Jiminy Cricket Bites the Dust

ex·pend·able adjective \ik-ˈspen-də-bəl\ 
    (1) easily replaced : not worth saving : not meant to be saved : to be used & thrown away;
    (2) more easily or economically replaced than rescued, salvaged, or protected.   
                     (Merriam-Webster.com)

Today marks one month and one week since I was unceremoniously dumped out the back door at my place of employment.  Through no fault of my own (again), I suddenly find myself on the job market (again).  Nothing but praises for my work ethic and the quality of the work I produce (again).  I am simply a casualty of budget cuts in a shaky economy (again).  I am expendable – AGAIN.

Once, just once, I would like to be the girl that people would fight to keep.  The one they would “close this place down before we let her get away!”  I am and always have been a very loyal employee.  Unfortunately though, when it comes to money (and it generally always does), most employers do not reciprocate that loyalty.  And even though I know for fact that money was a LARGE consideration in my dismissal this time, I feel that it was probably my words of caution regarding several unilateral changes causing sweeping turmoil which ultimately decided my fate.  I was a conscience that someone did not want to hear.

There are several real reasons why I am so upset at being on the job market again at this point in my life:
  1.  I am 56 years old and there are a go-zillion younger, more attractive, more energetic people applying for the same jobs, and they are willing and able to accept those jobs for less money than I can afford to take.
  2.  I am fat, and fat people have to work twice as hard to convince most employers that they are desirable and dependable workers.  I am not whining, it is just the way things are in this appearance-obsessed world in which we live.
  3.  Friends my age are talking about retiring.  At the rate I am going, I will be at least 95 years old before I can even consider retirement. I was out of the workforce for many years, caring for my children and then caring for my terminally-ill husband.  I do not regret a single one of those days of staying home, but now, those years out of the workplace are working to my disadvantage.
  4.  Just one week prior to my dismissal, I had to attend the funeral of my very best friend.  Heartbreak following the death of a dear one is not exactly conducive to searching for a new job. 
  5.  I am just ever-loving TIRED of having to start over and be low-woman-on-the-totem-pole again.


So, now I am put in the position of having to beg people, most of whom are younger and less experienced than myself, to give me a chance.  It is EXHAUSTING.

I fortunately am blessed with many people who are sincerely praying for me as I search for the new direction my life will take.  I do not pretend to understand what God is doing in this situation.  My feelings have been terribly hurt and my anxiety about being unemployed is very high.  His response to my anguished cries has been from the beginning, “Trust Me.”  That is what I am trying to do.  I am more successful some days than others.      




         

Broken Angel Wings


 
I have always given great credence to the meanings of dreams and signs.  Ever since I was young, some of my dreams have seemingly been glimpses of insight into past and present situations, or “sneak-peeks” into what the future might hold.   I am NOT saying that I can predict the future.  I cannot.  It feels more like a deeply ingrained intuition or a God-given discernment.  Whatever you would like to call it, it mainly helps me to make sense of my life and what goes on in my sphere of existence. 
As far back as I can remember, I would have dreams about different people and within days, I would see/hear from them or would hear that something major was going on in their lives.  Some dreams were simply how my mind tried to make sense out of craziness going on around me.  For example, right after Ken was diagnosed with cancer, I started having a lot of “out-of-control” dreams.  I dreamed we were in a car with no brakes.  Then I dreamed we were in a helicopter being piloted by a family member whose driving in a car scares me senseless.  Those dreams could be completely attributed to the frightening situation of Ken’s terminal illness and how helpless and out of control I felt at the time. 

Other dreams, however, seemed to be more prophetic in nature.  When I was in college, I always knew if my little brother was sick or hurt, because I would dream about him and wake with a feeling of great concern.  Upon calling home to check, he would be running a fever, or have some sort of kid injury.  I can’t explain how I knew… I just felt it.  Once, I dreamed about my college “Big Sis”, whom I hadn’t seen in years.  In the dream, she showed me a sweet baby boy in a stroller and said, “Melinda, I would like to introduce you to my son.”  Less than two weeks later, she called me out of the blue and told me that she had had a baby… a BOY!  Two or three weeks before my niece announced that she was expecting her first child, I dreamed that I saw her pregnant.  Another time I had a crazy dream about a dear childhood friend.  When I called to check on her, she revealed that she was having some serious health problems.
Some of my dreams though, like the one the other night in which I acquired a new house pet… an OSTRICH named Gertrude, are just plain crazy and clearly not prophetic (at least I hope not!).  I think those are purely for our entertainment and to make us laugh.  God does have an awesome sense of humor.    

As far as signs go, I believe that God gives us signs all the time.  I laughingly say that having an iron shoot sparks and blow up in my hand was a sign from God that I was not supposed to iron, ever again.  I don’t, by the way.  J    I firmly believe that God gives us signs through nature, through the people we have contact with, through our seeking His face through the Bible and prayer.  Most of the time, though, I think we are too busy to notice, let alone take heed, of the signs He gives us to direct us during our lives.
Ken and I had discussed at great length what I should do if he didn’t survive his cancer.  We both agreed that if he died, I should take the boys and move to Alabama to be closer to my family.  There was no great sign that brought us to that conclusion.  Just a heart-felt consensus that it would be the best thing for us to do.  After moving down here, though, I was faced with disposing of his properties in GA.  When I sold his largest property, I wrestled with whether or not I should pay off our house, or invest the money or put it into savings.  Had been trying to decide for about a month, when my daily Bible reading just happened to be 2 Kings 4:1-7 where a widow with 2 sons (sound familiar?) came to Elisha and said that her sons were going to be taken as slaves to pay her husband’s debt.  She needed help to protect her sons.  Elisha asked her what she had.  The widow replied “All I have left is a jar of oil”.  He told her to go and borrow all the bottles and jugs she could find.  I am sure that the widow had no idea how collecting bottles and jugs would help her protect her sons.  She probably questioned Elisha’s sanity.  But she knew that Elisha was a man of God, so she did what he said.  Then Elisha told her to pour her oil (the only thing she had left, remember?) into one of the bottles.  She started pouring and kept on pouring until every single bottle and jug was full to the brim.  Elisha said to the widow, “Sell the oil and pay your husband’s debt.  You and your sons can live on what is left.”  THAT DAY, I made arrangements to pay off our house.  To the depths of my soul, I knew this Scripture passage, at this time in my life, was God’s sign telling me to protect my sons by making sure we had a home to live in.  Months later, when the housing market bottomed out and people everywhere were going “upside-down” in their mortgages, my sign was confirmed.  I praise God every day that we don’t have to worry about mortgage payments.

This all brings me to another sign… one I think I missed, until the Lord revealed it to me last week.  I’m still processing it, and it may be hard to get down into words, so bear with me.  From very early on in our relationship, Ken called me his “angel”.  I had never considered myself particularly angelic before we met, and I certainly don’t always act that way, but the love in his eyes whenever he said it made me believe it could be true.  When we were planning our wedding, I found the cutest set of kissing angels.  I thought they would be perfect on our wedding cake.  We already had a cake topper, so I decided they would look precious between the top two tiers, so I told our caterer that’s what I wanted.  As I was getting dressed the day of the wedding, someone came and handed me the box that held my kissing angels.  The caterer had sent them up with the message that one of the angels was broken, so we would just leave them off the cake.  In a panic, I opened the box and to my dismay, found that the wings of the boy angel, the one that represented Ken, were broken.  The feeling of dread I had as I held those tiny broken wings in my hand that day is difficult to explain.  Despair washed over me, but I knew that those angels HAD to be on our cake.  Folks probably thought I was having an attack of pre-wedding crazies, but Mama told Daddy to go and buy some Crazy Glue and fix that angel.  I think Daddy was probably already dressed in his tuxedo, but he took off in search of glue.  By the time of our reception, the boy angel was repaired and the set was perched on our cake, just as I had wanted them to be.  Mama and Daddy to the rescue, as usual.
Now… last week, out of the blue clear sky, a thought quietly came to me.  Were the broken angel wings a sign that I had been too busy to notice?  Had Ken’s broken angel been a sign that he would have to leave us too soon?  And if it was a sign, why did God wait until now, almost ten years after Ken died, to reveal it to me?  As I pondered, a line of the song I had played at Ken’s funeral started twirling around in my head… “but his body grew weary, for his wings were broken”.  A day or so after that, a FB friend posted a quote from Ernest Hemingway that said, “The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places”.  I am not completely sure what all the references to brokenness mean, but oddly, they have been a comfort to me.  Maybe it is God’s way of reminding me that He has always known every second of my life and that He will take whatever is broken and make it strong again.  I’m still waiting and listening for whatever else He wants to reveal about it.  In the meantime…

Pay attention to signs from above, and SWEET DREAMS!!

A Fat Girl's Take on "Healthcare Reform"


When I first heard the words “Affordable Care Act” and a brief explanation of its intent, my initial reaction was “sounds like a good thing – everyone should have health care they can afford”.  It sounded good, in theory, but I wondered how it would end up affecting my family’s health care.

Health insurance has always been a sticky issue in my family.  Since my husband, Ken, was self-employed, at the beginning of our marriage, our insurance was purchased through my job.  Due to some unexpected circumstances, I left that job just before our first son was born.  We were able to continue that insurance through a COBRA policy, at a much higher rate.  After Jesse was born and we knew he and I were both healthy, we dropped the COBRA policy because of the high cost. 

Somewhere between the births of our first and second sons, we were able to get a hospital policy, but it covered virtually NOTHING, it just got us in the door if we needed treatment.  It was only after Benjamin arrived and we saw how little the policy paid on the maternity costs that Ken even considered that we even needed health insurance.  He had always been a healthy man, so he had never needed insurance.  He was also a “cash-only” kind of fellow.  His motto was, “If you don’t have the money in your pocket for it today, you don’t NEED it today.”  That included going to the doctor.  When he realized how many bills we incurred during the birth of Benjamin, Ken began to see that health insurance could be a good thing.  Luckily for us, at about this time, BCBS was offering policies for self-employed families at group rates.  We applied and were approved.

We kept that policy for the rest of our married life together.  Ken would complain from time to time about the cost, but he never tried to get me to cancel it.  Later on, when Ken was diagnosed with cancer, the policy was an absolute God-send.  But even with BCBS paying like they should, during the first year of Ken’s illness, we paid roughly $12,000 out-of-pocket.  It really would have been devastating if we hadn’t had the coverage.

After Ken died, the boys and I moved to Alabama to be closer to my family.  I contacted BCBS of AL and asked them if we could transfer our coverage from TN to AL.  They said we would have to apply for a new policy.  Well, since I am a fat girl, they refused to cover me, except for one of the hospital policies that doesn’t cover anything except getting you through the door.  Said the only reason they even offered me that is because I was coming from another state with a BCBS policy.  The good news was that they agreed to write regular policies on Jesse and Benjamin. 

A few years later, BCBS began running an open-enrollment for a policy that required no medical underwriting.  It was a much better policy than the one I had, and of course the cost was much higher, but I didn’t feel as I really had a choice but to apply for it.  So I did.  BCBS had to accept me… it was open-enrollment.  During the 4 to 5 years I had that policy, I think the premiums increased at least 4 times, and the policies for Jesse and Benjamin increased at least twice.  I was paying $500 per month for our health insurance, which was a LARGE percentage of this single mom’s take-home pay.

That is when I started hearing about the “Affordable Care Act”.  I worried about my premiums going up again.  After all, I knew that SOMEBODY would have to pay for all the people who would now have to have insurance, but didn’t have the money to pay for it, but there was really nothing I could do about that.  Our president was assuring us that if we were happy with our current policies, we could “keep them … no matter what” (remember when he told THAT lie?).  So, I figured I would just keep what we had and hope the premiums would not go up too dramatically. (Eyeball roll … head slap … HEAVY SIGH.  How could I have been so naïve?)

Around the end of September, the dreaded information packets from BCBS arrived.  I was astounded by what I read!  My policy alone was going to almost double in cost each month!  The policies Jesse and Benjamin had were no longer going to exist (remember, these are the policies that the president said we could keep) and the premiums of the most comparable policy would be a full third more than their old premiums had been.  And of course, coverage in all three policies was not as good and deductibles were much larger.  I immediately called BCBS because the info packet also said that I might be eligible for some sort of subsidy or tax credit to help pay my premiums.  Well, they said the only way I could find out if I was eligible would be to go on the healthcare.gov website and fill out an application.  (We all remember the amazingly infamous rollout of that particular website, don’t we?!)  Anyway, at this point, I felt that I was in effect, being held hostage.  I couldn’t afford to keep the insurance I already had, and the only way to find out if I could get help paying for the premiums was to sign up through the Marketplace.  And there would be no other insurance companies offering better prices, because in my county of AL, BCBS was the only game in town.  No other companies opted into the program.  SHEESH!!    

I went on the website, or at least I tried to… I think it took about 2 weeks before I was finally able to create an account and get to the application process.  Some of the steps in the application were confusing, so I tried to “live chat” with a representative.  FORGET THAT!!  I finally called the telephone number and spoke with several very friendly representatives who obviously knew less about the Affordable Care Act and the healthcare.gov website than I did.  I felt very sorry for them, truthfully.  They were very pleasant, but they just didn’t know the answers to my questions.  They didn’t know the answers because they had not been properly trained.  They weren’t properly trained because NOBODY KNOWS WHAT THE HECK THE ACA MEANS AND/OR HOW TO PROPERLY APPLY FOR COVERAGE THROUGH THE WEBSITE!!!!! (Whew!  Please excuse that little explosion… let me continue…) 

So, I finally filled out the application as best I could.  I hit the “review and apply” button and immediately got an ERROR MESSAGE!!  I called the number again and spoke with a couple of different representatives who apologized about the “few glitches” in the system and told me to sign out, wait a while and try again.  Well, that went on for the better part of another two weeks.  In the meantime, Jesse, my older son, signed up for health insurance through his employer, but didn’t tell me.  So when I finally got the button to work, the information was now incorrect.  It also said that Benjamin, my younger son, was eligible for Medicaid.  But by this time, he was two weeks away from his 18th birthday, which would make him too old for that program. I clicked the “edit” button so I could go in and correct my information.  You guessed it… another error message!!  SIGH… so I called the number again.  I told them all of my troubles and said I needed to either delete the application I had filled out and start over again, or edit the info that was there.  They couldn’t figure out how to do that either.  Said they would send a request to their “Advanced Resolutions Center” and someone would call back and help me within 5 business days.  That was the first of three times I called and was referred to ARC.  NO ONE EVER CALLED ME BACK!!  In the meantime, a “delete application” button appeared on the website.  I tried it and POOF!  My application disappeared. 

So, I began again.  Put in all the correct info and with baited breath, hit the “review and apply” button.  I think I only had to log out and sign back in three times this time before it actually worked.  It said that I actually did qualify for a subsidy that would enable me to get a better policy than the one I had for a little less than I was already paying.  It also said that Benjamin qualified for AL All Kids insurance, which covers dependent children through age 19.  Great, right?  Well, I immediately contacted All Kids and they said, “if the marketplace said he is eligible for coverage, then he will be covered as of January 1st”.  Said that the marketplace would be sending along Benjamin’s information and they would send out an insurance card.  I asked if there was anything else I needed to do.  “No”, they said.  “All is well.”  Just so you know… if a government agency tells you that all is well, you should probably NOT believe them.

My new insurance began on January 1st, I got my new insurance card and the subsidy worked the way they said it should, so I was all set.  I was still waiting on Benjamin’s new card and the information from All Kids.  I waited, and waited, and WAITED SOME MORE.  The website showed that they had B’s application, but it never showed that he was covered.  The only way to check on the status of the application was to call All Kids in Montgomery.  I lost track of how many times I was “lost in the land of hold” for so long that I finally gave in and hung up the phone.  If I ever did get to speak to a person, they always blamed healthcare.gov for the delay.  If I called healthcare.gov, they always blamed All Kids.  It quickly became obvious that neither agency knew the status of Benjamin’s application and neither of them particularly cared whether or not he was covered.

Now, it is the end of February.  I stopped paying the BCBS premiums at the end of December, and no one can tell me if Benjamin is covered, so I have been holding my breath that he would not get sick or injured until All Kids can get their act together.  Yesterday, I FINALLY get a letter from All Kids and I’m almost rejoicing.  I open it up and see the following sentence, “We are sorry to inform you that it doesn’t appear that your child is eligible for this program.  Our records indicate that he is covered under private health insurance.” WHAT THE HECK???!!!!  And then it hits me… when I began this whole process, waaaaay back in September, he was covered still under BCBS.  Because they told me that he would be eligible for All Kids and I couldn’t afford to continue the insurance through BCBS, I let that policy lapse.  So, as of January 1st, Benjamin HAD NO INSURANCE!!!!  But between two government agencies, no one can figure that out!!! 

I’ve been hitting my head against this wall for so long now, that I just don’t know what to do anymore.  The last three times I spoke to a real person at All Kids, they said, “it could take another 4 weeks”, so I really don’t even want to try getting them to understand that yes, when we started this whole crazy debacle, Benjamin did have insurance, but no, he does not have insurance NOW, because they said he was eligible for All Kids.  So I called BCBS to see if I had any options with them.  They said I have two:  1) go to healthcare.gov (AGAIN) and make a new application for Benjamin, which could take another month or two to go through, or 2) reinstate the old policy at the new expensive price by paying for the two months that have already passed and the one that is due tomorrow.  REALLY??!! 

So here I am, being held hostage once more.  It would take two months to get a new policy for Benjamin in place.  He will be graduating from high school in two and a half months and will be going into the Army.  By the time I got him covered with a new policy, he would be graduated and gone.  So my only real choice is to pay three months’ premiums (that I really don’t have) to reinstate the old policy. 

Mr. Obama, I don’t know, for some folks your “signature legislation” may be a good thing.  But for this fat widowed single-mom, working as hard as she can to make a living and pay her bills, there is NOTHING affordable about it!! L