Catastrophes and Contingencies

Nearly two years ago, I learned my my chronic illness was due to toxic mold exposure in my home. Shortly thereafter, it was determined that the mold, and thus my injuries, were due to HOA negligence. Meanwhile, my partner and I have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars–our own, and that borrowed from and gifted by family–to identify the root cause of our ailments and get well.

We were encouraged to seek legal counsel, which we did. However, as we approach the statute of limitation, it’s become clear that no lawyer will take our case on full contingency. It’s too large of a risk for them. To pursue a lawsuit against the HOA without contingency would cost hundreds of thousands more out of our own pocket. We don’t have the money, but it’s too large of a risk for us, even if we did.

In a past life, I would have been devastated by the injustice.

Today, I’m able to let out a deep sigh and then let it go.

What’s the difference? I’ve considered, and perhaps even anticipated, The Worst Case Scenario. Long before the law firm tried to pull a fast one, my partner and I had discussed what we would do if we weren’t able to secure a lawsuit.

We live frugally to support our health. We spend $1,000 per month on our two compounded prescriptions. We spend another $600 per month on our refined regimen of supplements. Then, another $800 per month on organic produce, bulk spices, and pasture-raised and wild-caught proteins. Finally, we average $400 on telemed appointments for practitioners who don’t take insurance. Our household spends $33,600 per year to remain barely functional. Not ideal, but it works.

To afford that, we don’t utilize air conditioning, despite living in Phoenix. With space heaters, slippers, blankets, fans, and running shorts, we can keep out utility bill under $75 per month. We haven’t bought new clothes in years, we don’t go out to eat, and our entertainment entails free walks around the neighborhood or window shopping at Costco. Outside of $5,500 per years for property taxes and HOA dues, savings for retirement, and those darn medical expenses, we don’t really spend money. We can’t.

The Worst Case Scenario is simply continuing our current habits indefinitely, “living like paupers” as my mother-in-law says.

Perhaps the HOA will renege on their agreement to remediate and restore our condo and we’ll be stuck paying for a lemon of a home we can’t live in and can’t sell. Maybe we’ll be stuck living with my in-laws for years to come. It’s possible the HOA will refuse to even partially compensate us for our mold-damaged possessions, and we’ll be back to living as young adults with no furniture beyond a mattress on the floor until we can afford some plywood crap from IKEA. Perhaps, we’ll both relapse and become debilitatingly ill. If the heavy-duty anti-fungal doesn’t work, we’ll keep investigating the issue. If my partner is too ill to start medical school in the fall, we’ll defer; if he’s still too ill come spring, we’ll adapt; I’ll support the household financially while he figures out what’s within his reach.

Aside from having each other, it seems as if my partner and I have been stricken by the worst luck imaginable over the past decade. Everything that can go wrong does. So, we’ve learned to anticipate and adjust. We often talk about our Plan Z. We consider all outcomes and make peace with each one before anything comes to fruition.

In a past life, I was brimming over with positive thinking and affirmations.

Today, I am a realist. When dreams fail to come true, it can be painfully distressing. Thus, I would argue that a healthier approach is to be open to whatever life presents before us, whether “good” or “bad”.

Have you ever spent time exploring The Worst Case Scenario before it arrives? Join us over at The Heart of The Matter to discuss the pros and cons of catastrophized thinking.