I walked in through the sliding glass doors to a room that looks like the room in every government office that delays with the public. There was a bank of service windows at the back of the room with thick glass separating the DSHS agents from their clients. The middle of the room was filled with the kind of chairs you expect to see in waiting rooms, with heavy wood frames and stained upholstery. Off to the side were some automated kiosks to check in.
The kind people at the desk helped me check in at the kiosks and I took a seat. There were only a few people in the room, and there wasn't anything close to privacy so you could hear every word that was being said by the people who were at the service windows. One person in particular caught my attention. From behind I could only see that she was blond but she spoke with a Russian accent. After I had been sitting there for only a few minutes she suddenly burst out, "No you are not listening to me! I need help. I'm so very tired." Her son, an adorable strawberry blonde boy with big blue eyes and about four years old, burst into loud sobs. She patted him on the back and tried to comfort him.
Sitting in the row in front of me was a latino man in paint spattered jeans. He started making funny clicking noises with his hands which got the little boy's attention. First he stopped crying, then he stared in amazement. He wiggled out of his mother's arms and walked over to the man who entertained him until it was his turn to go up to a window. Then a gray haired lady talked to the little boy for a bit and then it was her turn to speak to someone so I took my turn and kept an eye on him while his mother continued to argue her case. Then another man got out a children's book and read it to the little boy until his mother was ready to go. She was so grateful to everyone for helping with her son.
We were all there because in some way or another we needed help. Having to beg for assistance can make one feel so vulnerable, desperate, and alone. It was amazing to see all those people supporting one another, giving help freely and without judgement or expectation of return. It is times like these that I feel hopeful about humanity's chances of surviving its own greedy nature.
It came as no surprise to me that I was denied for Medicaid. I knew it wasn't likely that I would qualify but what did surprise me is that the thing that disqualified me immediately is that I had more than $2,000 in my bank account. Just like we don't like to treat people in America until they're already sick, we don't help people until they're already in trouble.
I faxed the letter of denial to the hospital's Patient Account Services and then I called the hospital again when I got home. They said for the meanwhile there is nothing else I can do so now I'm just waiting to see if I get approval. I've also received a lot of advice from friends in the last few days (thanks Heather, Dheeraj, and Bonnie!) who are doing everything they can to help me sort out this problem.
I talked to the Program Chair again and told her what the surgeon said as well as what the college's staff in Financial Aid and Advising said. I'm allowed to withdraw up to the first day of classes and get back all of the tuition, but she's agreed that I can continue to go for the first week weeks and if I need to she'll give me a hardship withdrawl. I might not get the tuition back but it won't show as though I've failed any classes. Before she'd said that if I signed up for the classes at all she wouldn't be able to give me a leave of absence after that, that'd I'd just be out of the program if I was too sick.This is a big relief because there really won't be any way to predict how well things will go with the surgery or even after the surgery so now I'll have a bigger buffer with which to decide if I can continue school.
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