Florida Homeowners Association Terror

When you have no money, sometimes it just means you have some money but it is not enough. My Homeowners Association is still relentlessly pursuing me while I am trying to survive. The HOA terror has me in a constant state of stress. Stress activates my illness. And that illness landed me in the hospital at 3 am on a Saturday because I wasn’t sure if I was going to die or if I was just going to go ahead and walk in front of the next car in the dark on highway 301*.

After several rounds of OTC medicine in the late afternoon, evening, and night, I awoke in excruciating pain. I booked the first available appointment at TGH Urgent Care, but it wasn’t until 08:30. I knew that would be my cheapest option. But I didn’t make it to TGH because waiting five more hours was a near guarantee that highway 301 would be the better option. So, I went to South Bay Hospital in hot tears. I hate hospitals. But more than that, I hate ER bills.

It took less than 10 minutes for me to get into a room. I was in so much pain I forgot how cold it was in hospitals, so I thought my shivering was the beginning of convulsions. And then the hospital forgot about me for almost an hour while I sat erect and motionless wondering if my ancestors were taking me to the promised land. The nurse apologized…said someone was coming in via ambulance. But that person still wasn’t there. And there was all of maybe 2 patients in the ER.

You know who I did see? That lady who comes to collect insurance info and payment. I had neither. I continued to sit there…like a mannequin waiting to come alive. They finally gave me meds, two warmed blankets the thickness of a cotton round, and eventually sent me on my way before dawn. Good, because I was dying to get into my own warm bed.

Two hours later, I was questioning my life. The pain did not subside. I knew something was wrong in the hospital because I still felt a distant-like pain. When this scenario would happen in the past, I would be pain-free but not un-sick. The pain increased in intensity. I called TGH and asked if I could still come in. I appeared, crying hotter tears. They asked for payment upfront: $250. Ouch! I paid it, but I didn’t “have it” because it was for something else…anything else…like food and shit.

I could barely talk to the doctor through my streams of tears and inability to look at him continuously. He asked if my symptoms were typical. Yes. And I had been to TGH in the past so it wasn’t extraordinary. He asked what South Bay gave me and I could recite 3 out of 5. I got more drugs. They sent me on my way on a promise that I would go directly home. There was nothing else I wanted more to do.

By Sunday, I was better, but sensitive. By Monday I felt brand new. It goes like this every time. I got a text from South Bay saying if I paid immediately, the cost for the ER visit would only be $130. I almost had a heart attack. One-hundred and thirty dollars? Surely they meant $1300. But I didn’t have $130 to pay immediately…because I gave TGH $250, remember? Then, I got a text from TGH. It said I owed $238. Surely that wasn’t correct. I already paid them. The charge went through, I swear.

Whatever the cost, I don’t have the money. But you know what costs more than both of my visits combined? My medication. That’s $5k for 15 pills. With the discount card, it comes to $3500.

*(Someone did do that—one woman and one man—in front of my neighborhood. One of them was killed, or so I was told.)