I had two decisions to make this week. My doctor’s office called to say I needed to schedule a fasting blood test, something they like to do annually for patients. In order to have prescriptions written, doctors have to see you regularly, so that they don’t get sued if something goes wrong. I surprised myself by saying “I think not, if it’s okay. If I have a choice.” The nurse, who is very nice, said “of course you have a choice.” So I said no, I felt quite healthy and good, and did not want to fast or give blood unless I was sick or felt poorly. I’d never done that before, and I shocked myself.
She seemed startled, but said she would talk to the doctor and see what he said. I haven’t heard back.
I was also urged by my accountant to get more life insurance. I was underinsured he said. I thought it was a good idea. I am older than my wife, and if anything happened to me, I wanted her to have a lot of money. He said it was a good idea. She said she didn’t want or need that. We argued about it. I started getting computer calls from a company the insurance company had hired to offer medical tests to prospective policy holders. As I am over 60, and even though I am healthy, I needed to have a nurse come to house and take my blood and blood pressure and medical history. This was all relayed to me by computer messages on the phone. They were long and confusing and disturbing. The messages came daily, but they didn’t work on my house phone. No matter what I punched, it didn’t connect or absorb the command. I started to dislike these people. There is a lot of talk these days about civility and connection, and it has to start somewhere.
There was a number to call to talk to a human, but the waiting time was two hours. I called the agent and said I was getting uncomfortable. No problem, he said. Somebody would call me. Somebody did. The woman who called was nice. She was shocked that I had trouble. It’s the way they always do things. Nobody much complains, she said. The agent called and he said he would come to the house on Saturday. No big deal, just a few minutes. He didn’t show up. I called the number I had and was told that for someone my age, an EKG was required so a more complex appointment was necessary. A computer was supposed to call me, but it didn’t. Neither did a person.
This is not you, Maria said. This is not our life, or our lives. She is right. I love Maria much more than life itself, and I listen to her, even thought that does not always come easily to me. I am liking this idea of energy, and not liking this energy, the one I was surrounding myself with, and inviting into my life.
This morning, I told the agent to forget the policy. We will open a special savings account for Maria in the vet I die before her, and I will work hard, as she does, to earn the necessary money for some security. At some point, you have to decide whether your want to buy into this system or not. A system of worry, security, bills and expenses to make profits for people and entities that do not care about me or my life, and do not represent either health or security. Or connection and civility. So this week I took some big steps. I said no to giving away my blood in the name of safety and security.
I do not live with blinders on. I listen to a person I love who sees life clearly and calls up the best in me, and sometimes knows me better than I know myself. The day will come when I will have to give blood and more. Not now. I am learning who I really am. And I have to laugh, and I asked myself what Henry David Thoreau would have done, and there was no confusion about that.