“Every day is a choice.” I don’t recall when or where I heard that expression, but a few months back I wrote it on a piece of paper and stuck it to my fridge.
I see those words in the morning and again in early evening. They make their point, effectively, as both my inner world and the greater environment in which I — we — try to live our lives often seem to work against our better angels.
I spent my morning on the phone fighting with my health insurance company as I attempt to actually obtain the last of my remaining calendar-year physical therapy sessions. Forget the fact that therapeutic massage is not covered. Forget the fact that reconditioning all the muscles that have atrophied is not covered. The narrow realm labeled Physical Therapy — but only a specified number of sessions (regardless of injuries) — is my oh-so-familiar battlefield. (This is only the latest of the time-sucking bureaucratic BS activities I routinely wrestle with that all too many Americans find themselves mired in, not only in accessing health care.)
Believe me… I have many more productive tasks on my day’s To-Do list than this!
As I hear myself becoming more irritated and more shrill trying to explain my situation (for the 15th time?) to the latest “customer” representative – not patient representative or patient advocate — what does that tell you? — I try to breathe, breathe, breathe. In… out… in… out… No wonder Americans have high blood pressure!
And I think of the small note penned, literally, on a paper on my fridge.
Every day is a choice.
A choice to remain calm in the face of small annoyances, including those with significant consequences.
A choice to remember that the employees on the other end of the “customer” service line are doing the best they can with what they have — directives from higher up, the limitations of their training, and what one might imagine is a less-than-stellar wage…
A choice to bear in mind that most of us are doing the best we can, which is another factor in not allowing my institutionally instigated ire to yield a raised voice at those who are trying to help even if, ultimately, they cannot do so.
My only reliable tools: my positive attitude to the extent that I can retain it; my insistence on keeping my cool (or trying); my focus on anything and everything beyond my own grievances; my desire to face the world with kindness and compassion and providing value to others, preferably with a smile.
These are choices, however elusive at moments and however frequently I come up short.
And who knows, perhaps one of them will find a way to resolve this issue. There we are! A resilient ray of sunshiney optimism, because even that is a choice. Sometimes, a choice made hour to hour or minute to minute. And certainly, each day.
Meanwhile, I will imagine the relief that I get after a PT session, not to mention the relief that I feel after a pretty hard-core therapeutic massage, though it isn’t covered by insurance.
So I’m breathing… I’m breathing… I’m breathing… And I’m imagining that relief, grateful for the reminder of my most frequently accessed motivational mantra of late.
Any bureaucratic BS driving you crazy at the moment? How do you manage your sense of insignificance in the face of seemingly all-powerful institutions? Are you also painfully aware that there are numerous roadblocks within the U.S. health care delivery system that are never discussed — for example, lack of focus on results rather than the number of “sessions” or “units” of delivery?
You May Also Enjoy
D.A.,
I just wrote out the words “Every Day Is A Choice” and stuck them on my refrigerator also. Thanks for that wonderful advice!
Sheila
I’m so glad, Shiela! Those five little words really work well for me. I hope they will for you, too. ?
I know you’re dealing with a lot of physical issues, and I’m sorry. When our bodies are broken in some way it makes it even harder to keep our tongues in line sometimes. My Achilles Heel is talking to a computer and to 20-something female twits who have no affectation in their voice and you can tell they’re not really interested in you and your problem. You’re so right about Every Day is a Choice. Our window is sometimes even smaller than that: Every minute of every day, and the hard part is getting up the next morning and doing it all over again. xoxox, Brenda
Thank you for getting it, Brenda. Frankly, the woman on the other end of the phone was doing her best, I could tell. She was polite and measured even in the moments when I’m sure she could tell I was growing short tempered, having to repeat the details of my story. She kept putting me on hold in order to go check with someone else, indicating that she was trying to get the real story. Unfortunately, where we ended up made no sense and left me with an unresolved scenario, still, and continuing story that is really a shameful reflection on our health care system and a reason that so many of us “of a certain age“ find ourselves in ever worsening financial situations. This isn’t to say that those who are younger do not go through this as well; they do, of course. The difference is they have more “life” recovery time ahead of them in terms of reestablishing themselves in the workplace and in other aspects of life.
Hope the physio thing works out for you, DA. Gad, what a journey it’s been for you these past couple of years. Having tried to wend my way through the medical bureaucracy (albeit with better results that you’re having) several times for my husband, I hear you. Sometimes even if you don’t get the results you want, it’s heartening to find someone who will try hard to get you answers. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if every GP was part of a team of professionals which included a patient advocate, someone who could tell you what step is next, who to call, where to go, how to access the care you need? My sister, who is a pharmacist and knows our system very well, says that some places here in Ontario are going that way, with front-line health care looking more and more at a team approach.
Hang in there my friend! xo
On the results of the U.S. healthcare system – I read an article by an expert on mystery/undiagnosable illnesses in which he stated the medical profession’s commonly accepted estimate was eight to twelve percent. It was unclear whether the number counted people or illnesses, but I assume it tends toward persons, as it would be hard to count an illness that cannot yet be defined. In any case, I found it astounding that even by its own admission the medical profession has no diagnosis for roughly ten percent of the ill population.
That of course is on top of the burden of obtaining “treatment” when the etiology is relatively apparent, not to mention real cures, as opposed to symptom relief.
F-ing insanity. The cost of someone not being able to work because of a physical problem is far greater than the cost of the treatment to make them well enough to work.
Incentives are not aligned and there is no way the system can possibly work for the benefit of the beneficiaries.
Personally, I would like to apply for citizenship, having lived here for 15 years, but there are SO MANY papers to get, and they all have to be dated within three months of filing, which means getting everything ready and then pulling the trigger. I think many of the things are not nearby (language tests….I will pass easily, but WHERE do I take them?), plus “official” translations of documents…again, nobody in these parts. If any i isn’t dotted or t crossed, you’re out for years. OTOH, I’ve heard/read about people who didn’t really care one way or the other and who got citizenship with minimal effort.