I’ve lived my entire life watching the budget be wrecked for my family (when I was a child) due to “unaffordability”. I’d get sick. I’d need yet another surgery. Some strange infection needed megabucks to pay for the prescriptions. You name it; it happened.
Whatever happened, I lived the truth that “Sh*t Happens”.
I lived within my means. I made room for fun while saving for the future. In the end, though, sh*t happens. Sh*t always happens.
Right now, I am dealing with increasing costs relating to what’s involved in living, and I’m deciding to give up refilling my medications, at least in the short term, as it’s the best option I have for controlling my health. So, my next SSDI payment is due, and before I’ve event dealt with the money for house repairs, I’m already down to $25 to live on for the month:
While there is $200 in the “savings” account, that money goes quickly, especially if I have to pay for gutter repairs to keep Abner Kravitz off my last nerve. (The damage happened yesterday, and he came out during the storm to tell me what to do. Ugh. If I wanted a bossy guy, I’d be married).
While I appreciate the recommendation of someone to possibly fix the damage, or, at least pull down the damaged gutter so that Abner won’t have to look at it, the last thing I want is Abner in my face when I’m already stressing. I don’t go out in storms, and I’m not going to deal with this mess until after the storms are done.
I can hear the bandsaws working locally, so I know that others feel differently. For right now, though, I don’t want to have to explain to anyone why I’m pinning my hopes on winning my case and getting my backpay. Or, on being terminated and getting my hands on my 401K.
At some point, I will run out of money. That’s how this game works. Until I reach that point, though, I’ll put a little into the bucket for every need, and juggle the funds and I work to get through each month without adding to my debt.
At this point, I’ve sent an email to the Diabetes Doctor about the outrageous invoice I received after having gotten a quote for less than $180 and being billed for $854, but that doesn’t make the doctor’s bill go away, and it doesn’t make a dent in the fact that – presuming she won’t back down on her invoice – I have to spend the next 4 months paying $100 or more a month for services already rendered.
When one has COPD, though, it’s the cost of the medicines which are crazy. I’ve done my best all my life to keep my medicine cost to a minimum, and to investigate alternative therapies such as breathing exercises in place of medicine as emergencies happen, and you might have to get by without your medication if an emergency occurs.
I’ve already been triaging my medical care to move my doctor’s appointments around so that I can afford one a month, and keep on the side of the angels for being “compliant”. (The last thing someone wants to be labeled as is “non-compliant”, as that makes a difficult medical situation much, much worse).
I’m nor writing this, though, to ask for help or for pity. I’m doing fine compared to many others as I haven’t missed a meal, haven’t skipped my meds, and still have a warm and dry place to lay my head each night where I can be (relatively) undisturbed.
I’m writing on this topic, though, to emphasize so that others may understand that one can be rational, non-depressed, and still believe in euthanasia.
Canadian medicine is more humane, in my humble opinion, but I’m not Canadian. While the American way is to believe in life at any cost, that’s not my way.
A wonderful guy who is suffering from COPD and is a veteran spent some time in the hospital again this week because he couldn’t get air. He couldn’t catch his breath, and he was really panicking as he was struggling to breathe.
After 3 days in the hospital they sent him home. His doctor also told him that there was nothing more that they could do for him, and not to come back.
I went through something similar with my Mom during her last year of life. First, I got to the hospital (she’d been in for 9 days) to see that they were letting her die, that her doctor never showed up to oversee her care, and that they were disrespecting her wishes to die at home.
So, I took things in hand. I had a fight with my Baby Sis, but I got Mom home under hospice care to die. Only she didn’t. Mom rallied, and I’m thankful every day that hospice was there to help us be honest about her situation and her options.
What people refuse to understand is that there is no getting out alive. At the end of the day, the medical profession is practicing their art and guessing about what will be most helpful to you.
While we don’t have a date stamp on our foot, we all know that we will die someday. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. Someday.
But, when we refuse to provide humane support for people who are on their last leg, leaving them to juggle their own finances, manage their own options, and wandering in the medical halls of a large industry trying to ensure that they haven’t been overlooked? That’s just the height of cruelty to me.
So, I will do what I must to survive, knowing that I believe in euthanasia, and want simply to be able to afford to take care of myself without a lot of drama until it’s time to put me down because my quality of life is at is end.
No passive neglect, forcing me to choose between housing and medication and food. But, an actual, honest decision about options once I’ve exhausted my resources.
I think it’s the height of cruelty to keep me alive from birth on, despite my medical conditions, and then demand that I hurry up and die because my life is non-sustainable without appropriate medical care, housing and food. Oh, while also denying me end of life choices because “euthanasia is wrong”… Especially when it’s according to some faith or god that I don’t believe in.