Stuff

While wandering about the grounds of the palace the other day, I noticed that lovely, perfect little rose. I took another photo for comparison, so you could see just how small it was.

Yes, smaller than my watch it was. (Excuse the blur, you try holding your watch next to a small flower and fumble with the cell phone camera to get the shot. I know, I know, I could have done better.)

Small and dainty and such a bright and bold red. It really struck me, such perfection yet ephemeral.

Much like my patience with this whole convalescing thing.

Yes, I need time to heal up before returning to the fray. Yes, I understand that what I had was major surgery, but still, convalescing is a rather sedentary activity. As much as I'd like to drive down to the harbor or perhaps down to the Atlantic (for to snap some photos), it is actually uncomfortable to wear a seat belt.

Not to mention which my lack of patience with my fellow occupants of the highways and byways of Little Rhody.

I've done a couple of short missions down to the store (roughly a half mile by road) and noticed almost immediately that my temper is a bit shorter than usual. I shouldn't be raging at the other drivers because I might bust something dontcha know. That would not be good.

For you see Dear Readers, getting a good night's sleep has not been in the cards lately.

I believe I mentioned in the series of hospital posts that I have a great deal of trouble sleeping on my back. On long plane rides across either of the ponds I was able to manage by having a couple, maybe even five or six, adult beverages, you know, for medicinal purposes. While I am under no prohibitions regarding alcohol (as long as I stay off the pain killers, which I have) it just seems, I dunno, not good to consume alcohol while I'm laid up "in ordinary," so to speak.

I am to the point where I can lie on either side and, if I am really careful, can kind of lie on my belly. While I did learn, after a fashion, how to doze on  my back in the hospital, at home that's not a good idea. My cat, Anya, takes great joy in playing "carrier landing" on my stomach when I recline on my back.

She always sticks the landing (normally an OK-3) but from time to time she comes down a mite hard. Causing me rather a lot of, shall we say, discomfort.

So lack of sleep, some intestinal discomfort and my temper is rather short. Truth be told, as I age my temper seems to get shorter and shorter. Then again, I've always been prone to short outbursts of anger. I usually keep it bottled up, only those who really know me can tell, but the occasional "fire truck" will leak out, from time to time. Saying that pithy little Anglo-Saxon epithet is strictly forbidden around The Missus Herself.

So I need to tread lightly there.

Another joyous thing happened on Friday which I need to relate.

I have very good short term disability insurance through my employer. Well, it's good if the folks on that end actually do their jobs.

I filed my claim while still in the hospital, some two weeks ago. Puzzled as to not having heard anything further (after receiving letters and emails from them to send things out to doctor's officers and other "fax this now" paperwork) I called the number they gave me.

Keep in mind, this claim was filed two weeks ago.

The automated system showed nothing, based on the claim number they gave me and which I parroted back to them on demand.

Social Security number? Nope, nada, I was not in "the system."

Finally I had the opportunity to talk to a human. Seems (according to her) that in their system you need to explicitly save what you enter into the computer at the end of the session. She claimed "that's probably what happened."

I suppose it's possible to have the claim go "off wi' the fairies" after generating the correct snail mails and such. I found it to be somewhat, disconcerting.

I suggested that the company seriously needs to think about getting a different software provider. The one they use now sucks. I mean lose an entire claim because the system needs a human to hit "Save"? As opposed to doing it auto-magically?

Sigh.

So I did the dance (again). Filed the necessary permission documents with my various doctors' offices and await the magic form asking if I'd like the money deposited directly to my account and please fax this form back to us. (Hhmm, seems to be no place on the form to say "No, just send me a check." Modern times.

So I remain more or less "med down" and continue to do stuff to keep my brain busy.

Hopefully all the right buttons were pressed and hoops jumped through.

Stuff.

Annoying at times but we all have to deal with it.