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Should I Be Concerned if My Daughter Only Wears Black?

Sometimes the answer is “yes,” which explains why the question was one of one hundred distributed by HR.

The answer is often “no” if said-daughter lives in NYC and has a tiny closet.

Other achingly specific questions in the brochure:
“Where can I donate all my parents furnishings? They’re too good to throw away.”
“How can I help my son interact with his autistic cousin?”
“How do I start a book club?”
“I need to find a veterinarian oncologist. Can you help me find one?”
“I need help finding elder care for my mother who lives on the west coast.”
“How do I choose a mover?”
“I’m pregnant. How can I find a midwife?”
“I have to produce 100 questions for a self-care brochure. That is a lot of questions. Should I talk about auditioning for community theatre?”
“I need information about dealing with a moody teenager.”

Okay, the second-to-last one is fake.

Celebrate like it’s a day ending in -day

Now that I’ve been balanced for awhile, and spring is summer, and I can taste food, I accept more dinner invitations than usual.

When I’m out, I forget that Tuesdays turn invariably into Wednesdays, and that every other Wednesday I have a 7.45am psych appointment. And it’s usually at about 10pm that I remember.

There’s always something going on in NYC, and a lot of family and friends here. But – whoops. Time to head home.

Foul Mood After Calling Health Insurance Companies

I’m sure it is frustrating for the customer service reps who answer insurance claims questions.

It is also really frustrating to be the one calling. Why on earth can’t they show the progress of my claims on the website? Because it’s “confidential” and “sensitive” information. Yet every time I open the pages of my health insurance websites there are articles designed specifically for my health conditions.

I sometimes feel as though I’m showing signs of paranoia when I call the insurance companies. But it’s all real. And it puts me in a foul mood.

That Time of Night

It’s that time of night again. Go to sleep, or watch another episode of Studio 60?

Freakin’ Lemons!

Forget the nonsense about taking life’s lemons and making lemonade. Here’s what really happens:

Life throws some lemons at me, and I’m all like, “Ugh. Lemons.” Sometimes, I’m more specific: “Drat these lemons. I’m so over these lemons. Same damn lemons, over and over.”

Then, life throws more lemons. Usually, these lemons are a direct hit, and they are a bit surprising. Not the same old stuff. Then, I’m like, “Jeez. I didn’t see that one coming. Ouch! That hurt! Left field, seriously – out of left field!

So I look around, and I see the new lemons and the old lemons. And I forget that they are lemons-things-I’m-not-pleased-about, and see them as Lemons, Just Lemons. And I think,”Oh. Maybe I can make a meringue. Or lemonade. Lemonade is good.”

That’s it. True story. The end.

Aspirational Magazines: Golf at the Cardiologist

Golf and Sports Illustrated magazines dominate at the cardiologists’ office. I think it is a blatant case of Aspirational Magazine-ing.

Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Patient!

It sounds like a game for late nights during hospital rounds.

Three of my doctors were in residence/starting out at the same time at the same hospital back in the day. When my GP retired, my psychiatrist referred me to a new one. Then, my GP sent me to a specialist, who looks a lot like the other two, is around the same age — When they send test results along they chuckle and say “you know, we knew each other when…” …every time.

One’s jolly, one furrows his brows and says an extended “welllllllll….” while he puzzles over something, and the last is right in between, thorough and calm in his black t-shirt and jeans. As I shuttle between them I know that I’m a sort of human tesseract, rubber banding them back to long green corridors, lots of humanity, and not enough sleep. I fell like I’m kind of a member of the club – these three doctors who have the one patient in common.

It’s helpful to me and my health when my doctors take the time to consult one another, since medication and separate conditions can get so tangled. I’m on less medication because they talk. And I get to laugh when they use nicknames, calling each other on their cell phones during an office appointment. I’m their shortcut, their Wrinkle in Time ant.

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This Is Universal

I write a lot about “this is bipolar.”

Being tired and wanting a break mid-day at the end of the work week is universal. Bleh.

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