The Poverty Level—Really?

According to the Health and Human Services website, the poverty level for a single person living in the United States is $26,000.* That comes to $2,166 per month. I live on $1,228 per month, which is almost half that amount. One would think a person living that far below the poverty level would qualify for all kinds of assistance.

I get some help, but since I do not have any children living with me, it’s limited. There’s Medicare. I paid into that for over thirty years, but I can’t afford to use it. That’s because Medicare only pays 80% of each bill. I have to come up with the other 20%, and that can be a lot. Oh, and that does not cover transportation. I had chest pains last year and called 911. The ride to a civilian hospital cost me almost a thousand dollars. Well, actually, I still owe the Fire Department. I haven’t been able to afford to pay it.

After Medicare paid the hospital, I owed them another thousand, and I still owe several hundred to various doctors. I have no idea when I’ll be able to pay them. When I make it onto the New York Times Best Seller List? Get on Jeopardy and win? When my number comes up in the Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes? When I remember to play the lottery and win? Get struck by lightning, sue God, and get a settlement?

And Medicare doesn’t include glasses or teeth at all. A few years ago, I had a bad tooth. Know how I treated it? A string, a door knob, and a good, swift kick.

You may have noticed above I said they took me to a civilian hospital. That’s right. I’m a veteran. At a time in our history when most people were spitting on guys in uniform, I said, “Hey, they didn’t ask to go over to some God-forsaken jungle and get all shot up. They need people to fix ’em up when they come home.” Besides, I wanted to be a nurse, but I couldn’t afford nursing school and I figured the GI Bill would pay for it when I got out. So I joined the Navy. I never thought the day would come when I’d use any of the other benefits that came with it—like getting care at a VA hospital.

But, I’m bi-polar, and that doesn’t make for a very steady work history. I was a bang-up temp. Everybody loved me, and clients would request me. As long as I didn’t stay in one office too long, I did a great job. But if I was anywhere for more than a few months, the cracks started to show. The depression set in, or I got to know people well enough to go off on them. That’s not a pretty picture, let me tell you. The thing is, the way to keep busy as a temp is to work for more than one agency. And temp agencies don’t provide things like health, dental, or pensions. They’re supposed to be stepping-stones to permanent employment. But I only made that transition once or twice, and each of those jobs only lasted a few years. So when I finally realized I was bi-polar and went on disability, I had no nest-egg. Nothing. No net. Try living on $1228/month and see how far you get.

So, let’s see what else is out there. The VA. Free medical care! Not quite. Since I never served in combat and I was perfectly healthy (albeit suffering from morning sickness and the exhaustion of pregnancy), my disability is not considered “service-connected.” I keep telling the VA a sailor got me pregnant, but somehow my honeymoon doesn’t count. But I’m well under the poverty level, so I should get free care. Right? Well, I can see my docs for free, but I have to pay for my meds.  That’s $8.00 per med per 30 days’ supply. I’m on six medications right now, so that’s $64.00/month. Unless I get a ninety-day supply of something. Then I have to pay $24.00 for that med that month. If I get an infection and one of my docs orders a seven-day course of an antibiotic—yup. That’s $8.00. If I can’t pay these bills, the Federal Government can and will garnish my Social Security.

Glasses? I luck out there. I’m diabetic and I have a long history of eye problems including a detached vitreous humor, so they do cover those. Teeth? Nope. Only veterans who have a service-connected disability of at least sixty or seventy percent get dental care. Or people who have retired from the military. Back to the door and string.

I do qualify for subsidized senior housing. Just barely. Actually, being a vet helped there. It moved my name to the top of a years’-long list. My rent is one-third of my income. I would either have to live with my kids or in a box if I didn’t qualify for this. That would mean having to give up my cats. Thank goodness this building allowed me to keep both of my cats.

I qualify for help with my energy bills. I get about $100 per year. That goes a long way. In the summer if I run my air conditioner, my bills can get up to $50 per month. The rest of the year, they average $30. I don’t use that much juice. The charge for electricity is somewhere under $10. The rest of the bill is the charge for “delivery.” I guess it costs a lot of money to maintain the grid. One of my neighbors pointed out that there are a hundred units in this building, and the electric company’s charging twenty bucks for “delivery” to each unit.  They’re collecting $2,000 from this building alone for one wire coming into the place.

Finally, there are “Food Stamps.” Today the program is called SNAP. I read the average person on this program receives $29.00 a month. Gwyneth Paltrow tried to live on $29.00 worth of groceries for a month. She didn’t even make it through a week. Remember, I’m at about half the poverty level for a single person? Yes, I get SNAP benefits. I get all of $16.00 per month. If I lived on mac & cheese and ramen noodles with tap water, that’d be plenty of money. You can get five packages of ramen noodles for a buck, and Aldi’s has generic mac & cheese for about 33 cents a box for weekends.

However, they’re made with wheat. I don’t have celiac disease, but I am “sensitive” to glutens, which are found in wheat, rye and barley. When I eat them, my fingers swell and hurt, I get bloated, gassy, and have other intestinal problems, and it exacerbates my fibro-myalgia, chronic fatigue, and depression. Not only can I not live on a ramen noodle/mac & cheese diet, the cheapest gluten-free bread I’ve found is at Aldi’s for four bucks a loaf. $16.00 in SNAP benefits might keep me in bread for a month, but nothing else. I’m also diabetic, so I have to watch my intake of carbs in general. That means I need to eat fresh foods—salads, fresh or frozen veggies, non-processed meats, etc. I have high blood pressure and a tendency toward high cholesterol, so I have to watch my sodium and saturated fats. Those foods are all more expensive than their processed counterparts.

As for tap water—ours comes out cloudy and tastes like chlorinated dish water. Most people around here either buy bottled water or have filtration systems. I don’t like water anyway. But I keep bottles of tap water in my fridge and make tea with lots of artificial sweetener. Everyone tells me I should use Stevia because it’s natural. Have you seen what that stuff costs? I’ll take my chances with cancer and stick with aspartame.

I would love to live at or even just above the poverty level. Two thousand dollars a month? I know of apartment complexes downstate that don’t charge much more for rent than I’m paying now, include dishwashers, and are larger than my place. They also allow my cats. I had to move out of one when I bought a newer car. I moved up to the Chicago area and lived with my daughter until she got engaged and moved in with her then-fiancé and his kids. That’s when I moved in here. There just wasn’t room for all of us. My bed was in the living room. I cracked up the morning their priest came by and woke me. He about had a cardiac arrest when he came in and realized he was in my bedroom. I said, “Take a step to the left and you’ll be in my office, Father.”

I just don’t get why the government sets the poverty level so high, and then sets the ceiling for assistance so low. It simply doesn’t make sense. And if the Tea-baggers get their way, there will be no Social Security, no Medicare, no SNAP, no Planned Parenthood, and no Head Start.

But you know who haven’t had to worry a bit about where their next meals were coming from, or how to pay for their meds, or whether or not they’d be able to make their rent for the past forty years? Charles Manson and his cronies. How is that fair? I served my country and there I was with a string tied around my tooth. Yet those people killed a bunch of people, carved a baby out of a woman’s abdomen, and they gets better care than thousands of veterans like me. What’s wrong with this picture? Think about that, Tea-baggers.

Thanks for visiting.

I've Won a Bloggy Love Award!

I’ve received a Versatile Blogger and Bloggy Love Award from fellow MuseItUp author, Michelle Pickett.  Check out her award-winning blog, Michelle’s Musings!  Thank you so much for the awards, Michelle.

There are the rules that go with these awards:

• Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post. Thanks so much, Michelle!
• Share 7 things about yourself. (see below)
• Pass this Award along to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know about it. Here are my 15 Choices (in no particular order):

Karen Cote, Karen Cote TV

Lin Holmes, Lin’s Own MuseItUp Publishing Playground

Cassandra Carr, Hot Blogging with Heart

Penny Lockwood Ehrenkrantz, One Writer’s Journey

Wendy Laharnar, Wendy Laharnar’s Blog

W. Lynn Chantale, Decadent Decisions

Rosalie Skinner, Ramblings from Lady Rosalie

Chris Redding, Chris Redding Author

Killarney Sheffield, Killarney Sheffield’s Blog

Jan Fischer-Wade, Book Blogs: Jan Fischer Wade’s Blog

Suzanne Drazic,  Putting Words Down on Paper

Allison Knight, Allison’s Musings

Barbara Ehrentreau, Barbara’s Meanderings

Heather Haven, This and That

Roseanne Dowell, Where Love Blooms and Romance Happens

Seven Things About Me

1.    I’ve been divorced almost thirty years, and I live with my elder daughter, Elizabeth, and fifteen year-old granddaughter, Colleen.  We’ll be moving within a year or so, as she JUST got engaged and her fiancé, Marshall, is expanding his garage and adding a mother-in-law apartment.  He’s a great guy and I’m really happy for them.  My younger daughter, Christine, lives downstate and had three children—Alex, 15; Beth, 13; and Presley, 9.  I’m a doting grandma as much as I can be.  I tend to be heavy on hugs, as I’m broke a lot.  There are grandkid photos on my FaceBook page.

2.    I love animals.  When I was a suburban wife, we had a wonderful dog named Peaches.  When I became a divorcee living in apartments, I started keeping cats.  Right now I have Tinkerbelle and Acey Deucy.  Tink’s mom was Hamster, a barn cat Christine adopted.  I took two kittens from her litter, but we lost Titania this winter to cancer.  Acey’s mom was a stray who gave birth on my neighbor’s patio.  I would go outside and play with the babies.  One evening when I was on the phone, he climbed my screen door when he heard my voice.  He adopted me.  His mom and those siblings who didn’t find homes now live on a horse farm with temperature-controlled stables.

3.    We live at an auto and antique museum with all kinds of cool stuff from the original Batmobile to a haunted barn.  But we don’t have to worry too much about the ghost in the barn, because the Ghostbusters car is also here.  Our landlord owns the auto museum and his brother runs the antique museum.  Elizabeth works there.  She works in the food court, Betty Boop Grill and drives the trolley tours.  We’re about as far northwest of Chicago as you can get and still call yourself a suburb, but it makes for a nice day trip or “staycation.”  It’s the Volo Auto Museum and it’s open year round.  www.volocars.com

4.    Two years ago I went through addictions treatment at the Danville, Illinois VA Medical Center.  Oh, yeah—I’m a Navy vet.  I was a medic back in the seventies.  I worked surgical ICU and Women’s Surgical at the Navy Hospital in Oakland, California, and then got transferred to the clinic in Pearl Harbor where I promptly got pregnant with Elizabeth and got out.  (I was a newlywed, it was Hawaii…)

Back to treatment—I had reached a point where I was so obese, I was becoming crippled.  I hadn’t weighed myself in over a month when I finagled my way into the program, but I was 296 a month earlier, so I think it’s safe to say I was probably 300 pounds.  I was the only patient in the program dealing with food issues.  Everyone else was there kicking drugs or alcohol.  So, there I sat with my salad and fruit while the guys ate the day-old pastries the local bakery sent over every morning.  It was good practice since I went in Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend and came out December 23.

I gave up sugar and white flour and began to lose weight, but I started to slip in terms of how much I was eating when I gave up my apartment and moved in with Elizabeth.  It turned out to be a really good thing, though.  A doctor at the Captain James A. Lovell Federal Health Care Center in North Chicago (they combined the VA with the Great Lakes Navy Hospital) diagnosed me with celiac disease.  I’m allergic to glutens.  I gave up ALL wheat, rye and barley and I read labels even more carefully than before and as of last week, I’ve lost 130 pounds.  My goal is to lose another twenty or thirty pounds and get my Body Mass Index into the normal range for the first time since I left the Navy.

5.    I’m so addicted to British TV, I’m developing an accent.  We were at a cruise-in for auto enthusiasts and I walked up to a man with an antique car and asked if it had a rumble seat or a boot.  He looked at me like I had two heads.  Then I realized my error and asked if it had a rumble seat or a trunk.  Oops!  We were there with Herbie—the one who went to Monte Carlo.  A man came up and started talking about VW Bugs.  He was asking all kinds of technical questions.  All I could say was, “But it’s Herbie!  He went to Monte Carlo.  Dean Jones drove him and Don Knotts was his sidekick.  Julie Sommers was the love interest and Herbie fell in love with her car.”  He’d ask how many litres the engine was or the size of the tires and all I could say was, “But it’s Herbie!”  Oh, yeah—I got to ride in him, where Don Knotts sat.

6.    I’ve been a member of Mensa.  My membership has lapsed because I couldn’t afford the dues this year.  OK—I’m gonna get political here.  Unless you have a disability that was caused by your military service, you can’t get dental care at the VA.  I’m bi-polar and that wasn’t caused by my military service.  Medicare doesn’t cover dental care, either, and because I’m a vet and seen at the VA, I can’t get Medicaid.  So, I’ve gone over a decade without dental care.  Needless to say, my teeth were falling out of my head.  I had to resort to pulling one myself with the old string and door method.  Someone said that if I could prove my bi-polar disorder was a pre-existing condition and get 10% VA disability, I could get dental care, so when I got up to Lovell I asked about it.  My first suicide attempt was when I was nineteen and the hospital hasn’t closed.  The person I spoke to told me that I could get dental care at Public Health.

So, I went there and it wasn’t free; it’s on a sliding scale.  I still owe them almost $200 for extractions, all of which were done with local anesthesia only.  After they pulled all of the teeth they deemed necessary, I went to get my dentures.  Now mind you, I walked in and said, “I need new teeth.”  There were signs everywhere that said, “No one will be turned away due to inability to pay.”  So imagine my shock when, after pulling most of my teeth, they said, “Oh, you haven’t signed your contract yet,” and told me they wouldn’t replace my teeth until I came up with $1,200.  Cash.  It’s a real testament to my bi-polar meds that I didn’t go into a violent, screaming rage and have the cops called on me.  In fact, I managed to hold my tears until I got into my car, and I only sat there for about twenty minutes before I pulled myself together enough to drive home and cry the rest of the day.

I actually managed to get credit from GE Credit Company’s Care Credit program.  They gave me $1,000 in credit and I found a place in Milwaukee called Affordable Dentures.  I had a major bite problem which the Public Health dentist never mentioned, but all three civilian dentists I saw did.  The first Affordable Denture franchise I went to suggested I try a dental school.  The University of Illinois doesn’t accept Care Credit.  The local dentist I tried suggested braces on the seven teeth I had left on top.  Yeah, right.  The doc in Milwaukee looked in my mouth, said, “I can’t work with this bite.  These teeth have to come out.”  I asked if he accepted hugs.  I had to save up another $500 before I could have the work done, and I’m now paying off Care Credit so I can get my bottom partials.  We definitely need better health care in this country.  It’s ridiculous when a person has to go ten years without dental care and pull her own teeth, and Public Health doesn’t tell you before they pull your teeth that you have to pay cash to have them replaced.  I suspect I wouldn’t have qualified for credit if I hadn’t given up my apartment to make my car payments on my Prius.

7.    Back to where I live.  The reason I live with my daughter is that I couldn’t afford both my car and my apartment.  I’m on disability due to bi-polar disorder and adult ADHD.  Unfortunately, I don’t have the kind of bi-polar disorder that lends itself to ups of great euphoria and creativity.  My manic episodes tend to be violent rages that come out of nowhere, do a lot of damage and leave wreckage to be cleaned up later.  I rate them on the Fugita scale, like tornadoes. There are three stages:  rage, crying and apologizing, and exhaustion.  My current book, Rock Crazy is about Katie McGowan, whose husband is at his wits’ end with her bi-polar disorder.  In a last-ditch, tough-love move to get her to have surgery for her disease, he takes her to the Moon and divorces her.  Katie thinks she’s space sick, but she’s wrong; she’s pregnant.  She finally agrees to the surgery, but it’s too dangerous while she’s pregnant—as are her meds.  I used some of my own manic episodes in the book, although Katie’s hallucinations are a more severe form of the disease than mine.  The Voice is real, however.  I have a Voice telling me my behavior is inappropriate, but I can’t stop once the episode starts.  That gets downright scary.  One of my doctors said it’s like being on a roller coaster.  Once the ride starts, no matter how much you want to, you can’t get off.

So—that’s seven things about me.  Thank you so much for this award, Michelle.  I greatly appreciate it.

The blog tour continues.  One lucky person will be able to choose a signed copy of my first book, Rock Bound, or a Rock Crazy tee-shirt or mug.  And don’t forget to go next-door and comment on my review of The Halloween Dino Trip by Lea Hovris Shizas.  Here’s the link:

Rochelle’s Reviews:  http://rochellesreviews.blogspot.com

The Denture Contract

I will re-post my review of Forever With You on Sunday, March 6, 2011.

I’m a Navy veteran and as such one would think the VA would provide dental care. They only do so if you have a disability that is related to your military service. My disability is based on my bi-polar disorder and post traumatic stress that was caused by childhood experiences and having been raped at the age of nineteen before I entered the Navy. That does not qualify me for dental care under the VA system.

My road has not been easy. I have been a sofa-surfing homeless person, I have pulled my own teeth and have longed for at least partial dentures since my back teeth have not met for over a decade, thus making chewing somewhat difficult. When I moved in with daughter, my new VA therapist told me that I could get dental care through the Lake County, Illinois Public Health system. My prayers were answered.

I went to the Public Health office and was told that dental service would not be free, but it would be discounted and I could pay as much as I could afford. I could not be turned away for non-payment. I’ve been making payments of about $25 each month, although some months I could not afford to make payments. That was okay—they continued to see me and to pull the teeth that needed to be pulled. I finally reached the point where they had pulled all the teeth they deemed necessary and I made an appointment to have impressions taken for my new teeth. I got there this afternoon and the receptionist called me over.

“Did you know your discount expired?” he asked.

“No. I didn’t know it could expire. What do I need to do to renew it?”

“Just bring in proof of your disability income.”

“Okay.”

“I see you haven’t signed the contract for your dentures yet,” he said.

“Contract? What contract?”

“No one explained the contract?”

“No…”

“You have to sign a contract stating you’ll pay for your dentures before we make them.”

“Oh. How much do they cost—with the discount for my disability?”

He looked at my chart.

“You need both upper and lower, so… With the discount, six hundred each, that's twelve hundred dollars. Can you make a payment of two hundred fifty today?”

My shrink would be so proud of me. I did not whack him with my cane. I did not scratch his eyes out. I did not scream “What part of *@$%(_+&# Social Security DO YOU NOT GET?” I did not ask them why they didn’t explain that to me BEFORE I let them put me through the hell of several extractions of teeth I could maybe have hung onto awhile longer (several in front) not to mention going several hundred dollars in debt to them (with the discount, which will be paid off at $25 per month). I even managed not to burst into sobs until I got to my car.

I am so angry. I am now a toothless hag. I whistle when I talk. I can’t bite into anything and while I had difficulty chewing before, it’s even worse. I have eleven teeth left. One of them is black and is right in front on top. I have no lower front teeth. Won’t that be lovely when I’m doing readings and public appearances to sell my books? I’ll have to open my mouth to speak to people. Does anyone know how to whittle teeth? Maybe I should take up ceramics.

Mona Lisa’s smile is no mystery to me. She went to the Lake County, Illinois Public Health Department for dental care and no one explained the denture contract to her until after they pulled her teeth.

It's Gonna Get Ugly

I’m getting back on the political soapbox again. The elections are over and if I could afford to, I’d move out of the country.

I’m a Navy veteran with bi-polar disorder and other disabilities, none of which are a result of my military service. The Republicans are interested in lining their own pockets and those of Big Business. They are not interested in helping people, so they will probably repeal what small steps we’ve taken toward affordable health care. They don’t believe the planet is really in trouble, but they do believe in letting their Big Business cronies do whatever they want to pollute the water, air, and earth. I predict that the price of gas will rise even more and then, when the price of transporting goods goes up, the price of food and everything else will rise. There’s a bank that claims to help small businesses. Their tips for providing health insurance to employees? Buy insurance with a higher deductible. In other words, buy insurance your employees can’t afford to use.

It’s gonna get ugly before people realize that the Republicans’ fear-mongering was because the Democrats were beginning to turn things around and make life better for real people. During the first Bush administration, I was “sofa-surfing” and the VA had me listed as homeless because I was living out of a suitcase and wasn’t in any one place long enough to have my meds mailed there. I hadn’t burned the last of my bridges and didn’t have to move into a box, but if I hadn’t found a job when I did, that was the next place I would have had to go, because I was running out of friends willing to put me up. During the last so-called Bush administration, I was turned down everywhere I inquired about dental care and ended up pulling my own teeth with a string and a doorknob. I don’t want to go back to that, but I fear that’s where we’re headed. I’m afraid that since my medical problems are not the result of combat I will no longer qualify for VA medical treatment and that the government will cut Social Security and Medicare, as well. I don’t want to be another toothless, raving, maniac veteran on the street. And my kids work hard and shouldn’t have to support me. I live with my daughter, but I pay rent to help her, and I buy my own $5.00-a-loaf gluten-free bread.

During the last so-called Administration, I joined an organization called Move On and I signed every petition that came my way calling for impeachment, etc. I picketed for the health care bill, and environmental measures. Every few days I’d add a PS to my e-mails saying “Hi NSA! Have a nice watch, guys!” Then, my VA chorus won two gold medals and were invited to sing at the National Veterans’ Creative Arts Festival in Oklahoma. I was worried we’d get to the airport and they’d tell me I was on the “no fly” list. I would have been so embarrassed. But I never advocated anything illegal, although I referred to "the man who cheated and is not our duly elected President," “the so-called President,” and “the Usurper in the White House.”

Most of the info I have comes from books like Richard Clark’s “Against All Enemies.” The rest of that line is “domestic and foreign.” It is part of the oath one takes when enlisting in the military or assuming public office. These days, I’m afraid that some of our worst domestic enemies work in those large chambers on the Hill or are their best friends.

PS: Hi NSA. Have a nice watch, guys!