copyright 2015 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
"Over forty six million Americans, including seven million children, are uninsured."
U.S. Census Bureau
I opened my eyes to greet another day. I hoped it wouldn't be a bad one. But then the panic feelings from last night's fiasco fired right up. My stomach opened the doors of despair. I couldn't go through anymore darkness. I was exhausted.
I called my Parents.
"Hey, I said.
"How are you doing?" Dad asked.
"Not good. I slept okay. But this morning I can feel it there again."
"That's not good," Dad said.
"Do you think you could call the Doc and see about me going in? I know we owe him money but I don't know what else to do. Everything I've tried doesn't seem to put a dent in it."
"Okay. I'll give them a call and see what they say," Dad said.
"Thank you Daddy," I said.
We normally went in monthly for our chiropractic adjustments as a family. But we hadn't gone to the Doc's in almost a year. We were all ashamed about not being able to pay our bills. None of us wanted to burden the Doc or his office with our money troubles.
Dad ended up on the phone with the Doc and told him that I was having some real problems.
"Well, give me an idea what to look for," the Doc asked my Dad.
So Dad told the Doc everything. He told him about the foreclosure and the eviction and the move.
"I'm more concerned about you guys than the money. Although money isn't a bad thing," said the Doc.
"Well, I want you to know that it's important to us, important to me, that we pay you off, Dad said.
I got an appointment that afternoon. There was a little hope for me. I knew the Doc would get to the bottom of what was going on.
Late morning my Dad met with one of the Bank's property reps, Bill, to get access to the A-frame on Parcel A. He planned to start moving things over to the Glass House on Parcel B.
It was amusing. My Parents had to coordinate with someone, the real estate agent or someone representing the Bank, for a day and block of time that they could get permission to access their former home. On that day, the Bank rep would have to come over to the house and open the front door, since all the locks had been changed. Then the Bank's rep would have to stay there for the entire time to make sure my Parents didn't harm the property.
The Bank had to look out for their investment and take precautions to prevent anyone from trashing the place. The last thing my Parents were going to do would be to trash their home. But of course the Bank had no way of knowing that.
Bill was a nice guy. My Dad must have made an impression on him because he gave Dad a key to the house. I guess Bill sized my Dad up and figured it wasn't worth it to drive an hour each way to let us into the house for a few hours over the next nine days.
So my Parents moved their stuff out of the A-Frame for a couple hours and then locked the house back up. My Mom was loading stuff in the large sedan trunk. While my Dad had hooked up a trailer to our tractor. Dad wanted to get the essentials out of the house first, and wait to move the heavier furniture until we got more help.
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