Tonight, my dander is up, my soapboxes are in the sunroom, and the hatches are well battened. Henry thinks my ire could get no higher but, then again, he’s never been privy to my dark side. I think his perspective is only that of a cat’s. He notices only the amount of food in the dish or Fresh litter in the box. While I may be seething and spitting (perhaps nails, I’m not yet certain), he sleeps blissfully nearby. All the cats I have ever encountered are oblivious to the world around them, except for the fact that they rule it.
So here I sit on this Monday night, on the eve of my bi-weekly appointment with my UNC cardiologist, Dr. Rose. Oddly, my Raleigh cardiologist is a different and unrelated Dr. Rose. Jon and I will deliver good news to her. My Medicaid has finally been recertified after a nightmarish ten weeks of endless phone calls ands emails. Don’t even inquire, my friends. The blackening cloud that is Wake County has finally lifted. I am back on the sunny transplant list. And I can finally refill each of my dozen prescriptions.
For an unexplainable reason, the benefits determination folks don’t seem to understand the serious nature of my illness. I finally had to, in unbridled exasperation, blurt: “What if I died on your watch? Would my card be renewed afterwards?” Of course, I felt remorse, but not enough to apologize.
Gadzooks. I have typed three paragraphs with no mention of the US Senate race here. It’s predicted to be the most expensive in US history, the equivalent of handing over a five dollar bill to every citizen in this state. Tonight as I watched television, I counted at least 17 commercials. Nasty, negative commercials. At least, they are far from the nadir of the 2008 Dole-Hagan race. My hate/love relations with politics consumes my evenings: I can “never” just forget about it!
If you’re a hardcore rightwing person, please do not call me until after October 4th. My heart could not withstand a passionate debate and reluctant rile. I jest not, Beau.
So many people I know are either struggling financially or in poor health. For most of us, life has become a war of sorts. It has strengthened our awareness and sensitivities. Will we ever galvanize?
I must now retire for the day. Tomorrow is a mission and destination day. By nightfall, however, I shall have my Lipitor, Zoloft, and coffee ice cream. Life will for then finally appear to be rosy.
Until the next skirmish, I remain your humble correspondent.
(Images: “La Guerre des Pétales” by Blik, FR.)