It's 6:15 on Tuesday evening. My kids just went to bed. My mom left this morning. My husband and I had some alone time while Sarah took the kids to the park this morning/afternoon. I spent a portion of the afternoon making a lentil soup for my lunch/dinner/tomorrow lunch and I worked, as well. Then I took the kids to the park again. So, I was sitting here on the front porch wondering just what am I going to do with myself for an entire evening?
And then it came to me.
I am going to write. I am going to write to my heart's content. First, I am going to blog. Then I am going to return some emails and then I am going to settle down to do some brainstorming on an idea or two that have been brewing in my head for weeks now. And I am going to revel in the joy of an entire night to myself.
Don't get me wrong. I am terribly saddened by my mother's departure. Terribly. Max had clinic this morning at the exact time my mother was going to have to leave for the airport. So, I had to say goodbye to her before I took him up. I cried all the way to the hospital.
Once there, everyone and their brother asked where my mother was because she has become a fixture with our nephrology healthcare team and so I had to hold back tears as I told them all she was at the airport, preparing to leave. Even Dr. R, who is not the touchy-feely type was incredibly kind and sweet to me about her leaving.
Then I spent the day feeling very alone and missing her greatly.
But now, I am trying to shove those feelings to the side and look at the brighter side, which is that now I can finally sit and write as I would like to, without fearing I am neglecting my mother. Besides, she is going to return in early August with my little sister and her new (meaning less than a year old) baby boy. I am excited for this and so I am telling myself this goodbye is only for a short time. She will return again soon....
I have started back to work again this week, something I've been dreading. I am in the office tomorrow and I want to do this like I want to shoot myself in the head. Seriously.
Seriously.
But, such is life in the Maximus lane. Instead of working "hard for the money", I work "hard for the insurance". And that's that. I got the hospital portion of the bill for the transplant yesterday. $123,340.87. This does not include physician's charges, nor any charges for anesthesia. It should all be covered by a combination of medicare (if it ever gets into place) and our health insurance. However, there is still something unbelievably frightening about seeing your name on a document showing charges for that amount of money.
I also got a bill while I was gone for 80K for dialysis charges in March. Why it was 80K and why it wasn't billed to insurance, I am unclear. I know I don't owe that. But I had a small heart attack when I opened it after returning from the transplant before I realized it was truly an error.
Oh, and Rowan and Max's pediatrician sent me to collections for a $40 bill for Rowan that I somehow missed. I got a call from the collection company asking me if I had received the letter they sent several days prior. I was like, "Uhm... no. My other child just had a kidney transplant and I have not gone through my mail yet from the 9 days we were in the hospital. I'll pay it now. Though, I find it astounding that I would get sent to collections for FORTY DOLLARS when I have payed them THOUSANDS over the last 2+ years."
That left the poor collections girl speechless. And I felt mildly bad about that. I don't usually flaunt Max's condition around for sympathy or the like, but I was more than miffed about 40 dollars. I mean, come on! I got the call on our first day home from the hospital.
whatever.
Max is doing very well. Very well. No issues whatsoever. We're not out of the woods, yet. But we've had a spectacular start and things look fabulous so far.
Our future is bright. Our future is lovely. Our future is free of dialysis and my free time has increased 100-fold....
Joy is a functioning kidney.
