I am sitting here today listening to my two youngest daughters chatter on the phone about going to get their nails done and buy new bathing suits at Victoria's Secret for our vacation. Emily's treat.
A vacation they don't realize ISN'T going to happen.
Because of me.
And I can't stop crying.
Any of you who have read this for a long time, know how shitty this last half a decade has been, with my health, losing the house, temp living, finding a new home, the heinous commute for Steven [4 hours a day?] - oh, freaking name it - it's happened.
The one thing my family, in 19 years, has only done once is go on vacation to a place we chose and paid for, in 2009: we went camping at the beach, how cheap can you get? because we are usually given family vacation homes to use for free. Not to say we have been on 19 vacations in that time, but we had Steven's parents home in the country and my parents' golf condo in Longs SC.
My parents are gone and now we live 20 minutes from the country house. We LIVE here. So, not a vacation.
Don't get me wrong - it was a great gift. We were very blessed.
We face medical bills, with insurance, that would curl your toes. Still, we always manage. My health sucks and I live month to month. Not being morose, but I do. When I thought I was making it to summer this year - I started to save again.
I shouldn't have bothered.
We found out last week that the medication that is keeping me alive until my transplant - a med that is made by one company, no generics, I have to have it - went from $80 to $1,455.00
Any guesses on how much I had saved for vacation?
I argued with Steven. Told him I wasn't going to give up this vacation - the one I promised him and the girls - to take that stupid med. The pharmaceutical company is being greedy.
As, I guess I am, because I WANT this vacation. To see the excitement on the kids' faces and in their voices - my kids, who are GOOD KIDS, who don't complain, who work hard, don't give us a lick of trouble - who put up with me and help me. They worry about me. To give them this.
Steven, and my doctor, insisted a month without taking it would make a difference. We had to get most of our deposit back [in fairness, wouldn't give it all] from the rental and give the rest of our spending money saved, to buy a month of the meds. We have made arrangements for the future for this stupid med, but for now we are out $1,455.00
And still I cry. Because I simply can't tell them. Could you? We are supposed to leave Sunday for 6 days. Emily is still at college, so I don't want to tell her via phone - and how can I face Evelyn?
Next week is the only week Steven and Emily can get off from their work and her school.
I don't know what to do, except sit here and cry.
I never thought ANYTHING could hurt this bad.
I am tired of being thankful for being alive or having it "better" than so many others. We are good people. We are fair, honest, hardworking and I didn't make myself sick. Yet, everyone is trying to take it away from us.
I am in pain every single minute of everyday. I spend half my days throwing up. They spend all their days worrying about me no matter how happy I hide it.
Why in the hell is it so wrong to just want a week at the beach, in a run down motel - believe me I found the most inexpensive place I could find - and we're not going to eat out? I just wanted to spend six days with our toes in the sand, watching them smile.
This is the type of motel. It's actually my kind of place....sigh.
WHY CAN'T I HAVE IT?