For the last 4 days I have allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in until the dogs wake me up. That's been around 8 or 8:30 in the morning. It's cold and they like sleeping on top of me. Even today, I slept in. I had no court appearances, no clients coming in, the courthouse was nearly shut down so I figured I could keep the real world out for just a while longer. For a while longer I wouldn't want to scream at people to get real and take care of those around you. For a while longer I wouldn't have to hide that my insides feel like they are gone.
Actually, I was beginning to feel like I was doing better, that the emotional ship was righting itself and I was again beginning to be in control of my life and my feelings.
Yeah, right.
That's when the mail came. Addressed to Daniel Gisvold were two bills. Both from St Elizabeth's Hospital in Red Bluff, California.One for the emergency room and one for the radiology including a CT of the head. As I read the forms I could only think that he was in that hospital all alone and dying and my anger began to rise. How dare they send him a bill, for God's sake.
Then I read the bottom of the form. They had billed Dan's insurance which had paid all but a very small amount. They had been quick, efficient and, at the time that Dan was in that hospital, they had no idea that he was going to die. They were taking care of those around them.
For the rest of today, I have gone through the motions. I see him and hear him in everything around me. Today is my 19th wedding anniversary and I can hear him razzing Melvin about keeping me around. I hear him telling me that Christina needs to get her act together on Gray's Anatomy. I see him in his western shirt talking to people at our Christmas concert. I hear him telling the dogs to get away from him. I see him stretched out on our couch watching a football game.
I thought I was back in control. Yeah, right.
Damn bills.
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