New Depths of Debt, In Sickness

 

My last post was so optimistic, Christ, as if leaving a job with a steady paycheck and working late evenings would not pose real challenges to goals of freelancing in a field that was underpaid and difficult to navigate without a robust network of clients and fellow professional translators/editors. 

I lacked the discipline and motivation actually: in part because I needed a vacation and instead I made things more grueling, and also, I sustained a couple of injuries and then had to face a larger health issue that I should have addressed years ago. 

This post is about health and debt and the shiny packaging of American healthcare that's pristinely out of reach for workers in the service industry (and most blue collar workers also). 

First, it's important to note that, because each new job over the years has come with different (or no) health insurance, I've had to change primary care doctors several times over, which means that almost every time I see a new doctor, I am rehashing my health history rather than seeing to the issues at hand. I found an incredible doctor within the Mount Sinai network when I was working as a literary agent, but as soon as I was freelance and insured by NYS "Marketplace", I was once again looking for a new doctor -- the last one I visited had a dirty office and his assistant almost blew my vein during a blood draw so the search continues. 

At any rate: I have been ignoring, or rather, "living with" abnormal sensation in my face since 2020, knowing that a thorough investigation into the sensation (which ranges from sleepy-limb to toothache-sore, and no, it is not a toothache) would mean radiology, trial and error, lots of specialist visits, etc., and the mere thought of draining savings that had been so painfully gathered was beyond me. And that's the choice: drain my savings to get a diagnosis and treatment or "live with it". 

So I choose the latter until early 2022 when the sensation started to take up more real estate, so to speak, so that it now longer felt isolated, but was now affecting tongue and jaw and my entire right cheek. I went to the dentist because it felt so much like a toothache, where the oral surgeon advised me to get in touch with my neurologist (do people just "have" neurologists??). 

I went to the ER instead, which would cost me $500, (keep in mind I have insurance...) where they verified that I was not having a stroke and not in immediate danger, though I should see a neurologist asap. 

So far I have had: two MRIs, hyper-comprehensive blood panels, a visit to a migraine doctor and a neurologist, and yet another forthcoming neurology appointment with a different doctor and another appointment with ENT. 

I... no longer care how much it costs me to understand and treat this neuropathy. I just want to feel healthy again. I'm worried about the long-term effects by delaying things any longer, like, I may have already done myself considerable damage waiting as long as I had. 

This is a the age-old story of my generation forgoing medical care because of cost. This is not a unique story at all, but I think that it's important to voice here on Debt the Blog because YOUR HEALTH IS WORTH THE FUCKING DEBT. 

So, yo, I don't care. Put it on my card. Put it all on my card. If that means that I have a future as a medical and student debt fugitive living in another country, you know what, at least I'll have done everything I could to save the nerves in my face. 

This is me putting it all on my card: 

Debts:

	July 2021	March 2022
Visa Credit Card	$5720	$7417
AMEX Platinum	$349	$2358
Personal loan	$7948	$7651
Loan From Parents	$1300	$1300
Fedloan*	$143482	$143482

*Not included in "Total Paid Down". This is just here for horror.

Total Paid Down: -$3409


Assets:

	July 2021	March 2022
Individual Brokerage	$6004	$4608
Acorns	$1548	$155
Vanguard	$3022	$3022

Total saved/accrued: -$2789

... for an overall net gain of : -$6198

It's red, it's all in the red. (Except for the small progress made on my personal loan.)

Like, what am I even going to say at this point. My only plan is to regain my health, and that number in red is likely to get larger before it gets smaller. I've tried to curtail how much I'm dipping into savings because, well, I can put health expenses on my AMEX, but not rent. I've nevertheless started having to dip into it some, and often divert what I would have saved from my paycheck to other expenses. 

It's really hard to look at this nonetheless, even knowing that I'm on a journey that is about the health and safety of my person, it's still hard to not feel down about how much money I owe, and to feel frustrated by the ever-turning and punishing wheel of the cost of living just crushing my feeble attempts to work my way up in the world. Like, this is hell right? This is Sisyphean. 

I'm going to end this post with cautious optimism: I've gotten the ball rolling, a ball that should have been barreling done the path of medical bureaucracy two years ago. I'm doing what I should have done, now, and I don't think it's too late. 

My only goal for the immediate future is: to start treatment, and, to keep my passion alive for what I love/want to do career-wise, so by the time I'm emergent, I have ideas and momentum. 

Be well y'all, for real, a real illness is a budgetary nightmare.