I didn’t get skunked at today’s show—but let’s just say I wasn’t exactly loading up a wheelbarrow full of cash either.
The event was the first annual car show to benefit Paws for the Cause, and I’ll give it this—it had a good heart, even if it didn’t have much of a crowd. Vendors started trickling in, slowly… very slowly. In fact, I had enough time to sit and watch them arrive like it was a parade with no audience. The classic cars? Even fewer. I think I saw more empty parking spots than chrome bumpers.
Each vendor paid $30, car owners paid $20, and everyone had to bring a large bag of dog food. That part, I genuinely liked. Knowing the food would go to the Humane Society made it feel worthwhile. At the end of the day, even if I didn’t make much, at least some dogs are eating better tonight—and that’s a win you can’t really argue with.
Now, about the selling…
It took me about two hours to make my first sale. Two hours. I had time to rethink my entire inventory and briefly consider whether the guy selling kettle corn was onto something. Then… nothing. Not a single sale until the final minutes before packing up. It was like the universe said, “Let’s keep him just hopeful enough to stay.”
If you don’t count the cost of the dog food, I broke even. So technically, I didn’t lose money… but I didn’t exactly win either. I’m still chasing that one product—the one that people see and immediately say, “I need that.” So far, that magical item remains as elusive as a full parking lot at today’s show.
Looking around, though, I think I did all right compared to some of the other vendors. A few of them spent most of the day parked at a picnic table nearby. At one point, I wasn’t sure if they were selling products or just holding down the table so it wouldn’t blow away.
Speaking of blowing away… the wind showed up late but made a dramatic entrance. By the end of the day, tents were starting to lift and shift like they had somewhere better to be. I’m pretty sure that’s what convinced the organizer to shut things down about an hour early—and honestly, nobody argued.
For now, I don’t have any shows lined up, which might be a blessing in disguise. It’ll give me time to reorganize, take inventory, and figure out what needs restocking—and maybe, just maybe, stumble across that one item that actually sells consistently.
In the meantime, I’ve got a couple of orders to finish up, and that feels like progress.
No, it wasn’t a sellout. No, it wasn’t a disaster.
Just another day behind the booth… and another story to tell.
At 4:00 a.m., my alarm will go off, signaling the start of a long—but hopefully rewarding—day. I’ll roll out of bed, grab some breakfast, and head out to meet my fishing buddy at his place by 5:30.
But before I ever get to the water, today was about preparation.
After spending hours out in the heat working on crafts, I came home and shifted gears—loading up the kayak, rods, and every piece of electronics I’ll need. I made sure batteries were fresh, gear was in place, and all safety equipment was accounted for. Or at least… most of it.
Ever since the great Easter weekend cleanup (or “panic clean,” if we’re being honest), there are still a few things that seem to have vanished into thin air. I had a feeling that once I started moving everything around, I’d forget where I put something important.
I was right.
A few weeks ago, I bought some proper red safety flags for the back of my kayak—bright, reflective, and actually visible. In Alabama, anything over 12 feet is supposed to have a red flag attached, and my old solution—a once-red rag—is now so faded it looks more like a tired brown surrender flag than anything useful.
And of course… I can’t find the new ones.
I know how this story ends. I’ll stumble across them one day while I’m tearing the house apart looking for something else I can’t find. That’s just how it works.
But missing flags or not, I’m determined to make the most of tomorrow. A good day on the water doesn’t come from perfect preparation—it comes from being there.
Somewhere in between all of that, I’ve also got a craft fair coming up Saturday. Today, despite the heat, I managed to put together a couple of new trial pieces—a rustic serving tray and a small hanging planter. I didn’t go all in on them just yet. No sense in making a dozen of something if nobody wants one.
But if they sell? I’ll be making more.
There’s something satisfying about working with your hands—whether it’s shaping wood into something useful or casting a line and waiting on that tug. Different kind of work, same kind of reward.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned doing craft fairs, it’s this: never expect the same market twice.
This is my third year setting up booths, unloading tables, and hoping today is the day I finally figure out “the one thing everyone has to have.” So far… that mystery item is still in hiding.
For those who don’t know, I do laser engraving and cutting. I’ve engraved just about anything that will sit still long enough—wood, concrete, glass, mirrors, slate tile, even white tiles. I’ve also tried to think outside the box, turning scrap wood into pieces that are a little different from the usual.
There is a market for this kind of work—I’ve seen it with my own eyes. One weekend I’ll sell just about everything I brought, and I go home feeling like a crafting genius. Then I spend the next week busting my tail trying to restock… only to show up at the next fair and sell absolutely nothing.
Today was one of those “nothing” days.
Now, to be fair, there is a small upside to not selling anything—you don’t have to rush home and panic-build inventory for next weekend. So I guess that’s my silver lining.
I had some interesting neighbors today. The lady to my left was selling handmade pot holders. She had a steady stream of people stopping by, but I couldn’t tell if they were buying or just admiring her work.
To my right was a lady selling crocheted items, and I can confidently say—she did just fine. I heard her more than once explaining which forms of payment she accepted, which is always a good sign you’re making sales.
Somewhere nearby was another gentleman doing woodcraft like me, mostly engraved oak charcuterie boards. I couldn’t see his booth very well, so I’m not sure how he did. But from what I’ve noticed over time, the charcuterie board craze might be cooling off a bit. Seems like what was once the hot item isn’t quite as hot as it used to be.
And that’s the challenge.
I’m still trying to find that one product that flies off the table every single time. So instead, I bring a little bit of everything. One fair, something random sells like crazy. The next fair—like today—it just sits there looking back at me.
I’ve walked other booths, watched what people are buying, and followed other makers online. They’ll tell you, “Make this—it’ll sell all day long.” Maybe for them. For me? Not so much.
It can get a little discouraging.
But here’s the thing—I actually enjoy the process. I like being out in the garage, creating something out of nothing. I like experimenting, even if it doesn’t turn into a best-seller. And truth be told, I enjoy the craft fairs themselves… even the slow ones.
Because when the crowds thin out and the sales aren’t happening, that’s when the conversations start. You meet people. You swap stories. You laugh a little. And sometimes, that ends up being worth more than a table full of sold-out inventory.
So no, I haven’t found “the one thing” yet.
But I’m still looking. And in the meantime, I’ve got a garage, a laser, and another craft fair next weekend… which means I’ve got another roll of the dice.
I’ve got a couple of updates since the last round of chaos, and like everything else lately, it’s a mix of “well, that’s good news” and “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
First off, I saw a post from my doctor’s office saying they plan to reopen on Monday. Now, I’ll be honest—I don’t know how they’re going to be mentally ready for that. After everything that’s happened, I can’t imagine just flipping the sign back to “Open” and jumping right back into caring for patients like nothing ever happened.
I do have some test results I need to get, but at this point, I’m not too worried about them. I could call, but something tells me they’re going to be completely overwhelmed. Phones are ringing off the hook, patients are trying to reschedule, and emotions are still running high. I think I’ll give them a few days. If they call me, great. If not, I’ll check in later when things settle down—at least a little.
They also mentioned they’re looking for another doctor to take over the practice. That could take some time, and honestly, who knows how that’s all going to play out. But I’ve got a backup plan. There’s another doctor I’ve seen before, someone I actually know pretty well outside of the office. We crossed paths a lot through Scouts—he was a scoutmaster in another district—and we’ve stayed in touch over the years. We’re even friends on Facebook, so he’s already got a front-row seat to my “medical adventures” without ever opening a chart. If things go south with my current doctor’s office, I know where my records will be heading.
Meanwhile, over at my son’s house, the saga continues.
The water mitigation team came back today to check on the fans and dehumidifiers. They went around testing the walls and floors for moisture. The good news? The walls are drying out just like they should.
The bad news? The floor… not so much.
So tomorrow, they’re coming back to start tearing up the flooring so the slab can dry out properly. Nothing says “progress” quite like ripping out perfectly good flooring. They’re also planning to remove a few of the fans from the bathroom, which should at least lower the noise level from “airport runway” down to “only mildly annoying.”
It’s been quite the adventure so far—and we’re not even close to the end.
Once everything is dry enough, they’ll move on to the restoration phase. That’s the part my son is really looking forward to… mainly because it means we’re finally heading in the direction of “normal.” He’s also hoping that by tomorrow evening—or at least by Saturday—most of the fans will be gone. I think we’re all looking forward to that.
Of course, my wife has asked me more than once if there was anything that could have been done to prevent all of this.
Short answer? No.
Long answer? Still no… unless you want to hop in a time machine and have a conversation with the original plumbers. It could’ve been a weak solder joint, a slight shift in the slab, or something else entirely hidden beneath the surface. Without tearing everything apart beforehand—or having some kind of superpower X-ray vision—there’s just no way to know. Sometimes things just fail, and you deal with them when they do.
And speaking of dealing with it, tomorrow my son has somewhere he needs to be, so he won’t be around to let the mitigation team in.
Which means… You guessed it… I’ll be making the 45-minute drive.
And you know what? I don’t mind one bit.
Because at the end of the day, this whole mess—doctor’s offices, test results, torn-up floors, and all—is just part of life. Messy, unpredictable, sometimes frustrating… but it also gives us chances to show up for each other.
Even if it means driving 45 minutes just to let someone in the door.
And honestly… compared to everything else going on, that’s the easy part.
Good Friday is a solemn day. A day set aside to remember the sacrifice of Jesus Christ—His crucifixion, His death, and ultimately the hope, redemption, and victory that came from it. It’s called “Good” not because of what happened, but because of what it means for all of us.
For many people, though, it also means something a little more… practical. A day off work. A three-day weekend. Time with family. Maybe planting flowers, knocking out some yard work, or finally getting around to those projects that have been giving you the side-eye for weeks.
For me? It was a “catch up on everything I’ve been putting off” kind of day.
After breakfast, I headed out to the garage and got to work. I moved equipment outside, cut material for some crafts I’ve got going, and spent a good chunk of the day sanding everything down so it’ll be ready for paint tomorrow. I’ve got a craft show next Saturday, and let’s just say… I’m not exactly ahead of schedule.
Somewhere around 4 PM, my back decided it had officially had enough of my ambition.
But of course, I still had to haul everything back into the garage. Because nothing says “you’re done for the day” like one last round of lifting stuff you probably shouldn’t be lifting.
All I could think about at that point was one thing: A hot cup of coffee, my heating pad, and a recliner.
I finally got everything put up, made a thermos of coffee, and just as I was about to sit down and enjoy that first sip…
My phone rang.
It was my son.
Now, I made the comment to my wife—only halfway joking—that the only time he calls me is when something’s wrong, and he needs help. Not a “Hey Dad, how’s your day?” or “Just checking in.”
Nope. Straight to business.
And sure enough… I was right.
He had a problem. A pretty big one.
Water was coming up through the floor between his kitchen and living room. Not exactly the kind of indoor water feature you want. He had already checked everything—ice maker, sink, water heater, dishwasher, bathrooms—and everything was dry.
So I had him check the water meter.
Still moving.
That’s never a good sign.
His house is built on a slab, which means all the plumbing runs underneath it. And to make things even more interesting, whoever built the house decided that shut-off valves inside the home were apparently optional. So if you want to turn off the water, you’ve got to go all the way out to the road.
Convenient, right?
At this point, it’s looking like a slab leak… which is about as fun as it sounds. He’s got the water shut off, fans running, and a call in to the insurance company. But until they figure things out, he can’t even stay in the house—no water, no way to function normally.
Oh, and he’s got two cats to deal with on top of it.
Because why not add a little extra complication to the mix?
Now here’s where it gets interesting.
We were all supposed to go to his house for Easter lunch.
Yeah… that’s not happening anymore.
So now, everybody’s coming to our house instead.
Which means… cleaning.
And let me tell you, when it’s just my wife living here and me, we don’t exactly keep the place in “company-ready” condition. I’ve got stuff—important stuff, mind you—everywhere.
After supper, I did what I could to clean up, but between my back and a full day of working in the garage, “deep clean” quickly turned into “good enough if you don’t look too close.” There’s always tomorrow, right?
Honestly, if I had known all this was coming, I might’ve paced myself a little better earlier in the day.
Tomorrow, after Bible study, I’m heading over to his place to see if I can spot anything he might’ve missed. I’m holding out hope it’s something simple—maybe a loose line on the dishwasher or refrigerator.
But if it’s not… then it’s in the hands of insurance, plumbers, and flooring folks. And we all know that’s not a quick process.
So no, this wasn’t exactly the Good Friday we had planned.
But I guess sometimes that’s the point.
Even on a day meant for reflection, life still happens. Problems pop up. Plans change. Coffee gets interrupted.
But through it all, we adjust, we help where we can, and we keep moving forward.
And maybe—just maybe—I’ll get to drink that cup of coffee while it’s still hot tomorrow.
Have you ever hit one of those stretches where you really want to do something—but life just keeps stacking the deck against you?
That’s me right now… and fishing.
The weather—well, the temperature at least—has been absolutely perfect. The kind of weather that makes you start mentally packing your gear before you even finish your morning coffee. I’ve been itching to get the kayak in the water.
But of course… It’s never that simple.
First, there’s the wind.
For the last ten days, the wind has been doing everything except cooperating. Now, sure, you can go kayak fishing in the wind… if you enjoy turning your peaceful fishing trip into a CrossFit session. Unless you’re on the water at daybreak, you’ve got a very small window before the breeze turns into a personal trainer yelling, “Paddle harder!”
Nothing quite like trying to hold your spot while questioning your life choices.
But honestly, the wind isn’t even the biggest problem.
Even if the water was as smooth as glass, my schedule has been anything but.
I’ve had something going on nearly every day—mostly doctor appointments. And just when I think I’ve finally got a free day lined up, my phone rings with, “Hey, just a reminder…” At this point, I’m convinced my calendar is just a suggestion, not a plan.
Case in point—I went to the doctor the other day about my back. For years, I thought it was just normal wear and tear… turns out my back has apparently been keeping secrets. Not the fun kind either.
So I finally spot a window. Tomorrow morning? Perfect fishing opportunity. The wind isn’t supposed to pick up until around noon. I’m already picturing that first cast.
Then the phone rings.
It’s the doctor’s office.
“Your MRI is scheduled for tomorrow.”
Of course it is.
So instead of being out on the water trying to catch fish, I’ll be lying perfectly still inside a giant tube while it takes pictures of all the bad decisions I’ve made with my back over the years. Honestly, if that machine could talk, it’d probably just shake its head and say, “Yeah… you probably shouldn’t be kayak fishing either.”
At this point, I’m not even sure what’s more out of alignment—my schedule or my spine.
Looking ahead to next week, it’s the classic tease. The temperature is supposed to drop again early in the week, then warm back up later. But it’s too far out to know what the wind’s going to do… and at this point, I’m convinced it’s working with my doctor.
One of these days, everything is going to line up—the weather, the wind, my schedule… and hopefully my back.
And when it does, those fish better be ready.
Because I’ve got ten days’ worth of missed fishing—and a medically questionable spine—ready to hit the water.
I’ve been a little MIA the last few days, and I’d like to say it’s because I was off on some relaxing retreat.
It was not.
I’ve been at Trade Days.
For two straight days, I stood on my feet greeting people, answering questions, and handing out business cards like I was running for public office. By the end of it, I’m pretty sure I introduced myself more times than a guy on the first night of a reality dating show.
The good news? I met a lot of great people and sold a solid chunk of my inventory.
The bad news? I also proved—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that I did not bring nearly enough stuff.
The Land of “Everything You Never Knew You Needed”
Setting up for Trade Days
Trade Days is an experience.
Imagine a place where you can buy a handcrafted porch swing, a fishing rod, homemade jelly, a birdhouse nicer than your first apartment, and a box of random items that may or may not have come from someone’s attic… all within 50 feet.
That’s Trade Days.
And the crowd? Huge.
I heard multiple people say it took them nearly two hours just to get from the entrance to the field after paying. At that point, you’re not attending an event—you’re on a pilgrimage.
I’d estimate at least 3,000 people came through our section, which explains why I talked so much my voice started negotiating a resignation.
My Two Tables of Confidence
I was fortunate enough to set up with another vendor who sells 3D printed items.
This guy came prepared.
He had six tables. Six. Full. Tables.
Not “we’ll spread things out and make it look nice” full. I mean, packed.
Meanwhile, I rolled in with enough product to confidently fill… two tables.
And just to make things more interesting, those two tables?
They were his.
So not only did he bring enough inventory to run a small retail operation, but I also managed to squat on part of his setup like an uninvited houseguest.
To his credit, he was incredibly gracious. To my credit… I now know I need to make a lot more stuff.
Doing the Math (and Slightly Panicking)
His spot—a 15-foot by 120-foot space with water and electricity—cost $90.
Honestly, after seeing the crowd, that might be one of the better deals out there.
I had several people ask if I’d be back next month, which felt great… until I remembered I already have another show booked that same day.
Also, a small detail—I’d need more inventory, another tent, and a couple more tables.
So yeah, minor logistics.
Mom and daughter having fun in the water
Pre-Show Fishing (a.k.a. Humbling Myself in Nature)
Before all this, I took a day off and went kayaking with my wife and one of my daughters, who was on spring break.
Now, I’d love to say this was purely about family time.
But I also brought my fishing gear.
Because I have priorities.
While they paddled around enjoying the peaceful scenery, I was off to the side doing what I would describe as “aggressively attempting to catch fish.”
I had several bites… or what I think were bites… or possibly just fish laughing at me underwater.
I did hook one decent fish—briefly—until it wrapped my line around some branches and escaped like it had somewhere important to be.
I managed to land one fish, weighing in at a solid ¾ of a pound.
Naturally, this did not impress my audience.
Mission Accomplished Anyway
The real goal of the trip was to get my daughter out kayaking for the first time.
Later that day, she showed me her sunburned legs like a badge of honor and said she had a great time and wants to go again.
So despite my fishing performance, I’m calling that a win.
The Waiting Game
Now I’ve got the fishing bug again.
Unfortunately, my truck is currently in the shop, which means my fishing plans are on hold for about a week. Probably for the best—it gives the fish time to regroup and rebuild their confidence.
Once I’m back on the road, I’m hoping to fish at least once a week… assuming the weather cooperates.
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
There is nothing quite like making the perfect cast…
…only to have the wind pick it up and deposit your lure directly into a tree like it was the plan all along.
Mother Nature has a sense of humor.
And apparently, I’m part of the joke.
In the meantime, it’s back to the shop—cranking out more inventory and trying to make sure next time I show up with more than “two tables of optimism.”
I can’t really say the craft fair/food truck extravaganza was a total bust… mainly because technically it did happen.
Of the fifteen vendors who signed up, four of us actually showed up.
Four.
Now, no one really seems to know why the other eleven didn’t make it. Maybe they overslept. Maybe they checked the weather and decided it looked suspicious. Maybe they looked at their alarm clock that morning and said, “You know what? I’m good.”
Whatever the reason, part of me is honestly glad they didn’t show up.
In fact, being one of only four vendors worked out pretty well for me. I didn’t make a lot of money, but I did make enough to get my registration fee back. When you’re doing craft fairs, sometimes breaking even is considered a small victory.
There were at least five food trucks set up at the event, and I suspect that’s what most people came for. The smell of barbecue, fried food, and whatever magical seasoning food trucks use tends to pull a crowd much faster than a table full of handcrafted items. People were definitely walking around with plates of food in their hands.
But every once in a while, someone would wander over to the vendor tables between bites.
One of the great things that often comes from doing these shows is meeting other craft vendors. I still remember the first show I did a couple of years ago. I was extremely nervous. I had no idea what to expect.
I kept asking myself questions like:
Am I charging too much? Am I charging too little? What if someone is selling the exact same thing I’m selling, but for half the price?
After that first show, though, I slowly started learning the ins and outs of how these things work. The more shows I did, the more comfortable I became with what I was selling and how everything operated.
Around here, there’s a local state park that hosts a monthly craft fair that brings in over a hundred vendors each month. These shows have been around for a long time. I remember going there as a teenager just to walk around and see what people were selling.
Things have definitely changed over the years.
Back then, it seemed like most people were selling handmade crafts. These days, a lot of booths are filled with boutique items people bought in bulk somewhere and are reselling at a markup. Others are selling what I would politely call “yard sale items”—things that were probably sitting in their garage a week earlier, and they finally decided it was time to part with.
Several people stopped by my table on Saturday, asking if I set up at those big trade days events.
The short answer is no.
The longer answer is that those events require a lot of product because of the amount of traffic they get. I simply don’t have that kind of surplus inventory.
What I sold Saturday was pretty much everything I had made over the past few weeks. With the equipment I use, each project takes time to complete. It can take close to an hour just to cut one item.
Then you have to sand it.
After sanding, it needs to be painted or stained.
Then, in most cases, the pieces have to be assembled together.
On average, I’d estimate it takes at least three hours to complete a single item.
Now I do try to stay organized. While something is being cut, I’m often sanding another piece or painting something else. Sometimes I’m assembling one project while another one is drying. My little garage workshop tends to look like a carefully managed mess most days.
One of the things I really enjoy about doing these shows is meeting people who are doing something similar. The vendor set up to my left on Saturday was a young guy selling 3D-printed items. His stuff looked really good.
I’m not sure what he was charging for his pieces, but as we were packing up, he told me he hadn’t even sold enough to cover his vendor fee.
That’s the risk you take with these events.
Since there were only four vendors there and the crowd wasn’t exactly overwhelming, we had plenty of time to get to know each other. Turns out he’s in his late twenties and has two kids—one five years old and the other just five months old. His wife came by toward the end of the day, and I had the chance to meet her as well. They seemed like wonderful people.
At one point, he mentioned that he owns fifteen CNC machines—everything from diode lasers to CO₂ laser systems.
“Hobby?” I asked.
Because that sounded more like a small manufacturing facility than a hobby.
He laughed and explained that he also has a full-time job installing granite countertops for new home construction. He showed me some photos of his work, and it was actually pretty impressive. From the looks of his product table, his 3D printing work was pretty impressive as well.
He told me he regularly sells at the trade days event I mentioned earlier and has been doing it for several years. Most of the time, there’s a waiting list just to get a spot at those events. I’ve actually looked into selling there myself, but as I’ve already said, I just don’t have the inventory to support a show that size.
But then something interesting happened.
This coming Saturday and Sunday is the next trade-days event, and he has invited me to set up a table beside him. His idea was simple: bring some of my products and see what it’s like to sell there.
I haven’t given him an official answer yet.
But the more I think about it, the more it sounds like it might be a good idea. I think I’d probably have a lot of fun just experiencing the event from the vendor side.
Truth be told, I suspect he might just want the company I’d bring to the table—so to speak. He certainly kept my ear busy most of Saturday, and honestly I didn’t mind the conversation myself.
The downside to all of this is simple math.
I already have two confirmed shows coming up. If I add this trade-day event to the list, that means I’ll be spending a lot more hours out in the garage making things to sell.
On the bright side, it will keep me out of my wife’s hair and out of trouble.
And historically speaking, staying out of trouble has always been a pretty good life strategy.
Tomorrow is Thursday, and this week has gone from bad to worse.
My 4 a.m. alarm didn’t go off Tuesday morning, which meant I missed my Tuesday Bible study. That may not sound like a big deal to most people, but it is to me. I haven’t missed one since I started going nearly six months ago.
I woke up around 5 a.m. and immediately realized it was too late to rush around and try to make it on time. The real sign that I wasn’t rushing anywhere was that I didn’t even make coffee first thing. Anyone who knows me knows that’s a sure sign something is off.
After getting cleaned up and eating breakfast, I headed out to the shop and started working on some crafts with my laser. I’ve got a craft fair coming up, and every spare minute seems to be dedicated to getting items ready for it. My breakfast appointment wasn’t until 8 a.m., so I had some time to kill.
I met my friend Rick for breakfast, and of course, the first thing he asked was when we were going fishing. I told him “Soon,” but explained that I had some projects I needed to finish before the craft show. I could tell he wasn’t thrilled with that answer.
During breakfast, my phone kept ringing. No fewer than four people called wanting to talk about Scout-related matters. Even though I consider myself no longer involved in Scouts, apparently, the news hasn’t fully spread yet.
Once I got back home, I went right back to working on my crafts. Before long, the phone started ringing again. More Scout calls.
Running a laser in the shop requires attention. It’s essentially a controlled fire, and if you’re not careful, things can go wrong in a hurry. After trying to juggle phone calls and watch the laser at the same time, I finally decided it wasn’t worth the risk. I shut the laser down.
At 1 p.m., I had a dentist’s appointment.
I have a love-hate relationship with my dentist. I’ve been seeing him for over 30 years, and I trust him completely. But that doesn’t mean I enjoy what he does. I absolutely cannot stand the sound of a dental drill.
Thankfully, I haven’t had a cavity in years, but every now and then, he has to replace a filling that he put in decades ago. Yesterday was one of those days.
After leaving the dentist, things took a turn for the worse.
While merging into another lane, I was hit by a car. The driver had been turning left onto the roadway and collided with me. Before the police arrived, he admitted to me that it was his fault. But when the officers got there, his story had changed. Suddenly, he was telling them that I ran into him because I wasn’t paying attention.
There had been a witness who told me he saw the young man hit me. Unfortunately, by the time I tried to get his information, he had already left. Now I’ll have to wait five to seven business days to pick up the police report and see what it says.
Today was my bariatric appointment.
At one point, my lowest weight was 165 pounds. To be honest, I didn’t look very healthy at that weight. I had gotten too thin. People were quietly asking others if I had some sort of serious illness and wasn’t telling anyone.
My scale at home said 185 pounds this morning. I knew the doctor’s office scale would be a little heavier because of shoes and clothes. Sure enough, it read 191. Still, that’s lower than my last reading at the doctor’s office a year ago.
My doctor would like me to get down to about 175 pounds. He thinks that’s my ideal weight. Personally, I’m pretty comfortable where I am now, but I wouldn’t mind getting down to 175. I just don’t want to go much lower than that.
The next couple of days will be catch-up days.
I have projects cut out that still need sanding. Items that are sanded but need painting. And pieces that are painted but still need to be glued together and assembled.
But even with all the chaos this week, there has been a bright moment.
My wife and I had dinner with one of my daughter’s boyfriends. During dinner, he asked us for permission to ask my daughter to marry him.
It felt strange even writing that sentence.
I can hardly believe that soon I may have a married daughter and gain a son-in-law. He’s a good young man, and I truly believe he cares deeply about her. I know she feels the same way about him.
She had been worried that I might not give my permission. But I would never stand in the way of my daughter’s happiness.
That moment was a candle in what had otherwise been a pretty dark and stressful week.
Now I’m hoping the rest of the week goes by quietly and uneventfully.
After all the doctor’s appointments, the phone calls, and a car accident, I think I’ve earned a couple of calm days.
Doctors, diagnoses, prescriptions, Medicare, insurance, and denial — those are words that seem to follow me around these days. Sometimes I think dealing with the medical system is almost a full-time job. If they paid by the appointment, I’d be drawing a salary by now.
One thing I’ve never quite understood is how a doctor can go to school for years, train for years more, examine you personally, and decide what medication you need — only for the insurance company to step in and say, “Nope, we don’t think so.”
Apparently, somewhere a person is sitting behind a desk who knows more about my condition than the doctor who actually saw me.
I worked for a health insurance company for 32 years before I retired. I was in the maintenance department, which meant I fixed things like doors and lights — not insurance claims. Still, people who knew where I worked would often ask me why their medication was denied even though their doctor prescribed it.
I always had to explain that just because I worked there didn’t mean I knew anything about insurance decisions.
Truth be told, I still don’t.
A good example is what happened recently with my son. He was prescribed medication for severe sleep deprivation. His previous insurance covered it, and he was happy because they had finally found something that actually worked.
Then he changed jobs.
His new insurance company now says the medication is “not medically necessary.” I guess sleeping is optional now.
The doctors now think he might have sleep apnea and ordered a sleep study. Before he even got scheduled, he got a phone call saying the test would cost over $2,000 because his insurance wouldn’t cover it.
He’s a young man with a mortgage, a car payment, and utility bills. In other words, he’s living in the real world — the one where people don’t just have $2,000 laying around for a test that might help them sleep at night.
Meanwhile, I realize I’m one of the fortunate ones. Because of my disabilities, I qualify for Medicare, and because I worked for an insurance company, I retired with a good supplemental plan. That combination gives me coverage that many people would love to have.
I don’t pay co-pays for doctor visits. I don’t pay for emergency room visits. Every time I leave the hospital, the bill says I owe exactly zero dollars, which is my favorite number.
I do pay for some medications, but not a lot.
One medication I take costs about $20,000 for a 30-day supply.
Yes, twenty thousand dollars.
For that price, I feel like it ought to come with a steak dinner and a weekend vacation.
Fortunately, the drug company offers a $0 co-pay card because they know insurance only pays part of the cost. Thanks to that program, I don’t pay a penny for a medication that costs more than some cars.
I consider myself blessed, because there are people who need this same drug and simply can’t get it because they don’t have the right insurance. That part isn’t funny at all.
When I ask why the drug costs so much, I’m told it’s because of all the research that went into developing it. I understand that research costs money, but sometimes I wonder if the scientists also built a few vacation homes along the way.
After being on this medication for a while, I feel like I’ve personally contributed a pretty fair share toward paying for that research — and I know some folks have been on it a lot longer than I have.
I don’t know what the answer is. Doctors are trying to help people. Insurance companies are trying to control costs. Drug companies are trying to recover research money.
And patients are just trying to stay alive without going broke in the process.
Maybe one day there will be a system where if your doctor says you need something, you can actually get it without filling out forms, making phone calls, and saying a small prayer first.
Until then, I guess we’ll just keep taking our prescriptions — and a healthy dose of patience right along with them.
Grayfeathersblog 