I'm in a Joni Mitchell kind of mood today. Well, for several days. First came Thanksgiving. Astounding. At one point, I realized nobody was listening to me, so I said out loud "I wonder how long I can keep on talking before anybody realizes I'm talking to myself," and nobody did. My brother got me all 3 seasons of Arrested Development for Chanukah. Um, no. If you knew me at or, or thought of what I might want, you could never make a blunder like that.
The rest of the week-end was quiet, but too short. I slept a lot, but that means I lost a lot of time. I'm so exhausted -- Friday Tired, like my book title -- that a three day week-end just isn't enough.
Then came yesterday. I won a disability appeal I've been working on for months. It was a very, very stressful appeal because I've gotten to know and care about the patient, and I really thought there was a chance we'd lose. But we won. Haven't heard from the patient, but her husband's first reaction was to thank the doctors -- oops -- and me, of course. No, there is no of course. He was very gracious later, but the celebration that should have happened didn't.
And then I got a letter from my insurance company. They're no longer covering one of the two meds that keeps my gastroparesis in check. If I lose this med, I start vomiting, there may be no way to keep fluids in me, and without food or fluid, you die. That's when they will ask me to accept a feeding tube and I will decline. I know too much and have seen too much to put myself through that.
I called a lawyer I know who works for my insurance company and he's looking into it. I called the guy I hired to replace me at the Attorney General's office. He'll weigh in if we don't have an answer by this afternoon. I found a lot of Canadian websites where this drug is somewhat less expensive, but not cheap enough to afford on an ongoing basis. So here it is, this week's crisis. And I did nothing but sit here minding my own business, paying $800 a month for my health insurance, and doing my best to help other people solve their health-related problems.
Still, I can't get Joni Mitchell out of my head. Quoting:
It's comin' on Christmas.
They're cuttin' down trees.
They're putting up raindeer
And singin' songs of joy and peace.
I wish I had a river I could skate away on.
That's where I'm at. I "wish I had a river I could skate away on." I don't want to die -- I just want to hide. I want me and Emily and my house. I don't want to talk to anybody. I don't have anything left to give. I just want to skate away and not be noticed. Not die -- just escape to a place where the pain stops, and never stop to look back. Jennifer