Where Hard Things and Faith Intersect
The time on the dashboard read 8 o‘clock as my car reached the driveway.
I was tired.
The kids were hungry and I still had to have a much-needed phone conversation.
It was one that couldn’t be avoided any longer.
In fact, it was an overdue chat with my father’s insurance company: hashing out details for primary care providers, co-pays, and home health. I imagined I would be taking the wheel for my parent’s medical well-being at some point, I just didn’t think it would be at 39.
Life, however, had other plans.
Most days I feel emotional, fatigued, and inadequate.
I am the only daughter of my Haitian born father and helping him navigate the American Healthcare system is necessary.
So I made the call and began a journey I was not, nor am I presently, prepared for. It took over an hour to have this three-way chat between the insurance representative, my father and me.
When it was done I wept, not knowing it was the first of many more tears.
Click here to read the rest of this post on Ann Voskamp’s blog.
