Extra Holiday Expenditures #2
Something different happened to me this past Christmas Eve.
It wasn't just going to see my cousin's new house. I was there for approximately ten minutes before my cousin's nephew (which I guess would make him my cousin), a thirteen year old with the face of a ten year old, invited me to the backyard to see the pool. He had a camcorder slung around his neck and held it, waiting for something interesting to record. I walked out and admired the size of the lot, a large back lawn, a pool to the side. My grandfather and I appreciated the two stainglass windows sandwiching the back door. My cousin spent a lot of time and money into fixing her first house up. And it had indeed paid off.
My little cousin Anthony, waved me over to the side. "Have you met Puffy?" he asked as he patted the head of their two year old pit bull. Puffy sat there, tongue hanging out.
I shook my head. I walked up, and lowered my head and held out my hand. The dog sniffed it for a moment, I turned my hand and reached out to pet him. The dog lunged at me. His teeth clamped down on my chest, and I was able to pull away. The dog still held on tight to my sweater, snarling and pulling. My grandfather yelled at it and balancing on his 79 year old leg, kicked the dog in the ribs. The dog barely noticed. My cousin in shock grabbed the leash and pulled as hard as he could. My grandpa kicked again and finally I was able to pull away.
The dog continued to lunge at me, even from a slight distance. I went inside to tell someone.
I held my hand to my left pec (yeah, I know, I was surprised the dog had something to latch onto too) and looked down at the holes torn through my sweater and dress-shirt. My chest stun, my nipple scraped raw by the bitch's teeth. Everyone was congregated in the kitchen.
The words out of my mouth: "The fucking dog attacked me."
There was a confused look on people's faces. Rather than repeating myself, I removed my hand from my chest. Then came the gasps. My sister hurried me to the front room. My cousins to the backyard. My mother brought a damp towel for me that I pressed against my chest.
I grimaced as I pressed it against my skin. More expletives came out of my mouth. Me sitting there with my torn sweater and shirt, teeth marks on my tit, and my mom said, "Don't use those words."
The next thing I hear from the back room is my grandma's hysterical voice: "It's got grandpa!"
My sister ran to the back room and came back to inform me he was bitten in the leg, blood spilling onto the floor. My mother bounced back and forth, talking calmly but moving quickly, from the two rooms, checking on her two family members, her father and son. Paramedics were called and they came in, and my brother and I pointed them towards the back, to the more severely injured.
We spent the next couple hours at the emergency room. Sitting around and discussing everyone's version about what happened. Only my grandma was asking for the dog to be put down. Me taking some pointers from my grandpa, we were probably the calmest of the bunch, just waiting it out and trying to keep Grandma collected. It wasn't until I got my emergency room bill was when I lost my cool. 380 dollars for bandages and top-of-the-line Neosporin and a tetanus shot. And there I was, the first time in a hospital in the two years I lived without health insurance. An employee with my school district for five years now and I had nothing. Merry Christmas to me. We waited for the fifty stitches in my grandfather's leg, guilt to be taken on by apparently everyone, and the boob jokes to begin taking shape before we left.
My grandpa's a good sport. He's also my pit bull buddy, as well as my hero--seventy-nine years old and determined not to let a mini-tank of a dog injure his 26 year old grandson.
After some antibiotics and drinks back at the house, my grandfather and I raised our glasses, took a photo, him with his bandaged leg, me in my blue, paper hospital shirt.
I toasted my Manhattan to mean dogs and my school district's care for its employees. Fuck you.
It wasn't just going to see my cousin's new house. I was there for approximately ten minutes before my cousin's nephew (which I guess would make him my cousin), a thirteen year old with the face of a ten year old, invited me to the backyard to see the pool. He had a camcorder slung around his neck and held it, waiting for something interesting to record. I walked out and admired the size of the lot, a large back lawn, a pool to the side. My grandfather and I appreciated the two stainglass windows sandwiching the back door. My cousin spent a lot of time and money into fixing her first house up. And it had indeed paid off.
My little cousin Anthony, waved me over to the side. "Have you met Puffy?" he asked as he patted the head of their two year old pit bull. Puffy sat there, tongue hanging out.
I shook my head. I walked up, and lowered my head and held out my hand. The dog sniffed it for a moment, I turned my hand and reached out to pet him. The dog lunged at me. His teeth clamped down on my chest, and I was able to pull away. The dog still held on tight to my sweater, snarling and pulling. My grandfather yelled at it and balancing on his 79 year old leg, kicked the dog in the ribs. The dog barely noticed. My cousin in shock grabbed the leash and pulled as hard as he could. My grandpa kicked again and finally I was able to pull away.
The dog continued to lunge at me, even from a slight distance. I went inside to tell someone.
I held my hand to my left pec (yeah, I know, I was surprised the dog had something to latch onto too) and looked down at the holes torn through my sweater and dress-shirt. My chest stun, my nipple scraped raw by the bitch's teeth. Everyone was congregated in the kitchen.
The words out of my mouth: "The fucking dog attacked me."
There was a confused look on people's faces. Rather than repeating myself, I removed my hand from my chest. Then came the gasps. My sister hurried me to the front room. My cousins to the backyard. My mother brought a damp towel for me that I pressed against my chest.
I grimaced as I pressed it against my skin. More expletives came out of my mouth. Me sitting there with my torn sweater and shirt, teeth marks on my tit, and my mom said, "Don't use those words."
The next thing I hear from the back room is my grandma's hysterical voice: "It's got grandpa!"
My sister ran to the back room and came back to inform me he was bitten in the leg, blood spilling onto the floor. My mother bounced back and forth, talking calmly but moving quickly, from the two rooms, checking on her two family members, her father and son. Paramedics were called and they came in, and my brother and I pointed them towards the back, to the more severely injured.
We spent the next couple hours at the emergency room. Sitting around and discussing everyone's version about what happened. Only my grandma was asking for the dog to be put down. Me taking some pointers from my grandpa, we were probably the calmest of the bunch, just waiting it out and trying to keep Grandma collected. It wasn't until I got my emergency room bill was when I lost my cool. 380 dollars for bandages and top-of-the-line Neosporin and a tetanus shot. And there I was, the first time in a hospital in the two years I lived without health insurance. An employee with my school district for five years now and I had nothing. Merry Christmas to me. We waited for the fifty stitches in my grandfather's leg, guilt to be taken on by apparently everyone, and the boob jokes to begin taking shape before we left.
My grandpa's a good sport. He's also my pit bull buddy, as well as my hero--seventy-nine years old and determined not to let a mini-tank of a dog injure his 26 year old grandson.
After some antibiotics and drinks back at the house, my grandfather and I raised our glasses, took a photo, him with his bandaged leg, me in my blue, paper hospital shirt.
I toasted my Manhattan to mean dogs and my school district's care for its employees. Fuck you.
posted by matty at 1:50 PM
2 Comments:
Think of health insurance as a bet: you're betting that you'll get sick/injured, and they're betting that you won't, or that if you do it will cost them less than the amount you paid for your premium. I think you won the bet here, even if you did get injured. That $380 is probably less than you would have paid for your share of the premium for a year. And maybe it's less than you'd pay in taxes for a national health insurance plan.
Derek says:
I second what Anon. said above. I pay out the ass for Alicia, Alek and myself to be covered (even after my company pays their part) and I still pay $20 everytime one of us goes in for anything. Do you know how many times a baby goes in for check-ups and shots? I envy your piddly $380. Don't complain about that. Also, can I assume that you CHOSE not insure yourself?
I know a person who has started her own business with her mother and she feels like she is being penalized for being so brave her health insurance is so expensive. We all know that $380 is a tough pill to swallow, but really it is happening to everyone. I swallow that pill, among others on a monthly basis. So far I haven't gone to the E.R. I am losing my bet.
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