I haven’t posted anything of much substance lately. I haven’t even updated you all on the disability evaluation I ranted about the day before I had to be part of it.
I find myself really needing to stay in the moment. THE moment. Even as I type these first few lines I feel my blood pressure changing and my eyes tearing.
I really appreciate all who commented or e-mailed me asking how the evaluation went. I’m sorry for just leaving things hanging in the air, it’s not my style.
I really don’t know how it went.
The people there were very friendly and professional. Some of the tests made no sense to me but then again much of the healthcare system makes no sense to me. A lot of what I was asked to do or asked about appeared to have no direct relation to my medical condition. Even more seemed to be boiler plate.
I came away feeling that I was nothing more than a cog in a very giant wheel. If I fit into the wheel then I’ll roll on with it. If I don’t then the wheel will simply roll right over me.
The evaluation was more than 2 weeks ago. The doctor told me he was not allowed to provide me with a copy of his report to the insurance company but that the insurance company must give me a copy.
I waited a week and then called to ask for a copy. It took 3 calls to find out they don’t have it yet.
Yesterday I received a letter from the insurance company thanking me for attending the evaluation – this corporate word play used to make me laugh; now it makes me want to throttle someone. A 6 page form accompanied my thank you. The form is basically a shorter version of the initial mind numbing packet I filled out months ago. Except now it’s titled ‘Application for Continuance of Disability Benefits’. WTF!?
Several phone calls later I finally understand that they want to know how I feel today. Well, didn’t the evaluation determine that? Perhaps I could be given an 800 number to call – I’ll call every freakin’ day and let them know how I’m doing. Hell I’ll call several times a day …
Hi, it’s Dianne – can’t go to the store today, I can’t straighten up.
Good morning, it’s Dianne – I think the tendons are tearing again, ankle is really swollen.
Just calling to say good night, feel free to call me back – I can’t fucking sleep since my torn muscle is in spasms and burning.
I could go on but this is why I don’t dwell on this.
The rage that consumes me is not healthy or helpful. The throbbing in my head makes thinking even more difficult. The tightness in my chest makes me worry about a stroke – after all without health insurance I’ll sit in a hallway somewhere until everyone has nothing better to do.
I really do understand how people go ballistic.
Thankfully I have many things that tether me to a place of being able to stay in the moment. Hope. The cats. My friends – live and internet. My writing.
I am so grateful for my imagination.
I picture myself traveling to Washington and conducting semen CSI like tests on all Congressmen and lobbyists. I then create a chart of who is blowing and screwing who (whom?) and publish it on Huffington.
I travel from town meeting to town meeting and tea party to tea party. I carry with me a giant magic market so I can correct all their illiterate posters. I carry a giant caldron of boiling water so I can steep their fucking heads and make a nice tea. I even have finger sandwiches. We’re nothing if not civilized here in the grand ole USA.
I take insurance execs to the health clinic near the boardwalk. I hold them there at gun point until at least 10 under nourished children with the flu vomit on them.
And my latest – I take a giant statue of Jesus to yet another “Christian” rally where they’re all wearing shirts proclaiming that ‘God hates fags’ and ‘God hates Jews’ and I just stand there with it. Oh – my Jesus is wearing a T-shirt that says ‘I hate hateful assholes’.
Now that’s a Kodak moment.
And on we go.