mirage, muddlement and prayers for discernment

I am in the midst of attempting to choose a new medical insurance company under what are known as HIPAA Guidelines - it's a "Guaranteed Issue" policy as my current Cal-COBRA one ends on January 30th. I began this work while IN the hospital this last time, sending in a 12-page application to my current insurer, Blue Shield of California. However it's a whole new ball game when Cal-COBRA evaporates in a few weeks. The good news is that I am eligible for an exorbitantly expensive HIPAA policy here in California - one of a few to choose from with much higher premiums and less benefits. (Those of you with socialized medicine in your home countries, I hope you can give thanks now!). In short, while in post-chemo remission from leukemia, I am buried in admin attempting to make a decision that will affect my life, gleaning information from companies who - surprise! - contradict themselves on a regular basis. Were it not for the dogged work of my dear friends Chris & Alice up in snowy Seattle, I would be even more of a mushball of pitiful and incomprehensible demoralization, to steal a line from the Big Book. Aside from the terror maze of sorting through existing medical bills, I have essentially 24 hours from now (I've been at this pretty solidly for a week) to make a really HUGE decision. 

A core portion of this gut-slog is that few if any insurance companies seem to like my current medical center, Alta Bates in Berkeley, California, as a place for a bone marrow transplant.  My new oncologist has been recently wooed from a prestigious position in the Midwest. Alta Bates is not a "Center of Excellence," where bone marrow transplants are done and covered by insurance. In short, they don't "do enough" to be acknowledged - and thus I am caught in a Catch-22 of insurance regulations. They can treat leukemia and other blood cancers but NOT do bone marrow or stem cell transplants. I've appealed to Blue Shield twice for their refusal, hoping to use a "yes" as a reason to attempt to stay with them past Cal-COBRA and into a new HIPAA policy. In short - and trust me, this is as short as I can make it! - I expended deeply soulful and mindful energy to choose a new oncologist that in all likelihood I will not be able to continue working with because of insurance company lockout. Yes, there are other medical centers that deal with acute leukemia patients who are seeking a bone marrow transplant. And after the hall of mirrors energy suck of this dance, I may have to choose a new hospital and a new oncologist. 

This sure brings up life and death issues while I simply want to savor being OUT of the damn hospital. 

I realize that these issues are boring as hell - and this is as briefly as I am capable of summarizing them. I've been spending 8-12 hours a day on them since I was sprung January 2nd. Thank GOD I've also been able to meet with a few friends, attend a few 12-Step meetings, attempt two 20-minute jogs (woo-hoo!) and shop for my own food. I can make my own coffee rather than grab the nurse who's just drawn my blood at 6 am, asking oh so politely, "Would you please fill my thermos with hot water?" 

I do not like being institutionalized or hospitalized. I don't even have time "between Consolidations" to fantasize in great leaping arcs about running away!

So the visual of a labyrinth is a symbol of many things. If you've never walked one, please do if ever you have the chance. My first times were at St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral in Seattle perhaps 10 years ago. There are two - indoor and outdoor! - at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. Many spiritual centers and churches have them as permanent or even temporary opportunities for a powerful walking meditation. For now, without analogizing myself into the next stratosphere, one morsel of symbology is that looking at its entirety (what a jumbled maze!) is not the same as taking one step at a time in walking it. You begin and end in silence, passing other labyrinth walkers in quiet acknowledgement. Children run through it when there, which is fun for me to watch. I feel that I am embroiled in a tumbled mangled weedy puzzle while the only way through is to breathe and take one step at a time. "But but BUT!!!" The what if?'s can taunt me to hell. Having AML is hard enough, as GRATEFUL as I am to have some energy after this 2nd go in the hospital. "Not fair!" I cry. I shouldn't have to deal with this!

Surprise. Life isn't fair. 

It is worth living if I remember that I am loved and can love. I'd really like to have a clean E-Ticket for another 30 years or so. I don't. I don't know whether I'll live for a day, month, year or more. I don't know. There are times when a core truth is that I simply want to die in peace. I am fascinated by thoughts of the next dimension. I am less than thrilled with the minutiae and grunting agonies of negotiating this one right now.

I've noticed that I'm trying to end on a positive note and I'm struggling with that. O lookit here; life's really hard and I'm so dang chipper. I'm not. Please pray for me - for peace, for discernment, for present-mindedness. I receive and feel your prayers even when I am eyeballs deep in mud.