I have been struggling with the thought that I am becoming not a nice person. I mean, I really do not like who I am, what my life is. I don't even want to be around me. If I am not nauseous or exhausted beyond measure, I am in pain or dizzy or weak or shaky ... you get the point. And if somehow I am in a tiny window of time in which my the level of my bodily wretchedness is not overwhelming the majority of my ability to focus, then I am most often weary in mind and spirit.
Take today. I spent several hours trying to gain ground on the blood work bills that are still not yet paid by my Medicare insurance company, the first dating back to 6-2-14. The issue, as I have shared, is the fact that the ALL IMPORTANT NPI code on the bills is for the processing facility in Dublin, OH, instead of the draw location in Fort Wayne. That means my insurance company thinks that I am going to Dublin for my blood work and, thus, am going to an out-of-network facility.
I paid two of the bills, because the threatening nature of them worried me. But I want (and need) that money back. I get one answer from insurance and another from Labcorp. Labcorp billing is in error, but the draw facility has nothing to do with billing. And I have to keep going to the draw facility because it is my authorized draw facility.
After months and months and months of phone calls explaining the problem over and over and over again, the insurance company paid the claims. However, they have not sent an EOB (explanation of benefits). Without the EOB, even though Labcorp has the money (the checks were cashed), the money has not actually been applied to my account. Thus, I am trying to get the EOBs for all four claims. Check numbers are meaningless to Labcorp, because they represent, often, hundreds if not thousands of patients.
I have also, rather unsuccessfully, been trying to reach someone in the Dublin processing facility to see if the error in the NIP code that started in June of 2014, when Labcorp changed billing vendors, has been corrected permanently, rather than just for those four bills. After all, I need to have blood work done on Monday. I am not up for another errant claim. Four was enough.
Then there is the fact that four times ... FOUR TIMES ... in the recent past, my information was hacked. Twice, it was insurance companies. First, Lutheran Health Network's record company (here) and second, was Blue Cross Blue Shield. The problem with insurance hacking is that you can get social security information, as well as personal and financial information. SIGH.
So, a few weeks ago, someone tried to hack into my medical portal with Lutheran Health Network. I was notified and was able to block the transfer of log-on to another email and password. However, I was really shaken. I had hope that, like with Target and The Home Depot, nothing would have come from being part of the masses of stolen data victims.
I requested the free annual credit report from all three credit agencies and went over them with a fine tooth comb. [Did you know that auto insurance companies run a credit check just to give you a quote?] Then, I called the Social Security Administration (SSA), because I am rather worried that my number will be used for fraud. Unfortunately, there is not much you can do to report access to your information (meaning you cannot have your account flagged as you can with credit card companies). However, you can (meaning anyone) create a personal account on the social security website.
That account can be used to monitor your personal information, your earnings, and your benefits. So, for example, I was able to confirm that there have been no earnings reported under my name since I became disabled, i.e., no one is using my number yet. Nor has my direct deposit information been redirected elsewhere. So, the onus is on me for regularly checking my account for fraudulent activity, just as you would with your bank account(s) and your credit card(s) account(s).
You have to remember to regularly check those things for fraudulent activity.
The SSA also allows you to create a secure account. You request to do so, they send you a letter, you follow its complicated instructions, you get a coded texted to you, you put in the time-limited code in the letter, and then you set it up so that anytime you log onto your account, you have to wait for a text to come to your phone and enter that number in addition to the user name and rather difficult password (difficult parameters for creating an acceptable password) required for the site.
I know the world has changed. I know that I need to know these things, but I just don't want to have to know them, to have to remember all of these things. It's hard enough just paying my bills. Frankly, I've given up on being successful at taking my medication. Despite the physical hardships failing to remember that follow. I have myriad reminders and simply do not always remember between the reminder and the actual trip to the medication box. SIGH.
If I am only capable of being successful at one thing, I need that to be my bills. I need to not get myself in trouble simply for forgetting.
All this trying to think and remember and then failing at doing so leaves me grumpy. Or rather I have become the sort of person who gets grumpy rather than the sort of person who allows trials and travails to roll off her like water on a duck's back.
A bit ago, someone observed to me that I had said harsh things about another person. I honestly do not remember saying "harsh" things, but I do know that I was honest in how I felt and the actions I observed. Does that mean that I have become a harsh person? Mean? I was criticized again yesterday, in a way that, again, I do not understand, do not see as wrong at all. To me, it is like saying that I thought the sky is particularly blue and then be told that saying so was wrong. The sky is blue. Who could argue with that?
I don't know. Firewood Man does not find me objectionable. However, I do keep (disgusting) Mountain Dew in the refrigerator so that when he finishes mowing my lawn, he can have a cold drink on the way to his next job. That's not being nice; it's being a thankful client/responsible host. When Becky comes, I am sure to have orange juice on hand. When my mother has visited, I buy almond milk (vomitus stuff) and diet Ginger ale (UGH!). If Becky's husband were to come, I'd be sure to have coffee (gross) on hand. I keep herbal fruit teas (ICK) for brewing in my cupboard for my neighbor.
At the very minimum, if you are having folk to your home, you have their favorite drink on hand. If you are having folk stay over night, at the very minimum, you have their favorite drink, breakfast food, and snack, so that there is always something that they can drink and eat whilst home if need be. That's not being nice at all. It is just the right thing to do.
I guess I am trying to say that even though I do lots of "right things," I do not think that I am becoming a nice person, but rather the opposite. I think I am becoming a grumpy, groaning, always struggling, and rather boring person. And apparently harsh. And mean. And selfish.
I yelled at Amos today. SIGH.
The grass was so high it brushed his belly (it's mowed now) and so he did not care to conduct his major business. We are having HIGH AUGUST SWELTERING HEAT HERE, so as I was cajoling him to poop outside, I was growing sicker and sicker, weak and trembly and nauseous, trying to stand near him to pressure him and trying to remain in the heat, struggling, too, with my embarrassing state of undress (bare feet and arms and skirt pulled up around my knees) just to cope with being in the heat. I ended up screaming at him.
Poor Amos. He doesn't understand how ill I am. I think, if he could, Amos is the sort of being who would learn all about my disease and use that knowledge to support me. Instead, all he knows is that he had this GINORMOUS FEAR blocking his bowels and all he wanted was to poop in the safety of the no-long-grass indoors.
He's already forgiven me, but I can still see just how cowed he was when I started screaming. He wasn't trying to punish me with his inability to conquer his fear. He was simply afraid. I really am a horrible person, as well as a wretched-in-body one.
At least I haven't offended the baby robins ... yet .............
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