I hope you like the new avatar. It’s a composite of a real photo of my legs, plus some catalog photos from an archery supply website. Those are my actual legs, and that is an actual tattoo on the right one, which I got a few weeks ago so that the only tattoos on my body would not be the ones I got for radiation. The red, peep-toe high heels I bought the last time I saw my breast surgeon. That took place a few weeks after I fell on some ice at work and got a concussion, and a week after I had gotten my first six-month post-slash-‘n’-burn mammogram, which I was told at the time was okay, but turned out much later not to be. That is a genuine recurve archery bow and a real leather quiver holding a bunch of actual fletched arrows, but they don’t, alas, belong to me. I’ve often thought I would enjoy archery, and I looked into it a few years ago. But it was nearly impossible to find a place around here to learn how to do it. Now that I’m more amazonian, I may look into it again.
I don’t remember who I’ve told what to anymore. But I know I posted here about my adventures with my six-month post-slash-‘n’-burn mammogram, which turned into two mammograms. One of the reading radiologists was “concerned” about it, and the other one felt that I needed another mamm immediately because of some “residual calcifications,” but apparently neither one of them was concerned enough to tell me. I didn’t know that there was anything suspicious till several weeks later, and only because I called my surgeon’s office to ascertain what the final written report actually said. That’s when I found out that she never got the report, and when her assistant tracked it down, I discovered I was supposed to have had a second, diagnostic mamm “immediately.”
Long story longer, the morning I went to get the results of my diagnostic mammogram and meet with my new medical oncologist, my new car was hit by another car that had been hit by third car, while I was stopped at a cross street, minding my own business, waiting to take a turn. This was five minutes from my house. Honestly, you can’t make this stuff up. As soon as I established that we were all breathing, that no one was bleeding, and exchanged info with the other two drivers, I rushed from the scene. There was no way in perdition that I was going to sit there and wait for the police and be late for my appointment to find out whether or not I had more breast cancer. Wild horses, chocolate ganache cake, hot sex with George Clooney, a million bucks, none of that would have prevented me from getting to that appointment on time. Well, maybe I’d have been willing to suck face with George for a minute and get his phone number for later. Hmmm. Okay, I’d have been out-and-out late for a million bucks. But otherwise……
So then, it turned out that the driver who caused the accident — by missing a stop sign at an incredibly stupid three-way intersection where the car that has the right of way comes barreling around a blind turn, usually too fast, and usually taking a left turn — had unwittingly allowed her car insurance to lapse. Okay. I’m covered for that. Oh, and did I mention that the other two cars both belonged to out-of-state drivers? In any case, I had to play phone tag with insurance processors for weeks in order to move forward with the claim. In the first place, my claims guy couldn’t seem to grasp the concept of answering a direct question from me, left in a voice mail to him, by leaving a direct answer in a voice mail to me. Oh, no. That would be too convenient. No, no, every message he left included the same pointless statement: “I got your message, please call me back at the office.” This forced me to call him again and again and leave yet another voice mail that would yield no useful response. Finally, I called the regular claims department, got his boss and complained. Loudly. When I finally did talk to him, he kept telling me what I had to do, whom I should call, etcetera and so forth, until I began to wonder what he in fact did all day and why I was paying my premiums to pay him to do it. The other claims dude (I just mistakenly typed ‘dud’ — hah, hah, hah — he was a dud!) for the company that insured the car that hit mine after it was hit by the lady who went through the stop sign (I should post a diagram…) was a real charmer. His response to my questions was, “Excuse me, ma’am, but I don’t understand why you’re calling our insurance company.” If I could have reached through the phone to choke him, I would have. “Because your driver’s car,” I said, “which was hit by an uninsured driver, which is insured by your insurance company, smashed into my car.” Dipshit, thought I. “Well, you have to call the uninsured driver and fight it out with her,” said he. Apparently, in some states, insurance companies don’t have to provide actual coverage unless they feel like it.
Well, at long last, finally I dropped my car off the other day at the body shop to get the front bumper fixed. As I was walking to the parking lot to pick up my rental car, I walked past my car and noticed that someone had hit the rear bumper, evidently some time in the last 24 hours. At least I was already in the right place to get it fixed. Naturally, I had to file another collision claim, but this one went a lot faster. It seems that if you know exactly how your car got damaged, it takes forever to get your claim settled, but if you have no idea what the heck happened because some schmuck in a parking lot smacked into your car while you were picking up your dry cleaning, your claim gets processed immediately. There’s a lesson in this. Lie, that’s the lesson.
I drove the rental car to meet my girlfriend for lunch. When I parked the car and went to lock it, the stupid keyless entry thing didn’t work. After lunch, I went to Radio Shack, changed the battery, and got it to work, but only on the trunk & horn switches. I still couldn’t lock or unlock the car. So for the next two days I had to drag everything with me (laptop, workbag, cell phone, stethoscope, pocketbook, etc.,etc.) in and out of the damn car into every patient’s house I visited for work until Friday, when I had to go back up to car place and get a new keyless entry thingy. Cripes. Plus, it has rained almost solidly every day for weeks now in southern New England, and we have a flood watch in effect tonight & tomorrow, so really I should have just rented a boat and sailed down Narragansett Bay to get home. I hear they’ll be building an ark on the Providence River any day now. Or I could just swim.
Other than that, life is great!!
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