Back Amongst the Insured

by

And already dying of cancer.

Wow.  That was fast.

That’s my brain, zero to insanity in nano seconds.

I just got off the phone with the advice nurse at Kaiser.  To whom I would not even have been speaking to except that Joan gave me crap about it today when we were hanging out.

Specifically crap about not taking care of myself.

I now have an appointment to see my primary care physician, whom I have not had the pleasure of working with in the last eight months of being un-insured.  I had been paying for my own health insurance out-of-pocket.  When I stopped being a nanny and took the pay cut to work at the bike shop I could not afford my own health insurance anymore.

I dropped it.

Recently the bike shop started offering health insurance.  I was just a week past the cut off date.  I wavered, I am going to be moving, I am going to need all the money I can possibly set aside, I should not splurge on such a silly thing.

Health insurance, who needs it?

Just rich people, right?

Well, that’s just signing up to live in fear.  I can not afford it.

I went and told my GM I would take it.

I can always cancel before I move to Paris, and despite wanting to have a few extra dollars saved up, I figured it was probably worth it.

I got my card in the mail today.  It was probably sitting in my mail box for a few days, but I just had not received it.  I pulled it out today and casually mentioned to Joan that I was having some issues with my eyes.

Nothing, big, you know, they have just been bothering me a little.

For like, a month.

“Oh my god, that’s not eye make up,” Joan said in response to my casual mention of my eye issue.

Ah, no, its not.  And I am horrified by my vanity. And grateful too, really, it was partially because I could not bear the idea of putting on eye make up today that finally led me to open my mouth up about it.

It is probably allergies.

It is just not something I know how to deal with and I feel like I am some how weak when I have an illness.  Like I can some how will myself better.

Crazy.

It was also vanity that led me to this place, I realized the other night when I got back from the motorcycle ride that I looked old.  Old as dirt.

The issue with my eyes makes me look old.  The skin is inflamed and peeling and cracking and when I wear make up it dries funny and I look like I have a land mine of wrinkles.

Ok, I know I am being a little sensitive about it, but it sucks. Being a vain woman, I am, I am.  I could not take it any more.

Shit, I was with a guy who is seven years younger and I looked fucking old.

Old as the hills.

Then a 27-year-old guy hit on me last night and when I washed my face last night the skin looked so dry and tender and old, I just about cried.  No man is going to want to make out with this old face.

Vanity, defect of character working over time for me.

Thanks God.

I could not bear the idea of putting eye make up on tonight.  I got invited to go out dancing and I said yes, then I realized I would not want to go out with a bare face, I’d want to get bedazzled, you know, saucy.

That was the last straw.

I called the advice nurse.

The first thing she said was, do you have any auto-immune issues?

Oh my god, I have AIDS.

Shaddup head.

Nope.

Hmm, you are really healthy it looks like.

Yes, yes, I am.

She asked if this had happened before and I said yes, as a matter of fact about a year ago (when I had a friend point it out and he said, he thought it was stress).  I mention this and the nurse says, after a pause to nicely phrase what she was going to say, “I see you have had some issues dealing with stress before.”

Ah, yeah, that’s a nice way to say total mental breakdown when I was diagnosed with clinical depression, clinical anxiety, acute PTSD, and ACA syndrome.

Stress, what’s that?

I am not stressed.

Wait.

Work.

Oh yeah.  I am stressed out.

Fuck.

OH, it’s not cancer, it’s work.

Good thing I am moving.

It’s probably not even work either, although, I don’t think it helps any.  I think it’s probably allergies.  Which I do have.  My symptoms have just always been so slight since I moved to San Francisco that I have pretty much ignored them.

My allergies in Wisconsin were over blown and horrid.  Itchy, scratchy, watery eyes, constant runny nose, sneezing all the time.  I am allergic to seven different kinds of deciduous trees–oaks, elms, maples, sugar maples, birch trees, red oak, and willows.

This is a tough row to hoe in the MidWest.

I experienced such a drastic drop off in my allergies when I moved to San Francisco, it has been rather like I haven’t got any.

But, I live on a street with a lot of trees.  I am wondering if as I am getting along in my age, not old, mind you, just aging, if I am becoming more allergic to my environment.

I don’t know what kind of trees line Folsom Street, but the trees are part of what I really like about this neighborhood.

Could I be allergic?

Probably a better diagnosis than cancer, thanks again over active imagination.

I will find out tomorrow at 11:20 a.m. Kaiser on Geary.

Fun times.

I hope my eyes go back to normal, I missed wearing eye make up today.

I made up for it, but buying a pair of ridiculous high heels.

I had to get some sexy on for Pete’s sake, me and my peeling eyelids.

Gah.

 

 

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