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Patience above! It has been a roller coaster of emotions this week. My situation changes from day to day nowadays. Spo-fans know I’ve been scrambling to find a remedy to having missed the deadline for signing up for insurance. I’ve been working with The Insurance Broker, a fine fellow well over four feet, who managed to find some ala “Obamacare”. I went from despair to relief and hope. It will be expensive but far less than paying out of pocket monthly for our meds. The deadline to apply is 15 January. I’m on the last leg of the application process, when I get an email from The House Manager, telling me The Boss talked to her boss at The Overlords – and it is fixed; I only have to go to the website and sign up. I was struck speechless by this thunderbolt. Someone and I did so right away. Funny how emotions work. I should feel elated but instead I feel dubious along the line ‘is this legit?” I am in the strange and ironic predicament of going from NO insurance to TWO insurances. Today I talk to The Insurance Broker as to what to do. I think I am still going to apply for Obamacare as I don’t entirely trust my work insurance. My Boss – whose been very supportive and advocational on my behalf – gave me her boss’ email to ascertain I am insured.

Someone is Usher-Captain at the symphony this evening, and I have a ticket to go. I plan on attending the concert wrapped as if I were attending a plutonium distillery. Normally we go out to Hanny’s afterwards. Two days ago, we figured we shouldn’t anymore given our dire expenses situation. With recent happy news, we decided we ought to go as a sort of celebration, but now with Covid we are back to not going.

By avoiding Aviations after the concert, it is better for The Austere Diet. I was 78 kilos on 1 January. Thanks to abjuration of sugar and booze, and a daily diet of stress, I am down to 76 kilos. I see The Good Doctor next month to check if my labs improved. The irony of obtaining insurance is TGD may not be covered by it. It would be awful to have to change physicians after 15 years.

One more random thought: I have lost my key to the PHX office, a white plastic white card I apply to the magnet-like device on the front door to let me into the building. I have to wait outside to main entrance door, like King Henry IV, waiting for Gregory’s pardon, for some trusting soul to let me in. I fear The House Manager will snap a tether with this one, after the insurance fiasco.

This sh-t never ends. But on a happy note, it works out somehow. I can sleep better this weekend – provided I don’t contract covid at the concert. It’s Shostakovich, so it’s worth it.

Let’s end on a happy tale, that really happened:

“Have you gained or lost any weight since your last appointment?” I asked a patient on a zoom meeting on Thursday.

“I don’t know,” he replied, “I don’t have a scale”.

Do your pants feel tighter than usual?” I inquired.

“I’m not wearing pants” he replied.

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