Addressing The Pause In Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

I was exactly a quarter of the way through my hundred days of writing last Saturday. The week since has been, bar none, the worst week of my entire life.

I am not comfortable going into specific detail right now, but a close family member is in the process of dying. I found this out last weekend, made a marathon drive down to see them on Monday, and have spent the week discovering just how hard it is to die with dignity in America.

I had assumed that "going into hospice" meant there was a place you could go where they would take care of you. Turns out hospice care and "facilities that take care of dying people" are two separate things, and the latter is rarely covered by insurance. This is extremely difficult when you don't really have a place for the dying person to stay and receive their hospice care. The family members who have gathered here have spent the week navigating a Kafkaesque nightmare of insurance refusing to cover things, constant miscommunication with various smarmy hospital bureaucrats, and juggling trying to keep a very sick person happy and comfortable while being forced to dig through their financial and personal records to try and prove that they deserve to get the care they need. It is a paralyzing, humiliating, and enormously cruel endeavor. We are close to finding a solution but it has taken a herculean effort and the better part of the week to get here.

I advise anyone who plans on dying in this country to be very wealthy. Seems like the system's not really designed for anyone else. And I can't imagine what it would be like for anyone who has to do this alone.

All of this would be hell enough, but during this process:

• I and my partner have both caught some sort of cold or flu.
• Two other family members had to spend ten hours driving in one of the worst snowstorms in recent history, in a rental car because their fucking car got totaled over the weekend, and
• We have all had to scramble for places to stay because literally no one in my family actually lives in the town where all this is happening.

That said, it's not all bad. I have been blown away by the kindness of friends (who raised money so we at least wouldn't have to worry about food during this time), and the enormous strength and willpower of the family and partners who are working to help navigate this administrative nightmare. Hospital and insurance bureaucrats have really proven themselves to be the scum of the earth, but I will say that hospice workers have uniformly been enormously helpful and kind. I guess it's a field that draws that sort of person.

I've never really lived through a crisis before, I guess, but I am really seeing firsthand that people do actually come together for you in these moments. That means a lot, even if everything else feels terrible. It can be tiring to receive a bunch of texts or calls saying "let me know if I can do anything" - I've sent them myself in the past, and I know they mean well, but when you're stressed and grieving it feels like a chore to respond. I do advise folks tempted to say something like that to just do something to help instead: make someone food, order them pizza, get them a gift card to help meet whatever their needs are. Tell them they don't need to respond but that you love them and are thinking about them. But, that said, I've been trying to respond honestly with the things that I need in the moment, and people have really come through when I do. I couldn't feel more grateful for the wonderful people in my life or the love I, apparently, have earned. I hope someday to repay it all in kind.

I am not sure when I will return to my hundred days of writing - I likely won't be able to until things are settled, but I hope it's sooner than later. In the meantime, hold your loved ones close and let them know how much they mean to you. You never know when those words might be your last.