… and I’ve sure been doing a lot of ‘feeling’ lately. Feeling Jim’s absence here in our home as the days, weeks, months pass. Feeling my age … in my brain and in my body. I just don’t have the energy to “people” – to put on that happy face for others. I have a deep need to isolate myself here in my home. Just me and Sheila.

And that’s easy enough for me to do here – but in the midst of these feelings I had to deal with some not so good customer service people. Two hours. Multiple phone calls and conversations … most ending in tears.

I booked my flight to Calgary for Camp Widow in September. I’ve flown WestJet before so I added my ‘rewards’ number to the booking and figured I was all set. But when I printed out the itinerary I saw my name was wrong. It apparently reverted to what was on my rewards account … before I married Jim and changed my name. So the ticket did not match my passport. Ugh. I tried to change it online. Nope. I tried to do an online AI ‘chat with an agent’. Nope. So I called. Twenty frustrating minutes later, the ticket and my rewards account were corrected.

Then I got a call from the billing person for my gynecologist. Their billing was refused by Medicare, saying it needed to go to UMR first. I had to ask what UMR was and found it’s United Health. I have never had that insurance. Ever. I have TriCare for Life as my secondary.  So she said I’d need to call Medicare and have them correct the Coordination of Benefits. She was helpful. Sounded easy enough.

But no. Of course it was not.

Medicare said I had to call UMR to have them cancel. I reminded them I DID NOT EVER have an account with UMR so how could they cancel something that never existed. The rep repeated multiple times that he could not help me and that UMR had to do it. I hung up on him. And let the tears flow.

So I did call UMR and – as expected – they could not do anything to help. One rep said she’d check something out and I thought put me on hold. Nope – it rang back to the main number I had just called. Had to explain everything once again and, as expected, they could not help me.

That’s when the floodgates opened.

The original billing person did call me back to see if it was done so she could send the billing back through. I think she probably wishes she had not called.

So I decided to do nothing for now. I know … that’s not the smart thing to do but I just can’t deal with it all right now and I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to fix this. Like Scarlett, “I’ll think about that tomorrow”. And prepare myself for the incoming bills from the doctors who aren’t getting payments.

But then I realized … it’s May.

 

This first week of May brings back those memories from 2006 (how can it be twenty years?)

– Vern’s multiple myeloma diagnosis and immediate hospitalization

– Surgery to remove the tumor on his spinal cord

– Unexpected bleed out, given wrong blood, cardiac arrest

– And May of last year was when Jim’s health took a huge turn for the worse

 

Yeah – that explains why these emotions have taken hold. And I need to respect them. Embrace them.

I don’t think I’ll have any trouble with that.

Heck – I started weeping watching the female trainer’s reaction when her horse won the Kentucky Derby.

I did take some time to read my Caring Bridge posts from that time. I’m so very grateful for that website; it was my ‘go-to’ during those hard 4+ cancer years. And I appreciate being able to go back and read parts of it from time to time.

But I can also recall the details of every single moment that was not written:

The phone call from his primary doc saying “you’ve got a tumor on your spine”.

Waiting in that first office for the doctor to explain the diagnosis.

Pulling into a quiet cul-de-sac to just sit and hold hands before we went to the hospital.

The body just knows.