A Trip to the Hospital: Part II
See here for the first part of the story. – – – My mom and I sat side by side in hard plastic chairs, listening to the social worker go on about why I didn’t qualify for Medicaid or Medicare. Mom had driven down to take me home so I could convalesce before going back to rehab, but first thing’s first – the bill of services. Hence, the social worker. “I’ve been sober for thirteen days. I’m in rehab. I have nothing. Who is going to pay for this?” I asked everyone from the epidemiologist to the nurse who changed my IV fluid. Any time I repeated this question I…
A Trip to the Hospital
“I’m okay,” I said, taking a gulping breath. The counselor tilted her head slightly, looking at me quizzically. “Are you sure? You look like you’re having trouble breathing.” “Yes,” I said. I took another gulping breath. “Well, okay then. Let me know if you want me to take you to the clinic.” I nodded. I couldn’t afford to go to the doctor. I’d never had insurance – preexisting conditions, you know. It was probably just a bad case of bronchitis, but luckily I could go to an online Canadian Pharmacy to find medicines for this. I could live with that. May,* the head counselor of the women, continued to lead…