(Previous Pulmonary posts are listed at Previous Pulmonary/ILD Posts or just click the PULMONARY/ILD button in the link bar)
(A quick note: I tried to keep the tone light but I had trouble doing that, despite rewriting this numerous times. I’ve tried to keep the paragraphs short and segment the portions with line breaks to allow you to more easily read, and hopefully enjoy, these ramblings. Oh, and I left you a couple of my favorite musical treats at the end to leave you dancing.)
The” before” picture is my old oxygen buddy, a shoulder slung oxygen tank that I have been wearing since April of 2010. Like Robin, Tonto, Boo Boo, and others, it has been a faithful companion. But, it has been replaced by the “after” picture (well, not the picture but an actual physical thingee), the Invacare XPO2 portable oxygen concentrator. As this blog post meanders forward, this simple switchout of units will hopefully parallel what the last three months have meant to and done for me. At the very least, it will allow me to center my thoughts.
The “four months” I refer to in the title of this blog post are the months from August thru November 2012, a period of time that has been a busy and eventful for the rest of you as it has been for myself, in its own way. These four months are a milestone in my progress. These four months are pure me and where the “me” is going.
August marked the end of my 3rd year of being officially disabled by my interstitial lung disease, even though I’ve had it for an indeterminate time longer. We still cannot pinpoint how or why this developed, other than postulate that it happened as a result of some dust substance inhaled somewhere while working. In any case, for my sanity, that really doesn’t matter anymore. What mattered in August was that, for the first time since I have contracted this, my life would change in another profound way.
I had to figure out Medicare…
…At age 56. What I had always seen as the( still ) prime of my life. That alone has been enough to dwell on, but then I reached the distinct pleasure of choosing a Medicare plan or plans, which is kind of like choosing from a large buffet menu when you would rather not have to eat there.
I automatically received Medicare Part A because of all the taxes paid over my 37 years of working. That is essentially the free appetizer, good stuff but hardly filling the plate. If I wanted more coverage, I would have to belly up to the main steam table, where Medicare Part B was on the menu. Part B adds $99 (and soon more) to the bill, giving you more meat but still leaving the plate a bit empty.