I won't go into too many gory details, but I wouldn't wish this kind of stress on anyone. Well, maybe a bit on one of my ex's, who deserves everything he "gave" me back in spades, but not on most people, including you, Gentle Reader.
My husband, Rob, lost his job recently. Rob has a tendency toward Vitamin D deficiency, and living in Maine makes it ten times worse. He went into the hospital, and they put him in the psych ward (!) due to being depressed. Fortunately, the doctor checked his vitamin levels, and discovered that not only did he have a severe Vitamin D deficiency, he also had severe lack of B12. The doc gave him a shot of B12, told him to take more D, and advised him to follow up with a GP.
Well, we lost our self-paid health insurance, due to lack of income. It was one of those plans that costs $200 a month, and you get catastrophic coverage, with a nifty $7,500 deductible for hospital visits, but if you get say, a severe condition that costs up to $1 million dollars, this is the plan for you. Two check-ups per year, and some minimal dental care. So losing it wasn't that huge of a deal, and Rob was able to apply for some sort of healthcare through the hospital system here in Maine.
We went to the doctor, and while his D & B levels were both 31 in a range of 30-100, this doctor, who is new to us, proceeded to tell Rob that he didn't think his depressive symptoms were entirely related to a vitamin deficiency. "Would you be interested in some anti-depressants?" he asked.
Rob and I looked at each other. We'd both been down this road before, only not with a doctor, but a relative, who thought he needed Prozac, and when I protested, I was told off in no uncertain terms and accused of being Rob's "real problem." WHO needs Prozac? Please. Fuck off. See, Rob had had this Vitamin D problem before, and had been prescribed 50,000 IU's of Vitamin D, to be taken weekly for eight weeks, plus 2,500 IU's over the counter per day. It pretty much cured him, along with being out in the sun, as he got struck down in February or March, and by the time the high-dose of Vitamin D kicked in, he was able to go out in the sun and sit with his shirt off and get the Sunshine Vitamin the good old-fashioned way.
But his controlling relative decided, based on a short and nasty interrogation, that Rob should go on anti-depressants and ditch his wife (that would be me, who told Rob to get his Vitamin D levels checked in the first place, and I was right, according to the doctor and the blood test results). This is a relative who never calls, doesn't visit, and has a tendency toward paranoia and screaming attacks on my husband over the telephone. Rob doesn't talk to them anymore. He's pretty much done, and so am I. Life is too short to put up with that kind of crap from anyone, let alone a relative whose only interaction with you consists of snap judgments, wild accusations, and verbal abuse. It's sad, but that's the way it has to be if we want any peace in our lives. Anyway, the Vitamin D and sunshine turned Rob around last time. I'd been nagging Rob to take his vitamins all winter, but moving, etc., he forgot, I forgot, and by the time it got really bad, there he was, in the hospital again. It's insidious, because it mimics depression, and if you have any stressors in your life, you tend to chalk it up to those, when the D & B12 deficiency actually contribute to the stressors, making them more difficult to deal with because you can't think straight! If he'd taken Prozac, I can't begin to imagine what kind of health issues he'd have come down with due to lack of Vitamin D. It's pretty important for a lot of things going on in your body.
We both love Maine, but this made us question living here year round. I mean, it's great to say you have suffered through yet another Maine winter. It makes you tougher, and more appreciative of the lovely Spring and Summer. Maine, the Way Life Should Be (in the summer, when the weather is great and the rest of the country is suffering from severe storms, drought, and grueling high temperatures). For now, however, we are locked into a lease until next Spring, so here we are. I hope to be able to take him to Florida, or anywhere sunny, next February, to get him a booster shot of sunshine. Maybe that will keep him from going under again, because it's not pretty, and I worry about his health. He's almost 60, and has been through colon cancer surgery, and Vitamin D is very necessary for human health. I'd like to keep him around a while.
The doctor didn't push the Prozac once he realized that Rob wasn't going for his spiel. He agreed to give him another B12 shot, a month after the one he'd had two weeks prior in the hospital. Then the doctor told him not to take too much Vitamin D, because his levels weren't really "that low." We left, both shaking our heads at the disparity between his prior doctor's advice (50,000 IU's a WEEK) and this guy's nonchalant attitude of "it's all in your head because I said so."
People: you have to advocate for your own health nowadays. Yes, Googling your symptoms doesn't make you a doctor, but listening blindly to a doctor doesn't always benefit your long-term health, either.
That's just part of why I haven't been writing my intended posts about Cumston Hall, the lovely local wineries we visited on Mother's Day, and a few other neat places to visit here in Maine. Instead, I've been dealing with my husband's health issues, my own issues relating to my mother's death last year, Rob's father's death (also last year), and being back in "the system," as we call it here in Maine. It sucks. Reality bites sometimes.
But I made a promise to my husband: last year, as we stood at my mother's grave site, watching her urn being buried in the cold November ground, less than two months after we spread his dad's ashes in Taunton Bay, my husband started to cry. I put my arm around him and hugged him tightly.
"No more funerals," he sobbed. "I can't take anymore."
"No more funerals," I promised.
This Saturday, June 9, 2012, we are going to stand before some of my (very nice and friendly) relatives, and any friends who chose to join us, and renew our love for each other. It's going to be short and sweet, not even a minister (as we are already married and don't need someone else to guide our love for each other). Right now he's out applying for more jobs; at almost age 60, even with an MBA, he is discouraged, but willing to take anything within his physical capabilities. Rob has two hip implants, so he has trouble doing anything that requires standing for long periods of time. He can do office jobs, but sitting also bothers his hips, and makes his lower back ache. He doesn't complain very much, but I know it hurts him. He can't even bend down to tie his shoes, and I have to clip his toenails for him. He tried to go back and see about getting his left hip operated on, as initially it had to be replaced three times: the first time it got infected, the second there was an issue with the rod they inserted into his thighbone, and the third time, they said, "you're good to go!" Even though he wasn't good to go. He had pain, stiffness, and lack of flexibility in his left hip. He finally went back to the doctor, who said, "well, your insurance (this was when we had insurance) won't pay for it. It's considered elective surgery." Rob got sent to physical therapy, which didn't do squat. He's considering applying for disability, something he's avoided for years, because he has come to realize that he needs more intense medical care than he's been receiving in recent years, which is about nil. He has to walk with a cane a lot, and having been in a physical occupation for much of his youth (ballet dancer), I can't imagine how difficult it must be to not be able to do simple things like tie one's own shoes or clip one's own toenails. This is Rob when he worked for the Ballet Met in Columbus, Ohio:
He always puts himself down. "I was too fat for a ballet dancer, and I wasn't very good." I beg to differ, because he danced in France for years, and was Principle in more than one company. But I guess in the dance world, like the theater world, cattiness abounds. He was gorgeous, n'est pas?
Still, he suffers in silence, always putting forward a cheerful face. Until he came down with the vitamin deficiency again. His former job consisted of working as a 1099 contractor for a company that promised him a lot of hours. When they didn't deliver, he requested more hours, and was promised such. When THAT didn't happen, he asked again. When he got out of the hospital, he asked them to advance a few hundred from his next paycheck.
"Sorry, we don't do that for contractors," he was told. This was after having sunshine blown up his ass for two months to the tune of "you're so great, we will definitely be giving you more hours, and we want you to mentor our new employees," blah, blah, blah, blah. Show me the money, assholes. Don't blow sunshine up my husband's butt, because we've both heard it all before: "be our wage slaves, with zero benefits, but when the chips are down and you need us, buh-bye now."
Rob told them he couldn't afford to live on $200-$250 a week. Their response: "Feel free to re-apply in the future." Then they paid him less than he was due, because due to his Vitamin D & B12 fogged brain, he had neglected to log some of the work he'd done for them, even though Rob knew he'd done it, and THEY knew he'd done it. Bully for them. You've just lost the best employee you could have lifted up, you bastards. That's my husband you pushed aside, not some turn-em-and-burn-em doormat who's going to slink off into the shadows and lie down with his belly up, waiting for the next avaricious employer to blow sunshine up his butt with false promises. That's my husband you did that to, with your cold inhuman attitude. I don't even have to wish your business will fail, because you have already failed in the human department, and that attitude will seep into every one of your business interactions: with your employees, and ultimately, through them, to your customers. Good luck running a company that way in today's market. Good fucking luck.
Now, onto happier things: if you want to join us for a very casual wedding renewal party, and some good company and good cheer shortly afterward, contact me via mariemonteux _at_ gmail.com. RSVP, as they say, so I know how much food to set out. BYOB, as we can't presently afford to stock a full bar for guests. A dish to pass or a dessert would be welcome. In any case, we will be here, holding hands, celebrating our love for each other, our triumph over adversity, and how we are still together despite our troubles. 1:00 p.m., Saturday, June 9, 2012, Monmouth, Maine, Red Top, which is the name of our house on Lake Annabessacook.
Because I promised: no more funerals. Maybe I can't keep that one forever, but for one day, a lovely June day in Maine, this will be "the way life should be." For my husband, Rob, the love of my life, my friend, my lover, and partner in imaginary heinous crimes against wanna-be poser business owners. I will be dressed as the Fairy Queen, and Rob will be The Most Interesting Man in the World. Because he is the most interesting man in the world, to me.
Red Solo Cup. I lift you up. Let's have a party, proceed to party!
