I should be doing my treatment, instead I am upstairs in my writing room. I write better here, because it is where the writing is done.

I have had many thoughts running through my head.

I had a patient say the other day, “You are very present.”

“Well, all this stuff is not easy.”

I said a little about me. I often don’t. It is rare I mention anything. I usually skid through what CF is, as most people think they might have heard of it. I don’t feel bad if they don’t. Cystic fibrosis are two strange words.

I emphasize I have been doing this for 40 years.  I see my doc every 3-months or something to that affect. You trade this for that, always trying to have your mind open. The main point I say, “None of this is easy.”

She nods. “I cope fairly well.”

“I am sure you do, and have been.” It had been 15-years of doing all this illness stuff for her.

“But, I say, you aren’t processing.” Her tears started to well up. “You can’t process all the time. That is where the coping comes in.”

“I haven’t been processing . . . Then lately when people ask how I am doing, I tell them the truth. I can’t help it; it just comes out.”

“Yeah, because you are tired of coping. Then you will cope for a while again, then process, then cope again. It’s fun,” I say with a smile and shrug.

“You will be fine,” I said.

“I will be fine.”

“As long as you cope and process.”

She nodded and smiled in return.

On that note, I was going through my stack of medical bills to be paid. A variety of sources, five places in all.

I tossed out the duplicates, as there were many.  You see, I never pay a medical bill at least 3-6 months after I am billed, unless it’s for $25 and I know for no uncertain terms that it is correct. Sometimes I get thrown to collections, which I could care less. I have been to collections countless times. It does not affect your credit, btw, as long as you make the effort.

In my lifetime thus far, the highest unpaid or mistaken bills was a total of approx. $4,000. This was also my first time being sent to collections. I was eighteen years old, and just got on my own insurance and there were some billing issues.  The woman threatened me over the phone and when I got off, I started to cry. I said never again. Shame on them. How dare you threatened an eighteen year old?

Since then, I have seen many higher numbers, but they usually get rectified before they come in the mail. Cross fingers, here and now.

So, anyway, I went through my stack and two were reduced – great, and the one that was a thorn on my side for $1200.00 was $0.00. I owed ZERO DOLLARS. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

I smacked my hands together – Thank you!

This happened through many subsequent phones calls, the first being in mid-July. I told them, “I am not paying. I have insurance. It’s a PPO. We just have to get the correct info to the insurance company.” They were actually very nice. They were from MN. We went through all the tiny little numbers on the insurance card at least three times. I asked, “Do you need another copy, or a copy on hand?” “No, no, this should be good.” This is exhausting persistence. It drains the color out of my face as I write.

Then I think of that eighteen year old girl and think “How dare you?” Sometimes that is how it gets me by. But, at least they were nice.

I have said to myself over the years, that if I ever made enough money I would hire someone to handle this stuff. Then, I said out-loud a couple weeks ago – “I make enough to pay someone $20/hour cash to make some phone calls.” I am seriously considering this option, because I don’t have much brown hair left.

This is my coping and processing in one.

This is all I got.