Tuesday, January 22, 2019

We're getting closer...

“Thus the time went on, wearing a calm, bright look upon its surface. Letters came from England, letters came from Willoughby, and the days accumulated their small events which shaped the year." 

The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf

It astounds me that in this idyllic province that is Longboat Key I sometimes struggle as I did this morning to drag myself from bed, literally preferring to bury myself beneath the weight of the duvet.  You'd think I'd positively leap from the lair instead - particularly when the sun was shining so brilliantly as it was today. Apparently however a collection of annoyances, petty though most of them are, succeeded to immobilize me. I can only surmise that it is my lingering failure to have settled outstanding issues which overwhelmed me to the point of shameful inertia. My defeat is not the denial of misfortune or misadventure but rather the hesitancy to confront their possible resolution. Until then I am haunted by the consternation which surrounds ignorance and uncertainty, an utterly implausible alternative.  It is that complaint which ultimately projected me from the den and carried me to horse.

Admittedly I have lately been nurturing a simmering anxiety arising from an unpaid medical bill from my cardiac physician in Daytona Beach.  He installed my pacemaker last March.  About a month ago I was sent a reminder of the unpaid account which I immediately forwarded by email to my insurers. The insurers seemingly failed to address the matter as readily because several days ago I got a plaintive telephone call from the physician's billing department.

Initially I emailed follow-up instructions to the insurer and then telephoned the doctor's office.  The insurer sent an automated response.  The billing clerk at the doctor's office bluntly refused to provide an email address to me to send written confirmation of the proceedings. Frustrated I convinced myself that the issue was no longer my concern.

This disregard didn't last long. I was tormented by the lack of deliberation. When I tried calling the doctor's office again yesterday I had to deal with an answering service because it was Martin Luther King Day. Once again I cajoled myself to dismiss the worry.  But this morning it all came back. I called the insurer and - after considerable pushing for specific information - confirmed that the bill had in fact been paid months ago but the cheque had not been cashed.  The doctor's office had then sent the reminder to our former Florida address.  The demand letter was returned to the hospital which then sent it to Canada whence it was delivered to us on Longboat Key. The insurer advised a replacement cheque had been issued January 4th. The billing clerk said it had not been received.  I am nonetheless satisfied that things are now in order.

This little venture consumed a good deal of my morning - along with a Rabelaisian novel by JP Donleavy and a supply of Savannah Bee Company honeycomb and Mariani Premium Walnuts (with the aid of a teaspoon).  A cup of black Arabica coffee completed my elevation and nicely prepared me for my constitutional bicycle ride.

The purgation was not yet complete. Though I am reluctant to suggest that unqualified denial is the means to disentanglement, in some instances - where for example one deliberately wishes to avoid the appearance of calculated indiscretion - prolonging the discomfort by any design is the larger error. If therefore one can effectively eliminate the vexation without publicity, then by all means! The private admonishment achieves its goal with neither pusillanimity nor mendacity - and certainly without the vulgarity of the frozen truth. It was in this protracted frame of mind that I rode along the shady paths of the Gulf of Mexico Drive, cheerfully saluting my compatriot Olympians, while incisively analyzing the propriety of my on-going evacuation (metaphorically speaking naturally). By these small events we shape our being.

It was with gusto this afternoon that I regained my customary place of elongation on the beach overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. The weather had become less magical than it had been this morning but I correctly observed that the changeable cloud patterns would ensure more than ample radiation. Applying a bit of Neutrogena sunscreen and the removal of unnecessary apparel soon had me in a soporific state, interrupted only occasionally by the no-see-ums (those pesky little flies - biting midges - whose irritating allergy I seem to have overcome with time).

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