Ever once in a while, everybody needs a day where you can say,"I acted as though I won't wake up tomorrow." It's one of those days that gives you an epiphany and you go,"Yeah, I want to do this again." I had one of those days today.

Sometimes, you need to take a nice day down the beach and walk in the sand without shoes. You need a skip stones (or watch a friend skip stones) and procede to swing on swings that are recommended for ages 2-12, but you don't care. Then, you need to curse traffic to hell and back when you're trying to find a bank so you can get out money while listening to the Temptations and singing your heart out.

I can honestly say, it's the greatest feeling in the world.

A week ago today, I had no homework tonight. The same goes for this night, but what's different is that last Tuesday, I was on an Art field trip in Chicago. The day was beautiful, in the 70s with blue skies and a tempting green park. I love the Chicago Art Institute so a group of friends and I looked for the one part of the museum that upon visiting I had never seen and that was the photography area. Exhibited was photographer Tokihiro Sato. This is one of my favorite prints:



"How did he do that?" one might ask because I know I did. Tokihiro Sato exposed the film for one to three hours at a time. He had about 13 pictures on display so one would figure at least two hours for each picture, only to take it, not to mention processing and enlarging. I know this task very well. It takes me one day (in class) to process and several days after to print my pictures. This was some hard work. When pictures were taken at night, Sato used a flashlight to create the line effect. He also used mirrors to reflect light (during the day) into the camera as to create dots throughout the picture, so it's as if his essence is there, but not to the point you could see it. I would've taken a picture of an example of this, but a security guard told me I couldn't photograph his work. Too late.

And to conclude, I found this interesting at the museum as well:

For the second time in less than a week, I woke up, got hubby off to work and then the kids off on their school bus, came back home, crawled into bed in my clothing and fell asleep until noon. I am blaming this on the newly increased dose of Buspar in the last week and a half. I slept well last night so I cannot say I was lacking sleep. Buspar is supposed to make me relax and hopefully feel better about life in general. These effects were put to the test in another way last Friday.

Because I turned 40 in February I became eligible for my first mammogram, a general screening covered by insurance at my age now once per calendar year. It went well and I shortly afterwards received a letter saying that all my films appeared fine, nothing to worry about. Last Friday afternoon, and let it be noted that these things always occur on Friday afternoons just after all responsible staff have left the office for a well-deserved weekend, I opened my mail to find a bill for my recent mammogram. Well, that shouldn't be as I am finally at the age where these things are not only necessary, but they are paid for.

I called up our insurance provider and after pushing umpteen million different buttons and listening to recorded menu after recorded menu, I got to the place where you can push '0' to talk to a live human being. Said human was very congenial and listened as I described my problem with the bill. She then said that my computer record did show a note by this date of service and she put me on hold to go and check out what the problem was. After a longer than usual wait, she returned to tell me cheerily that the claim had been improperly coded and had been sent through noted as 'possible malignancy or tumor' instead of 'annual screening' so she would just change that and have it resubmitted for payment by the insurance company. Well, what a relief, at least for those few initial moments when I knew I would no longer be responsible for the $178 charge. Then the thought struck me, oddly, that were I having symptoms or had I found a strange lump in my breast and had I therefore been prescribed a diagnostic mammogram, my insurance would then charge me for that? Is that what she meant? Something seems wrong with this interpretation, but I was too relieved at that initial moment, thinking of nothing more than money, so I said thank you and hung up.

Then another, more chilling thought occurred to me. What if the mistake was not with the billing code? What if the mistake was with Tiffany, the minimum wage office clerk at Mayfair Radiology who was having a bad day and messing things up all over the office? What if she was looking forward to the sound of her boyfriend's motorcycle coming to pick her up those few weeks ago on that first nice weekend of spring back when it was time to mail out my unfortunate letter telling me to please come back in and schedule another more intense screening for my 'possible malignancy or tumor?' What if that motorcycle came rumbling into the parking lot beneath her open window just as she reached into the dreaded file and she accidentally grabbed the letter from the happy file when she had meant in all sincerity to grab the black-death letter from the adjacent file instead? What if she was too preoccupied with her hair and lipstick at that fatal moment to take a really good look at which letter she was now folding into the preaddressed envelope with my name on it? What if all was said and done but these past three weeks since my happy letter arrived were really the only one true window left to me to get back into my doctor?s office, get some surgery or something and make the difference between a few tortured years of failed chemotherapy and a long and fulfilling life?

It was now about time to pick my kids up from the bus stop. I didn't move. I just sat there on the bottom step with the insurance statement still in my hand. Soon there was a knock at the door and the kids were piling into the living room, turning on the television and rummaging the kitchen for snacks. Arthur was starting, so that meant it was 4:00 pm already. I quickly went into the kitchen and looked up the phone number for Mayfair Radiology and gave them a call. The lady who answered the phone also listened to my story politely, then told me that my records were no longer kept there, but maybe the transcription department could help me. They, of course, were no longer here for the week, but if I left a message they could get back to me on Monday. Then she comfortingly said she didn't blame me for wanting to double check. I was transferred and left my message with transcription, trying to sound nonchalant and breezy, certain that it was just a simple billing mistake and not the fated phone call that would forever forward mark the disintegration of my trust in the system medical and young girls named Tiffany worldwide.

After waking up the second time this morning, around 12:02pm, I showered and got dressed to run down to work to pick up more typing. When I got home I brought in the mail and let out the dog. I found a bill, this time from Mayfair Radiology for $178.00. I was about to revisit my fears and pick up the phone, but then I noticed the flashing light on the answering machine. I pushed the button and heard Debbie from Mayfair Radiology assuring me that I had received the proper letter. She gave her apologies for the billing code error and that was that. I left the message on the machine so I could replay it whenever I needed it.

How did my Buspar handle this little test of my nerves? I don't think I can tell, but I lived. Were those two four-hour naps worth it? I enjoyed them, if guilt for lying in bed that long can be pushed aside. I have a good life. I also have a niece named Tiffany. I wonder how she's doing?

Archives:
September 2002| October 2002| November 2002| December 2002| January 2003| February 2003| March 2003| April 2003| May 2003| June 2003| July 2003| September 2003| earlyOctober 2003 | October 2003 | November 2003 | December 2003 | January 2004 | February 2004 | March 2004 | April 2004 | May 2004 | June 2004 | July 2004 | August 2004 | September 2004 | October 2004 | November 2004 | December 2004 | January 2005 | February 2005 | March 2005 | April 2005 | May 2005 | June 2005 | July 2005 | August 2005 | September 2005 | October 2005 | November 2005 | December 2005 | January 2006 | February 2006 | March 2006 | April 2006 | June 2006 | August 2006 | September 2006 | October 2006 | January 2007 | March 2007 | May 2007 | June 2007 | August 2007 | October 2007 | February 2008 | April 2008 | May 2008