Health insurance is weird

I am in total insurance hell. Yes, I have Obamacare, but almost no one takes it. My primary care doc went off it and didn’t tell me, and now I’m out $700.  There was a Times article last week about a man who was billed $117,000 for a walk-in surgeon he didn’t even know about. And what happens if I get hit by a train and  cannot ask who is in my network? I am really freaking out about this. I almost look forward to medicare!  And then there are long term care policies. I can barely pay my own medical insurance. I remember when I was in my 20’s and paid nothing and could choose anyone.  And now at the age when I’m going to start needing doctors, I’m hogtied. Just not right.

2011

2011 has been a tough year for most of us. Me, because I’m not working, and others for the same reasons. And different reasons. I won’t be sorry to see it fade into history. There were, however, some positive aspects to it.

I’ve met many wonderful and interesting senior citizens while working as a volunteer at the office and driving them around to their appointments. To name a few, Zora and Phyllis, who were both esteemed professors, and Joan and Sam, who were instrumental in doing away with segregation in Westchester. Joan is nearly 90, and still plays guitar and sings Phil Ochs songs. These are amazing people.

I’ve also met Bob this year. Although we have had our growing pains, he is a wonderful man who has tried hard to get me out of my solitary shell. I’ve been set in my ways for years, and I’m hoping I can get beyond that a bit in 2012.

My family for the most part is alive and well. So are my aunts, god bless ’em. And it’s been fairly warm this winter, thanks to global issues.

I do hope that 2012 brings work and love to everyone who doesn’t have it. And for those who do, just be happy. Time flies by, as we all know.

Another Kitty Heard From

Listen up. This is Petie. Mommy likes Violet better. I know this from her behavior. I know she loves me and stuff, but she’s always sitting with Vi. Or is Vi sitting with her? Whatever. And she’s always kissing Vi on the mouth. I lick Mommy, but I have a wet mouth and I think it becomes annoying to her. So here I sit, bored out of my mind, waiting for some nice human who has a lot of land to scoop me up so I can be an outside cat like I’ve always wanted to be.  But I don’t want to live near a road or I might get squished.

I sit by the door  a lot and caterwaul so I can go out into the hall, but Mommy gets mad after awhile and gives me a time out in her room. I don’t know why I want to go into the hall. I guess it’s just to get out of here!  Blah. It’s a dog’s life.

My Human is Weird

Me

Violet here. Mommy has really been pissing me off lately. She sleeps too late and she only feeds me five times a day now. I’m on steroids, for chrissake! I need foody! That’s what she calls it – foody – like I’m two years old. I’m nine and I’m hungry! Plus, she can’t keep her hands off me. Now that I have my winter coat she keeps petting me ALL THE TIME.  It’s too much! She’s screwing with my REM sleep. And every time she sees me scratching myself, SHE has to scratch me!  Like I’m not drawing enough blood on my own. And she picks those disgusting sleepy things out of my eyes. Yeesh! I like it when Petie grooms me. She’s a cat and knows where to lick. Mommy just rubs everywhere. Actually, some of the places she rubs feel good, like my belly. I guess she’s not a total loser. I just wish she’d keep her distance and feed me more.  I will have to rectify this by sitting by the food bowl and caterwauling extra loudly. That’ll teach her. I’m such a smart kitty. Purrrrrrrr.

The World is Weird

I’m worried about the world. It seems as though entropy is beginning to take hold. I worry about all the people like me who’ve lost their jobs. I worry about the deadlock between parties. I’m afraid these people will never grow up. They are little children in Armani.

I worry about myself, and how shut off I am. I worry that I spend an unhealthy amount of time with the cats. I worry that I prefer it. “Hell is other people.” Wasn’t that Sartre? I worry that we are a nation online, and that we’d rather have Facebook friends than real ones. I worry that I am one of this nation.

I worry that soon I will be like the seniors I drive to their appointments. “I used to walk all over,” they say. Now they are on walkers.

I want things to get back to normal. I want to mix audio again and not have to get a job where some pimply face teenager is my manager – unless he’s a TV director. I want to earn money and not get it from the state. This is all that I, and so many others, want.  How did this become impossible? I’m so worried.

 

Food Stamps are Weird

So last week I got my EBT card in the mail. Since unemployment has lowered my weekly rate from $405 to $84, at least I can get some free food from the government. The first few days I was really depressed about it all. Felt like I’d hit bottom, that sort of thing. But hey, I need the money. And it’s fun to go to Trader Joe’s and buy food that I’m not paying for.

On some level, I realize this is not a good thing. I am redoubling my efforts to find work. I’m applying to sound jobs, copy editing jobs. receptionist jobs—anything at this point except fast food. I hate the smell and I’d have to quit, which means NO unemployment money. So, here I sit, still looking for work. I’m smart and funny, and can do loads of things. But no one seems to give a shit. I have friends who are successful. I hope they will help me as I am trying to help myself. Surely someone has a job I can do. Until then, still looking.

Emergency rooms are weird

I got my self over to the White Plains Hospital today to get my arm ultrasounded. I did this on a Sunday because I have eye surgery Tuesday. I got the ultrasound because last weekend when I had a colonoscopy, the nurse tied me off with a rubber hose so tightly, it still hurts. I wanted to make sure she didn’t give me a f-ing blood clot. Bad idea from the get go.

First I see a physician assistant, then another, then another. Then they take me up to the ER. Then they want to put me on a gurney to go for the test. I tell them to fuck themselves and we compromise on a wheel chair — for a sore arm. Then they start ultrasounding everything from my carotid to my fingertips. Then they take me back to the ER and want me to wait a half hour to get the results. I don’t think so. And so I leave.

The lesson I learned today is this:  I don’t think I’m gonna be a good patient if I have a serious injury or disease. I hate hospitals and everything about them. I sort of realize now why my dad checked out once he entered a nursing home. The whole thing sucks.

Rudeness is, alas, not weird

Lately everyone seems to be unhappy and rude. Drivers drive badly, cashiers are busy talking to other cashiers, people are on cell phones and ram into you on the sidewalk – it never ends.

When did this begin? I remember people being polite in the 70s. Manners still mattered. But during my visits back to NYC from LA in the 80s,  I noticed people blading on the sidewalk. I think this began it all. Now no one looks where they’re going. Texting and walking can be really unsafe with all the cracks and potholes. When you’re older, you look ahead as you walk. When I get a call as a pedestrian, I literally pull over. It’s so patently obnoxious to talk on the phone while walking. It’s like you want everyone to know you are so important that people need you all the time. Well, I don’t want to be needed all the time.  The day I got a pager in 1993 I cursed myself. Now it’s worse. Still, there is an off switch on phones. Try it, people. As for hurried and angry drivers,  trust me — you won’t get there any sooner. Really.  And as for those cashiers — you are being paid to interact with customers. Try it. If you don’t like it, get a job in the back room at the post office. And don’t forget to smile.

Depression and aging

I havent blogged for awhile. It’s been rough. Not having a job is really getting to me and my self-esteem. I used to shop in boutiques. Now I shop at Marshall’s and Kohl’s. I love my cats but we’re getting on each other’s nerves. It’s been a hellish winter. I’m glad Spring is here. I don’t love watching what I eat and drink. The partying needs to stop.  I need to walk and socialize. I need to get off the computer and meet people in person. I haven’t seen much of my family lately. I’m estranged from my youngest sister and I’ve given up on the love of my life. Instead of working in TV I’m addicted to it. It’s a safe drug.

I know it will get better. It will get warmer. I will find work. Maybe I will even find a new love. Meanwhile, things are rocky.

Doggies and aging

One of my doggie girlfriends.

I was in Florida this week visiting my friend Susie and her two chihuahuas, Heidi and Doodah. It was a trip full of licks.

Heidi is a subtle licker. Doodah, not so much. I have cats, who aren’t all that affectionate. Petie licks, but she has a rough tongue. These doggies are so affectionate and trusting – different from cats. Cats demand, dogs provide. Either way, when I pet and kiss either felines or curs, I feel at peace. I think animals sense what I’m feeling. It hasn’t been a great week emotionally, and the animals were always there beside me.  So was Susie, for that matter. I will miss my little doggy pals. They helped sooth me and my blood pressure. The cats do too, thought sometimes the caterwauling has the opposite affect. So, until next time, H and D. Arf!