- V
- T
- J
1/6/19
WOW! Thank you, everyone who has helped us break down our medical debt. Some folks donated directly to us so we updated our page to reflect those incredibly generous donations. We are floored by the support. We feel optimistic and hopeful about our future, which is an incredible gift in itself. Thank you all.
Ashley and I hate asking for help. We prefer to do things on our own, to forge our own path, deal with our own challenges. We have had to admit to ourselves that we are no longer able to do this alone. We need help.
In May 2018, Ashley and I fled the bay area to rural Northern California. In the first week we were in Humboldt County, Ashley had to go to the ER. Our insurance would not start for another month. For years we had adjusted to life with Ashley’s on going health problems. Sometimes she would just throw up, other times she’d be in pain so bad she couldn’t work, but we both were comfortable, we had a nice apartment, we had savings, we had plans, and we had a really strong sense of denial. We’d grown used to the frequent trips to the ER when she could not stop the cycle of pain and vomiting, and each time, we breathed relief that we had enough left in savings to cover each visit. But then we didn’t anymore. But it was OK, because we both had good jobs, and insurance, and we lived in a bustling metropolis full of resources and doctors. But the doctors told us Ashley was fine. It’s all in her head. It’s just colitis. Stop eating gluten. Go to therapy. So, we lived in a cycle of “making it work.”
Christmas 2017, we were forced to confront that Ashley’s health had declined to a point where we could not ignore that something was very, very wrong. My brother and his fiancé were hosting Christmas at their home in Detroit, and Ashley was unable to eat or participate, spending much of the trip either in the bathroom, or curled in the fetal position. She had a colonoscopy/endoscopy in January 2018, and they saw nothing, and told her she was fine. Nothing more to investigate. Relax, stop being so stressed. So we decided to move someplace pretty, and quiet, and full of artists where we could get away from the toxicity of surviving in the Bay Area, and maybe get away from the types of jobs that were quite literally dangerous for Ashley’s health. We were already saddled with and carrying a substantial medical debt that we’d collected over the past few years, and we had been slowly chipping away at the growing stack of bills, convinced that eventually this cycle would end.
And then we landed, uninsured, in an ER.
Ashley had been unable to move out of bed without pain for days. She hadn’t eaten food since we’d moved, and even water triggered vomiting. The pain was such agony she said in all honesty, that death would be better. We took a familiar, yet new, trip to the ER where doctors, for the first time, seemed to care about the cause, but because American Healthcare System they simply gave her a scan, some IV drugs, and a “best of luck.” The bill would be nearly $9,000 at their reduced rate. Adding that bill to the stack suddenly made what we had considered “manageable” became monumental. Ashley wasn’t working yet, but we had allowed for that, we’d make it work, and my parents were helping us with the transition. My job had great insurance (once it started), and with the low cost of living in our new town, the pay cut I took balanced out. Ashely found a job she loved doing, something totally out of her comfort zone. Working with artists who also have disabilities brought her more joy than I’ve ever seen another job bring her. Surely, this was the turning point.
On August 28th, we were back in the ER. Ashley had struggled with the same pain and vomiting issues but we thought that it was under control, manageable. We were looking for doctors, but unsurprisingly, finding a doctor in a rural county is difficult, especially when you have to go in network. Ashley had had no luck in finding even a primary doctor who was taking new patients. The GI specialist would not see her unless she had a primary. So, when she had what we started calling a “flair up” we tried to manage it at home. Ashley tried to work through the pain, enduring days of working with 8 level pain shooting through her body. She got good at ducking out of the room to discretely vomit and cry in pain. But she reached her limit and in the end of August we went back to the ER, and got essentially, the same response, but at least this time we were insured so it was only $3,000 more this time. Her discharge instructions told us to return to the ER if symptoms worsen, and to follow up with her primary doctor or GI specialist. So, again, we asked around, called offices, asked for help, tried to use the hospital social worker to find a primary, everything we could think of. Nothing. No room at the inn. Go to the ER if symptoms worsen.
After August, things never really improved. Ashley would routinely have high pain days at least once a week, and vomit spontaneously throughout the day on a near daily basis.
In October, we were excited to finally go back to the DC Area for a non-wedding related visit, the first since we’d moved to California in 2014. We were stoked to see old friends, try and get into the African American History Museum, wander the National Gallery, get a drink at the Pinch in Columbia Heights, see friends in Baltimore, go to a Haunted Forest … We attempted to go out with people, but she couldn’t eat, couldn’t participate, and had to spend most of the time curled up in pain on the floor. We didn’t want to go to the hospital again. Especially away from home, especially when we had a flight to catch. But she couldn’t make it. It was too much. She reached the point of wishing in seriousness for death to end the pain, so we went to Suburban Hospital, where they admitted her for 5 days.
The doctors there were thoughtful and kind and interested in figuring out what was happening. They did tests, and came back with familiar ‘ol colitis. We, burned out and exhausted, stressed to the doctor that in our town we had been unable to even get in with a doctor. For the first time, we had an ally. He wrote up a referral, scheduled a last minute examine at his office to get us records and test results to take home with us. When we were back in California we had a stroke of luck, and were FINALLY directed to a doctor who was taking new patients as a primary care provider. And she also happened to be an OB/GYN. The new doctor listened to Ashley, and agreed that something was very wrong and we needed to figure it out. She started the process to get Ashley in to a GI specialist and scheduled a follow up appointment.
Then, early in December, we were back in the ER. The primary was on vacation, and the notes she’d left about Ashley’s care plan were that “if symptoms worsen or persist, go to the ER.” We called every urgent care within 30 minutes of us. We were told they aren’t equipped to help with pain, and to go to the ER or schedule an appointment with our primary. Ashley had been unable to work a full week since we came back from Maryland, and now she couldn’t make it a full work day. She called me at work, in desperate pain, needing to go to the hospital. So we again, arrived in the ER, where they gave Ashley IV meds and liquids to patch her up enough to send her home.
Fortunately, the follow up appointment we had scheduled was a week after we were in the ER. Since the ER Ashley had continued to be unable to work, and was rapidly losing weight from not eating. The doctor had Ashley worked up with a full blood panel and a sonogram. She’s pushing another urgent referral to a GI specialist. She’s prescribing medications that kind of help. And she’s looking at things other the GI tract (yes things other than your GI tract exist in your abdomen!) and plans on scheduling an exploratory surgery. But Ashley hasn’t worked more than 10 hours in December, and while her employer wants to keep her on, she is only on the schedule as a sub, and the reality is that more than an hour of work at a time can be too much some days. I can support us between my benefits through work and my income moving forward, but paying down the debt will take years. If we encounter any other major expenses, we will be stuck in a continuing debt cycle.
So we are humbling ourselves to ask for help to pay down what we already owe. We haven’t seen the bill from the hospitalization in Maryland or the bill from the ER from this month, but we know they’re coming. We know surgery is coming. We are just finally starting a diagnostic journey that undoubtedly will be massively expensive. I know many of you are struggling on your own, or are being hit by the government shutdown, so of course I have my own guilt about asking for help, but for the sake of Ashley and I’s future, I’m asking. I don’t expect to meet the goal, but any help will make a world of difference for us as we try to get Ashley healthy and able to work full time again.
Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for whatever support you’re able to give.
WOW! Thank you, everyone who has helped us break down our medical debt. Some folks donated directly to us so we updated our page to reflect those incredibly generous donations. We are floored by the support. We feel optimistic and hopeful about our future, which is an incredible gift in itself. Thank you all.
Ashley and I hate asking for help. We prefer to do things on our own, to forge our own path, deal with our own challenges. We have had to admit to ourselves that we are no longer able to do this alone. We need help.
In May 2018, Ashley and I fled the bay area to rural Northern California. In the first week we were in Humboldt County, Ashley had to go to the ER. Our insurance would not start for another month. For years we had adjusted to life with Ashley’s on going health problems. Sometimes she would just throw up, other times she’d be in pain so bad she couldn’t work, but we both were comfortable, we had a nice apartment, we had savings, we had plans, and we had a really strong sense of denial. We’d grown used to the frequent trips to the ER when she could not stop the cycle of pain and vomiting, and each time, we breathed relief that we had enough left in savings to cover each visit. But then we didn’t anymore. But it was OK, because we both had good jobs, and insurance, and we lived in a bustling metropolis full of resources and doctors. But the doctors told us Ashley was fine. It’s all in her head. It’s just colitis. Stop eating gluten. Go to therapy. So, we lived in a cycle of “making it work.”
Christmas 2017, we were forced to confront that Ashley’s health had declined to a point where we could not ignore that something was very, very wrong. My brother and his fiancé were hosting Christmas at their home in Detroit, and Ashley was unable to eat or participate, spending much of the trip either in the bathroom, or curled in the fetal position. She had a colonoscopy/endoscopy in January 2018, and they saw nothing, and told her she was fine. Nothing more to investigate. Relax, stop being so stressed. So we decided to move someplace pretty, and quiet, and full of artists where we could get away from the toxicity of surviving in the Bay Area, and maybe get away from the types of jobs that were quite literally dangerous for Ashley’s health. We were already saddled with and carrying a substantial medical debt that we’d collected over the past few years, and we had been slowly chipping away at the growing stack of bills, convinced that eventually this cycle would end.
And then we landed, uninsured, in an ER.
Ashley had been unable to move out of bed without pain for days. She hadn’t eaten food since we’d moved, and even water triggered vomiting. The pain was such agony she said in all honesty, that death would be better. We took a familiar, yet new, trip to the ER where doctors, for the first time, seemed to care about the cause, but because American Healthcare System they simply gave her a scan, some IV drugs, and a “best of luck.” The bill would be nearly $9,000 at their reduced rate. Adding that bill to the stack suddenly made what we had considered “manageable” became monumental. Ashley wasn’t working yet, but we had allowed for that, we’d make it work, and my parents were helping us with the transition. My job had great insurance (once it started), and with the low cost of living in our new town, the pay cut I took balanced out. Ashely found a job she loved doing, something totally out of her comfort zone. Working with artists who also have disabilities brought her more joy than I’ve ever seen another job bring her. Surely, this was the turning point.
On August 28th, we were back in the ER. Ashley had struggled with the same pain and vomiting issues but we thought that it was under control, manageable. We were looking for doctors, but unsurprisingly, finding a doctor in a rural county is difficult, especially when you have to go in network. Ashley had had no luck in finding even a primary doctor who was taking new patients. The GI specialist would not see her unless she had a primary. So, when she had what we started calling a “flair up” we tried to manage it at home. Ashley tried to work through the pain, enduring days of working with 8 level pain shooting through her body. She got good at ducking out of the room to discretely vomit and cry in pain. But she reached her limit and in the end of August we went back to the ER, and got essentially, the same response, but at least this time we were insured so it was only $3,000 more this time. Her discharge instructions told us to return to the ER if symptoms worsen, and to follow up with her primary doctor or GI specialist. So, again, we asked around, called offices, asked for help, tried to use the hospital social worker to find a primary, everything we could think of. Nothing. No room at the inn. Go to the ER if symptoms worsen.
After August, things never really improved. Ashley would routinely have high pain days at least once a week, and vomit spontaneously throughout the day on a near daily basis.
In October, we were excited to finally go back to the DC Area for a non-wedding related visit, the first since we’d moved to California in 2014. We were stoked to see old friends, try and get into the African American History Museum, wander the National Gallery, get a drink at the Pinch in Columbia Heights, see friends in Baltimore, go to a Haunted Forest … We attempted to go out with people, but she couldn’t eat, couldn’t participate, and had to spend most of the time curled up in pain on the floor. We didn’t want to go to the hospital again. Especially away from home, especially when we had a flight to catch. But she couldn’t make it. It was too much. She reached the point of wishing in seriousness for death to end the pain, so we went to Suburban Hospital, where they admitted her for 5 days.
The doctors there were thoughtful and kind and interested in figuring out what was happening. They did tests, and came back with familiar ‘ol colitis. We, burned out and exhausted, stressed to the doctor that in our town we had been unable to even get in with a doctor. For the first time, we had an ally. He wrote up a referral, scheduled a last minute examine at his office to get us records and test results to take home with us. When we were back in California we had a stroke of luck, and were FINALLY directed to a doctor who was taking new patients as a primary care provider. And she also happened to be an OB/GYN. The new doctor listened to Ashley, and agreed that something was very wrong and we needed to figure it out. She started the process to get Ashley in to a GI specialist and scheduled a follow up appointment.
Then, early in December, we were back in the ER. The primary was on vacation, and the notes she’d left about Ashley’s care plan were that “if symptoms worsen or persist, go to the ER.” We called every urgent care within 30 minutes of us. We were told they aren’t equipped to help with pain, and to go to the ER or schedule an appointment with our primary. Ashley had been unable to work a full week since we came back from Maryland, and now she couldn’t make it a full work day. She called me at work, in desperate pain, needing to go to the hospital. So we again, arrived in the ER, where they gave Ashley IV meds and liquids to patch her up enough to send her home.
Fortunately, the follow up appointment we had scheduled was a week after we were in the ER. Since the ER Ashley had continued to be unable to work, and was rapidly losing weight from not eating. The doctor had Ashley worked up with a full blood panel and a sonogram. She’s pushing another urgent referral to a GI specialist. She’s prescribing medications that kind of help. And she’s looking at things other the GI tract (yes things other than your GI tract exist in your abdomen!) and plans on scheduling an exploratory surgery. But Ashley hasn’t worked more than 10 hours in December, and while her employer wants to keep her on, she is only on the schedule as a sub, and the reality is that more than an hour of work at a time can be too much some days. I can support us between my benefits through work and my income moving forward, but paying down the debt will take years. If we encounter any other major expenses, we will be stuck in a continuing debt cycle.
So we are humbling ourselves to ask for help to pay down what we already owe. We haven’t seen the bill from the hospitalization in Maryland or the bill from the ER from this month, but we know they’re coming. We know surgery is coming. We are just finally starting a diagnostic journey that undoubtedly will be massively expensive. I know many of you are struggling on your own, or are being hit by the government shutdown, so of course I have my own guilt about asking for help, but for the sake of Ashley and I’s future, I’m asking. I don’t expect to meet the goal, but any help will make a world of difference for us as we try to get Ashley healthy and able to work full time again.
Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for whatever support you’re able to give.