Well, I just got a bill from physical therapy– apparently, there was a visit that they billed to Medicare when I was stumbling along the path to get all that situated.
Just under $70. This after my father informed me last Wednesday night that my grandparents had dismissed the idea of a gym membership as a gift as too expensive and that we might as well forget about expecting such. (My grandparents are health freaks, in a sort of Spartan way.) I explained to him that I could perceive the strings that were attached to their gift of the gas cards each month, and that I generally did not DARE to inform my grandfather very much if he forgot about sending another one. I was told at one point– probably my mother– that he did not want to be perceived as a bank.
(I received a $100 check for my last birthday, and spent it as frugally as I could. Although my grandmother was chattering about wanting to give us kids money now when we could use it, not when they died, she IS growing senile, and I suspect there was dissent and disagreement between her and him concerning it.)
My father and I have a half-spoken agreement that we both have difficultly abiding the small spectacle my grandmother's senility is becoming– she was annoying enough when her mind was clear, and now it's getting much, much worse. It's like putting a guilt trip on an old vinyl record that skips and skips… no, it's not to the strangeness of how a CD skips yet, but it's pretty close. I asked how Mom was taking it, and my hunch was correct that she simply isn't, as he replied affirmatively to such.
I told Dad that we would probably invite my baby sister and her new husband here, and minimize the time spent at his house. I can tell he accepts and even shares that sentiment, but I can see the negotiator gears spinning in his head wishing we had a different, more seemingly diplomatic solution. I had already told him that I was growing weary of my grandmother's company, and that we were going to my in-laws for after-Christmas dinner this year.
I am a pretty hyperviligant person, and so, as some of you know, I still hate writing about it here because it looks bad, but… I just can't keep stuffing it down… those feelings come back like undead zombies later.
First part: normally, I don't like to slam food service, since I paid some of my working "dues" there, but a restaurant is doing bad if they get an order wrong three times.
Enter Arby's– most likely a franchise, so the company can't do a lot, but the local management is still free to fry. Cimmy loves Arby's, but this was the third trip for her that employees got the order wrong. First, she notices that they hadn't included plain fries (I'm not as fond of their curly fries, and they were for me). She calls and asks to talk to the manager– he says they don't carry them anymore (then the employees should have told her so, dumbass). Then she noticed that they hadn't included bacon in her Beef & Cheddar (i.e. a Bacon Beef & Cheddar). I can't remember whether it was at this point or before, but she told the manager they wouldn't be getting our business again.
Second part: More insurance woes. The state said that they provided a stopgap for folks not yet on Medicare Part D (prescription drug coverage). The trouble is getting the pharmacy to bill Wellpoint as they have been instructed. They've been doing some shuckin' and jivin' telling me that they need certain numbers and stuff, even when I specifically said the state forbade me to get such, as it was the PHARMACY'S job, not mine. Well, I just got off the phone with one of the graveyard pharmacists, who generally take good care of me compared to the a-holes that were giving me grief during the day. There's like two of them, and they both know who I am, since I prefer to skip the lines and pick up prescriptions in the dead of night. This one said he'd talk to the technician that comes on the next morning shift (probably about 3 hours, 15 minutes from this post) and that she was very responsible for taking care of insurance problems. He also said to call back before 4 or thereabouts, so if someone hadn't taken care of it, they'd be prodded to call the state (and the Provider Line) right then.
Thank God. I should be asleep when these guys are working, but they haven't let me down yet, really.
EDIT: This sort of shitty treatment supposedly is not uncommon among the poor folk that don't have private insurance and/or cash.