Where Hard Things and Faith Intersect
The time on the dashboard read 8 o‘clock as my car reached the driveway.
I was tired.
The kids were hungry and I still had to have a much needed phone conversation.
It was one that couldn’t be avoided any longer.
In fact, it was an overdue chat with my father’s insurance company: hashing out details for primary care providers, co-pays and home health. I imagined I would be taking the wheel for my parent’s medical well-being at some point, I just didn’t think it would be at 39.
Life, however, had other plans.Most days I feel emotional, fatigued, and inadequate.
I am the only daughter of my Haitian born father and helping him navigate the American Healthcare system is necessary.
So I made the call and began a journey I was not, nor am I presently, prepared for. It took over an hour to have this three-way chat between the insurance representative, my father and me.
When it was done I wept, not knowing it was the first of many more tears.
This journey requires me to schedule appointments and follow up with doctors out of state while juggling responsibilities for my family of four.
Most days I feel emotional, fatigued, and inadequate.
