Sunday, October 30, 2016

"Nobody does it all on their own. Even Batman had a butler." 
Amy K. 

"Ann. Is your hair getting(big pause here)bigger?" 
Massage Co-worker

P was even a little annoyed that I hadn't yet called my State Senator's office but ugh, ya know? My people run for office. They don't ask for assistance. But one day, I ran out of excuses and hey, Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois were behaving like gigantic a-holes leaving me with no id card, no group number, and it was even starting to look like no policy at all. So incredibly not cool. 

What is a good plan in taking on a gigantic insurance company because I sure didn't have one and so I did my internal post-turning-50-and-thinking-I-knew-everything chanting that goes something like,"Stay open. Stay open. Stay open." and I got out of the car and we went in. 

We met a lovely woman, explained the situation and asked for help. She said she thought they could assist. She warned us that the process is not speedy but she took all this information and said she'd see what they could do. 

(The actual Senator-well, I never saw him, and what I learned is that being a State Senator in Illinois is a part-time job so he was probably off being a lawyer in private practice. Huh.) 

We also had a fine chat about events of the past 13 months or so and at the end she said, "You sound like you could use a bag of groceries." She gave me a referral to the Oak Park River Forest Food Pantry to see what I could find out. 

The Food Pantry lives in the church next to the Main Library where I get to work. It is the sorriest thing, but when I got the library gig, I prayed to the Gods of J.K. Rowling who also hit some low points on her way to Harry Potter and I thought it was Very Funny that the OP/RF Food Pantry was open only on the days I had to work. I took it as a Good Thing.

But I talked to my Library Supervisors of Maximum Fabulosity  and what I hoped, was that this one division of the Food Pantry people  that handle other stuff besides frozen chickens could help me with my insurance problems, and my Supervisors encouraged me to go over there. 

I still didn't wanna go. 
I mean like not even a little bit, but I ran over on my break time and I talked to a woman with thick red lipstick who told me the person I needed to speak to wasn't in yet but that I could wait in these green chairs. 

I waited 30 minutes. For nothing. 

The view to the left.

The view to the right. 

Oh and she'd noticed my library ID at this point and she said I was welcome to take all those old books in the hallway which I would totally do as soon as hell actually freezes over. 

I don't know who that mural lady is but she's so disappointed she can't even look at me. 
She also has absolutely no use for an old dusty copy of Lake Wobegon Days for God Sakes. 
You know who wants that? Nobody. 

Long story shorter: Blue Cross doesn't like it if you contact your local officials. In fact, if you file an actual complaint with the Department of Insurance, they'll cease to communicate with you but despite the fact that they snuck my $24.09 back into my checking account without my knowledge or any communication, it seems as if there might be some positive progress because for the first time in 29 days, they told me all of a sudden they had an ID number and a Group number for me. 

Imagine that. 

The Food Pantry people have been ridiculous. I've been told to return there at three different exact times and when I get there, this person I need to have contact with is nowhere to be found. (It's not far but I have other less glamorous things to do like hmmm I don't know, go back to work.) In fact, on Saturday when they told me to come over after work at 1:00 and because my Supervisor encouraged me to follow through on it(I totally did not want to go.)I got to this woman's office only to find it completely shuttered. 

My new opening line when I speak to these folks goes something like,"I hope this is no indication of how you treat people because this. is. crazy."


I'm on page 157 of Scott Hamilton's book called The Great Eight-How To Be Happy. He's had cancer three times, is very religious, and the book includes about 27 references to his receding hairline which bored the crap out of me. 

Bald dudes are hot. Duh.

Last night during the Cubs game, there was this thing called Stand Up To Cancer, so everybody in Wrigley Field seemed to be holding up a placard with a handwritten name or sweeping sentiment of names and the cameras went around and showed us how it seemed as if everyone's lives had been touched by cancer. (Some touched. Some demolished, right?)

I felt P's hand on my back. Pat, pat, pat. 



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