At the infusion center 

We’re at the infusion center, where the people with cancer meet the people with Crohn’s and people like me who have Rheumatoid Arthritis. (I’m blogging from my phone, so no fancy links today.)

Luke 16 is a lot about money, and the way people use it, and the way many people don’t. It includes the parable of the shrewd/dishonest manager, and the tale of the Rich Man and poor Lazarus, as well as aphorisms warning us about being so attached to money that we cannot be in relationship with God.

These warnings go out to the rich and those with power over others. Forgive debts. Pay attention to those in need. Serve God, not wealth. 

I’m getting a treatment today that costs more money than I made last year, more money than I have ever made in a year. I get this treatment every six weeks. Because our primary household income is a good one, in the scheme of Presbyterian pastor livelihoods, we pay a pretty big deductible, and that is a challenge. There is a pharmaceutical co-pay program, but we’ve been unable to make use of it thus far due to various glitches with my (now former) doctor’s office and billing that did not specify the medication on the EOB. (!!!! Still appealing that.) 

I have no idea how less savvy people ever navigate this.

We are privileged by our insurance, our education, our income, our marriage. 

I can’t work full time in a church anymore, even with these expensive, effective treatments. 

Today I wonder who is sitting at the gate, wishing to change places with me and my Explanations of Benefits, trying to flex cramped fingers, pushing through the day with no help in sight.

Lord, help me to see her. 

4 thoughts on “At the infusion center ”

  1. I have good insurance but would never be able to pay for my chemo without help. Thankfully Pizer has given me a grant. But what puzzles me is why do they charge so much for the medication and then turn around and give a grant. Does not make sense.

  2. Amen, beautifully said. Help me see, too, dear God. Amen.

    PS~~I have total felted Haflinger clog envy. jus’ sayin’ they are very, very cute. I hope that they help your feet feel good. xoxoxo

  3. No words. I hurt knowing you are having to pay that deductible. And yet grateful can receive the Remicade. Love you.

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