Quite a few years ago I wrote my 6-word memoir. Many of you have already seen it, but here it is again:

Wiser today than yesterday. There's tomorrow.

Well, boy howdy, if that ain't the truth.


*****


Some of you may now be familiar with a certain pattern in my life. When I have a full day in Nashville accompanied by 3+ hours of driving, it generally takes me a day or two to recover. This time it took me two days because my illness has advanced and I was very tired. I also experienced an echoing rebound reaction to the past few weeks. I stepped into a cow pie and marinated for two days. Um, it wasn't all that bad. Actually, it wasn't that bad at all. I just needed deep quiet. I don't like deep massages, but I like deep quiet.


*****


The other night I fibbed a little when I posted I was just tired and that all was good. Don't we all do that sometimes... fib a little to protect those we care about? We shield people. We protect them. We talk out of both sides of our mouths: "Don't talk to strangers" "Be kind to strangers."

*sigh* I'm veering way off topic here. But I apologize for fibbing the other night. I was tired.

For the record, I'm just fine and all is good despite:

1. The fact I worked hard for two years to do everything right and now I've been somewhat discarded by the system. Well, anyway, that's how I feel.


2. Three weeks ago I did what the Vandy social worker told me to do: I called my insurance provider to see if my transplant at Cleveland Clinic would be covered. I did as I was told, and as I suspected, my insurance provider advised that I should contact the hospital.

So, one-ringy-dingy, two-ringy dingy...

I put in a call to Cleveland Clinic to see about Medicare coverage. The Financial Advisor was out of the office. I left a message. No one ever responded. I chose to dispense with this worthless assignment - seriously, it was a worthless donkey-nose assignment that ended up annoying me when a courtesy call wasn't returned.


3. Earlier this week I was told to call a transplant nurse at Vanderbilt - any transplant nurse - that they would be my go-to people until I got a new hospital. I called. No one called back.


4. Thursday, I was advised to become a squeaky wheel at Cleveland. To find out where I am in the queue.


5. Friday morning when I awoke, I opened my eyes and started to cry. I was hoping that while sleeping someone had done the calling for me... just hoping that one task would be relieved from the daunting journey I still face.

And that, my friends, is why so many IPF patients give up. It's daunting. It's a physically and emotionally daunting journey.


So, after I fueled with high octane coffee, I called Cleveland Clinic. At least I wasn't outsourced. Everyone spoke clear English.

I was transferred all around and through Cleveland Clinic and then back some. Everyone I talked to was extremely courteous as they gaily transferred me on. (I know, I sound cranky, but I was such a sweetie-pie. One must be. They hold the power.) I finally reached the correct destination and discovered my essential contact person was out of the office until Monday. Of course. My records are still on his desk for some reason. They've not moved forward to the Financial Advisor. The Financial Advisor I called 3 weeks ago and never heard from.

*sigh*

Before stepping into the light, I strolled with dark thoughts. I'm a high risk transplant so my case will take extra careful consideration? Yet, though I'm not your garden variety transplant anymore, this is what Cleveland Clinic does best - high risk, right? Maybe I'm too high risk?

So, I then thought, "Pfffft, maybe my essential contact has been on vacation!"

Yeah. I went with that.

And why not?

The thing is that when one is alone, a committee of one can be tricky.


*****


So, Monday morning I'll let my essential contact person settle in, get all comfy, and then I'll call the direct line I now have.

The other day wasn't a waste by any means. I have a direct line!

I also know that I need to practice patience. I continue to do well. We are not at the panic stage by any means. Lots of miles left to go. It's just that Committee of One can sometimes gets me in trouble.


*****


Wiser today than yesterday. There's tomorrow.


*****


I've been meaning to post a couple of photos.




There's a group at Morton Memorial that meets every Tuesday. They're called The Crafters... and what a delightful crafty bunch they are, too. This is a photo of a prayer shawl crafted for me. It's not necessarily intended that I wear it while praying. It was lovingly made with prayerfulness.





A gift from two wonderful people at Morton memorial. I likey. It's true.






This photo was taken the day David proposed marriage to Olivia and she accepted. I like it a lot. They are a marvelous couple... every bit as genuine and kind and thoughtful and in love as the photograph depicts.

Yesterday it was announced that Olivia passed the Virginia Bar! Yay! It's one of the hardest Bars to pass. I am so proud and happy for her.