I was an art teacher, certified for K-12, taught part time at USM adult ed and wrote widely acclaimed
children's novels, while raising two boys. Then I became ill following a messy gall bladder operation.
Two years later, I filed for disability at age 49. Then I got advanced stage 3B invasive breast cancer. Like over 75% of chronically ill people, my husband divorced me. There went my house and health insurance. And, worst of all, the prospect of a lifetime of semi-isolation.
I am the prototype of the aging fifty year old "invisible" woman in our culture. Seven years after the cancer, which further set me back, I am struggling to hold onto my small condo. But with medical bills running at $20,000 per year (and I pay over $600 for Medicare, Medigap and the drug plan), the stark choice I face is having a place to live or stop taking medical care of myself. I still write and have nearly 20 books out, but Macmillan's e-book deal to its authors left us with no royalties. I am starting an innovative children's STEM science program for my small city, but receive no income there, and I still paint. My mortgage is low, no fancy cell, no travel, no entertainment--except paint-and I shop at Goodwill for nearly everything I can. Doesn't help...my small reserves are draining away.
I know there are 200,000,000 chronically ill Americans, all pretty much in the same boat. Cancer does not leave everyone winning La Tour de France. And I can bet you anything my attitude is stronger than his. I live to give. So now you know.
A collection of facts and information supporting my opinion that grassroots power is the only way to deconstruct the stranglehold of big money, media, and Congress that is ruining our country's basic values.
No comments:
Post a Comment