I’m usually healthy, but I had a recent scare that sent me to the emergency room. I called first to the 24/7 nurse line, which sent me to an urgent care center, which told me to limp over to the hospital across the street. Everything was out of network despite my attempts to obey the rules. It all seemed rather silly, however I didn’t want to drop dead and it was good practice for my consulting business. I eventually wound up with a diagnosis of osteoarthritis/spinal disc compression, which is exactly what my father has, down to the same discs. He smiled when I later told him in person and said “welcome to the club!” What a lovely bonding experience. The charges for the care: $2570. What I will pay: $145 – hopefully. I’m gearing up for a fight with the insurance company. I’m on Medicaid right now, a plan in which many folks use the ER as a drop-in clinic, so I might be successful.
I’ll be adding physical therapy, yoga, Advil and more pinot grigio to my routine. I’m volunteering a lot of hours at the local senior center, and I’m feeling older and older. Perhaps aging is transmissible, like flu? Maybe I should work at a pre-school to even things out.
Since I’m a hippie at heart, I wore tie-died leggings to happy hour at Dad’s retirement village. Many of the ladies admired my colorful look, although some were concerned that I had gotten full body tattoos. The best comment was from 100-year old Ida, who said “oh, are those tights? I thought you were developing varicose veins.”
It’s a constant treat to have unfiltered feedback from centenarians.
