Medi(ocre)caid. Alaughmony.

As I left for work this morning, I ran into our neighborhood deer family. No, not with my car. Just walked out the door and there they were munching on some breakfast. I thought, today is going to be a good day. Reality. It was probably just a little reminder to take a moment and breathe, because another emotional roller coaster awaited.

The good. Daddy finally has medicaid approval. It took over six months.

The bad. In spite of the divorce settlement being a legal document, his alimony payments are not being taken into account. The "spend down" amount (which is basically a monthly deductible) would leave him with a monthly income of -$800. We're taking door #2: I'll work out a payment plan with the hospital for the first months bills ($48,000) and Medicaid covers the rest. But I was left dumfounded that alimony payments are not considered deductible from his income.

So I asked (really should stop doing this to myself), if we were to go through this with my mother. Being that alimony isn't taken into account and she has no job, her monthly income would be considered $0.00 right? Wrong. Oh, so WRONG. Two words I had to google. Unearned Income. So alimony counts as her income, but doesn't count against his. Laughing yet? I wasn't either. 

Want to know what is wrong with our healthcare system. I didn't either. 

I'm not supposed to be here. This young. Seeing. Learning. Knowing the things I now know. I fight against it daily. Hourly. My parents weren't the kind to get a divorce. Those vows. Rich/Poor. Sickness/Health. They failed. It was no one person's fault. They failed together. And I'm here. Doing the things that my mother was supposed to do, loving him in sickness. 

There are days when I feel incredibly strong and empowered. There are days I want to curl up in a ball and sleep. Forever. (Pretty much did that from November thru mid January.) And there are days that I spin the wheel, and go though every emotion possible. I've debated writing about this stuff. For months. But I want a record. I want to remember the struggle as much as I want to remember to good. I want to be transparent. Because when someone calls me strong, I hope they know I'm only strong because I've been incredibly weak.

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