Chapter 5 - The Cost of Living
By the second week of Mariana’s hospitalization, the financial reality of their situation began to settle over them like heavy dust. Diego had been taking only half-shifts at the auto shop, spending every available hour at the hospital to help the nurses turn Mariana, keep her skin from breaking down, and monitor her mental state.
One afternoon, a woman in a sharp grey blazer entered the room holding a thick manila folder. Her badge read Elena Vance, Patient Financial Services.
Diego felt his stomach drop. He stepped out into the hallway with her, closing the door behind him so Mariana wouldn't hear.
"Mr. Hernandez," Ms. Vance began, her tone professional but not unkind. "I’ve been reviewing your wife’s case. Because her previous condition was documented in Florida under a different provider network, and because the prior authorization for her Lovenox injections lapsed, your current insurance carrier is contesting the coverage for the emergency admission and the specialized ICU care."
"Contesting it?" Diego’s voice rose, his hands clenching into fists. "She was dying! Her blood pressure was high enough to cause a stroke. Are you telling me they won't pay because of paperwork?"
"They are arguing that the condition was mismanaged by the patient, which led to an avoidable acute crisis," Vance said, looking down at the paperwork with an expression that suggested she hated her job just as much as Diego hated hearing her speak. "Right now, the pending balance for the first seven days of ICU care, testing, and specialty consults is just over forty-eight thousand dollars. And that doesn't include the ongoing medication costs."
Diego leaned his back against the wall, sliding down until he was squatting on the floor, his hands covering his face. Forty-eight thousand dollars. It might as well have been four million. They had twelve hundred dollars in their savings account, meant for the baby’s crib and stroller.
Mateo arrived twenty minutes later, finding Diego still sitting in the hallway floor. When Diego explained the situation, Mateo didn't hesitate.
"We sell the shop’s tow truck," Mateo said instantly. "And I take out a second mortgage on my house. We can get thirty thousand by next week."
"No," Diego said, looking up, his eyes fierce. "No, Mateo. You have three kids. You’ve worked twenty years to build that shop. I won't let my family’s bad luck ruin your life too."
"Then what are we going to do, Diego? You can't pay this on twenty dollars an hour fixing brakes."
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"I’ll talk to the hospital board. I’ll make a payment plan for the rest of my life," Diego said, standing up and wiping his face. "But right now, my only job is to keep Mariana’s stress levels down. If she finds out about this money, her blood pressure will spike again, and we’ll lose the boy. We keep this between us."
Unbeknownst to either brother, the door to the room was cracked open by an inch. Mariana, who had managed to drag herself up using the trapeze bar above her bed to reach for a cup of water, had heard every single word.
