Life in Smurfsville

Picasso had them, as did Rembrandt, Mozart, Hemingway and Poe. Not that I put myself into their category by any means, but it helps that they are among the population count here in Smurfsville.

Blue days, we all have them, the trick is to make sure they don't stretch in to weeks, months or years. They usually creep up on us and settle like a thick, dark cloud. This one, however, seems more like a tempest. I debated whether or not to even write this blog, as many of my readers know me and my loathing for sympathy. But what is the good of a blog it it isn't powerfully honest, right?

One of the side effects of being one of the unfortunate cut employees from the state employment population, is the loss of medical insurance. Insurance is the reason why I even looked into government work in the first place. The state employee's insurance is excellent. They covered all of my husbands medical needs, and approved his transplant surgery in the future. My new job caps off at $300,000 per year, per person. That will not cover his surgery, nor will it cover his care before and after his surgery. The state funded insurance will not cover him, as stated in my previous blog. I talked to his caseworker today and they have to put his transplant listing "on hold" until a funding source can be found. In other words, if a liver comes available, he will be skipped. We have two options: divorce or faith.

If we divorce, he can qualify for all the state insurance on his own. We can still live together (it may be fun "living in sin") wear our rings, etc., but on all paperwork (taxes, medical papers, and so forth) we have to list ourselves as divorced. Now I know it is "just a piece of paper", we can have a committed, loving relationship without it.....but....... He waited until he was 42 to marry, and then, we found each other. We took our wedding seriously. We take our marriage seriously. Divorce was never a word we even allowed into our home. Another thing, I am not my in-laws favorite person (Shocking I know!! Right?!) which means if we divorce and a liver does not come his way, they could contest his will and claim to be next of kin. Honestly, we don't own anything so it is not about the material. It is about his last wishes. We have had all of the difficult discussions about funeral, burial and so on. They could fight all of it and they have the means to do so. Our social worker at the liver place suggests that we don't tell them anything and if it looks like things are going bad, with no liver in sight, we can re-marry on his deathbed. That's a sobering statement.

If we chose faith (which is the direction he is leaning), he goes off all of his medication as they run out, see the doctor to keep him comfortable and pray for God's will. His faith is very strong. Mine used to be. He believes he can receive a miracle healing from God. We have all seen and heard stories of this happening so I don't doubt the possibility - it's just that do to the last couple of years of winter (yes, we are going on 6 straight years of winter in our lives) my faith isn't where it once was. We have to be prepared for the distinctive possibility that it may not come, but the preparation of that possible reality goes against the faith based belief. What a conundrum.

Essentially, it is his decision since it is his body. I have to live in peace with whatever he decides to do. I believe that once he decides, the peace will come. It's the not knowing that is the main street light in Smurfsville, and currently I am sitting under the lamp post, it's foggy out this night, chin on my fist (much like Auguste Rodin’s, The Thinker), very few passers by, I just heard a cat screech, and the breeze has become warm. My eyes are closed in a silent vigil for my husband's decision, when it is made, I will go home.