LIFE IS SO MUCH BETTER...NOT!!!

          

 Honestly, wasn’t life a lot simpler when there were fewer devices for us to use in our daily lives. I’m sure some might disagree with me, but after the last couple of weeks, I’d be happy to return to bank accounts that use only paper, mail you a statement each month and have several simple credit cards for a variety of usages. This is due, of course, to my having fraud perpetrated on not one, but two of my credit cards…the ones I use most often of course.

          I know my eyesight is getting bad compared to where it was a year or so ago. I also know that it will be better next year once they “harvest” the cataracts on my eyes. Meanwhile, why does every single company with whom I interact in some fashion have to provide me with statements in teeny-tiny print. And, okay, I’m the one printing them out and there’s probably a way to change the font, but why should I have to do that.

          All this complaining is to confess that I looked at my last statements from the credit cards that were cancelled and reissued to make sure I went online and updated all the automatic payments so the charges would go to one of the new credit cards. Well, my eyesight failed me.

          First, I received an email from my health provider that the charge for October hadn’t gone through. I tried to rectify that by using the link that email provided. It was a site I didn’t believe I’d ever been to before. There were login boxes, but nothing I put in those boxes worked. There was also an area where I could register for a new account, but none of the information I provided there worked either.

          So, I just finished talking to my health provider’s office. Once the person there understood what I was talking about, she in turn passed me on to the company that does the charging for the coverage. This was another ten minutes (or more) spent waiting for the person there to check on whether or not I did have an account. Well, damn me, if I didn’t, but I certainly didn’t have any login information or even a memory of signing up for the account. All this time, I thought my health provider made those arrangements.

          So, back online with the correct sign-in information and “temporary” pass word, I was able to get into the account create a new password and provide the new credit card information. I think back to those dark ages when I’d simply go to the bank and have someone help me with a minimum dispensation of my time.

          But I wasn’t quite done. Netflix was also on that cancelled credit card. This change was quite easy, however. I just signed in, was greeted with a choice of retry the current card or provide a new card. This took me maybe two minutes.

          And, yes, I know, this was all my own fault because I didn’t check out the companies who actually perpetrated the frauds. But again, back in the dark ages, it wouldn’t have been possible for those companies to commit the fraud because by the time I looked at all the “paper” provided, I would have known to put it in the shredder…oh wait, we didn’t have shredders then because we simply threw all that stuff into the garbage.

          So, yes, life is so much simpler and better now…don’t you agree???

FIRST ANNOYANCE OF THE DAY

          

 To say I’m just a bit annoyed would be like saying the ocean is wet. My doctor put me on Jardiance because I have diabetes and take no other medication for this malady. Since this is a “new” medicine, I have to pay out of pocket and it’s a little over $100 for a three-month supply. That’s okay and I can afford it although I’m not yet sure this medication is doing much of anything about my A1C levels, but I’ll be having a blood test this week and find out.

          What I find most annoying is the fact that the prescription doesn’t call for me to take a 25 milligram table. No, the prescription says I should take only 12.5 milligrams per day. What does that mean?  It means that I have to CUT each and every one of those tablets in half. Why the company cannot produce 12.5 milligram tablets is beyond me…probably too expensive and the pharmaceutical company is far too POOR to allow for this production.

          The tablet cutter is designed to cut anything from a small to a large pill. This means I have to line up the pill so there is a fair chance it is cut in half evenly. FAT CHANCE!!! No matter how hard I try to position that fucking pill, it rarely is cut evenly. And, do you have any idea how long it takes to halve ninety pills…way too long.

          But, now that I’ve expressed my huge annoyance through my fingers, it’s time to get up out of this chair and attempt to get on with my day. And, at least it will be another 180 days before I have to be annoyed by this process once again. Hmmm, wonder if this annoyance raises my blood pressure? I’m sure there’s a pill for that too. Would it need to be halved as well?

          Time to take several DEEP BREATHS and get on with the day.

LOOKING BACK

           

Perhaps because of the most recent blog post, I’ve been looking back over my life. I remember how my grandma would tell me the same tales over and over when she became older. It wasn’t as if she remembered she’d already told me that story numerous times, but with each telling, it seemed to me that she believed she was telling it for the first time. I wonder if that will happen to me?

          I think maybe one of the reasons Grandma repeated herself was because she was lonely. I don’t remember what her life was like in California or if I even knew. I do know that when she had to move back to Seattle, my parents found her an apartment in low-income elderly housing. It was just across the valley from my house, but about five or more miles to where my parents lived.

          My mom didn’t drive, so it wasn’t like she could visit often. She and daddy did go once a week and take Grandma grocery shopping. Sometimes that trip was combined with a doctor’s appointment, and maybe even lunch out. I was busy being a mother, wife and working outside the home most of the time. Still, looking back now that I’m the age Grandma was when she died, I could have certainly made more of an effort to make her a larger part of my life. True, I always subbed for my parents and always included Grandma when we held family events. Still, Grandma must have been fairly lonely.

    Grandma did make friends with some of the folks in her building. I also believe she participated in some of the various activities that were available. Unlike Grandma, I’m mobile and don’t need to depend on anyone to take me places. I’m still driving and can get there on my own. I also have a fair number of friends with whom I can do things and go places. Many times, these events result in a new experience which I can discuss when talking to my own kids and grandkids.

          So far I don’t think I’m repeating myself too often. If I am, I certainly hope my friends, kids and grandkids would be kind (or would that be mean) enough to tell me they’ve heard that story before. And, when I reference mean, I always felt if I told Grandma she’d already told me that story, I’d be rude and mean.

Of course, now, forty-five years later, I’d love to hear her voice on the other end of the phone. It would be such a genuine pleasure to sit back and listen to Grandma share her memories with me…wonder if at some point in time, my own grandkids will wish they could hear my voice telling stories once again?

FOURTEEN YEARS

         

Toward the end of last week, I had my annual review with my investment counselor. I’m pleased to say that judging by the plan and expectations of same, I should die with money left in my account. That made me feel happy and secure; however, there was another realization that accompanied the review and which I hadn’t realized (or had chosen to ignore) prior to this. It’s left me feeling…well, I’m not sure how I feel.

          You see, I’ll be eighty this coming November and my investment plan is projected for me to live to the age of ninety-four. It’s always been projected to that age and I’ve never really given it much thought. Unfortunately, I somehow noticed this time, the age of ninety-four will arrive in ONLY fourteen years…yes, fourteen (14) years. It’s simply amazing to think that there is so little time left.

Of course, it doesn’t mean that I’ll automatically die at the age of ninety-four or that I’ll run out of money. There’s the chance I could live well beyond ninety-four. There’s also the chance something disastrous could happen prior to ninety-four that would end my life earlier. Even worse to consider is that something even more disastrous could happen, i.e., a significant change in my health that would require being institutionalized and which would suck up all the money I now or will ever have. Neither of these options (as if I get to choose) reassure me; if anything, both ideas leave me feeling a bit scared and forlorn.

I spent yesterday with my best friend and talked about how I ONLY have fourteen years left. Fortunately for me she is an extremely positive person and said all the right things to assure me that I didn’t need to worry about only having fourteen years. Eventually, our discussion led to lots of laughter and silly talk. It was sort of like that old game we used to play where we would say something which had to be followed by a set phrase, i.e., “I need to take a trip to the moon because ‘I only have fourteen years left’.” I needed that and will continue to need it for the next fourteen years…and hopefully, far beyond. I mean, really, I only have fourteen years left.