I saw my dad for the first time this morning since "this thing" happened on Monday night. His speech is a little slurred, not obviously so. He's weak on his right side. He's fallen down quite a few times but none that I've seen. We've still got my mother in law's cane; the kids play hospital with it from time to time. I suggested he use it to steady himself. He agreed immediately. That was surprising.

The most amazing thing happened.

My mom is old enough for Medicare but my dad is only 63. He has no health insurance at all. Back up a bit...

I think that the only reason I found out at all about what happened to my dad (my brother is still clueless), is because my mom wasn't going to be able to take the kids to school this morning. She called me last night to trade days. She's MWF and I'm Tu/Th .

Turns out, Dad was actually supposed to have an MRI yesterday but arrived at the hospital to find out that the fee would be approximately 3 grand and "we'll need to collect that up front". Obviously he wasn't able to come up with that on the spot or with a reasonable expectation that the check would clear. He left.

He headed back to the primary care guy who, I fantasize, Froogle'd MRI and sent him to Winston for a $600 budget equivalent. Why he wound up with 'Pimp my MRI' in the first place is a mystery. Surely primary care guy was already aware of the health coverage situation. More on that in a minute.

I digress. Back to the amazing thing...

The most amazing thing happened. We're riding down the road following the printed directions to 'MRI-Mart'. We pass a VA outpatient clinic, blessedly and conveniently co-located two buildings up and opposite MRI-Mart. My parents start chatting about the clinic, how they should have signed up for VA medical a long time ago...when dad lost health coverage, etc. I'm like "Woah. Wait a minute. You qualify for VA benefits?"

Flash back to remember Monica telling me about John's VA benefits. How they'd also pay for HER prescriptions, co-pays, etc. Flash forward to mom's cancer drug, the $30/month, soon to be $300/month wonder pill she has to take for 4 more years but that Medicare only covers for 5 more months.

So wasn't it amazing that Dad refused the $3K, that MRI-mart was within spitting distance of the VA outpatient clinic, that I was present to hear their VA conversation, that Monica told me about John?

It is pathetic, really, how the System relates to people without coverage. Dad's primary care physician actually spoke with us in the hallway, cell phone jingling. We all hear it ringing. Nice of you to ignore it, by the way, but pause, reach into your pocket and turn it off. "Jingle Bells"seemed quite relieved when my parents mentioned the VA possibility, at this point hopefully for us a certainty.

Jingle did at least give a thumbs-up to the VA hospital in Durham. He recommended it over Salisbury and said that the same neurologists that work at Duke rotate to the VA hospital as well. Neurologist, because the MRI showed that although he'd had small strokes in the past that are at this point irrelevant for diagnosing what is happening right now, there wasn't conclusive MRI-Mart evidence of a recent one. Of course the things I buy at Wal-mart are often soon repurchased as higher quality, Target alternatives.

I write this because it is cathartic, therapeutic. Back when Hope was little and I was frazzled, my mom gave me a book. I wondered when in the world I'd have time to read and why in the world she thought that it was a practical gift. I frankly thought she'd lost her mind.

The book was a murder mystery by Anne Perry. She gave me the book because she knew that when I was young, I'd read three books simultaneously...one in the bed at night, one on my back on the living room sofa, the third...well, you can guess where. The place where most all of my quiet time happens now, a mom's only sanctuary.

I found time to read the Anne Perry. I've been reading a printed book or listening to one on audio virtually continuously since then. My Mom new that reading was essential to my survival. I've realized that writing is too.

I write this because it is cathartic, therapeutic. You read this because you are my friend!