The Box

Yesterday, I heard the big brown truck before I saw it.

Another delivery.
Must be the end of the month.
Thirty pills. A daily ritual to slow down my immune system because it’s confused about who the enemy is.
(side note: thanks for wearing a mask)

I guess a small box isn’t all that exciting. But this one is.
One package. And all of its cousins. $7,333.33. Each.

Now, confession’s good for the soul. My thought bubbles tend to get crowded. Quickly.
So when I first learned all this, it was hard to process.
Shock, budget, and anxiety kept bumping into each other.
(side note: anxiety has sharp elbows)

But I have insurance. For a while through my state. Now through my job.
So a few years ago, after a couple of nervous phone calls and too much hold music, it was confirmed. Now, twice.
The portion I’m responsible for each month is $0.00.
No typo.
(side note: behind the political health care arguments are real people)

So this morning my thought bubble’s still crowded.
But perspective, hope, and miracles tend to have better manners.
Worry’s not completely gone. But smaller. Quieter. On the back row.

That’s what’s in the box.
Thank you, God. 

2 thoughts on “The Box

  1. Anxiety does, indeed, have incredibly sharp elbows, so I’m sure hope’s kind manners felt all the more comforting. My heart feels so heavy when I consider this reality you must live with. And I cry out, “Christ have mercy,” intermingled with, “How long, O Lord?” I’m also reminded of a friend, who each time he takes his meds for chronic illness, whispers, “This is my body broken for you.” The tension in that statement gives so much peace. Love you all and think of you so often. You, Brenda, and your beautiful girls and in my prayers.

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