62 Months: The Heart Hurts

This is a little bit about how my heart works.

Last night I had quite a lucid dream. I was walking with a friend through what appeared to be some form of a Disney Store. The only merchandise on display, however, was an assortment of items that I had gotten for my kids over the years. Along with my friend, I was walking with my oldest daughter. She's now 22, but in the dream I was walking with a younger version of her, holding her hand.

We wandered the aisles, talking, when I realized that my daughter had wandered off. I looked and looked, and came upon her lying in a Disney Princess Bed (if there is such a thing). She was asking me, "Please, Daddy, can I get this bed?"

I had to tell her that we couldn't get the bed, because it was too expensive. She simply said, "Oh all, right." and wandered off again. She returned a few minutes later holding a small glass figurine of Goofy, her favorite Disney character, She handed the figurine to me, and I looked at the price tag. This, I could afford, and told her as much. My memories of her are quite clear, because she smiled the way she did when she was little and said, "Thank you, Daddy."

But she never took her eyes off the bed. She stood ruffling the blankets and satin pillow. 

That's when I woke up. And I woke up very sad.

I was sad because life has gotten to the point where we're barely getting by. I'm disabled now, and on a fixed Social Security income. My heart hurts because I was once a wonderful provider. I didn't, by any means "spoil" my children. They did get occasional gifts and treats aside from those given at holidays, but now I'm struggling to afford the bare essentials.

My youngest is attending a public high school with a rather affluent student body. Barely a day goes by that one kid or another is showing up at school with a brand new car. She posted about it on Twitter and I happened to catch the Tweet. Heartache. There was a time I could have done the same for all three of my kids. Now, I could barely scrounge up the money for the tires for one of those cars.

It's what makes my heart hurt. A lot. Every night I go to bed feeling a failure. I don't fall asleep smiling too often the past three years. It's not about giving them what they want, it's about me giving them what I want to give them. Or rather, it's about me not being able to do what I want to for my kids, Reversal of fortune, so to speak.

Heartache doesn't go away with medication. I don't know what makes it go away. I just wish it would stop.

That's how my heart hurts

62 Months:Still Alive!

It's been a while since I've written here. Life has been in the way a whole lot. Mostly good things going on but some crazy things taking place.

I'm kind of proud of myself for having survived the past two or three months. I'd say that the craziest thing that occurred happened to my son, who is attending college in Florida. He was the victim of an accidental shooting. Genuinely, certifiably accidental shooting. Even the police said so. It's a long story, so I'll spare you from that. He's recovering...not quite back to form yet, but recovering.

As worldly-wise as I like to think I am, there's so much I don't know. Most importantly (and I guess relevant here) I found out the hard way, that my medical insurance didn't cover his care beyond the initial emergency care. That was a sweet good bye to some cash, that's for sure. I'm going to be 100 years old or so before I finish learning all I need to know, I guess.

My own health is pretty good. And by that I mean that nothing that's wrong with me is going to kill me at the moment. Neuropathy sucks. If you have it, you know what I mean, if you don't, I'll pray you never experience this delightful malady. I'm not too mad about it, because the treatment that brought it on saved my life. Nothing comes without a price.

I'm grouchy about 40% of the time, pleasant about 30% of the time, and asleep about 20% of the time. The other 10%, I use for eating, social media, and socializing. I hate to say I don't get out much. I have to work on the percentages.

Stay safe for now. I'm looking forward to the increase in temperatures over the next few days.

See ya.

So you had a bad day(s)

I'm sort of on a roller coaster ride the last few days. I receive a treatment called IVIG, among others. IVIG, or Intravenous Immuno-Globulin therapy, is intended to boost my immune system. My system has been very slow to develop. I was hospitalized 7 times in 2014, twice between October and the end of the year.

People respond differently to the treatment in the days after receiving it. The hospital presents me with the "Things To Look Out For" list, which includes nausea, vomiting, fatigue, pain. In my case, I've rarely experienced the nausea and vomiting, but the fatigue and pain slam me like a freight train. I have neuropathy in my legs and feet, particularly in the lower legs and feet. Neuropathy is so strange because everything from my shins down is completely numb to the touch, but they hurt like hell. When I was younger, I was playing football on the beach with some friends. Someone had dumped their barbecue grill without burying the hot coals, and without seeing them, I ran right through the coals. Well I jumped about 9000 feet into the air and screeched like an injured cat, but the damage only amounted to a bunch of second degree burns.

That's exactly the sensation I'm experiencing these days. I've often heard neuropathy described as "tingling". I'd pay cash to trade "tingling" for "fire-walking". It hurts, and it makes me very grouchy. I know that I'm difficult to live with, but I can't get anyone to shoot me. (I'd bet they would like to). 

The medication I've been prescribed can handle the pain, but then I'm useless. More so than usual. There's an extra room in the house where I've placed a bed, and that's where I go and try to hide so no one has to deal with me. I'm not actively nasty, as in I don't hunt for people to bother. But I can't spend the rest of my life doped up and gathering mold. I'm trying to find a happy medium. The right amount of pain medicine that doesn't leave me drooling and babbling.

So it's a trade off. I spend a few days in utter misery because the IVIG is producing measurable results. My "good" numbers are climbing. I get the treatment monthly now, so perhaps the numbers will get to the point where I can increase the time between infusions. That way, the family will be better able to deal with me and not take me up on the order to shoot my head off, ya know?

I eat like 3 people because of some other medications I'm taking. We'll get to that topic in my next issue. In the meantime, if anyone has any ideas or suggestions, please use the comments section, it Tweet me... @LippyJimmy

Never Say Never

On nights like this, I find myself lying awake just thinking. The past two years have given me so much to dwell upon. 

Mostly, my mind churns up financial issues, a sure-fire way to ensure anxiety and insomnia. Most of those nights, I simply deduce that no matter what I do, I will never have enough money to get ahead. Every day, I open the mail, and with it comes yet another medical bill. The bills are always at least $100, (and that's on a good day), and more often than not, they number in the thousands. I've got pretty decent health insurance, but it doesn't cover everything. The best one yet was a whopper from Hackensack University Hospital for just over $56,000. I called the billing department, sort of laughing about it, to see if there was some sort of error. There was not. 

I'm never going to be able to pay a bill that large, but if I default on that, the hospital can opt to refuse any further treatment. At least that's what I've been told. 

I don't squander the money I do have. When I budget my money, my first priority is putting food on the table. Then utilities, then I divvy up the balance to try and pay down the Mount Everest sized medical bill pile. 

I try and give my kids what I can. My oldest grew up in the period where I was making a great living. My youngest has been growing up during this era of pinching every penny. We live in an area where most people are making a great living, so my youngest is aware of what others her age have. I know it's hard for her. She's a teenager, a group that isn't always capable of rational thought, but she's been very grateful for what we do give her. I'm kind of proud of her ability to be grateful for what she does get from us. She's not aware of precisely dire things are for us, how every month we teeter on the edge of the cliff. 

So why did I title this post "Never Say Never"? I did so because the world, for us, is full of kind, generous people who've been very supportive of us. My youngest turned 16 in March. Most of her classmates are hosting extravagant "Sweet 16" parties. From January through March, I sweated and struggled with the idea that we were never going to be able to throw such a party for her. Not a good feeling for a Dad. I know there are more important things to worry about and deal with, but in the world of a 16 year old, it's damn near tragic to be denied a rite of passage like that. 

Here's where the "Never Say Never" part comes in. A very, very kind soul, who knew of our situation, remembered the days when we were first in line to write a check to help others. They helped put together a magnificent soirée at a country club where she worked. I openly wept when I was informed that the only cost to us would be a dress for my daughter to wear. The rest was given to us, free of charge. I couldn't believe that there were people out there who would do such a thing. 

My daughter soaked up every moment. She was the Princess of the evening, and loved every moment. People probably think I'm a huge crybaby. It seemed that at every other minute, I was wiping tears from my eyes. 

Not to be morbid, but there's no guarantee that I'm going to live long enough to walk my girls down the aisle. Cancer is evil that way. No guarantee that there will be a father-daughter dance at their weddings. I danced such a dance with her that evening. I didn't even bother to wipe the tears away. I just let them flow. They were tears of pure joy and love for my girl. 

Never say never. Love and kindness always find their way in. 

Alyssa Milano's Kindness

Please consider giving what you can to @lippyjimmy. This guy is special. http://t.co/msxv3dCeNU

— Alyssa Milano (@Alyssa_Milano) April 3, 2015

One of the nicest things ever done for me...

♥.@lippyjimmy is the general of my Twitter army. He has always supported us. Now it's our turn. Check out: http://t.co/msxv3dCeNU
— Alyssa Milano (@Alyssa_Milano) April 2, 2015

Days and Nights

I'm not sure what's worse, the late nights or the early mornings. When I can't sleep, I lie in bed and think until my brain hurts. And when I wake up very early, I spend time wondering what horrors the coming day will drop on my head. Our lives here have really fallen into disarray, and I think about when times were good. Then I try to figure out what the hell went wrong. I pretty much know the answers, but I think about it all anyway. If I were a single man, it would be so much easier on my brain. I'd simply throw in the towel, pack up and walk away from it all. Let the bank have the house, file bankruptcy and be done with it.

But the kids are part of my life. I can't just uproot their lives. This house is their home. My youngest was born here. I want their lives to be stable. For 30 years, I did so well in my career. I made good money, and when we started a family, I was at the top of my game. I was a good provider. We didn't spoil the kids, but we did give them a good life. We did some great vacations, had some wonderful Christmases. We did send them to parochial school, not for status, but for the religious education that their Mom and I both grew up with. It was funny, the vehicle I drove was a 1997 Ford Explorer that I won in a raffle. As the family grew, we added a second vehicle: the dreaded minivan!

Life was good.

Then it wasn't so good.

Technology advances basically put me out of business. Injuries I suffered sort of accelerated the process. Everyone knew that if you ever took disability time, it wasn't long before Merrill Lynch would show you to the door. It was sort of an unwritten rule. One guy was out of work for about four months having had surgery to remove part of his intestines, which were damaged by Crohn's disease. He came back to work, but within six months or so, he was "laid off". Another colleague had a few months out because he had a toe removed as a result of diabetes. Within a year, he, too was "laid off". I destroyed my knees and was out for a little more than six months. I returned to work in February of 2007, and on May 24th, 2007, I got my pink slip.

I did see the writing on the wall in my own case. I did a lot of saving in the last two years of my career with Merrill Lynch. When I got the gate, I had 2 1/2 years' salary in the bank, just as the experts advised. I took exams for three different securities licenses, in hopes of transferring to another division within the firm. I was studying for a fourth license exam when the axe fell, and in a minor show of decency, Merrill agreed to sponsor me for that exam. (You need a securities firm to do that for you).

It was all for naught, however. The door opened, and out I went. I immediately began applying for jobs within the industry, and got nowhere. While you never have to supply your age or date of birth in those applications, 30 years at Merrill listed on my resume made it easy to figure out that I wasn't  25 years old. Firms, these days, don't want 47 year olds on the payroll. They could hire two young people for what they figured it'd be asking for, plus the benefits, health insurance, etc., for those youngsters would be a lot cheaper.

So, no luck getting hired. In 2008, I went into business for myself, selling life insurance as well as designing investment portfolios for retirement plans, etc. I was doing pretty well, but between paying a mortgage and paying for my own health insurance (Horizon Blue Cross/Blue Shield was taking $2250 per month) I was starting each month $5000 in the hole. That wasn't going to work. I did stay with it for 3 years until I was offered my current job. I now pay $65 per week for outstanding health insurance. Huge relief.

But even with great insurance, I'm laying out $300-$500 each week for prescriptions, doctor co-pays, etc. (My daughter is ill at the moment and her medications are nearly as expensive as mine). We have about $200,000 in medical bills from the time I was insured privately. My wife had two surgeries which the insurance company pre-approved but then reneged on paying. The same for me; I had surgery and it was pre-approved but then reneged upon. Always read the fine print, folks!

Anyway, I want this to be the last post of this kind. I know it's got to be boring. If you're still reading at this point, thank you for staying with it. I promise to be a little more positive, to inject some humor into this journal of mine. I'll try harder to make it more interesting so it's worth your while to come here and read.

Thanks for tuning in. The best is yet to come.

Hi Brandi.