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Life Insurance Test Results…

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After 4 weeks, we finally received the results of our medical exams for the life insurance policy application.

Here’s a helpful note:

Don’t make fun of your husband’s test results until you get yours. The joy I got from poking fun at his cholesterol count lasted precisely 26 hours – until my results arrived in the mail…

My total cholesterol count was 2 points higher.

The look of sheer joy that crossed his face when he saw my number can’t be adequately expressed.

The good news? We are both in good health and I can finally stop stressing about my imaginary health problems.


It’s Life Insurance Test Day!

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After deciding to take out life insurance, I spent some time searching for a good inexpensive policy. I finally found one and set up the required physical exam.

I was terrified to get the exam for several reasons:

1. Thanks to my foot injury, I haven’t been running in weeks and I swear my muscle tone is decomposing by the hour.
2. In an effort to avoid high readings in cholesterol, I was to avoid Mexican food, sushi, and beer. Perhaps this would have been easier had I not lived near the ocean just north of the Mexican border. No Mexican food or sushi? That’s like asking a San Diegan not to eat.
3. They advised me to get a good night’s rest the night before the exam. Hmm. This may have been easier had there not been a 5.7 earthquake at 9:30pm last night followed by aftershocks until 2:00am.
4. I have a completely irrational fear of needles.

Upon arrival, I started shaking and sweating. The examiner asked me twice to please stop shaking, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to get the needle inserted in one shot.

I thought, ‘Yeah, because the shaking is voluntary.’

Halfway through the draw, he looked at me and asked, “Are you OK? You look extremely pale…well… more pale than you already were.”

Gee, you’re full of compliments today aren’t ya?

He finished the draw and by then, the room was spinning…and I passed out.

Yup folks, that’s me. 30 years old and I still act like a 5 year old around needles.

I’m glad it’s over.


Grandma Shoe Investment…

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If you read yesterday’s post, you know I’m ‘grandma shoe’ bound while my foot heals from a tendon injury.

I tried to remember the last time I owned a pair of flats and I think I can pinpoint it to 16 years ago. My mom let my wear my first set of heels at 14. Sure, they were only an inch or two high, but it was the beginning of a love affair.

This morning, after I safety pinned my pant legs up 5 inches, I headed to work. As I walked from the train to my office, I missed the loud click clack of my high heels but…

Holy cow…

Since when is it possible for shoes to feel like this? Each step felt like a hug from a plush pillow! I was ready to write a sonnet about my love for the new shoes! Why has this amazing secret been kept for so long!?!?!

I’m trying to be optimistic about my injury. I’m disappointed at the financial setback (even though it isn’t huge) and the pain is, at times, nearly unbearable but hey, the injury probably kept me from being the only 70 year old sporting stilettos.


Another Trip to the Hospital…

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I’m not recovering from being sick as quickly as I need to be. My doctor called me last week to check in and asked how things were going – then asked me to come in.

Without getting into specifics, I’m having problems with my lungs and there is permanent damage. I would ignore the problem but since breathing is somewhat important to survival, I have to take care of it. I informed my husband that the side effects from the medications were pretty serious including shaking, high anxiety, excessive hunger, moodiness, and inability to sleep. He responded, ‘How is that different from normal?’

I told him that if his body should mysteriously go missing, no female judge in the world would convict me.

This has blown a bit of a hole in our budget. The medications and co-payments have been expensive.

But there is good news! My doctor thinks my problems may ease over the summer months. Cheers to summer! It can’t get here fast enough can it?


A trip to the emergency room… without insurance.

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I was CERTAIN my husband would be healthy and accident free until he received healthcare from his employer. He started work in mid-January and was promised coverage by February 1st. I was finally starting to feel at ease about his healthcare issue.

When my husband called me from work on Friday to let me know he had injured his eye and needed urgent care he mentioned…he had no healthcare coverage.

His employer had failed to send the application.

We panicked. Goodbye tax refund. Possibly goodbye house…goodbye car… goodbye right arm.

Thanks to some quick thinking on my husband’s part, his was rerouted to the hospital at his school rather than to the local emergency room.

A few hours later he was bandaged, drugged, and… bill free. Because he is an active student, he is given certain medical care for free. Whew!

For those of you who attend, or have children who attend, large universities, consider researching the medical options available. It could save you a bundle.


In Sickness and In Health…

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I jinxed myself.

I made the mistake of saying I’d rather be sick this weekend than pour concrete. Not only am I miserably sick, they cancelled pouring concrete because it’s raining.

I’ve been in bed since Thursday afternoon and it’s incredibly painful to speak. I can’t even moan in pain because that hurts too.

My husband has been on his knees praying for the last two days. At first I thought he was being sweet but based on his hidden snickers, I don’t think he’s praying for my recovery… I think he’s thanking God for the silence.

As an added bonus to him, I couldn’t go out on Black Friday – the deadliest financial holiday of the year. The store I buy my work clothes from had everything marked at 50% off.

I’m miserable but my husband is happy.


Germ Avoidance…

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I’m officially ‘that person’.

‘That person’ who crazily walks around with tissues to open doors and leaves a shower of Lysol in her wake.

Before you harass me about my germaphobic ways, remember I work with the general public. San Diegans are passing around the Swine Flu like a delicious piece of gossip.

I wouldn’t be quite so crazy but Thanksgiving is next week. If I have to spend my four days off in the hospital, I’d rather it be from a gnarly fall off a mountain face that bested me than from a virus that originated in an animal I don’t particularly like – even when served for a Christmas meal.

Plus, as the year ends, we’re all getting low on personal hours and no one can afford a day off. My co-workers spray the sick folks with Lysol like they’d spray a thug with mace. If someone collapses, we call poison control and haz-mat – not 911.

I sneezed this morning and my co-worker nonchalantly hummed Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’ while spraying me with an anti-bacterial aerosol like she was disinfecting her toilet. I probably wouldn’t have minded but… all that mist makes my hair frizz.

I need to stay healthy. I need to stay working. I don’t care if I look silly.

It’s a dog eat dog world during flu season.