Recently I ended up in a place where nobody wants to be: the ER.
Now I tend to avoid medical personnel as often as possible because I'm tired of having to explain my health issues to doctors who just don't get it. But that was neither here nor there last Sunday night because I could not breathe. Really couldn't. I'm accustomed to dealing with asthma but this time I couldn't get it under control. After hours of struggle, I decided that I needed help. And I'm not a person who is likely to ask for help unless the situation is dire.
So at nearly 11 PM, I drove myself to the hospital because there was no one to take me. I won't trouble you with the stories about how the warning light on my car was saying that it was nearly out of gas or about how I'm night-blind and couldn't find the entrance to the parking lot.
Maybe I also shouldn't talk about how the nice folks at the ER ignored the fact that I couldn't breathe and instead tested me for other things while they left me sitting around for four hours waiting while they ran the tests again because they were freaked out by the results. On the ailment they were testing me for, a score of zero is normal and four is dangerous. My level was at fifteen.
So the doctor was fussing at me. Didn't I know I needed medication? Yes. Why wasn't I taking it? No money. That was no excuse, he said. I sighed. Later he came back to my room with the wonderful news that I could get my scrip filled for just $10 at Wal-Mart. He was so pleased with himself for coming up with that idea that he looked like he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat.
What could I do? Explanation was futile. This guy obviously had no idea that $10 is a LOT of money, so I thanked him and promised faithfully to take my medicine. I meant it. After all, I'm no fool; I know those test results are dangerous.
(By the way, they never did treat my asthma.)
Wal-Mart is pretty much my idea of Hades. Or maybe just the Temple of Mammon. I refuse to go there unless it is a last resort (like when my printer runs out of ink). But I dragged myself over there to fill my prescription.
There was no line at the pharmacy counter but I still had to wait and wait and wait. Since my bones were aching per usual, I decided to take a seat on the sole waiting bench next to an elderly woman with a very full shopping basket and she started chatting the way that folks here in the South do and that I generally enjoy. She told me that she had to get presents for her various neighbors but she said waspishly that she wasn't willing to spend more than $10, and she wondered if they might want the candles on a nearby display. Her tone made it clear that she didn't much like her neighbors.
I didn't think the candles were worth $10 but didn't like to say so. Instead I said that a present like that would brighten the day and warm the heart for her neighbors, and that it was very kind of her to think of them. It's better to say something nice, isn't it? But, to tell the truth, I was tearing up because I was thinking, "oh my, what I could do with $10!" because there won't be any Christmas at my house this year and I already know it. I really wish I could give presents to my kind neighbors but I have nothing to share.
Then the lady pointed out a large bakery container of Christmas cookies on the bottom rack of her shopping cart--also $10 (surprising how that amount kept repeating itself). She told me that she had dropped them and that the cookies had spilled on the floor. She had shoved them back in the box. They didn't look broken, she said, so she was just going to put them back on the bakery shelf. "That would be okay, wouldn't it?" she asked me, because she would just get another one.
Why? Why would anyone do such a thing? Would you want to buy food that had fallen on a filthy high-traffic floor? But I didn't say that. I suggested that she turn the container in to the bakery clerk and explain that it had been opened. Presumably my horror showed on my face because she decided to resume shopping after that instead of talking with me.
By then I was actually crying. Why do people think it's okay for someone else to have to accept something they wouldn't touch themselves? I don't understand it--it's like the long-expired food that turns up in food donations. If you won't eat, why give it to someone in need? Are they less human than you are? Yes, I have eaten expired food this difficult year. I didn't want to but it was what I was given and it was all I had. I have sometimes been so very hungry.
While I waited on the bench, other people sat down, one after the other, and complained about spending money for the holidays. I responded as pleasantly as I could, although I really had nothing to say on the subject, and I certainly didn't want to admit that because I was spending $10 on a prescription, I would be doing without toilet paper and several other necessary items this week.
Once more, I am reminded that I don't live like other folks. Maybe my values are way out of whack, I guess, at least the way this world looks at it. I'd rather be kind whenever I can. It costs nothing and it can do a lot of good. I'd rather be honest when making mistakes, especially if someone else might be harmed. I'd rather keep trying to look for hope in the holidays, even if there's none there for myself.
Life is good.
And we can make it better.
I decline to give up.
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