Roy and I were shooting baskets in the gym during lunch period.  After a while, we started talking, which is pretty much the routine if we find ourselves in the gym together.  He mentioned that his wife, Cindy, needs to have a colon operation.  I wished him luck with that and asked him if they could afford it.  No, he told me.  We’re going to declare bankruptcy next week sometime.  This way they would be able to get a loan from the government to help pay for the surgery and the hospital visit.  Roy explained how serious this situation was.  He said that they certainly have medical insurance; however, he had already consulted with their agent, and the agent had bad news for them.  The agent said that only a small portion of the expenses could be covered by the insurance, and recommended that they see a lawyer to arrange for a loan to help pay for the rest.  I really felt bad for Roy.  We don’t know each other all that well, at least not beyond the structure of Fridley High School, but it seemed like a nightmare of a situation to have to depend on the government.  It didn’t seem to stop Roy from doing his usual fantastic job on the court, though—if anything, his anger and resentment drove him all the harder.  He made three times as many baskets as I did that afternoon.