she was sure she had no other options, and managed to neither speak to me or make eye contact for the entire flight. I tried to make nice, letting her off the hook for wanting to sit somewhere else and making the hopeful promise that my kids usually travel well. The ladies in front of me were making eyes at my boys, and at the end of the flight one of them turned to me and said: you were right, your boys were very well-behaved. I swelled with pride. My positive attitude made it so the terrified lady was actually the funniest thing about my day. I wasn't angry, but strangely amused. Her worse nightmare was my every day choice. HA! I've never seen someone so uncomfortable around children. The second flight went well, with some moments where I had to be creative to keep Hunter entertained. When the sky grew dark and the city lights started shining- Hunter began to tell me everything he saw: ships, cars, houses, buildings, trucks, planes. It was musical how magic the scene was for him. When we landed, the also kid-hesitant seat-mate of this flight was kind enough to complement my children as well as several others on the plane. Again I swelled with pride. My boys were so good. AND- we landed and were done.
When we arrived, my Dad picked us up- and it was so good to see my willing and able Daddy- ready to help. He took Hunter to the bathroom and laughed about how he never did that with us girls because we always went with Mom to the public bathrooms. We got to the baggage claim and I immediately saw our two car seats, but no luggage. They lost my luggage. Of course. Again- my attitude was such that I thought it was hilarious. Of course they lost my luggage! They had 5 hours to find the right plane, and not only did it go on the wrong plane to the wrong city- it went on the wrong airline! I was so relieved that we had the car seats- we could go home- I didn't care about the luggage- one less thing to haul.
They delivered the luggage the next day and already the 5 Hour Layover was a distant memory because Hunter and Graham were happily playing in sunny Florida. And I experienced the power of choosing to have a good attitude. It was a lesson that will stay with me. The nonstop flight back to DC was so easy I wondered why I ever worried about 2.5 hour flights with kids before. After the 5 Hour Layover- I could do anything!
Growing up isn't so bad.
To say that the weather was nice is like saying the beach is cute. Amazing. Weather. I'm still in cold shock. I had a wonderful two weeks with my family, and Thanksgiving with the whole gang. What I want to write about now is the little glitch on the way down to Florida.
I'll title the trip: 5 Hour Layover. Being a smart Mom, I booked myself a nonstop flight with my two sons (Jason was traveling separately because of his work schedule). We were to leave Wednesday morning (a week before Thanksgiving, avoiding the crowds) at 1030am and arrive in West Palm Beach at around 1pm. We had to get up early to make it to the flight on time. The boys slept fairly well and I had packed mostly everything the day before. Jason woke me up to feed the baby and start getting ready for the day and I went to the bathroom and went right back to bed. Suddenly my stomach was wracked with intense pain. Fetal position pain. I thought: crap, I can't travel sick with two kids. I told Jason what was happening- tried to um.. work things out- but to no avail except some dry heaving. He continued to get things ready just in case and I fell back to sleep after the pain finally subsided long enough to allow me to sleep. Meanwhile Jason called to find out how much it would be to change the tickets. $600. Because US Airways wants you to fly AND vomit with them. I woke up about an hour later feeling pretty normal. I gave Jason the go and took a quick shower and we shoved ourselves out the door. We got on the road around 9am, with an estimated 30 minute drive to hopefully be at the airport an hour (tight) ahead of our flight. Not so. DC traffic strikes again and we arrived at 10am.
The woman at the counter confirmed what I learned at the check-in kiosk: I'm too late. I've missed my flight and now I have a 3 year old, a 7 month old, two car seats, a stroller and a suitcase with no flight plan. Luckily Jason was still with me as I attempted to work some magic with the airline person. No magic was had. She was inexplicably slow (as she checked me in for a 1040am flight and then realized that it too, was not going to work). I think she was honestly trying (without much gusto or personality- but trying) to help me. There were two options: a flight leaving at noon with a 5 Hour Layover in Charlotte, or the nonstop flight the next morning. Policy was that she had to put me on the next available flight, since I had missed my flight. I begged her to put me on the 1030am flight. She looked like she might have wanted to. Then Mr. Airline Manager came to the scene. The woman visibly stiffened. I was screwed. She said that I wanted the 1030 flight and he spoke about me in third person, two feet from my face. "She MISSed her flight, so SHE will have to be put on the next available flight..." etc. I begged him- showing him the cute faces of my children and explaining why we were late. The grace button was not pushed. Jason had been hanging behind with the kids and came up for an update. I gave the update, laced with a little acid about the helpfulness and grace and mercy of the employers.
Then it dawned on me. I couldn't change a damn thing. We were going to either fly the 5 Hour Layover or pay $600 to change the flight. Either way it sucked, and I was going to have to deal with it. I decided to change my attitude. (For those who know me well- this was an act of extreme growth on my part.) SO I decided that we were going to make it. It was going to be ok and we were going to get there. And you know what? It for real made the day doable. I KNOW myself, and if I hadn't made that grown-up decision to stop sulking or simmering, the day would have been a disaster. Instead I made it through the tough moments when I was physically exhausted from walking a 3 year old and steering a 7 month old while the 3 year old tried to wander off or stand directly in the middle of airport "traffic" and the 7 month old screamed himself to sleep. In the end, there were actually some sweet moments and I was able to appreciate them.
Basically I was shoved in the back of the plane for the first flight and there was one empty seat next to me. I hoped it would remain so- but as I saw a woman continue to walk to the back of the plane, I knew she was my seat-mate. The moment she recognized where she was sitting was the best, most real expression of panic that I have ever seen in my life. I would pay money to see it again. She frantically looked for empty seats, refused to sit until she was sure she had no other options, and managed to neither speak to me or make eye contact for the entire flight. I tried to make nice, letting her off the hook for wanting to sit somewhere else and making the hopeful promise that my kids usually travel well. The ladies in front of me were making eyes at my boys, and at the end of the flight one of them turned to me and said: you were right, your boys were very well-behaved. I swelled with pride. My positive attitude made it so the terrified lady was actually the funniest thing about my day. I wasn't angry, but strangely amused. Her worse nightmare was my every day choice. HA! I've never seen someone so uncomfortable around children. The second flight went well, with some moments where I had to be creative to keep Hunter entertained. When the sky grew dark and the city lights started shining- Hunter began to tell me everything he saw: ships, cars, houses, buildings, trucks, planes. It was musical how magic the scene was for him. When we landed, the also kid-hesitant seat-mate of this flight was kind enough to complement my children as well as several others on the plane. Again I swelled with pride. My boys were so good. AND- we landed and were done.
When we arrived, my Dad picked us up- and it was so good to see my willing and able Daddy- ready to help. He took Hunter to the bathroom and laughed about how he never did that with us girls because we always went with Mom to the public bathrooms. We got to the baggage claim and I immediately saw our two car seats, but no luggage. They lost my luggage. Of course. Again- my attitude was such that I thought it was hilarious. Of course they lost my luggage! They had 5 hours to find the right plane, and not only did it go on the wrong plane to the wrong city- it went on the wrong airline! I was so relieved that we had the car seats- we could go home- I didn't care about the luggage- one less thing to haul.
They delivered the luggage the next day and already the 5 Hour Layover was a distant memory because Hunter and Graham were happily playing in sunny Florida. And I experienced the power of choosing to have a good attitude. It was a lesson that will stay with me. The nonstop flight back to DC was so easy I wondered why I ever worried about 2.5 hour flights with kids before. After the 5 Hour Layover- I could do anything!
Growing up isn't so bad.
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