Rest in peace, little fuzzball

I thought I would only be heartbroken for a few days, but I was wrong. The amount to which a companion permeates your life and becomes a part of your consciousness is astonishing; no act feels complete without my little pet. I wake up in the middle of the night whistling to get her attention, which hasn't worked since before she lost her hearing. When I'm not thinking about it, I close the doors to make sure she cannot escape into the dangerous daylight. I wake up wondering if I have fed her. Picking a stray cat hair off my blouse makes me feel like a traitor, like I am plucking all evidence of her life out of the world, destroying a limited resource. Vacuuming feels like an act of war against love.

I'm going to get this party started again in a day or two. Things have been mad hectic and, for the most part, madly joyous. There's just this cat-shaped absence around the corners of every moment, and I didn't want to pick off another shred of cat hair from my clothes without saying something about her memory to balance out the slow erasure of proof that she ever existed.

People who have babysat her for weeks still don't believe she ever did exist, in fact. She was shy to the point of pathology before she went deaf, and hid from all strangers, even those bearing food and love. Why, I don't know; all her life, she lived with us, and never knew a harsh moment from a human.

She once got her head stuck in a Kleenex box. We laughed until we almost peed ourselves. She liked to knock things off the nightstand. Maliciously. She chose targets for their "excite the humans into doing what I want" potential: fragile things, electronics, full glasses of water. She was koo-koo for coconut, and would even drink curry "juice." She thought jerky was the bomb. She knew when I was upset and would come stick her face in my face and say "brrr!" I think she could smell the tears, but her perceptiveness and willingness to comfort a creature of another species was amazing.

I can't share her life with you, but this is her picture. She existed, even if I manage to corral all her sheddings and get them out of my clothes. And I loved her a lot.

See you soon, everyone.

We are experiencing technical difficulties: please stand by

I know it has been a long time since I have written anything. No, I haven't fallen off the face of the planet... but my computer has.

Pepe, my only "child" and the light of my eyes, passed away in her sleep on Tuesday the 6th from massive kidney failure. We caught it early and spent a great deal of effort and money trying to fight it, but it was blessedly sudden and only troubled her for about 2 weeks even so. She had a very good final day-- up and about, looking out windows and being sassy, making her usual trills and meows, eating and drinking well, and surrounded by love. Then she went to sleep and didn't awaken-- which is exactly the way I would have asked for this to happen.

But.

She took both our computers with her. Neither one will start. First Pat's, and then, as he tried to rescue the data from his hard drive by installing it in my computer, mine. We think they're the motherboards that have gone kablooey, but we aren't 100% sure why... perhaps his hard disk has an electical crisis of some kind that electrocutes anything it touches.

Anyway, if you don't see us, it's because we've been painting our house and supervising fractious contractors (oh, SO much more on this later), attending our dying furbaby, and too exhausted and po' to deal with our broken electronics. Otherwise we are well and reasonably content, and life is as good as we could wish it to be under the circumstances.

More soon. Please stand by.

Fifty frickin' fowl

To make up for the sad post, a couple random happy things from the many joys I have ALSO experienced in the last few days:

1) my Valentine's Day present from Pat is here. I got him a MedicAlert necklace so that he would be protected in emergencies... a sort of practical, weird gift, I know, but one that I hope demonstrates that I love him. He demonstrated WHY I love him by getting me mine... a MedicAlert necklace whose engraving reads simply, "incurably sexy."

Imagine being the EMT who finds that on my unconscious body. You'd be annoyed, sure, but you'd laugh, too. And you'd know the only important thing there really is to know about anyone, despite medical foibles: there's someone at home who cares.

2) this weekend and early next week, my new home is getting cleaned, fixed up, carpeted, painted. I'm just so excited I can't believe it. Next weekend, I am moving in! And I can garden! And cook for myself in my very own kitchen! And all that ooh-I'm-home stuff!

I can't believe it's true. It's like a dream so far... we went and walked around the place tonight, and it's perfect, and going to be more perfect when it's got new paint and carpet and my stuff and husband and cat and cookbooks and paints and easel and computer. Oh my!

3) the previous tenant released some of the ducks she has rehabbed into the drainage behind the complex. FIFTY FREAKIN' DUCKS come walking up every morning to ask for breakfast, and she has asked that we feed 'em. Fifty ducks. One duck is a duck; two ducks are a cacophany; ten ducks are an aflockalypse... I don't even know what to call fifty. Pets, I guess. But never late to dinner.

Obviously, I love ducks. They're my totem animal, partially because they're cussed, mean, venial, and filled with cupidity and malice. But... fifty ducks?!

Fifty ducks. I'm sure I'll write more about these guys later. Heck, maybe with pictures.

In the meantime, read this:

http://www.kuro5hin.org/story/2007/1/10/15326/1547

It's EXACTLY why I shouldn't be allowed to play any kind of game among civilized people willing to share a consensual fantasy.

Requiem for the blue fairy

This week has been a toughie. Friday I was sick with the flu, and it lingered through Sunday. The kitty wasn't eating well and we resolved to take her to the vet on Monday to find out why she was a little trembly and a little disinterested in food.

Monday morning, I was up and ready to get back to work, and then...

Pepe couldn't walk. Her back feet wouldn't hold her. She dragged herself about miserably with a frightened expression, taking time to angrily lick her front paws or the bony girdle of her hipbone. She was frightened. We were frightened. I was sure it was the end. Pat took her to the animal hospital while I, sobbing discreetly til I was there, went to work and made a complete loon of myself by breaking down into hysterics.

The complete loon-ness of weeping frenziedly over my "only child" because I am sure she's at the end of her nine lives is compounded by two facts:

1) R., the sweet lady training me to take over her position as the office claims specialist, is a breast cancer survivor and first-generation cancer sufferer. Unfortunately, she is not the only person in that first generation to be hit. Her brother, whose family had arranged a Sunday get together in honor of his impending birthday, passed away after a long, painful war with lung cancer, on Sunday morning. She is relieved that he is no longer in agony, but you can imagine what a sick cat is to that loss... and yet, she held me in her arms and comforted me when I began to cry. I could not wish to take ANYTHING back as much as that crying jag.

2) Claudette, who was as smart, kind, devout, and good a woman as I have ever met, and who has raised a wonderful bunch of children, finally let go her iron grip on this world early Monday morning, and passed into the next.

I don't want to talk about the cat yet, except to say that she's at home and is doing surprisingly well, for a cat who cannot use her hind legs for no reason $1400 of tests could diagnose. I am still holding my breath regarding the fragile health of my baby.

I cannot talk about R.'s brother, as we never met, except to say that R. made me cry afresh when she enumerated the family members that had joined the Choir and announced, with calm joy, that her brother could play his music again.

I don't know Claudette well, but I know a few anecdotes. Those, I will share.

She had brain surgery just a week or so before the Super Bowl. She kept saying she wanted the Colts to win, as she had a C on her head, like a football helmet... we reassured her that both teams had a C. In this world of false modesty and myriad vanities, a woman who can take joy in the scars of her frightening surgical adventures is an amazing creature. While most people are shy about minor physical trivia like a scar or a crooked feature, she took a new, conspicuous mark on her shaved head and turned it into a bloom of beauty-- one that displayed her brilliance, humor, and lack of obsession with those minor details that do not matter unless we force them to. I can't even fault her for rooting for the Colts... heck, they won. :)

Two nuns came up from Mexico to visit her and pray for her: they had each been the general of their order, and they came to lavish their love and their love of God on her. That's pretty neat, and makes me almost wish I were Catholic... such support is a beautiful thing. I didn't know this, but before she was married, Claudette was a nun. Her son is a priest. Her family are close-knit, enviable in every way for their mutual love and their decency, religion, and kindness. I don't think she ever left it far behind.

She knew she was going to pass away and she helped to prepare for it, although she did everything in her power to remain on Earth. She shopped for coffins to pick one that was shaped well for her frame and was not a hideous color.

They sent the hideous color she detested, a powder blue coffin with a VERY blue lining. Her daughter was appalled... until she remembered that her mother would have laughed.

She said up until close to the end that she wanted to be buried in her blue fairy costume. What's her blue fairy costume?

The whole family showed up for a costume party at a fancy dress restaurant near one Halloween. Claudette was a blue fairy... I think the one from Pinocchio... and the family were dressed as the Village People.

They were the only ones in the restaurant in costume. It was the wrong day.

They stayed to party anyway, and although when they walked in a pin could be heard dropping, people applauded them for staying and having fun. Claudette went from table to table, granting wishes with a wave of her "magic wand."

Her daughter is going to slip a couple things into the coffin with Claudette... the detachable wings from that costume, and a magic wand.

And that's what you need to know about Claudette.

Barking for your supper

None of the humor in this is of my origin, so I'm plagiarizing, but I thought I would share. Besides, I'm giving credit, I'm just not mentioning the author's name because I don't know that she would approve.

I mentioned that I had a claim on my second or third day upon the paperwork for which I scrawled cryptically, "there were injuries."

My office mate, trying to fill out the DMV version of that form, which is a service we perform for our clients, looked at me and rolled her eyes. "Linda? What the heck did you mean by 'there were injuries?'"

I blinked. "That there were injuries?"

"Well, what does that mean?"

"That people were hurt in the crash? Awright, awright, let me look... jeeze, it was my 2nd day, how should I know what I meant?"

My friend, fingers hovering above the keyboard: "Who was hurt? Our insured? The people in one of the other cars?"

"There was only one other car."

"There are two claimants listed!"

"Yeah, they were in the same car."

"Who was in the OTHER car?!"

"Our insured."

"No, the third car."

"Um... I don't think there was a... I'll look at the loss report." I pulled it up. "Looks like our insured swerved to miss a large SUV and hit a small SUV. In the small SUV were both those claimants. All three were injured."

"Ours spent 10 days in the hospital, I remember taking that report."

"Why haven't I talked to this person?" I looked. I had been supposed to follow up 12 days before. Why hadn't I? No notes on the file... I went looking for it, and found it, tucked inside another file for the correct day. I slapped my forehead.

"So which party was injured?" my friend asked.

"Look, all three. Our person was hurt, and in the hospital for 10 days. The other people had X-rays and CAT scans and have both been back to the doctor; one is claiming against us for lost work. All three."

"Which one was driving which car?"

"The woman was driving. The man was her boyfriend and her passenger."

"Which woman? Our insured--?"

I looked at her. "No, the one with someone in her car."

She frowned. "Which one of the other cars?"

"Look... our insured, the A driver, MISSED one SUV and HIT a second SUV, which contained BOTH of our claimants-- the B driver and the B passenger."

"What about the first SUV?"

"They don't have a claim, they got missed and kept driving."

"Ohhhhh."

It's all in acronym code derived from jargon. Sometimes it's hard. This one was especially hard because the B carrier sent over all the information with their claim and we were deciphering it from their point of view.

I called our poor, neglected, 12-day-neglected driver, feeling miserable. A gaily robust sixtysomething voice greeted me.

"Hi, this is Linda with Stacy's office. I just wanted to check on you and see how you were doing, and to apologize for taking so long to do so."

"Oh, hi, honey! I'm doing great-- the car's totalled and I still haven't bought another one, and I'm still sore, but I'm doing better every day."

"I'm glad to hear that. I saw that you'd been in the hospital for ten days..."

"Eleven!" she yipped. "Eleven damn days and I cannot for the life of me see why they kept me so long. Do you know what they did?"

"Nooo..."

"When they had me in that ambulance I TOLD them I wanted to go to San Luis, but they told me they had to take me to the nearest hospital, which is AG. Well, that's a cat and dog hospital, and I told them so, only it's so filthy I wouldn't even take my cat there!"

"Oh no!"

"And they took me to that dog and cat hospital, and I was so sore I couldn't move and they gave me pain medication that made me sleep for about a day and night."

"How were you hurt?"

"Just sore and bruised-- there was not a mark on me, no cuts or nothin', when I had a friend come and see me he said, well, you don't LOOK like you been in an accident, and I told him, well, I'm bruised, I have one black boob and one white boob, and he said, neat, you can have your choice of chocolate milk or regular! It's a one stop shop!" We laughed. "But the bad part is that that damn cat and dog hospital put down a mistake on my chart and they said I could not walk! So they wouldn't let me up out of that damn bed. I told the nurse on my third day, I said, you let me up out of this bed, and she was the first one to say the words, she looked at my chart and told me, but it says you can't walk. Well! I threw off those covers, and I threw my legs up in the air hospital gown and all, and I danced, I just danced my legs around, and I yelled, 'you let me out of this bed!' So she got two orderlies, and they helped me up, oh, I was so sore I couldn't get out of bed on my own, and they got me in that chair, and I said you get me my cane! Because I have a couple problems. And they got me that cane and I walked right across the room and I turned and looked right at them, and I came back and said, now, does that look like somebody who can not walk? And from then on they let me up to the bathroom and to exercise and eat and stuff, but it was hard to get them to listen. Damn cat and dog hospital."

I gasped for breath, laughing. "Did you feel like you were being boarded in a kennel?" I asked.

"YES! In fact, I barked one night for my supper. The nurse, she asked me, what is it, doggy? And I said, doggy wants her dinner!"

I laughed. We chatted. Her only concerns were that one of her two material damages checks had been lost in the mail (I had it cancelled and re-cut) and that she wanted to know that the other drivers were going to be okay (I asked, and they were, and I told her so).

If you ever wonder why I love it, this is why.

Being an insurance customer for dummies, special edition

More about lawsuits:

I was surprised to get a call from the adjuster for the other party's insurance company on one of my lawsuit cases the other day. "The thing is, they've bounced this paperwork about three times," he told me. "The last time, it was for not filling in the county box on the form. What the -- do you know, I've been doing this for 16 years, and this is the first time they've ever wanted anything to do with the 'county' box?"

"Oh boy," I said. I had no idea, having never filled out any of that kind of paperwork.

"It's ridiculous! And I'm sorry I took so long to get back to you-- I've been at a week long meeting every day. Guess what? It's gonna get a whoooole lot harder."

"Flood claims?" I asked.

"Yep. See, the current legislation was put together by Republicans. The Democrats are in power now and they don't like any of it; wanna rewrite all of it. There's even talk of cutting funding."

"After Katrina?" I guessed.

"Yeah, even after that, can you believe it? Anyway, what they're doing now, like for next year, they're combining Wind and Water. Before, they were on two separate policies, see? And with Katrina, there was all this squabbling, they're still sorting out some of the claims if you can believe that, they go, 'no, this looks like wind damage.' 'No, that's water damage.' Well, you can't tell! There's no way to tell! And nobody wants to pay up! So they're combining it now."

Me: "That actually sounds pretty good, then."

"Oh, yeah, it's gonna be great! Seriously easier."

I squished shut my eyes. Sometimes conversations boggle my brain. "Super cool," I said.

"Yeah! Anyway, he should get a check, well, the delay should be momentary."

"One more thing--" I said, remembering. "You're aware there's a lawsuit, right?"

"Oh yeah, he's suing the county or some crap like that. Yeah."

"I just wanted you to be aware so that you were protected, you know."

"Yep. Well, let him know a check is on the way."

I asked permission, but they let me. He grumbled about having NEW claims because there was more inventory to account for than previously discovered: it was a flood at a business. But he's a nice guy.

So, live and learn, sometimes insurance money DOES come through for people in lawsuits, and some of the people in insurance can continue to work to get you money even when others have their hands tied. But expect, if you are in a lawsuit with an insurance claim attached, that one hand will not talk to the other.

Workers' Compensation:

This varies state by state. However, it pretty much goes like this: if you are hurt on the job, your employer should be able to give you a form to fill out to file a Workers' Comp claim. Your employer has Workers' Comp insurance, and it is his/her policy that you will be claiming against. (Only CRAZY rich employers can provide their own self-insurance for this in California, and I think they're crazy as well as rich, since this is a thing about which I would want to pass that buck... but then I am a big believer in social welfare and support systems in government, so you might have expected me to say such a thing.) If s/he can't provide you that form and doesn't know much about his/her insurance, it's still going to be okay... the Internet will have information for you.

On the California version of that form, there is an automated helpline listed. When an injured worker called us because it is through us that her boss has her Workers' Comp insurance, I faxed her that form, but really, she and her employer have to fill it out and submit it. I listened to the (incredibly good) automated helpline. I went to the website it mentioned. I sent her the relevant fact sheets to her claim, and the forms that she might need.

This is the most important part, I think. Your DWC or whatever it is called in other states has local offices, and in those offices, they might, if they are like California, hold monthly workshops for injured workers. That means that you get one-on-one and group help in sorting out Workers' Comp issues, and that you have access to people who can answer your questions and put the right forms into your hands.

If you are hurt on the job, don't be afraid to do a little research and even to enlist the help of your insurance agency in tracking down your next steps. You will be interfacing with the state... they will have their own claim evaluators come and see you, and they might require that you see one of their recommended doctors unless you submit special forms declaring your intention to go with your own physician. But, although it may look intimidating at first, the process is designed to be accessible and it is not impossible to decipher.

Better yet, don't get hurt. But, you know, life.

IT lives...

Today, the flu. I've been fighting it since Monday, and last night it decided to win. I'm actually quite bummed out to miss a day of work, which should go to show you that I love my job; I called in "maybe" this morning and my superheroine office manager* told me to stay away, as we have a couple health-fragile office mates for whom a virus might mean the end. I was proud to be able to offer advice on which clients will need to be contacted today... I am, miraculously, remembering names and on top of (some) claims!

(*She's not a superhero because she doesn't want me barfing all over the office phones. She's a superhero because she just IS. She's tough, loving, smart, and hard as nails, and about as physically fit as she can be. I think she may be in her late fifties or early sixties, but in my office, any employee could be any age... we have a 72 year old and a 69 year old. The 72 year old is NOT one of the fragile ones and looks deceptively 60. You're only as old as you feel: my office manager only takes the car if the weather is so bad as to be life threatening, preferring to walk wherever she goes. Hugging her -- it's also a huggy office -- is like hugging a very enthusiastic statue whose single-minded purpose is to make ribs creak: she's that hard-bodied.)

Yesterday we had torrential rain mixed with hail. I know, I know, those of you living where there is weather and where there are seasons are saying "cry me a river." But this area isn't prepared for it (especially me, because I grew up during a 10 year + drought) and it makes our power go out.

It didn't STAY out long, just went out every time lightning hit a power pole, which was pretty much every time lightning struck anywhere. But each time, the answering machine at work would scream and the lights would flicker, and the Internet would go down.

The Internet going down in an insurance agency is pretty much the end of the world. We can take down your info, but it isn't going anywhere.

The very funny woman who serves as the first line of defense answering phones and directing traffic would announce, before anyone else had a clue: "It's down." Or, "it's up."

I was frustrated; I had been trying to sort out why a check had not arrived for a client and where to send medical bills for a different one, and this requires a lot of research to follow up-- getting the phone numbers for the claims' adjusters from the claim reporting network, for instance. When I take any action, it must be documented on the electronic filing system where we keep track of our relations with clients (as my boss puts it, "The agency with the most information wins.") And I can't do either of those things, nor e-mail those addresses to the client with the bills, until it's up. I wrote the notes and saved them for later. I composed the e-mail and waited.

"It's up."

I pounced, clicking "send" on two screens.

"It's down."

"DAMN it," I said, looking at the "nope, the system failed" message. It was the first time I'd cussed in the office. My friend chortled. I toggled to the other screen. Nope, that one failed too.

"It's up."

I sent the files. This time, they went. "It's you-- you're doing this," I told my giggling friend. "You've got a button over there and every time you hit it, it toggles on or off." I opened a file festooned with sticky notes explaining all the things it needed done with it next time. It was next time.

She turned to look at me deadpan. "Honey, I've been single again for a long time... 11 years now. And it had been a long time before that. I don't touch any buttons and I don't turn anything on."

I cackled, surprised.

"It's down," she smirked.

I was defeated. "To continue your metaphor," I said, writing another sticky note to come back to the complicated file I'd just opened later that afternoon, "the system needs a little Viagra."

"Oh, thank God they didn't have that when I was married," she said with passion. "My husband was the kind of guy who has to be the best at everything--"

"Mmm-hm, MVP, BMOC?" I asked.

She nodded. "Only -- he was NOT the best at that. You just knew you were in for a long boring evening. Hey, look, it's up!"

Yesterday was like that... only with a birthday party in the middle. It got so difficult in the afternoon that I wondered if it was "haze the new kid" day... I took a glass claim from someone who was incoherent, cagey about sharing such sensitive information as "when did your windshield break?" and "where were you when it happened?" and "is this your current address?", and uncooperative about setting up a follow-up appointment with the glass repair company... had to sort out a billing snafu of my own making while speaking to someone stubbornly unwilling to listen to what I was saying to her... had to decipher whether those were 5s or Ss in my hideous scrawl... had to decipher what I had meant on a claim report by the cryptic "there were injuries" written on my 3rd day on the job... answered tough questions from the home office, a rental car company, and an adjuster ("it's just a red flag when the client is unwilling to contact us on a theft claim, is all"), and tried to figure out where I had lost one file and when I had intended to act upon another, all within the same 20-minute chunk of time (it bled out to about 45).

I love my job. I hate missing a day. When I called in "bleeeargh" my office manager told me that she'd cancel the surprise meeting where they were to tell me they were expanding my duties, and reschedule it for next week. I'm gonna be as busy as a one-armed paper hanger.