So my day isn’t going well

Don’t you just love when you think the “hard part” of your day is over, only to realize it’s actually just begun?

Yeah. That’s me today. I got the kids in bed, relieved because it was a looooong day. And I have not eaten all day, so I’m pretty hungry.

But then I get a text from my husband asking me what the income limit is for our sons insurance. Both of my kids have a rare form of muscular dystrophy and their medical bills are astronomical, so they are on medicaid. My husband asked me his question a few weeks ago. I thought I gave him an accurate answer then…but ooooh was I wrong.

When I looked at the chart, I read the income limit as per paycheck, not monthly. BIG difference. See, my husband just got a raise a few weeks ago, and is also in the process of (hopefully) getting a much better job. I thought that even the potential new job would keep us under the income cap, but again, I was very wrong. I’m fairly certain that because of his raise, that pushed us over the income limit.

So I am now scrambling because I’m pretty sure they will remove the kids benefits soon. There really isn’t another option for us, so I don’t know what to do. My husband and I get insurance through the military (my husband is in the reserves), but the issue is their therapies.

My kids have a total of 9 hours of therapy each week, soon to be going up to 12 hours per week once my younger son turns 3. We are SO incredibly grateful to only have to pay out of pocket for one of those therapies. No other insurance company is in network with our therapists. So if we don’t have it….it’s truly a laughable situation.

I know all of my non American readers are probably laughing at me right now. I feel ya. Murrica…am I right? UGH.

I get it. Medicaid is for low income households, and I understand that. However…when you’re a special needs parent and you live the life of thousands of dollars per WEEK on medical bills alone…

Most people can BARELY manage the cost of insurance alone, let alone the deductibles and all the bullshit after that. And those are just the “regular” families. I just….I can’t with this whole process. It’s a nightmare and it always will be.

It would quite literally make more financial sense for my husband to actually quit his job than to lose our insurance and have to pay as much as we would need to for medical bills and therapies.

The solution isn’t to reduce their therapy frequency..that would be horrible on so many levels. I think the correct solution here is actually just to cry. And then laugh. And then just scream FUCK IT and pretend the issues don’t really exist.

Then tomorrow is therapy. Good ole Tuesdays. I still have no idea how to get through that. I don’t know how to put myself in a position vulnerable enough to spew out everything that I want…need…to say. Even handing her some of the things I’ve written is…painful.

Shit. My anxiety is intense right now. My chest is tight and I can’t breathe like. Ok, thats cool. I can absolutely handle a panic attack right now. Thanks universe, how did you know that was just what I needed?

Anyway…I guess I’m done. I have a feeling tonight is going to turn into the type of night where I wake up and cant’t remember what happened. That’s okay.

Alcohol is truly the antidote for anxiety. At least for me.

Until it isn’t.

Shit. I have a feeling I’ll be writing more later. Sometimes writing helps with anxiety too. Usually a good combination of both.