Memories and anniversaries...

Yesterday was the 15th anniversary of my dad's death. Weeks before I knew it was coming and I couldn't believe that much time had passed. How could it be 15 years? How did my family and I manage to get through all this time without him? "Life goes on." That's how.

My dad was a single child in a pretty big family. His father was one of nine brothers and sisters. And his mother was one of four sisters. Almost every one of his father's side of the family had only one child. And I think my dad was the oldest of the cousins. So they grew up like brothers and sisters, in a way, since they all lived so close to each other. His mother's sisters had one or two children, and they lived fairly close too. But her sisters were somewhat younger than she was, I think, so I don't have the same impression. And there were many, many cousins on both sides.

We grew up about three to four hours away from my grandparents, so when we, or he, would come into town, it was a huge deal. Huge. My grandmother cooked everything under the sun. My memories of those visits are my grandmother in the kitchen just about the entire time. Aunts and uncles and cousins and friends dropped by almost non-stop. It was one constant meal throughout each day. And my grandmother was a stellar cook. Even if a visitor just came from breakfast or lunch, they had to eat something when they visited or my grandmother or my dad would keep pushing food on them until they had a plate with something on it. "Have some pasta." "Have some meatballs." "A little scungili." "Eggplant." Gram's fried eggplant was THE best. The best.

Stories and jokes flew across the kitchen table. I loved sitting at the table with all the adults. And if a joke was too racey or spicy, it was told in Italian and the adults would roar with laughter. Sometimes my dad would laugh so hard he needed to wipe his eyes with his handkerchief. He always had a hanky, so did my grandmother.

Then it would be time for bed for me and my sisters, and we'd try to sleep while the adults hung out in the kitchen. Talk about the kitchen is the heart of the home. My grandmother's kitchen was literally the center of the house. The two bedrooms, the bath and the family room and den were all off the kitchen. When you walked into the house from the driveway, you walked up five stairs and you were in the kitchen. Greeted by the dining table, which always had doilies, flowers and candles on it, unless we were eating. Every room was right there, almost like petals of a flower. Anyway, my sisters and I would eventually fall asleep as the noise died down and the visitors left.

When we woke, my grandmother would be at the stove, again or still, making coffee and fried dough with sugar on them. We called them doughboys. They smelled awesome and we gobbled them down. I can't even imagine how many my grandmother must have made in her life. I remember my mom saying she couldn't eat another bite and having just one last one. They were that good. Then we'd say we were done, don't make any more, but Gram would still put those final four or five on the table and then those would go, too.

Then it would be time to leave and saying goodbye usually took about two hours. Since my dad was an only child, and we were the only grandchildren, it was hard for my grandmother to see us go. Goodbye always included a lot of hugging, hand-holdling and a lot of kissing. My dad seemed like he was in a hurry to get on the road, but I don't remember that my mom ever was. Maybe she was thinking so what if we hit traffic, it's Sunday. We'll get home, unpack and... As kids, we didn't care--we all napped at some point during the trip. We kept ourselves busy. And this was before ANY kind of electronic entertainment device. We had and 8-track in one of our cars. I remember listening to Jim Croce's Greatest Hits for two and a half hours straight one time.

Anway, fast forward to yesterday. Fifteen years. I called my one sister to check in and see how she was doing. I have to admit, when I woke up I didn't think that it was June 4th, fifteen years. I was in the middle of the morning routine when I remembered. We talked about calling my mom. She was driving out of town for the weekend for a high school reunion. After we hung up, I hemmed and hawed over calling my mother. She was driving to have a great weekend and I didn't want to change that. So I decided not to call. I called first thing this morning, though, to check in and let her know I was thinking of her yesterday, all day. She had a really great time yesterday, for which I was so pleased. I told her about my decision not to call just for that reason. And she was fine. Life goes on.

My dad came from a pretty big family and I remember him going back home to attend funerals of cousins and aunts and uncles from a pretty early age. We didn't go with him on those trips--we were too young. I missed him a lot when he went alone, even if it was for one or two days. I remember crying a lot when he would come home, because I missed him so much. I also remember him saying, "Dying is a part of living." Looking back that's a pretty healthy attitude to instill in a young person. Life goes on.

Insurance claims and my moxie..

I've been waiting to tackle some of my family's health insurance claims and other details that have been needing attention for a few weeks and months until today.

Today I've got my moxie on and I can get this done. We've got all sorts of claims and details--hopsitals, doctor office visits and even, yes, the insurance companies. Unfortunely, there is more than one hospital and more than one insurance company involved. It can make for a pretty daunting task to get everything organized then communicate the issues with each of the above-mentioned entities. But since I keep my medical records for longer than is necessary and I've got a system that I think is stellar, I was pretty certain I could handle it, even on a Friday.

As I mentioned I've got my moxie on today, so I jumped in with my attitude, my mouth and all my files for each situation. How many files can there be? Well, five or six. And a couple of them date back to 2007. Imagine? Insurance companies probably love it when you call on a claim from 20 months ago. Even so, insurance company one was VERY helpful and I used my best positive voice so they knew I wasn't going to be a complainer. It works when you ask if they'll work with you. Plus cracking a joke or two doesn't hurt.

My favorite is that Hospital Number Two's (HNT) billing department hours are from 10am to 4pm, which I find really interesting. I guess there's only so much these poor folks can take. Also, I'm working with insurance company number one with HNT. Well I got my information faxed to the rep I spoke with earlier today, but I haven't heard back as of 4:06, so I'll just add that to my Call list for Monday. They overbilled me and I overpaid. I think I came on strong because she let out a big sigh at the end of our call. Hmmm, wonder how that follow-up call is going to go.


Hospital Number One (HNO) isn't much better, but it IS THE hospital for me and my family. They overbilled us and I overpaid them. At least I'm consistent. Also, they seem to be missing payments that I sent and credited my account less than the payement I sent. The burden is obviously on me to prove that they overbilled me AND that I overpaid them. That is easily done but it's time-consuming. Luckily I have time. Also I will be questioning every bill from them from now on.

So while I do consider myself an optimist and I like to look at the positive, why this rant? Well I'm not sure. I guess because I just trusted that both hospitals billed me correctly and I just paid them. And I still want to trust Hospital Number One because there are more bills to come. Fun, right? Well, I'm on it this time, even though it means a little more work on my part. And finally, I want to encourage people to question things that just don't sit right. Hospital Number Two's bill just never sat right with me and I tried working with them, but it was insurance company one that helped me figure it out.

Hopsital Number One is another story. I can't wait to find what it is.

So persistence is good. Optimism helps. And getting your moxie on is key.