“What’s going to
happen?” I asked myself as I took one more sip of Mountain Dew, closed my
notebook and stood up from the dining room table. “I’m 25 years old and I’ll only have to go
without full coverage for one year.” I’d
finally made my decision.
I’d worked the
first six months out of pharmacy school at a job that I really enjoyed. In December of 2006, however, a new career
opportunity crossed my path that I could not turn down. I’d be able to work in a town only eight
miles from where my wife, Missy, and I had grown up. We’d always wanted to go back there after I
graduated from pharmacy school and here was the chance to do just that. I would receive a large pay raise and would
be the manager for a pharmacy that was to open six months later.
This new
position came with only one drawback.
For the first year, I would have a cap on my health insurance of
$25,000. For someone much older or who
was not healthy, taking a position with only $25,000 in health insurance
coverage would have been irresponsible.
For a 25 year old healthy man, however, it was very unlikely that I
would need more than that amount.
I accepted the
new position and during the next few months I searched and searched for
supplemental health insurance that would pick up where my primary insurance
plan maxed out. After talking to five or
six insurance agents, I finally gave up.
No insurer was interested in providing the back-up coverage. Missy and I were still a little nervous, but
we had only eight more months to wait until we would have full medical
coverage.
Then, in
September 2007, disaster struck. While showering, I noticed a large lump in my
scrotum area. I was a little concerned
so I mentioned it to Missy. She was much
more concerned than I was and set up a doctor’s appointment for me the
following day.
In October of
2007, after about four grueling weeks of worry, doctors’ appointments and surgery,
I was diagnosed with Stage 3 metastatic testicular cancer. We were stunned and began to sob together as
we arrived home that afternoon. I would
be starting intense chemotherapy the following Monday.
“At least it is
treatable”, Missy said as we dropped down on the couch. “Remember, the doctor said that there is an
80% chance that your cancer can be cured with chemotherapy.”
“ I know. That is good news,” I said between shallow
breaths full of tears. “But our
insurance,” I continued. “It will only
cover up to $25,000. Do you know how
much chemotherapy costs? We’re going to
blow through that amount in the first few weeks. Then what are we going to do? How can this happen to us?”
“Don’t think
about the money right now, Aaron,” she whispered, wiping her eyes and getting
up from the couch. “We have enough to
worry about right now. You need to try
to get some rest. God will take care of
us,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, her shoulders braced for what was
ahead.
I buried my head
in a pillow and, sobbing, said a small prayer asking God to see us through the
upcoming months. We had never faced
something like this before and we were terrified.
Missy was a
stay-at-home mother to our only child, Devan, who was about eighteen months old
at the time. She’d never left him for
more than a few hours at a time. But
during the next nine weeks we developed a new routine. Four days a week we would leave him with a
relative who lived nearby and Missy and I would go to my chemotherapy
sessions. Each session would last
between four to six hours. After one
week of intense chemotherapy, I would get two weeks off, other than a few hours
on Tuesdays. Those weeks off were filled
with doctor appointments, lab tests and breathing tests to make sure that the
chemotherapy was not destroying my lung capacity, which was a possible side
effect of one of the drugs.
I was exhausted all of the time. I would drag myself around in sweatpants and
T-shirts. I began to develop hiccups
that were painful and constant during my chemotherapy sessions. I also began to have severe nausea and
vomiting that also was relentless. I had
to carry around a bag to vomit in almost everywhere I went. I had purchased two books to read while I sat
through chemotherapy and had also purchased a couple of movies to watch at
home. I was too sick to enjoy either
reading or watching. I lied cross-wise
on our bed for hours at a time, trying to sleep to push the nine weeks
along. Although my body was completely
drained, my mind was not and I couldn’t slow it down enough to enjoy a good
deal of sleep. On top of how miserable I
felt, I constantly worried about money and always wondered how fast our medical
bills were piling up and when we were going to go over the $25,000 insurance
cap.
In December of
2007, with only two more sessions of chemotherapy remaining, my oncology doctor
decided to halt the chemotherapy regimen early.
The drug with the lung concerns was straining my lung capacity and the benefits
of continuing treatment were not worth the risk of permanent lung damage. Although I had to stop treatment early, my
cancer did go into remission.
It was, of
course, a huge blessing. But even with the
cancer in remission, I did have to face Christmas knowing that the medical
bills were going to start pouring in and I had no idea how I was going to pay
for them.
One evening at
my parents’ house, my mom told me that one of her friends had approached her
and wanted to organize a benefit to help pay for our medical bills. My pride took over right away and I said that
we were not interested. We would find a
way to pay for our bills. It was our
fault anyways. We should have never
taken the chance on the health insurance.
A couple of days
later, after many discussions, Missy and I pushed our pride aside and agreed to
the benefit. We had never accepted
charity before and did not know how to receive anything graciously, but we were
desperate. We also figured that if this
was God’s plan, then we were going to get out of the way and let him do it.
After we agreed
to the benefit, planning began with a fury.
A group of twelve to fifteen people began to meet weekly to plan the
benefit. Led by the gracious, energetic
woman with the original plan and the Pastor of our Church, the plans came
together quickly. Although we did not
know it at the time, the group of planners also regularly prayed that God would
prepare our hearts to accept the gifts given to us.
As we walked
into the Ag Pavilion in our county seat town on the morning of Saturday,
January 8, 2008, the scene inside was amazing.
Dozens of people, family and friends, were hurrying around the building
getting everything set up. Each of the
volunteers wore a brown shirt with a specific Bible verse on it. The shirts were created specifically for the
event and were sold as part of the benefit. The wonderful scent of chili,
cinnamon rolls and chicken noodle soup came from the kitchen area as four to
five volunteers swiftly set up the buffet lines. Lined up in a neat row along the west wall
were tables holding all of the items to be offered on the Silent Auction. Along the North edge of the building, just in
front of the auction stage and along the east wall of the building were all of
the items that had been donated. There
were free dinners, gift certificates to restaurants, gift certificates for
services such as excavation, dump truck loads, and even taxidermy. Additionally, people donated guns, antiques,
quilts, and just about anything else one could think of. Outside the building stood three horses that had
been donated, and in a small crate inside huddled a few puppies to be auctioned.
As people began
to file into the building a quiet spirit of happiness filled the air. Dear friends and relatives were smiling,
laughing and having a good time. For
many, it turned into an opportunity to connect with acquaintances that they had
not seen in a while. There was a spirit
of giving and a spirit of grace that is hard to describe, but was very
contagious. Many were to comment, in the
days and weeks following the benefit, that they had really enjoyed their time
there. And many who attend our small
church also participated, which brought the church community a little closer
together.
After about
three hours, including a buzzed haircut for our Pastor (due to a challenge that
he made for how much money could be raised), the benefit was over. The results were unbelievable. More than 700 people filled the building for
the lunch and the auction. $52,000 had been raised. That $52,000 covered all of our medical
expenses in full. We owed nothing.
Words could not
express my gratitude to those who participated and those who volunteered at the
benefit. It had been our decision to
take that job without the health insurance that we needed and we felt we deserved
to pay the price for that decision. But our
families, friends and neighbors did not see it that way. They came together for us when we were in
trouble. They gave us grace. A small farming community in the center of
Nebraska drew together for us, their neighbors, when we three neighbors,
father, mother and son, needed help.
Over the last 7
years I’ve struggled with the fact that I cannot give back to those who so
freely gave to me. So many gave so much
and most of the gifts were given anonymously. I have no way to thank each one
of them individually, let alone pay them back.
The truth is those prayers lifted up during the planning meetings were
very important. It is not easy to be on
the receiving end of a great gift.
After
contemplating this for the last few years, our lives and attitudes have
changed. We are no longer as focused on
having the biggest and the best material things. We have decided that the only way we can give
back is to pass on what was freely given to us.
When others are in need, my family can be there for them. We can live lives of purpose and we can serve
others when God calls us to do so.
