Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Thursday, December 15, 2005
It's Christmas and I'm mad as Hell.
Wishing you and yours an angry holiday season.
That's my holiday greeting. Not exactly Hallmark material. But then I'm not exactly Hallmark material.
I've been trying to get mad, you know, really, honestly feel anger. It's a lot more difficult than I thought it would be. And not a lot of fun, either. The closest I came to honest rage so far was when I received two bills from my doctor's office. I have no idea what the bills are for because I don't actually know medical insurance company code. I have made several office and lab visits over the past two months, so the bills were not a surprise, I knew I would be receiving tidings of payment due. But I thought, hoped, that there would be some sort of detail on the bills, some way to track the expenses, some way to know exactly what I got for my money.
But no.
I'm expected to just pony up the money and ask no questions. I'm expected to just shut up and pay the bills.
I found this out when I called 1) the doctor's office, 2) the hospital billing department, 3) the insurance company, and 4) the billing processing office which is not part of the insurance company, doctor's office or hospital.
Yes. I have health insurance. But it doesn't cover most of what I've had done in the past few months. It will cover even less after January 1. I can't figure out what my health insurance covers, I just know it doesn't cover anything ailment for which I have seen a doctor.
Car accident and subsequent trip to the emergency room? Not covered. Because it was an accident. Not routine. I could have prevented it. Yes. A woman at the insurance company honestly told me accidents are preventable and therefore I am responsible for any health treatment required as a result of an accident. Yes. Really.
That made me mad. I asked to speak to her manager.
She said she was the manager.
I said, "So, you don't report to anyone? You are the top command of (huge mega insurance corp)?"
"I am the manager of this claims department," she said, all snotty and punctuating each syllable for effect, the desired effect being intimidation.
"Wow. That's probably a stressful job. Dealing with confused people like me all day. Wondering why they have health insurance when it doesn't actually cover anything that's wrong with them," I said, not yet angry to the point of anything other than sarcasm.
"If you have a problem with paying your bill you need to fill out a deferred payment option request," she retorted.
"I don't think I want a deferred payment option. I want to know what my health insurance policy actually covers so that I don't rack up thousands more dollars in medical bills by seeking treatment for ailments which are not covered. I want know what is covered so I know when I can afford to see a doctor. If it's not covered it's going to have to cure itself or kill me. But if it's covered I want to be sure to seek treatment so that I get something for the money I spend on my health insurance premium," at this point I was feeling something which I think was actual anger.
My stomach hurt. Which worried me because I am certain my health insurance doesn't cover stress related aiments. Stress is preventable and therefore stress related ailments not covered. I am certain of this because insurance company's know they create stress and if they paid for treatment of the resulting physical ailments they would be paying for health issues they caused and therefore admitting responsibility.
And health insurance companies do not admit responsibility. They're in business to make money. Not give away money.
Angry? Oh yes. Very, very angry.
And broke beyond any form of poverty I've ever imagined for myself.
Holiday cheer? Are you swutting kidding me?
I just paid $1,900 for three tests which didn't even show anything was wrong. For $1,900 I at least want some medical anomaly, some sort of bang for my buck. I'd feel better about paying $1,900 if I at least got the thrill of hearing a doctor say, "Wow. Would you look at that?! I haven't seen anything like that since I was in the Peace Corps treating dwarf albino lemurs." Or better yet, having the doctor say nothing, but give those long, meaningful, "there's nothing more we can do" looks. After that sort of a doctor visit $1,900 seems worth it. Maybe even a bargain. But $1,900 for inconclusive or healthy test results? Here's an idea, what if my checking account is inconclusive over the payment for the tests?
Yes. I'm saying I want something wrong with me. I mean, I was at the doctor and hospital, obviously I didn't feel well and something was wrong with me anyway. I'm paying for medical tests and treatments, so yes, I want something wrong with me. I don't need to buy peace of mind.
Here's why: Inconlusive or healthy test results only lead to more tests. "If that's not wrong, then it must be something else and we'll have to do more tests." Basically more tests, more money. I'm not saying my doctors are out to scam me for more money. I know that's not the case. They're actually very thorough and have a great facility at their disposal so they utilize it thinking it's the best thing for the patient. When a patient shows up with symptoms and pain, they're not thinking about how much the tests are going to cost. They're concentrating on the best and most thorough treatment for the patient's health. And that's good. Rock on, doc.
But.
We, the patients, have no idea what these tests cost. We have no clue what being whisked into the lab or peeing in a cup is going to cost us. All we know is that we didn't feel well so we went to the doctor where we were put through a lot of tests, some painful, some embarrassing, some weird, and a few weeks later we start receiving a lot of bills. Very, very expensive bills. If I knew peeing in a plastic cup was going to cost me $400 I would have at least brought my own cup. Or, I might have said, "Um, doc, this is going to cost me $400. Is this necessary or is there another option?" In my case I don't think there was another testing option.
But still. It would have been nice to know it was going to cost me $400. I would have treated the experience with more reverence. I would have tried to enjoy it more. Taken my time. Take a few photos. It was, after all, my vacation. Because that $400 would have gone a long way to a much needed vacation. But there will be no vacation for me because I paid medical bills.
"Hey, Trill, where'd you go on vacation this year?"
"The bathroom! Look, I got a plastic cup and a zip lock bag with a biohazard label for $400! Here's a photo of it! Here's me with one of the nurses. Here I am suspiciously eyeing the disposable cups in the bathroom after she suggested I drink a glass of water. Oh, and here I am catching a sample midstream! Good times. Man, I love that place. Instead of a mint on your pillow they give you a moist disposable towelette. Now that's class."
Yep. Anger. I'm feeling it.
I can't afford much in the way of holiday festivities this year. Not that I'm feeling festive anyway. I'm trying, you know, for the sake of my family and friends.
But.
Ten more days until Christmas. Will she make it alive? If she doesn't kill herself she won't be able to afford medical bills so she's wondering what the point of staying alive is.
Bad Poetry Corner
Here's a little country song for everyone else broke and pondering that time honored holiday tradition of suicide. I Bought My Christmas Tree at the Dollar Store I did it because friends and family said I should. I took their advice against my inclinations. And now I wake to disturbing aberrations. I'm tormented, bothered and generally not good. Making spirits bright is not fun, it's a chore.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store.
Festive! Merry! Up, bright and gay! Not the adjectives which spring to mind, But I could afford it and it was all I could find. I tried to find a better one but to my dismay They didn't have green trees, just trees white as hoar.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches oh so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store.
I keep it bare to try to pass it off as art. The holidays for me are depressing. My finances are so bad they're digressing. I can't even afford decorations from WalMart. It's a symbol of failure and American class war.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches oh so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store.
No, it’s not the comeliest tree in the ‘hood. But I’m no prize either, so it’s appropriate, This ugly tree and I, we’re unwanted, reprobate. It’s a symbol that I’m ugly, I suck and I’m no good. My Christmas tree symbolizes that I’m a failure and poor.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches oh so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store.
Don’t give us pity, we still have some pride. It’s doing the best it can for a small fake tree from Taiwan, And I do okay for an ugly duck who never made it to swan. We’re both ugly, pale and shaped weird but there’s a bright side, Even though our price tag is low we know our true value, with tax, is more.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches oh so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store.
So paltry and small and shaped kind of funny, Even my cat ignores it, he thinks it’s a joke. He knocked it over with one gentle sniff and a poke. Hey, what do you expect for that kind of money? There’s no one to impress because I don’t care anymore.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches oh so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store.
Charlie Brown ain’t got nothin’ on me. This thing’s spindly, crooked and unenthusiastic In it’s attached unsturdy tri-pod stand made of plastic. But it was only a dollar and it’s all I want in a tree. It’s got some charm and no needles or pine cone spore.
There are no lights twinkling brightly. No pretty ornaments hung with care. Or tinsel or icicles on the branches oh so bare. Yep. My decoration is quite unsightly. 'Cuz I bought my Christmas tree at the dollar store
9:29 AM
