My husband really doesn't listen

In 2000, I had surgery. Apart from my wisdom teeth, it was the only surgery I had ever had. It wasn't complicated, but the recovery was slow, painful, and with physical therapy, the whole process was incredibly expensive. The stress of figuring out bills that always seemed to be wrong and fighting with the medical provider made me swear I'd never pay to be sick again.

Of course, I later went on to spend thousands and thousands of dollars on my defective brain, which left me deeply in debt and struggling to hold onto everything in my life.

Along the way, I read that medical expenses are the number one reason people claim personal bankruptcy. I remember reading a story about people who had had to sell their homes after going through critical care. That's when I decided I would never do that.

I've always told Frank this. I've said it for years. I said, "What's the point of surviving cancer if it means coming out bankrupt, homeless, weak, and likely unemployed?"

This came up in conversation today when Frank said his sister refuses to have a colonoscopy. I told him that my 75-year-old mother has never had one and I don't plan to have one, either. Cancer doesn't run in my family. Frank was appalled. "So, what, you're never going to get a mammogram or go to the gynecologist, either?"

"That's right. No need."

Frank looked stunned. "You know, plenty of people get sick when there's no family history."

"I know that," I said, "but even if I were diagnosed with cancer, I wouldn't pursue treatment. We couldn't afford it."

"What? We have insurance."

I'm not sure Frank fully comprehends the cost of being sick. "Frank, we have a $1500 per-person deductible and after that we pay 20 percent of the billed costs, but not everything is covered. Twenty percent of hundreds of thousands of dollars is still more money than we have. I have $600 in savings. How much treatment do you think that would buy? That's not even a month's worth of prescription medication."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "That's ridiculous. So you would just walk away from treatment?"

"I wouldn't even pursue treatment to begin with. We would have to sell the house. So, great. Homeless and sick. Yeah, no, I wouldn't do that to you. And what if I didn't survive anyway? You'd be alone, homeless and in horrendous debt for a decision I made."

Frank tried to belabor the point, but that wasn't what annoyed me. It was that he reacted as though this were the first time I had ever voiced my opinion on this subject. Not even close. This was something I had said dozens of times over the last six years or so. Frank claims I've never mentioned it. I am convinced my words evaporate in the ether.

And this is my life. A person who speaks, who says things with conviction and careful consideration, but it doesn't matter.

Nobody is listening. I am white noise in the background, dismissed, discounted, and ignored.

This really bothers me, not because it's something that happens at home, but because in every facet of my life, it is the usual way of things and not the exception.

It's hard to know that I'm so irrelevant and my thoughts are so disregarded. Perhaps, though, I just don't have anything worthwhile to say, after all.