“Mom, my insurance was denied.” You said panic rising with each word. I’d parked my Miata so I could deliver Dad’s dinner – Subway. He was working late again. You’d finished a full day at Wegmans and had checked the mail. Rejection in the form of letter from the Insurance Company was your reward.
Insurance had been an ongoing concern -- every since you filed for divorce. Getting your own coverage was your mantra. That’s all you wanted. You chanted it whenever insurance (or the loss of insurance) came up. My mantra was COBRA. I chanted it whenever insurance came up, but you didn’t want to hear that.
“That doesn’t make sense.” I said focused on my breath –in for four and out for four – until calm enveloped me. It was part of my new distraction strategy. I’d been working really hard to convince myself, freaking out and adding to a wave of hysteria, only made things worse. So far, I’d been doing a good job except yesterday. I spiraled down because we still didn’t have definitive dates for anything beyond next week for your treatment. But, in my defense I bounced back pretty fast. I only had to tell myself it would be okay a hundred times and remember to breathe. It worked! And I know you appreciated me keeping my mouth shut about travel arrangements. It’s not like your life depended on it. I know you thought it, but didn’t say anything. You didn't want a visit from Rainman.
“The letter says they won’t cover my cancer because it's a pre-existing condition.” You responded to my new found calmness. I heard you breathe in and out evenly. I don’t know whether you meant to do it, but you did.
“I’m sure it’s only an administrative glitch. I’d be willing to bet your certificate of insurance is not on file. We have copies. You can fax the letter at work tomorrow. Besides, you’re still covered until the divorce is final. If that falls through, there is always COBRA. Dad and I will help you out. I promise, this will be okay. There isn’t some diabolical plot against you or us. It’s just paperwork.” I said thankful we’d been through the insurance drill after you separated. We’d done our homework and knew what to expect.
“You’re probably right.” You said.
“Probably?” I teased and added. “It’s all going to be okay. I promise.”
We talked about dinner plans and our days. Your day was awesome. My day was so so. You weren't hungry because you ate lunch late. I was on my own and could eat whenever and whatever I wanted, which made me happy. That meant I could do P90X when I got home. Today was Yoga X and I liked yoga. You and Katie planned to get something to eat later.
I let you go so I could deliver Dad's dinner. On my way to his office, I skipped, but made sure nobody saw me. I made you feel better about the insurance. And that made me feel better. It was all going to be okay. At least for now. And that was good enough.
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