Today we went to meet with the Hospital‘s Financial Adviser, about how we will deal with my bills.
The mountain that will become my payment responsibility.
In exchange for my life.

I know this man has a difficult job, trying to balance income with services and what can and cannot be done.

But this was one cold meeting.

As we (Mom and I) sat across the desk, I could see this was a man who had built a wall between himself and /emotion and reaction/, to the pleas of those who can not afford the services to save their lives.

People like me.

I don’t want to die.

We don’t want you to die either, Denise, but we can’t help you here.

I promise to make payments, this is my life, I will make payments until I die, just don’t let me die now.

This is not a lending institution.
This is not a charity hospital.
There are charity hospitals in Houston that are capable of helping you, but this is not one.

Dr. Keller told us if there was any problem, to have you talk to him.

Dr, Keller does not make the rules in this hospital, I am here to insure the rules are followed.

But this was mistreated as a staph infection for almost a year.

Ahhhhh… your primary physician…

No, Dr. Keller.

Around this point of the conversation, Mr. Jones stated that he would run my request for a payment plan across the desk of the Hospital’s CEO, but that I should be prepared for a rejection.

And – by the way – my upcoming tests, port insertion surgery and chemo were to be canceled, since I could not afford to pay for them upfront.

As I sat there, stunned, the reality of what this man was saying to me sank in like an anchor around my neck as I was dropped into the frigid waters of despair.

He did not care.
The Hospital did not care.

Bottom line, without insurance, if I couldn’t afford to pay upfront, then I could just forget about help here.

Dead man walking.  Dead Denise Walking.

How I managed to put one foot in front of the other, to leave that office, to walk down the hall, I don’t know, I don’t remember.  The icy waters were numbing my brain, numbing my reactions.  I wanted to run, to scream, but it was all I could do to place one frozen foot in front of the other.

On the ride home, we managed to call Dr. Keller’s office and inform Ann of the situation.  Our only hope. Our slim hope…

We continued the rest of day as planned, alternating between stunned silence and outbursts of activity – gasping for air, grasping for a life preserver that we could not reach.

When we arrived home, the phone was ringing.

It was Mr. Jones.  Kurt Jones.  The Financial SOB.

Ms. D, this is Kurt Jones, have you gotten the messages I left on you voicemail?

No, I have not, we’ve just arrived home.

Well, please disregard the first message, it was to inform you that your request for assistance was denied.  I’m pleased to inform you that the CEO has had a change of heart  regarding your situation, and we will be happy to assist you with financial arrangements.

Thank you very much! I really really appreciate this!!

My procedures had been reinstated.

So, I guess Dr. Keller gets to bend some rules around that hospital…

* (conversations to the best of my recollection considering the circumstances…)