Κυριακή 15 Ιουνίου 2008

El Drugnazi Está Muerto

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El Drugnazi Está Muerto

Not really, he just moved here.

Now don't complain, you've known this was coming for awhile now.

In case you didn't, here's the story again:

There's A Woman I Can't Get Out Of My Mind. She's 80 Years Old, Short, And She Left Me Speechless.



The Doughnut hole. No, I'm not talking about that thing you put around your bat when you're on deck in baseball. Neither am I talking about bite-size goodies you load up on when you're at the Krispy Kreme. Those of you in the profession know exactly what I'm talking about. For those of you who aren't, I'll let you know the "doughnut hole" is a term that refers to a coverage gap in the new Medicare Part D drug plan. In a nutshell, Part D covers you for awhile, then stops, then starts again. It's stupid, but that's not the point of this post.

The lady at the counter was in the doughnut hole. She came in the store to get some medicine to treat a brain tumor. For just shy of a thousand dollars, chances are she would get to live about an extra 2 months.

Label popped out and I saw the price. Then I looked over and saw her sitting patiently by the blood pressure machine. Fuck. I hate this part of the job. I waved the cashier away because I knew I should break the news myself. It's almost a relief when they yell at you in these situations. It's when they're just quiet and hand over a pile of cash that you feel like shit.

I took a deep breath and started. "Mrs. Smith, I don't know if you knew this, but this medicine is pretty expensive........."

She heard me out and didn't bat an eyelash. Then she took my hand and said something like "The last 60 years have been a gift young man" At least I think the word she used would translate as something like "young man".

Then she gave my hand a pat, turned her arm over, and I saw the blue numbers tattooed in her skin. This woman had been a concentration camp inmate. I looked up and our eyes locked for what couldn't have been more than a few seconds. It felt like an hour. When I saw those eyes I saw a wisdom, a confidence, and an inner peace that I do not have the ability to put into words. This woman was tougher than any drug bill. She handed over a pile of cash and I felt like shit.

As she left I wanted to run after her and ask her to tell me something, anything, about what she had been through so that maybe I could help keep some part of her story alive. I didn't. I stood there like a moron as she walked out of sight. I haven't seen her since. This happened a few months ago, but I've been t...

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