E-mail received today: "Welcome! You have been approved for coverage with an effective date of 9/1/2010; however, a Coverage Exclusion Rider(s) has been applied to your account. You will be receiving your policy kit shortly, which will include a description of the exclusion rider(s)." So now I wait on tenterhooks to find out which of my conditions Blue Cross is going to refuse to cover. Presumably any I might actually need treatment for someday. And I should probably not have any huge medical problems for the next couple of weeks either, until the arbitrary start-of-coverage date arrives.
Nice flush of anger to change things up a bit, emotionally.
Today's plan for getting me out of the house consisted of bringing two bags of packing peanuts and bubble wrap (booble wrap, that is) to a UPS store for recycling and then going to the library and reading C.S. Lewis's A Grief Observed, which I was unable to do, as I expected, without thinking of Debra Winger the entire time. Some very spot-on observations, well written, as concerns the actual lived experience of this sort of hell (other aspects, not so much relevant to me, as I also expected). I found myself smiling in recognition at the line "I do all the walking I can, for I'd be a fool to go to bed not tired." I was awake past 2 a.m. this morning, when I finally took some of those sleep tablets and went to bed and lay there crying and thinking of Jerry's last day and me climbing into that horrid hospice bed with him and holding him for the only time I'd been able to in weeks and talking to him about the day we met - the story I related in this blog yesterday, in fact - and singing him my one-woman rendition of 77t, as he lay there in my arms - asleep? Unconscious? Aware? I'll never know. And trying to tell him some version of "It's okay to let go," which the hospice people insisted it was important to do - to let him know I'd be okay without him, that he didn't have to keep fighting, but I couldn't do that, exactly - I couldn't tell him I'd be okay without him, because I couldn't then and can't now say that with any certainty - but I told him he could rest, that he'd completed the work he had to do and had done it all so, so well, he could rest now.
There is nothing about all of this that doesn't suck.
Woke up drowsy and foggy this morning to the sound of voices from outside - Steve the contractor and the gutter guy, presumably, who didn't show up yesterday - I didn't bother rushing myself into full consciousness enough to see what they were up to, since my presence wasn't necessary and they didn't need to get into the house.
I think my plan for tomorrow will be to do some cleaning. I'm reducing clutter in the basement, but the rest of the house is a little the worse for wear, and for lack of caring. Jerry and I were never the tidiest of housekeepers, but I think cleaning up a bit would be a good idea.
As the days tick down towards Friday's flight to Nashville, my first time through that airport without Jerry. (But first, I have to get to Midway by myself. Yikes.)
Personal to the big black spider up by the ceiling: your time in my house is drawing to a close. Just as soon as you come within my reach.
Glad you found something useful in C.S. Lewis' book. It was his journal, so written raw and from the heart, and was originally published anonymously. I'd hoped there would be something relevant in it for you.
ReplyDeleteI've heard that hearing is the last sense to go, so it's possible that Jerry heard you.
Please spare the spider. They're harmless, they're interesting, they mind their own business, and they eat the flies. If you don't want the spider in the house, why not get him/her in a cup, slip an envelope underneath, and take the spider outside? That's what I do, and it makes me happy to be kind even to the smallest creatures.
It is very difficult to gauge someone else's level of distress through a blog, but let me just raise the question of whether, if you really feel you don't want to drive to the airport, you have considered hiring a car service (I have no idea what the distances are). And if that's not feasible, you can try breaking the trip down into manageable parts, even so far as to focus only on driving the next 10 feet, if necessary. And you can also try trying to figure out what image you have of yourself as a driver and go with it (don't assume you have to drive in the same style your late husband did) -- for example, if you see yourself as what we used to call a "Sunday driver," settle into the right lane and don't worry about a few wrong turns or lengthy waits to make a difficult left turn. Finally, regardless of your belief or not in God, you can try asking for the universe's help in driving - just express from your heart that you want help with this and leave yourself open to receiving it. And if your anxiety about this is really not that great, then "Never mind."
ReplyDeleteAnother book I recommend is "How to Survive the Loss of a Love," by Melba Golgrove, Peter McWilliams and Harold Bloomfield. It's an old book from 1979 that's been updated as late as 1993, but its wisdom is timeless. I read it, thought it was good. Check it out if you are interested.
ReplyDeleteI can drive to the airport. I drive all the time. I just am not fond of city highway driving. But I've done this drive before - this will just be my first time doing it since Jerry died.
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