7. Miller
Miller
In the morning, the doctor came to talk to Collie. He asked me to stay, and I held his hand while she took her time explaining his condition. It got a little technical, so at one point she sketched a heart on the back of her prescription pad to show him exactly what she was talking about.
When she finished telling him all about the defect and how it was affecting his heart functions, he asked, “Is this going to kill me?”
“It’s severe enough that it could, if it was left untreated.”
“How soon might that happen?”
“There’s no way of knowing,” she said. “It could be a week, a month, or twenty years. But without surgery, I can say for certain that it will shorten your life span. You heart is working much harder than it should, and it can’t sustain that much strain indefinitely.”
“So, I could have a heart attack?”
“Heart failure, heart damage, or a stroke are more likely.”
“I don’t suppose this is an easy laparoscopic surgery,” he said.
“Some types of defects can be repaired laparoscopically, but not this one, unfortunately. It’s going to require open-heart surgery.”
He squeezed my hand and muttered, “That’s as scary as finding out I have a heart defect.”
She said, very matter-of-factly, “While there’s always a risk with any surgery, it’s far less than the risk of leaving your condition untreated.”
“I need some time to think about all of this,” he said. “I also need to talk to someone about financial aid or whatever, because I don’t have insurance.”
“Of course. I’ll send someone to come and speak with you about your options.”
After she left, Collie slumped against the pillows, and I asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Physically, I feel fine. Emotionally, not so much. I’ve basically been told there’s a time bomb in my chest.”
A little while later, a man with a mustache and a gaudy tie arrived to talk about financial assistance. I asked Collie if he wanted some privacy, but he said, “Please stay. I’m already totally overwhelmed, so I’m not sure if I’ll be able to comprehend all of this.”
The first thing the man did was hand Collie a printout with the estimated cost of the surgery and everything leading up to it. Collie swore under his breath and passed me the piece of paper. The number at the bottom was well into six figures.
Then he started talking about state and federal assistance programs that might be available.
When Collie told him how much he’d made last year, I was sure he’d qualify, because it wasn’t exactly a huge amount.
But no, Collie had been right. What he’d earned was just above the cutoff point to qualify for any of those programs.
The man said, far too cheerfully, “We’ll be happy to set up a payment plan. These usually allow repayment over one to two years, but for a large amount we can allow up to five years. Of course, a five-year term would require third-party financing.”
“In other words, I’d be taking out a huge loan, with interest,” Collie said.
“Basically, yes,” the man said, as he closed his leatherbound binder. “I’ll leave you two to discuss your options. You might also consider contacting any family members who might be able to assist you.”
“I’m pretty sure the people who wouldn’t help me when I was orphaned at age ten won’t want to step up now, either,” Collie muttered. The man’s smile wavered, just a little, and he hurried out of the room.
For a long moment, Collie and I both sat there in silence. Then he threw back the blanket and said, “Welp, I’m out of here.”
I leapt up and caught him by the shoulders. “You can’t do that, Collie.”
“Oh, but I can.”
“You yourself just said you have a time bomb in your chest. You need that operation!”
“The doctor said it might be fine for another twenty years.”
“That’s not exactly what she said.”
“No, what she said was, she has no idea when it might become a serious problem,” he said. “So far, I’ve lived with it for twenty-seven years. I get a little tired sometimes, and I fainted once, which may or may not even be related to my heart condition.”
“And every day you leave this untreated, your heart is literally damaging itself.”
“I’m going to treat it. I just can’t do that right now. But I can come back in a few months, after I find a job with insurance benefits, and they can fix me right up.” He looked around and asked, “Any idea where they hid my clothes?”
“You could go into heart failure tomorrow, Collie.”
“I could also get hit by a bus. But chances are, neither of those things are going to happen.” He circled around the bed, opened a narrow cabinet, and took out a plastic bag with his clothes.
“I don’t understand why you’re not taking this seriously.”
He whirled on me with tears in his eyes. “I am taking this seriously, Miller! But come on, you saw the number on the bottom of that form. Do the math! Divide that amount by five years. Sixty months. There’s literally no way. Hell, even if they spread it over ten years, I still couldn’t pay it.”
As he dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed, an idea suddenly occurred to me. It was so perfectly obvious that I was surprised I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I blurted, “Marry me, Collie.”
“What the hell?”
“I’m serious.”
He snatched the call buzzer off the bed and asked, “Are you having a stroke? Do you need medical intervention?”
“My job has excellent benefits. If we’re married, you’ll be covered by my insurance.”
“But why would they cover me, now that my heart condition is on record?”
“A coworker and her husband just went through this, so I know for a fact that this type of group insurance can’t deny coverage for pre-existing conditions. There’s literally a law preventing them from doing that.”
He stared at me for a long moment before asking, “What would we have to do?”
“We just need to get married ASAP, ideally today. Then I can file the paperwork with HR tomorrow, and your benefits will kick in on the first of the month. September first is this Tuesday, and today’s Sunday—that’s why we need to hurry.
Otherwise, they’ll kick in on October first, and I don’t think you should wait that long. ”
He met my gaze and asked, “Would you really be willing to marry me? I get that we’re talking about an only-on-paper marriage, but it still seems like a huge ask.”
“You’re not asking. I’m volunteering.”
“But why? You barely know me.”
“I like you, Collie, and this is such an easy way to help. We’ll get married, and then a few months from now, when you’re on your feet and have a job that’ll provide you with your own health insurance, we’ll have it annulled.”
“You need a prenup. You can’t be that trusting, Miller. A spouse would be entitled to half your stuff under the law.”
“You’d never take advantage of me like that.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” he said. “But I still want you to have a legal document that says I get nothing when we split. It’s important to me, because it shows you’re taking care of yourself.”
“I have a good lawyer. He’s also a friend of mine. I’ll contact him and ask him to draw up a quick agreement.”
“Okay, that’s good. But what about a marriage license? I doubt the county clerk’s office is open on a Sunday. And isn’t there a waiting period?”
“No, there’s no waiting period in California, and you’re right that the offices are closed today. But there are authorized agencies and private officiants who can issue the marriage license and perform the ceremony on the same day, even if it’s a Sunday.”
“And that’s legal?”
“One hundred percent.”
He asked, “How do you know that?”
“Because this time last year, I was about to get married.”
“Oh. Right.”
“So, what do you think? Will you fake marry me?”
A smile spread across Collie’s face. “Yes. I’ll absolutely fake marry you, Miller.”
“Awesome.” I leaned across the bed and gave him a high-five before saying, “I’ll call my lawyer first, and then I’ll track down one of those same-day officiants. We’ll need a witness too, so I’ll call Daria and ask her to come to the hospital.”
“Yes to Daria, no to the hospital.”
“What do you mean?”
“The doctors and nurses already think we’re married. If they find out you were lying, they might ban you from visiting me, and that can’t happen.” He dropped his gaze and added shyly, “Besides, this might be the only time I get married. Even if it’s make-believe, I want it to be a nice memory.”
“Okay. But it’s probably too late to plan anything elaborate.”
“I don’t want it to be elaborate. I just want to get married someplace that looks and smells nicer than this, and I don’t want to be dressed in a hospital gown with my ass hanging out.”
“You shouldn’t leave the hospital, though.”
“I’m leaving anyway, no matter where we decide to get married. I feel fine, so there’s no reason to lie here running up a tab. Even if my insurance starts on the first, every day until then isn’t covered and will be coming straight out of my pocket.”
I was out of arguments. Besides, it was his choice to stay or go, so I said, “If you get the doctor to sign off on leaving the hospital, we can get married wherever you want.”
Collie grinned at me. “Okay, fiancé. Start making those calls, while I get myself sprung from this shit hole.”