1. I hope I don't have to call PERS too many more times, but when I do, I pray that every time I call, Betty will answer the phone and help me. With my move to a "permanent" address in Maryland, I needed to take care of some business regarding my pension and Betty hung in there with my nervous voice and my anxiety muddled mind and helped me understand just what was going on and what I need to do. Ultimately, her kindest and most magical words were, "I'll mail you the forms." I nearly fell to my knees. I didn't have to navigate the sometimes confusing PERS website to find the forms or bother Molly to print them for me: they are coming in the mail and I understand what they are!
2. But my head didn't ache and my guts weren't knotted up just because of PERS. I need to get back to seeing doctors again. After my first call to Johns Hopkins, I copied my insurance card at Staples and had it faxed to Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. I waited about two hours for a phone call: would Johns Hopkins accept my insurance? Or was I screwed? Wait. Headache. Anxiety in my gut. More waiting. The phone rang. It was Rhea at Johns Hopkins. The answer was yes and Rhea directed me to a clinic in Laurel and a nephrology center in Bethesda and I was on my way. I have an internist appointment. I have a kidney doctor appointment. The anxiety lifted. Both appointments are well in advance of my trip to Spokane/Kellogg/Pendleton. I know these are the anxieties of being a privileged retiree, but, all the same, it's what I experienced.
3. All that remains is eye exam and finding a dentist. I'll do that tomorrow. With the medical stuff taken care of and my anxiety relieved, I went straight to the icebox and cracked open a Goose Island Sofie and let its peppery, funky, orange peel Belgiumy goodness take the place of my anxiety. A perfect antidote. Things felt pretty good again.