I'm on a roll, it seems, with lousy news. Not awful news, just not great news and I'd like to call a truce with the Universe and all that keeps dropping unpleasant baggage at my door step.
It started with a letter of rejection from Prudential Insurance. After literally a mountain of forms and paperwork, and two months of phone calls, I was rejected for long-term health care insurance-- You know, the kind of hideously expensive insurance I would voluntarily pay for in case I might nursing care in your "old age".
Rejection smacked me right between the eyes.
My beef is that Prudential has a long list and tells you up front that if you have any of the many diseases listed you should not even bother to apply. Lupus, which I've had since 1994, was not on the list. But in the end, it really was, and, in my opinion, they just didn't want to be upfront about it-- instead preferring to have me jump through hoops only to get the boot.
To make matters worse, since I Googled "long-term care insurance" for research, I've received more useless insurance SPAM than I can shake a stick at. In a word-- Grrrr!
Then, adding to my list of health issues, I suddenly have crazy bad feet with crazy bad toes that I just found out are a hiccup away from breaking.
My feet hurt, a lot. And they have for several weeks-- Not counting all the years I wore way too high heels through my 20s, 30s and 40s. My feet ached then too but I was "young", and somehow traipsing up and down the streets of Los Angeles and Manhattan in 4" heels didn't seem to bother me.
But now they do-- bother me-- and I've finally surrendered, albeit it kicking and screaming.
So on my 54th birthday, my least favorite day of the year, I walked into a "sensible shoe" shoe store and bought a pair of ugly shoes.
And I say this with NO disrespect to any one, any where, that gladly wears these shoes.
It just that I am a lover of pretty shoes-- They are my weakness. Oh. My. Gawd! I love a good pair of high heels and believe, without question, that they can turn a bad day into "sunshine and butterflies"-- a "fat day" in to "tall and thin", and a feeling of "older than dirt" into "not bad-- not bad at all". Wink, wink.
Does this picture make me look fat?
I know, vanity. Guilty as charged.
So I now have a pair of really sensible, ugly, beige shoes. And I cried all the way home from the store, even though they feel like I'm walking on a cloud and my feet don't hurt nearly as much.
Then I came home to a big stack of mail, including a letter from our primary physician-- the one that my husband and I LOVE and have seen since forever-- The letter advised that Dr. Wonderful is no longer a Blue Cross provider which means he doesn't take our medical insurance anymore-- The medical insurance that costs us as much as a house payment each month to maintain.
That bit of news literally took my breath away because it means we'll need to find a new doctor that takes or insurance. Insert tear drops on my laptop here...
And then, as if the week wasn't crazy enough, I was driving down the street and I swear as I'm standing here, I saw a homeless man wearing my red panties on his head like a showercap.
I nearly wrecked the car when I saw him.
It's the neighborhood homeless guy who always hangs out at McDonald's. He "knows" me because I eat way too much of that crap and I always buy him a cheeseburger and coffee in the drive through. Without fail, he has a smile and a "God bless you." whenever I see him.
And now I see him in my undies.
I would like to think the the panty-wearing homeless guy was the exclamation point at the end of my list of not great new for the week. At least a girl can hope.
How's your week going?
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins
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