Insured to Aggravate

There's a fair bit of teeth gnashing going on at chez Becca tonight.  You see, we've dipped our toes into the water and started searching for health care coverage...our government subsidized COBRA coverage will soon expire, and the cost to maintain this current policy will almost triple.  So we looked into the new independent plans offered by Blue Cross Blue Shield, only to find these plans cost just as much  and provide less coverage. Grrr.

When it comes to health care, we've been pretty spoiled.  My husband's workplace has always provided us with  group coverage, and even though we've had to contribute to the cost, it's never been prohibitive.  But now that Jim is self-employed, and my part time job doesn't include health care, we're on our own.  And let me tell you, that's a frightening place to be these days.

Insurance is one of the things about modern life that makes me really angry.  I resent being hamstrung by the whole process.  You absolutely cannot live in 21st century America without health care coverage - not unless you want to risk bankruptcy.   And the cost of decent coverage is outrageous - we're looking at spending more than half of my monthly salary for health insurance.  How much am I going to resent that?  Knowing that the fruits of  two weeks worth of work  every month are going to line the coffers of some rich insurance agency. 

And because my work involves insurance related matters (auto insurance claims), I also know just how capricious and wasteful insurance companies can be.   Just today, a major insurance carrier we work with reinstated benefits for a woman who is clearly a drug addict, has been totally non compliant with treatment for the past two years, and is obviously only interested in bilking the system to maintain her addiction to pain killers and pay her boyfriend to provide her with "attendant care".  All this while a good friend of mine is fighting Blue Cross tooth and nail to get them to approve a stem cell transplant that could cure her leukemia.

Grrrrrrr.

If  I could, I think I would abolish the entire insurance system and go back to the days when we were all responsible for paying our own medical bills, making sure that those medical bills were "reasonable and customary" (favorite insurance bywords).    The whole thing is just out of control.

And I have no idea how it can ever be fixed.

Let Freedom Ring

Happy Birthday America. 234 years young.

While that might sound ancient in terms of "people" years, when you talk about nations, it's actually quite infantile.   When we were traveling in England a few years ago, we stopped in a neighborhood pub where the cornerstone read 1150 a.d.

Now, that's ancient.

But America has grown up pretty quickly, with a rapid fire trajectory to the top in terms of economy and political values and natural resources.   Sometimes I wonder if, like some of the teenagers I see around me, we haven't grown up a bit too fast, taken on more responsibility than we can handle, and even stepped out of line on more than a few occasions.  In fact, some of our recent problems might be  a "time out," a reality check that some behavior modification is in order.

But after all, our founding fathers were quite the rebellious upstarts, weren't they?  Just ask King George who lost those 13 colonies for the British Empire.   And their hearts were certainly in the right place, with their ideals about representative government, religious freedom, and equal opportunity for all. 

We're still working on some of that, but like anything worth having, it takes time and effort to make it all come true.

With any luck, we'll still be striving and strong until we're really ancient.

Happy Independence Day.

Let Freedom Ring.

Fireworks

I was just about to go to bed - but - there are some hefty fireworks going on somewhere around here, and since it's the kind of night that's just too deliciously cool to sleep with the windows closed, I reckon I'll postpone bedtime a little bit longer. I haven't been sleeping well since I got home from Florida.  Usually I'm a pretty good sleeper (hot flashes not withstanding), and rarely have any problems going to sleep at night.  But Tuesday night I was awake until 3 am, restless and fitfull, dozing off occasionally only to startle awake again.  I got up, then went back down, then got up again.  Finally dozed off for good after some toast with honey and chocolate Ovaltine, my sure fire remedy for insomnia.

By bedtime last night I was a walking zombie, so my eyes were closed as soon as my head hit the pillow.  BUT - at 3 am I was wide awake, and couldn't go back to sleep.  It was chilly in the room - ceiling fan was on and the window was cracked - and I was awake and shivering until I broke down and fetched the furry afghan from the reading room.

Not sure what's causing the sleep disturbance ~ certainly life is a whole lot quieter than it was a year ago, when I was dealing with a freight train of loss.  Once again, I marvel at the resilience of the human spirit.   To quote a favorite Elton John tune, I"m still standing ~ maybe not better than I've ever been, but at least still here. 

Something to celebrate this holiday weekend. 

As would be a good night's sleep.

How about you? Anything worthy of fireworks going on in your world this week?

Historical Connection

Individual turning points ~ moments in time that change us, set us off in new directions.  Looking at those points in our lives for the start of story, as a place to begin writing.  Now, step backward from these turning points and look at the big picture.  What was going on in the world at that particular moment in time?  Is there a historical connection that has some bearing on your reaction to that point of change?  

Think about how (if at all) your life was influenced or impacted by those apparently surface events.  You may discover that moments in your life that felt divorced from the march of history were actually quite connected with the larger picture on some level.

~  Tim Tomlinson, The Portable MFA in Creative Writing

Afternoon Showers

It's 3:00 in the afternoon, late June, in Southwest Florida.  It's raining.

Like clockwork every day since we've been here, the sky darkens ominously, palm tree branches rustle nervously, and rain pours from above.  I've learned to take an umbrella whenever I go out in the afternoon.  If I'm not back home before 3:00, I'll need it.

This afternoon  I am home, stretched out on the leather sofa in our back bedroom which serves as a den.  Osensibly, I'm reading Every Last One, Anna Quindlen's recent novel about the "ordinary life" of Mary Beth Latham (whose life, I suspect  is about to become anything but ordinary.)   I'm distracted from this story, though, by torrents of water sluicing off the tiled roof, racing down the brick paved sidewalk to run off into the street.  I've been watching it for a few minutes now, staring blankly at the rain while the ceiling fan stirs the cold conditioned air around my bare feet, prompting me to snuggle them underneath a blue and brown striped throw pillow.

Earlier this afternoon, I've wandered from room to room in this house, idly picking up picture frames, turning on lamps, opening mostly empty drawers in decorative chests and tables.  We created this house from scratch almost 10 years ago, watching it built from the ground up untl we were finally presented with a tabula rasa of empty rooms to fill.   Everything here was brand spanking new, a novel treat for the pair of us who have lived in the same two (old) places for our entire lives.  But on this rainy afternoon, I poked through rooms which have remained pristine, opened drawers and cabinets that still release the perfume of new wood, and wondered what to do with it all now.

Here's my fatal flaw - I never expect change.  Stupid, I know.  I'm over half a century old, certainly I've seen enough change in my life to realize the inevitably of it.  Still, I continue to block it out, stuff the possibility of it into the furthest corner of my mind and go blithely on as if every day will continue just like every other.  So change always takes me by surprise, forcing me to react to it being imposed upon me, rather than embrace it as something I've chosen for myself.  Consequently, I feel powerless, and stupid, and angry with myself.   I'd like to be the change-maker for once, the reason everyone else in my little world has to stop, take stock, and figure out how to respond, the one that pulls in the reins on everyone else's life. 

Realistically, I know that isn't likely to happen.  I'm as predictable in my complacency as these afternoon thuderstorms.  So as the skies above me begin to darken again with the spectre of change, I'll take cover under my umbrella and wait for sun to return.