I was notified via a little handwritten note attached to a form I requested from my former school district (Dante's Inferno level 14) that my COBRA health coverage runs out as of March 31. Nothing like a little warning here. The really annoying part is that without health insurance, especially prescription insurance, I pretty much become a contest to see which major body system fails first. For a while there I felt overwhelmed, as my options are pretty limited and the time is short. This would not be an issue if Social Security had not been such bastards and had just approved my claim and not forced an appeal because then I would have Medicare. Two options have already been eliminated. I can convert my COBRA insurance plan to an individual health care plan, but insurance is apparently for the healthy. Once I met the $2500 deductible, I would pay up to $100 per prescription until the insurance company had paind $2500 and then it would be all on me. Two of my prescriptions added together would take out the $2500. It allows a gracious 2 physicial visits per year. Something tells me Botox and wheelchairs and leg braces are not covered. I then checked to see if I could be added on to my father's insurance plan as a disabled dependent, but he is now on Medicare and so that is a no go. I am down to throwing myself at the mercy of the state and praying that there is an answer. I have faith that God will provide an answer, as He has never failed me before and He is not going to change His ways now. Even though it feels like I am in the middle of a quagmire, barely able to lift a foot without losing my boot to the muck, I know He is creating a way. Prayers are always appreciated.



Zombies are real, and I had the bizarre chance to meet one this week while having my blood drawn. Apparently they are drawn to Vampires. I was having my blood drawn, half listening to the conversation in the curtained area next to me because they were talking as if they were on a Broadway stage without microphones. Suddenly I hear the man make a proclamation that startled me.
"And I have rigor mortis!"
Now being the daughter of a large city homicide detective, I am relatively familiar with rigor mortis. Being a word nerd, I am relatively familiar with the root word of mortis. If he has rigor mortis then he definitely wins the prize for having the worst day ever. Considering he was breathing and talking, and I later saw him shuffling down the hallway, I can say with some certainty that he is not fully dead. This leaves one of two choices. He is out of his mind insane or a zombie. He never called out for brains, but given the cumulative IQ of the staff it would have been a meager snack for him and my brain is so scrambled it probably would cause an ulcer. I am guessing the guy is a little stiff in new situations and sticks out a bit at parties. I wonder if I get a diagnosis of rigor mortis of Social Security would approve me then? :)

I am totally stuck with "nothing worth writing about" block, but I want to put something up here. Thus you will be subject to the random sparks of my mind as it tries to kindle a fire to keep itself warm because it is once again below zero outside. Now I get that I live way above that Mason-Dixon line, but does Mother Nature need to keep rubbing my face in it and giving me a white wash? If we could get the windchill into a positive two digit number I would be her new bestest friend. I lost one of my wheelchair gloves in the vast black hole that is Walmart, which means I now have one pair so when my hands get soaking freezing cold and wet from the slush that no one gives a darn about doing anything with anymore I have no other gloves to change in to. I suppose I should shake the money tree extra hard and buy replacement gloves, but dang it - who would find and keep a single fingerless glove? And its not like it was brand new, it had been put through its paces for a while and was nicely broken in.
I finished the experimental dosage of massive antibiotics to see if we could eliminate an infectious cause for my daily fevers and so far, so good. I did manage to acquire a sinus infection while on a broad spectrum antibiotic, which amazes me but shouldn't as my immune system really does suck like that. And this time of year is like playing craps every time I go out because I am allergic to the flu shot and I rely on public transportation - oh what a bad combination that is, being unable to get the vaccine and then immersing myself in a mobile petri dish of horrors.
Speaking of the joys of the mobile petri dish, I had a woman who was using a motorized scooter sitting next to me on the bus and she felt some strange compulsion to tell me her life story. She also kept patting my arm. Then she looked at me expectantly like I was going to reveal the deep dark secret of how I became disabled and how hard life is for me. I just looked at her, smirked, told her "Yeah, I caught a bad case of dystonia" and pulled out my cell phone to play WordTwist. She visibly sagged in disappointment over the fact that I was not giving her at least an equally juicy story full of horrors and "poor me"s. Sorry lady, I had just done battle through Walmart, sans gloves, and I was in no mood to have a Hallmark moment, or a Mallox moment.
I think maybe this weekend I will finally take down the small Christmas tree that is still sitting on the craft table in my bedroom and put it away. After being hesitant to do much for the holidays this year, I am now too lazy to take all of the ornaments off of the little sucker and pack it up. It is oh so tempting to just cut out some hearts, stick them on, and make it a Valentine's Day tree, then repeat with Shamrocks for St. Patrick's Day, Eggs and flowers for Easter, etc. But eventually I do want my craft table back. It is also very tempting to just shove the entire thing in a box, ornaments and all, but I know that next December I would be very angry with myself for that little stunt. Sad thing is, I am not really ashamed of still having the Christmas tree up, as much as almost proud in a twisted sort of manner. :)
I will hopefully be back soon with more insightful, thoughtful or at least funny insights. Like the fact that the punk who decided he was done with his slice of pizza at Walmart and chucked it over the shelves from his aisle into mine where it landed dangerously close to me is lucky he can run faster than I can wheel or I would still be picking his DNA out of my tires. Or the fact that the people most likely to help you when you are in a wheelchair and can't reach something or drop something or get stuck in, say, 14 inches of snow are women of childbearing age. It brings out the mothering instinct. Men rarely help unless they have a woman with them that they want to appear especially chivalrous for, or I flat out ask them and they get a neat deer in the headlights look. Sometimes I like cornering a guy just to see that look when I ask for help. Its like I am asking for help getting dressed instead of reaching the milk.

I have wheelchair envy. I want a Tank-Chair wheelchair as shown above. This thing is awesome! It can handle snow, like the 14 inches we received this past week on top of the foot or so already on the ground, and its snowing again today! It can handle sand and water so beaches are accessible!Wet, slippery pavement is no problem!  And no one is going to be stupid enough to get in your way when you are driving down the aisle of the local store in one of these!! If I ran over toes in this thing, I would most certainly get the person's attention!! And leave tread marks behind!