An unemployed Ranger tells his story
Editor’s note: The author of this piece requested anonymity in its publication, which I agreed to for obvious reasons.
– Jean Cole
Someone on the Iron Range awakens to thunder.
The Ranger looks out to greet what should be another brilliant summer sunrise. This morning, however, the skies are threatening and ugly clouds accumulate on the horizon. He considers returning to bed, but decides to surf the internet in search of a job. Shortly, the rain starts, but the Ranger doesn’t have much hope for it to wash the world clean.
The Ranger has worked approximately six of the past 24 months. Once a well-paid white-collar professional, he finds his college degrees are of little value in the current economy. Although his resume is strong, it seems employers have no desire to hire a 50 year old with significant experience. At this juncture, he finds his confidence undermined, and considers whether he will ever again find employment that will provide a decent living. Available jobs are usually entry-level and typically pay about $8 to $10 per hour. Few provide benefits. Even if they did, the after tax money would do little more than pay basic expenses, and couldn’t come close to covering the additional costs of mortgage, insurance, and medical needs.
His once healthy savings had amounted to over $60,000, but now is completely depleted. He is past due on the mortgage with a foreclosure notice in hand. He owes $5,000 on his truck. He’s overdrawn at the bank, and owes money to the health clinic. Somehow the utility bills have been paid and the electricity is still on. Thankfully, he no longer has any credit card debt.
The Ranger had to drop his health insurance last February. He never managed to get the money together to pay the long-term care insurance policy he has held for more than 15 years. He has diabetes and needs medications that cost about $600 per month, one drug alone costing more than $10 per dose for a monthly supply of 30 pills. About a month and a half ago he realized he could not continue purchasing medications, so quit taking all of them, and hoards what pills are left for when he really needs them.
That day is here.
His blood glucose hovers in the 400’s, four times the normal range of about 100. He urinates 15 to 20 times per day, and is constantly drinking water to stay hydrated. He tries to avoid carbohydrates and sugars as much as possible, eating only meat products when he can. Yesterday, his meals were a home-made smoked sausage for breakfast, a large can of chicken breast for lunch, a foil packet of tuna in water later in the afternoon, and a tin of beef for supper.
In his shorts and slippers the Ranger steps out into the rain for a few moments to pee as has become his custom in response to the concern of flooding his septic system with frequent flushings. The raindrops are icy on his bare skin. In a way, they feel cleansing, but he ducks back inside before getting completely soaked. The last thing he needs is to get sick.
He lives in the country, and has been able to supplement his food supply via gardening, raising small animals, and living off the land. As a result, the freezer and pantry are full of food. Unfortunately, he is quickly approaching the day he won’t be able to afford feed or medicine for the animals, one of which has pneumonia that needs to be treated before it perishes. The human shares the agony.
One kind individual in his community left him an envelope containing a rather large gift certificate to the local dining establishment. The card was unsigned, and anyone who might know is not telling who purchased it. In fact, not knowing who was the benefactor was the biggest gift of all, because in considering who might have shown such kindness, the Ranger recognized how many people in his community might have done so, and by extension realized how important all those connections are. Although he would like to thank the individual, he gave up asking, content in the knowledge that it could have been almost anyone. He uses the certificate sparingly to make it last because going out for a meal is an important social outlet, and he needs to hang onto that as long as possible.
With the recent spike in blood sugar he is on the brink of taking what remaining medication he has in an attempt to restore a modicum of control. His hope for the longer term, however, is dim; he recognizes it is not likely he will have medication to carry him beyond the next couple of weeks. He has been on “Cadillac” health plans since his teenage years, and considers with chagrin how after years of high premiums paid by himself and his employer, now that he has health care needs the insurance industry has found a way to marginalize him as “unprofitable.”
He wonders how long he can go without medication before ending up on dialysis. The irony of the situation is not lost upon him - if he ends up needing emergency care, which seems likely, the cost to society is going to far exceed the cost of simply providing his medication now, or at the very least paying that long term care policy so the insurance company would be on the hook to deliver on 15 years worth of premiums. Help, however, seems remote, especially since government seems more concerned with protecting corporate profits than people’s well-being.
Just a few short years ago he thought he had everything figured out and was on his way to an early retirement, comfort in old age, and the security of knowing he could pay the bills. Now he knows otherwise, and recognizes the hubris. He counsels others to not take their security for granted. He has watched the health care debate, objections to unemployment extensions, and massive corporate bail-outs with horror. Looking around he sees many people in situations as bad as his own, many much worse, and wonders what kind of priorities guide leadership that ignores people in the name of business. With chagrin he notes that “human resources” are just one more input to be exploited by the capital class, and that anyone who gets a paycheck had better be aware the system treats them as nothing more than one more cost to be contained. He notes this is especially true for the highly paid who so often identify with the capital class because they think they make enough money to be considered “rich.”
He watches the rain through the window and considers what bounty the garden might produce. He hopes to put up enough food to carry through another winter while wondering if he will still be here next summer. How will he find work if he loses his house and truck?
One recent evening the Ranger sat in his recliner and stared at the ceiling. He was wondering if it might be possible to will the heart to slow down to a stop by simply wishing ardently for death. Sensing his master’s despair, the dog nuzzled the hand resting on the arm of the recliner, offering a reminder that there are obligations yet on this Earth. With a sigh, the Ranger said, “I know, buddy. But I just don’t see how we’re gonna make it.”
This morning, he looks out at the gray sky where a steady drizzle has replaced the rain. The air feels heavy, but it has cooled. The soil out front appears slippery. A solitary woodpecker taps out a message on a distant tree. There might be hope for a sunny day, but right now it doesn’t seem this is going to be it.
The Ranger wonders, “If thunder booms in the forest, and nobody is there to hear it.....” Then stops to consider the ramifications. Surely, even at great distance, surely someone can hear the thunder. He sighs, unconvinced, and returns to bed to drift back into a sugar coma, hoping to awaken to brighter skies.
Look around you. This is a true story. The only thing omitted is even more of the horror one Iron Ranger faces. There are literally thousands of people on the Range in similar circumstances. They are people you know. Some of them you might not even realize are in such straits.
What’s sad is that you might very well recognize yourself in this story. Even sadder is that even if you don’t, you probably find yourself unable to help someone who has been capsized. Whatever your status, please be aware that great meaning can be found in little things. Where you can, reach out with kindness to your friends and neighbors, be thankful for what you have, and keep in mind the old saying “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”
