Words and Numbers

     Some days, I notice words. Last oncology visit, I noted all the words in the examining room as I awaited my doctor. I was seeking a sign -- or hidden poetry. The Cover of Sports Illustrated said: The Notre Dame Miracle. A posting by the door read: Please check out before you leave. I tried not to check out while I was there, but hoped I wouldn’t be kept waiting much longer. Above the examining cot, a red alarm shouted Fire Fire. My heart pounded. Scrolling on the computer screen: Clinical Care Workstation, Authorized Use Only. By the sink: Hand Hygiene Quick Reference. Okay. Key Points. 

     In hindsight, I should have browsed those key points and given myself a refresher because I caught a cold a few days later. Chemo lowers one’s immunity so one needs extra vigilance. I didn’t wash my hands after class before snacking (on broccoli!) and that got me. The cold hit hard, concentrated in my head, especially in my eyes. My tears were acid; they stung and the skin under my eyes grew dark and crepey. I aged 10 years in a week. I don’t know if that was a chemo thing, or a cold thing, but it’s over now (I’m growing younger again), so all’s well.

     Lately, I note numbers. They’re on bills from the doctors, hospital and labs and on Explanation of Benefits notices from the insurance company. At first, I avoided these envelopes before opening. Now, I rip them open, seek the bottom line and, since we have high deductible insurance, call the provider and ask for a discount. The providers comply when I pay in full, so I’ve been racking up miles on my credit card (for the grand vacation when all this is over!) But yesterday, I got an envelope from the insurance company so thick, I moved into not-ready-to-deal-with-this mode again. When I opened the envelope this morning, I find six ‘not a bill’ summaries for services rendered: $3,619.56, $100.88, $31.24, $108.33, $285.15, $200.86 And good news: the insurance company paid them all! I’ve met my deductible and insurance has kicked in without me needing to call to advocate for myself. All those premiums, all those years were worth it. It’s a Miracle. Those who were once threshold guardians have become my allies. At least for now.