Those who know me well are aware that I am what is called, colloquially, “anal”. My iPhone AI Overview tells me that is short for anal-retentive and is an insulting term for someone who is excessively preoccupied with order, rules, and minor details. Nail on head. Only I don’t really consider it an insult. My attention to detail means I care. Admittedly, sometimes, too much. My being detail-oriented has been a plus in most areas of my life. Order isn’t a bad thing in most cases, in my opinion. I acknowledge, though, that regimented thinking has interfered with my enjoyment of life on a regular basis.
To people like me “if” is the largest word in the English language. We fret, worry, about everything. In the words of Mark Twain, “I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.” I tend to catastrophize … assume the worst possible outcome of a situation will be what will happen, even when that outcome is unlikely.
Back in October, friends started to report to me that they were finding out that their health insurance was doubling over last year’s rate. For the past two years, we had been qualified for Obamacare benefits that made our healthcare, not affordable, but at least not something that was going to immediately bankrupt our small printing business which was is its forty-second year in business.
Knowing that that would be financially devastating to us, I put off going into the government healthcare portal until after our annual Thanksgiving beach trip vacation. I dreaded it, but had to bite the bullet when I returned. Sure enough, we no longer qualified for Obamacare benefits and our insurance would be, not $1100.00 a month, but $2385.00 a month … for worse coverage than we had ever had before. Higher deductibles. More money out of pocket. More expensive prescription drugs.
“We’ll just have to go without coverage,” I told friends, knowing that wasn’t possible, even if we could not afford many of the things we are used to spending money on.
We tightened our belts, reordered our priorities. I prayed we would be able to make the premiums. Worried about the things that might happen. I didn’t sleep more than a few hours a night for several months, thinking about what would happen if we could not make those premium payments. Wondering if we would have to close our family business and go to work for someone else just to get insurance that would not cause us to lose our home, our way of life.
Over the summer prior to this devastating news, my husband had helped me make a longtime dream come true when we turned our formal living room into a library. Part of that project was to carpet the living room and hall since that was what we could afford at the time. We planned to do the three bedrooms one at a time over the next year, so that all the carpet would match … because, of course, even though the carpet was not worn out in the bedrooms, my analness requires that everything must match. Finding out about the sudden doubling of our insurance premiums halted that plan. Immediately I put the word out that for any occasion … Christmas, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, National Daughter Day, secretary’s day (you get the drift), I wanted Lowes gift cards instead of any other gift so we could, hopefully, finish the carpet project before the matching carpet was discontinued. (Of course, that’s what will happen, my mind told me. Then we will never be able to have the carpet match.) Every time friends or family come to the house, I am embarrassed for them to see the mismatched carpet … to the point that I avoid company if I can.
This was one of the things that swirled around in my brain when I was awake at 3:00AM every night. Along with the what ifs surrounding our insurance. Not only did I worry about being able to pay the premiums, I agonized about what would happen if we needed to actually USE our insurance. The high deductible, the out of pocket requirements, the higher drug costs.
The term self-fulfilling prophecy comes to mind.
About a month ago my husband who has always been really healthy came home from a trip to Charleston, where he helped our friend move, with a head cold. For about a week he struggled with congestion and lethargy. Before his cold symptoms had even subsided, he began to have other symptoms that mimicked the urinary tract infections I used to suffer from frequently. He went to the doctor and, sure enough, was diagnosed with a UTI and given antibiotics. After the course of antibiotics, some of his symptoms seemed better, but the abdominal pain never abated and, in fact, got worse. I made him go back to the doctor. They basically told him if he wasn’t better in five days, they would do a CT scan. He wasn’t. They did.
I’ll never forget the phone call I got that afternoon. It was my husband. He said, “You need to close down the shop and come get me. I need to go to the Emergency Room immediately.” The scan had shown multiple pulmonary embolisms (PE) in the portion of his lungs that they could see on the abdominal CT. In a little more than an hour, we were in the ER After some blood tests, we were told that they could not help him in our smaller town and would have to take him by ambulance to Charlotte to see a specialist. The abdominal pain and the PE were two separate problems. The abdominal pain was coming from his bladder and kidneys. His kidneys were shutting down. His creatinine level (which should typically be 0.7 to 1.3 mg.dL) was 13.9. One of the highest levels the urologist at the ER had ever seen. And to make matters worse, Charlotte did not have a bed for him until someone was discharged. On the advice of the specialists in Charlotte, our urologist began immediately to treat him in the ER. A catheter took off over ten liters of urine from his bladder. It was a horrible orangish-red that was frightening to see. They also began a Heparin drip (blood thinner) to start working on the PE clots.
Twelve hours later, still in the ER in Huntersville, the doctors came in with some good news for a change. Darryl’s levels were lowering, things were turning around enough that we could stay at the local hospital instead of being transported to Charlotte. Two hours later, he was in a room. Two days later, his level of creatinine was back in the low normal range. He could go home …. with a catheter. Then we would start the journey of finding out if (as they suspect) the kidney failure was caused by an enlarged prostate. We’re still there, in the process. A hematologist will see him next week to figure out the blood clots, though we suspect that the three weeks on the couch during his kidney episode greatly contributed to those.
During this whole ordeal, I have worried. Not only about all of the things that can cause his issues (Google is not a good idea for those of us who suffer, already, from anxiety disorders), but about the practical concerns as well. Will this illness bankrupt us? How will we afford the medical bills with our crappy insurance when we are already struggling with the premiums? Then I kick myself, tell myself I’m a bitch to be thinking about those things when my husband is suffering, sick. Believe me, I wish I could NOT think about those things on top of my worry and fear around his illness. I’d give anything to not be that person. To concentrate fully on helping him, supporting him. He’s my life. In my worst case scenario brain, believe me, I am saying, “Even if we lost our house, we would still have each other.”
I’ve heard all the platitudes about not sweating the small stuff … like carpet matching. I know all the Bible verses by heart: “Do not be anxious for anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians: 4: 6) “Can anyone of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:27) “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matthew 6:34)
Big worries and small worries have ruled much of my life. I try my best to focus elsewhere. I count my blessing instead of counting sheep when I am lying awake at 3:00AM every night. I’m several weeks into a Bible study that I pray will help me to let go and trust in the Lord that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:28)
Tomorrow is my birthday. The gift I am now hoping for is a completely recovered and healthy husband. It’s what I am praying for in the middle of the night every night. Life has a way of redefining what is important, what matters. He is what matters to me. And so is He. I need both in my life, and that is what I am determined to focus on. Your prayers are coveted for the both of us.
Robin's Eggs 