A Birthday Between Worlds

 

When I was in my twenties, I never imagined what 67 would look like. Yet here we are—still standing, still laughing, still finding moments of joy where we can.

(For the record, my twenty-something self would be absolutely shocked by some of my current hobbies. Navigating insurance programs and discussing dental benefits were not on the list.)

My birthday was more fun than I could have imagined, in spite of it all.

We joined Coby's trusted VW customers and friends for a camper weekend in Guerneville by the Russian River. An official VW gathering—nothing but Volkswagens, kids, dogs, old friends, new friends, campfires, shared meals, music, and stories.

This crowd of people felt like home, even though I had never met any of them before.

Spending even one night away, I was surprised by how easily James adapted to the new surroundings. Even the "uninvited visitors" left us alone for a little while. Apparently they had other plans that weekend.

My birthday fell on Monday, and I felt strangely reluctant to return home for the day. If I'm honest, I was weary of the intruders that always seem to be waiting.

So instead, we came home, switched cars, and headed off to Harbin Hot Springs. The three of us.

Coby and I used to be regulars there, little Nora in tow, back in what feels like another lifetime.

It was both weird and exhilarating to be back.

The weather was perfect.

Let the sunshine in and "alle Sorgen" out.

For a while there was no room to think about the endless list of worries weighing on our shoulders. We soaked in the healing waters, alternately dipping into pools that were impossibly hot and then shockingly cold. I still can't explain why voluntarily freezing yourself after boiling yourself feels so wonderful, but apparently that's what we do now.

We all did our own thing and thoroughly vegged out for the day, followed by an exceptional Thai dinner in town.

A real birthday was had.

What surprised me most was how completely I was able to disengage. For one day, the world stood still. Looking at James and Coby, I think it did the same for them.

Bliss for a day.

The thump back into reality was rough, but absolutely worth it.

Medical coverage is back in place for James, which is a huge relief. Like so many things in this journey, though, it comes at a cost.

To maintain eligibility and access to the services that help keep us going, we are currently paying over $1,500 a month for supplemental insurance policies. It is a significant strain on our budget, but it allows me to continue caring for James through IHSS while also connecting us with the support services we rely on.

I want to be transparent with all of you about how we navigate these financial hurdles. Your donations help us stay afloat, and I feel you have earned the right to know what we are dealing with behind the scenes.

The encouraging news is that a knowledgeable and compassionate social worker helped us apply for a state disability-related program that James should qualify for. The process may take several months, but if approved, it would remove much of this financial burden.

In the meantime, the additional coverage is already helping. James now has dental and vision benefits, and we have his first dental appointment scheduled.

Believe it or not, James hasn't seen a dentist since I've known him—and we've been together for 17 years. Who knows how long before that. I suspect the dentist may need to carbon-date a few things.

In a recent webinar, I learned that people living with Lewy Body Dementia can sometimes experience increased symptoms due to untreated infections, including infections in the gums or teeth.

So now we can finally address that piece of the puzzle as well.

We are still limping along, but we feel a little more confident than before. We have a plan, and for now, that is enough.

Fingers crossed that things continue to fall into place at the right time.

We keep going.

Rocky roads and all.

I hope you are all having a tickling spring. Keep hopping and hoping.

And thank you.

Thank you for staying connected. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for holding us up through more than a year of this journey.

I cannot fully express what your kindness, encouragement, donations, messages, and friendship have meant to us. Knowing that you remain in our corner, despite everything happening in the world around us, gives us strength on the days when strength is hard to find.

It means more than I can put into words.

Always in deep gratitude

Margit and James