Even an orchid needs to vent

 

Life is a topsy-turvy cake. Here are the layers of the last few weeks.

 

You know my “vent” posts. Permit me to blow off some steam. And permit me to say that maybe we shouldn’t even bother, blowing off steam, that is, because eventually the steam dissipates and we forget about the issue or event (hopefully) and wonder what the big deal was. And then the vapor is absorbed into the air and we go on. But for some reason, I need to document and be able to look back and see how I felt and reacted to things and then reassess. Was I right? Was I wrong. Yes and no. Nd maybe, maybe.

The week of weirdness was haunted by a ghost of undelivered mail. That was in the background of my thoughts: an order of checks never made it to my mother, it kept me wondering, overthinking, anxious, for about ten days. Chuck it up to lousy mail service. But there I was on the tenth day of waiting and ruminating and what-iffing, looking up phone numbers, calling the bank, calling the check printing company, getting instructions, having another set printed only to learn about and an hour later, after days of annoyance and hours of calls that the  checks finally appeared in the mailbox, they had arrived. So, I had to reverse the process, make calls to cancel the checks that were to replace the missing ones. It was one thing less I had to think about concerning my mother.

 

 

Add this layer: Mother calls: she needs this, that, the other thing. And then there is the statement about something bothering her physically–like her skin “is so dry” and she asks what I recommend and I say, like I have before, “almond oil.” I have even sent some before, but she complained the smell was too strong, which is interesting because she allegedly has no sense of smell and the oil is not scented.

I shipped it with an order from Target. It arrived before the paper goods. My mother’s aide texted me a photo of the bottle in the garbage. The next day I learned that my mother instructed the aide to pour the oil down the sink and throw the bottle away. Does my mother have the “right” to do this? Yes. It is her stuff and her money. But in my mind she had no right to discard something, anything, without exploring if someone else needed it or wanted it. It could have been mine, but that is not the point. This is typical of her; it goes into another area, the fear of clutter, which, for as long as I know her has caused this behavior, an outgrowth of the need to “get rid of things,” even if they weren’t hers, even if she didn’t ask first. I was livid for days, furious, over that thrown out oil. Aww come on, you might be thinking, she is 101 years old, give her some slack. I did. I didn’t bring it up. Why bother at this point? Is she going to change? She is what she is: she thinks of herself first, she always has.

 

 

Then there was the Ensure fiasco. The aide reported that the Ensure hadn’t been delivered for two months. (There had been enough stored up to cover the slack). Back to the phone.
I called the managed long term care who deflected the responsibility and told me to call the pharmacy which I called for hours over a couple of days because no one was answering. Finally. I reached someone at the company who sounded mortified upon learning that my mother hadn’t received her REQUIRED order of nutritional supplementation for two months. The delivery was made two days later.

 

 

I use two external hard drives to back up my computer-a back up of a back up. One back up drive always bites the bullet before the other, starts to act wonky, ceases to back up. It took about three hours on the phone with an Apple (level 2) technician to reach the conclusion that the drive was at its end and nothing was wrong with the computer. The one good thing about this process is that the Apple support is built into the product and it is available and excellent at no cost. But there went about three hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then there was the (extra) Equity Shield car insurance policy. We always had Toyotas but got our first Subaru in 2016; I feel it is much more reliable and better made. I took out a Dent and Ding policy, something I would never do years back but it sounded worthwhile and even covered tires. Of course I could kick myself now. You know what happens when you buy a new car, you are ultimately herded into “the room” where they work on you to buy things you don’t need. That was the scene. I was told by a guy (who no longer works there), that if I ever got a “ding” they’d fix it in my driveway…on and on. There were some dents that needed tending. Long story short: “this wasn’t covered-go here-go there- go to the showroom, ask this one, ask that one and I’ll call you tomorrow.” Sham. The little pamphlet issued with the policy had no highly visible phone number. Over the summer on a trip, a pothole ate one of the tires and we had it fixed as soon as we could. This should have been covered as well, but apparently it says somewhere that before any work is done you have to have authorization. It has to be reported in 30 days. I got my paperwork in a row, called back, filed a claim with a review team, got a call, told them everything about the bullcrap about their policy and will be getting the cost of the new tire reimbursed. I won. I wasn’t going to let this one get away. PS,  the repairs for dents and dings which ended up with a $3,000 estimate by Subaru will be done by local-Mike for less that half.

 

Want more? Migraine.

Let me say this: since July 2018~
📍I have not had any horrendous vertigo issues. My vertigo was not a balance-related , crystal in ear-oriented issue. It was part of the migraine syndrome and it was devastatingly frightening.

📍I have barely taken an Imitrex or even an Advil for a “pain headache” since beginning Aimovig. Most of my “headaches” have been sinus and allergy of late.

📍I have been averaging 4-6 ocular/visual episodes/month which manifest as aura and visual disturbance. (spasm in the occipital lobe)

When this began I could have one episode daily, sometimes several in an hour or day. That’s 30+/month.

Eventually I was down to about 14 episodes/mo which is still considered CHRONIC. But even at my current “low” level my doctor and I decided to go for the higher dose, 6 in a month is even still too much.  But to get to this point:

Several phone calls before Easter to the pharmacy and an inquiry as to the co-pay: would it increase?
would it be covered? Call the MD, leave message for physician’s assistant who would leave message for doctor. Then came the Holiday weekend. More calls to pharmacy to see if doctor issued Rx. This one was going to call that one. Time is closing in, I need it by the 5th in one dose or the other. Then there is the issue with Medicare-would they cover the higher dose?

 

Now, watch what happens. The main phone line rings with an unidentifiable number and no company listed on the Caller ID. We all know what is going on with this obnoxiousness. Spam, scam, annoyance. Check this out: I do this sometimes to see what would happen. I picked up the phone and said nothing. I figure a little mutual phone-time wasting was in order and then I could report it to NoMoRobo.

A pleasant female voice initiates, asks if it is me, that she is calling from Medicare Pre-Approval and would I identify myself? I know the accent. She was from Southeast Asia. What was my social security number and date of birth. I was so jacked up by all the preceding tales I discussed previously that I said, “Do you really think I am going to give you that information in view of the fact that you are not an American, your Caller ID is useless, we are beset with scam calls and criminal activity? NOOOOOOOO! YOU give me the number YOU are calling from and I will check. I felt sorry for the young lady, truly, I did, deep down I felt she was legit and in the back of my mind I knew something was going on behind the scenes about my medicine. This is an outgrowth of the HIPPA Laws which are meant to protect us and are often a pain in the butt.

I called the number back, knowing full-well that it could lead me to a scam. A young man responded, obviously in a call center and obviously in another country. “I want to speak to someone in the states.” He was very nice, he identified himself as being in the Philippines and instructed me to call the same number I had just called. Which I did, and ended up in the same loop. Another young man answered.

“Hello, this is Romeo, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“Hello, well this ain’t Juliet.”

He laughed, I didn’t. I explained my story, I told him that if were a scammer I would personally hunt him down. When I had called what I hoped was Medicare back I used an ID rather than a Social Security number which gave me a little more protection. I was transferred to another department and the woman was here in the states. I explained to her what had just happened and she did not see any record of anyone from Medicare trying to call me. This went on and on. I explained that this might be about the drug approval and in the end it was, but I can’t even recall all of the rest of the calls, the calls-back, to the pharmacy, the doctor, and each one was oblivious to the other. More hours on the phone.

The bottom line: it was resolved. The co-pay remained the same. The drug was delivered. I took it today and am hoping for the best.

And finally, the kitty. My Caramel, who was recovering from a huge surgery, who seemed to be improving, began to just, fade. She has been through a lot since December and goes through bouts of loss of appetite, what appears to the human eye as disorientation, spends most of the time sleeping, but that can be common for an older animal. It was time to return to the vet for the follow up blood test, her thyroid was hyperactive but now with the removal of one of the two glands and the cancerous cyst, it was hypoactive and could be accounting for this sluggishness and malaise.

The wonderful lady at the vet (Sue) got her to eat a soft formula used for post surgery. She had done this once before. The blood results came in and a new dose of thyroid meds were prescribed, now for hypothyroid. Caramel would eat a little if you fed her with a spoon and talked to her. Like a little child. I guess she needed to know all was well and would be OK on some kind of cat-level understanding.

I gave her the first pill which I am using until I can get a transdermal compounded by my special pharmacy. Cats hate pills and as teensy as the pill can be, they usually get spit out or flung!

She appears to be a bit more alert, she is hungry, will eat a little on her own. Since she came to the door so many yers ago, she has taught me many lessons, mainly patience, unconditional love, and perseverance. She, like my mother, doesn’t give up. This little animal has helped me make sense and rebalance the topsy-turvy layers of the cake that is my life.