At 3:32 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning, I found myself calling 911. Tim was having a bad attack — worse than he’d had in years.
He had had a bad cold that only ended about 10 days ago. But the congestion remained. In fact, he was going through inhalers at an alarming rate — at least4 in the past two weeks. Probably closer to 6.
The problem with all the hacking is that his muscles would tense up. The more he hacked, the worse and more rigid they got. And if all your muscles are tense, it’s… uh… hard to breathe.
But we can see that now. At the time, he just knew that his inhaler didn’t work. A hot shower — which usually loosens things up a bit — didn’t work. Nor did three treatments of his mom’s nebulizer. Not even while I was using handheld massagers on his back to help percuss.
So I called 911 and was put through to the Fire Department. They came and gave Tim a steroid, a muscle relaxer and, of course, more solution. Then we all went to the ER for more breathing treatments and a chest x-ray, just in case it was pneumonia.
By the time we got into the room at the ER, Tim was freaking out about how much it would cost. So we knew he was fine. And then his dad and I told him to shut up and not worry about money.
As it happens, we managed to pick a hospital that offers a significant discount to the uninsured. Specifically, the doctor’s bill will be discounted by 40% and the rest will be 75% off. The financial aid worker said that the ambulance was separate, but since we got the fire department, they may not charge us. I’m guessing they will, but we’ll probably have a better shot at financial aid there than a private company.
Frankly, for the first time in quite awhile, I don’t care how much it costs and whether we’ll go into debt for this little trip. My husband is breathing and that, to me, is worth any price.