Warm Inside, Cold Outside, Stuck on Hold.
Hello everyone,
I hope you made it through the winter storm safely. Here in our part of Virginia, it shut things down for a couple of days—including the Amazon warehouse where Andrea (my wife) and I work. That doesn’t happen often. As strange as it sounds, it gave us a rare pause: extra time together, good coffee, warm cats, and a little quiet. With the world being what it is right now, that mattered more than I expected.
I try to post an update when there’s something real to share. This one is mostly frustration. Be glad I didn’t post on Friday, when I spent the day driving back and forth between doctors, pharmacies, and stores right before the storm hit (cat litter, coffee, and creamer turned out to be strategic supplies).
Here’s what that day actually looked like.
Doctor visits, because:
A billing error needed to be corrected
I was out of medications, and the pharmacy said it was the doctor’s issue
I need cancer treatment, but can’t proceed without cardiology approval
I needed printed documentation because my doctors don’t communicate directly
I’m currently on a medication that shouldn’t be taken with my type of cancer
Pharmacy visits, because:
Walmart couldn’t fill a prescription (for the second time) because it hadn’t been “cleared”
My medications were scattered across multiple pharmacies, and I needed to consolidate them
I’m currently managing nine medications, and missing one can be dangerous
I also knew everything would be closed for days once the snow hit—and I can’t shovel snow without risking hospitalization. Even carrying cat litter to the trash can caused chest pain that lingered for hours.
A few acts of kindness helped break the weight of that day. Someone tipped me on Ko-fi. Someone quietly sent a few gaming miniatures. Another gifted a couple months of a game subscription. A few dollars came through Venmo and PayPal. I’m still using a HelloFresh delivery (which I’ll be canceling soon). And some coworkers found this GoFundMe, shared it, and helped in ways they didn’t have to.
I’ve also started posting chapters of my latest book on Patreon for anyone who has ever supported me there:
👉 https://www.patreon.com/travisisivart
If you dropped a dollar years ago, you still get access. Writing again has been one of the few things that makes me feel like myself.
Here’s what I’ve learned through all of this:
Doctors are frustrating, and you need to keep your own records—dates, names, conversations—because systems don’t talk to each other.
And people are still good. The two are constantly in conflict, but kindness keeps winning.
I need to get this chest pain under control. It shouldn’t flatten me because I lifted 25 pounds—not at this stage of recovery. That points to another issue that may need attention. But before any further heart procedures, the cancer needs to be addressed. Symptoms are creeping in. The uncertainty is weighing on both Andrea and me. And the lack of clear timelines is exhausting.
I’m scared. I’m frustrated. I’m also trying not to be out of work any longer than absolutely necessary. I need the income. I must keep the insurance—without it, none of this is manageable.
Right now, the possible timelines look like this:
Cancer treatment recovery: 8–12 weeks
Another stent: 12–14 weeks
Open-heart surgery: 6–12 months
And it’s tax season. GoFundMe doesn’t withhold taxes, so I’m expecting a bill of around $3,000. On top of that, recent cardiology visits triggered additional charges. It’s a few hundred dollars here, over $1,000 related to upcoming cancer care, and I can’t afford to lose either provider. The credit cards are maxed. Some accounts are already in collections. There’s no more safety net left to lean on.
And yet.
I wake up to purring cats. A wife who keeps me from overdoing it. Friends who show up when they can. I have frustrations—plenty of them—but I also have a lot to be grateful for.
To everyone who has helped in any way—whether it was $5, $50, or $500, a small gift, a message, a prayer, or a share—thank you. It all matters. It all adds up.
If you know me, you know I look for the bright side even when things are dark. It’s not denial. It’s survival. I don’t give up. But I do have rough days—and this has been one of those stretches.
Thank you for helping me get through it.
—Travis