Dearest Readers:
Today while driving, I read an interesting quote on a church marquee. Arriving home, I chose to revise it, especially since it is such a small but oh, so important quote:
“DON’T WORRY ABOUT PEOPLE WHO TALK ABOUT YOU BEHIND YOUR BACK… THEY’RE BEHIND YOU FOR A REASON!”
I thought it was a most appropriate quote for back-stabbing friends…or maybe — they really are back-stabbing enemies. I’ll let you decide!
Dearest Readers:
Saturday, I received a bill for a mammogram. Opening the envelope, I was curious why I received a bill for my annual mammogram performed in November, 2014. Wasn’t it just a bit late for them to send me a bill? And — why did the invoice state I was ‘uninsured?’ Was this the new/improved (???) OBAMACARE? Are mammograms no longer paid for by medical insurance? I’ve heard many stories about dear ole’ “Obamacare.” To be totally honest, I have no interest in fighting for medical rights — like I did in 1998-1999.
Readers – you will love the scenario I am about to share! Listen carefully! In February, 1998 – exactly at the same time my father is hospitalized with esophageal cancer, chemo/radiation therapy and a blood transfusion, my husband was rushed to the same hospital. Two days later, it was determined that he needed a quadruple heart bypass. Now, the two most important men in my life were fighting for survival. Yes, I did wonder how God had me pulled in two directions — actually it was three directions. The first my beloved father. Second – my husband. He knew he was second place now since my father was terminal and diagnosed not to live more than six months. Third place was my job at a college. I was told I (and I quote the exact words) — “I needed to get my priorities in order.” After all, it was almost March…a time to give speeches, tours and a time to meet the demands of a demanding career. “Get a life…My priorities ARE in order. My family comes first!”
I do recall rushing from one hospital wing to the cardiac wing to make certain all was AOK. But — ALL WAS NOT OK! While my father rested in bed, strapped to IV’s, oxygen and blood transfusions, I sat with my husband — striving to be strong. I was determined not to cry in front of either of them. Desperately afraid to show my fears, I recall rushing to the Atrium at Roper Hospital. There in that peaceful room filled with comfortable sofas, chairs and a small balcony, I found my peace standing on the balcony. Watching traffic rushing by, horns blowing from drivers who were rushing in a rage to their destinations, I wondered just how many would be admitted soon — from heart attacks, stress, accidents and attempted suicides. “Life is short,” I recall shouting, only no one could hear me. I looked up to the beautiful blue sky, the sunshine shining brightly, almost blinding me from the radiance of it. I prayed…and prayed…and PRAYED some more. Then, wiping my eyes — I screamed. After all, due to the hustle bustle of the rushing traffic congestion in downtown Charleston, SC, no one would hear my screams.
Leaving the Atrium, I walked to the elevator. My shoulders drooped. Head hanging as I wiped tears. Looking into a mirror, I noticed my mascara was smeared. I found a restroom, grabbing my makeup I attempted to hide the raccoon eyes staring back at me. I reached for my Jackie Onassis style sunglasses. Just how I would survive this true test of life was unknown. Somehow I found the strength to be there for my husband at night and on the day of his heart surgery. I visited my dad. He kissed me, telling me to go back to my husband. I felt as if my body was rubber, or some stretching fabric and all I had to do was ask two people to pull my arms so I could stretch from one wing of the hospital to the other. My dad lived until July of 1999. My husband’s heart surgery went well…Seventeen years later, I still can say, Yes, my husband has a heart after all. Believe me, due to his PTSD as a Vietnam Veteran, I have often wondered if he really had a heart!
Readers, by now you may be curious why I regressed with those stories, but today when I phoned the medical facility that sent me the bill, I remember how thankful I was that I learned to document so much when my dad was ill, and when my husband was ill. My dad was admitted to Roper Hospital so many times, I made extra copies of all of his medical cards, Social Security Number and his ID, just so every time I could get him admitted. Yes, according to Obama Care medical treatments are supposedly more efficient now — due to technology. Let us hope so! When I served as the caregiver to my dad, I learned to carry a notebook, write questions and answers down…date and time stamp everything.
After my dad passed away, I sent letters to every hospital, doctor, insurance company…etc…etc…reminding them they needed to finalize additional bills to my attention. Exactly 16 months after my dad’s death, I received a bill – totaling over $1600. I phoned the company. Someone from billing reminded me I needed to pay the bill. “My father died 16 months ago and now you are saying I must pay $1600 due? I don’t think so.” Of course, the billing supervisor placed me on hold. When she returned, I reminded her the company was attempting to collect money from someone deceased.
Placed on HOLD once again, she returned. “We’ve decided to write this bill off,” she replied.
“Good,” I said. Documenting her name, the time of the conversation and date, I am pleased to say, I never heard another word from them.
I have a laundry list of scenarios I could share, including how it took me fighting with medical professionals for over another 16 months (is there something strange about this??) to get my husband’s medical bills paid. Both of us had medical insurance…both were with BCBS…and ALL were a hassle just to get paid. Nevertheless, let’s just say, I can be most persuasive when I need to be. After all — there are two B’s in my name. Do you dare to ask why? One = Blonde. The other — perhaps you should decide! Many of my friends tell me I have the style and demeanor of Julia Sugarbaker, and that’s on my good days! Nevertheless, I got those issues resolved!
Today, while speaking to BCBS and the medical facility, let’s just say, I do not owe the $69 dollars for the mammogram! This truly set the wheels turning for me.
*How many people receiving such invoices — four months later — just how many would assume the amount due WAS their responsibility and not the responsibility of the insurance company? *How many people would simply PAY the bill owed?
Since 1998, I suppose I have become extremely educated and pro-active where medical bills and the proper way to file them are concerned. Yes, advocate is another way to describe me!
SUGGESTIONS
I would like to suggest to ALL of my readers, please be pro-active. Become an advocate to fight for your rights.
Be diplomatic. Phone the company to inquire about how the bill was processed.
Phone your health insurance company. When speaking with these professionals –have paper and pen ready to document the WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE and HOW to resolve these issues.
Yes, it is time consuming.
Yes, it is stressful, but the end result could be you do not owe this bill.
Don’t assume the bill will be resolved. Request follow up and a paid-in-full statement!
I wish you the best! We must all be pro-active and not assuming that this new health care known as ObamaCare is improved. Personally, I doubt it!
Dearest Readers:
I’m back! Have you missed me? Frankly, I think I’ve missed myself. Allow me to explain. Three weeks ago, I awoke on my Weight Watchers weigh-in day with a bit of a stomach bug. I stayed home. Jumping on my scales, it appeared that I was gaining — again!
RATS! I screamed, choosing to return to bed to sleep off the stomach bug. Sleeping is something I embraced since I have a rather serious case of insomnia. Last week, I promised to return to Weight Watchers for the dreaded weigh-in; however, my body decided I needed to stay home. I awoke early Wednesday of that week with a dreadful migraine headache. For those of you who do not recall, I have suffered from migraines since nine-years-old. I was hit by a car as a child. All I recall about that incident was feeling a gush of wind escaping my body as I hit the hood of the car. Reportedly, I bounced around like a dog, flying through the air, landing 60 feet across the highway of a “Dead Men’s Curve” landing on the sidewalk. Don’t ask me…I wasn’t there! When I did awaken, I looked into the beautiful blue eyes of a medical technician. In those years, we didn’t have EMS, or EMT’s, only ambulances. I remember attempting to turn my head, noticing a crowd of people overlooking me. I struggled to move – but I couldn’t. I saw my parents. I do remember saying, “I can’t move,” and the medical technician with the gorgeous blue eyes picking me up. My response was, “Mommy, he’s cute!”
Yes, at nine-years-old, I was checking out the guys. Silly me. I remained in the hospital for two or three days. The doctors said I had a brain concussion and needed to take it easy for a while. I do remember touching the crown of my head, feeling it squashing like a sponge as I pushed it. The pain it created was almost unbearable! No playing. No bicycle riding…skating…dancing…Nothing! The driver of the car that hit me was only 17-years-old and drunk! I do not know his name, nor do I know what happened to him; nevertheless, I do hope he learned a valuable lesson that afternoon about drinking and driving. The only thing I do remember about this accident were the severe headaches where my head throbbed, feeling as if someone was beating my skull with a hammer. I could not stand bright lights (still have trouble with them and probably will for the rest of my life.) I could not tolerate loud noises, and when I did get a headache, I was sick to my stomach. Friends have told me they can tell when I have a headache simply by my voice. Apparently, my voice is raspier than normally. I do know that when I have one of these headaches, it is difficult for me to focus, comprehend and make simple sentences. Yes, a writer who cannot communicate due to a headache. Duh! Fortunately, those severe migraines have ceased. Rarely do I get one, but when I do — it is truly a headache from Hell! Last Wednesday, my headache remained all day and all night long, leaving me to be not too nice to everyone around, including my four-legged friends.
It appears I am rambling a bit, doesn’t it? Today, I returned to Weight Watchers after a three-week absence. Much to my surprise, when I slipped on to the scales, I maintained my weight. No loss…No Gain! I was stunned and so proud!
Next month will be four years since I joined Weight Watchers. “And you’re still going,” my friends say. “Yes…still going…and still maintaining…” BUT — not reaching my goal yet. I confess, I have not discussed my goal weight with my leader, but I will say — for me — I have a goal in mind and that goal is only about 35 pounds away.
Meanwhile, I still exercise weekly. My NordicTrack treadmill is blessed with my presence at least four days weekly. When I started on the treadmill two years ago, I used one that was purchased in 1998 for my husband. After his zipper was placed in his chest — The infamous Zipper Club — he bought a new treadmill to use – to keep active. To be honest, the only activity he gets is a remote control, to exercise his thumb so he can watch TV and the golf he plays. So, two years ago, I decided the treadmill needed to be used for something besides a place to hang clothes to air dry. In mid 2014, that treadmill said enough, when the belt decided to split. Attempting to be conservative with our funds, I bought a roll of duct tape, to repair the belt. Guess what…It didn’t work! The belt continued to split!
Fortunately, I have a generous husband. He bought me a new treadmill. “One of my choosing,” he said. I chose the NordicTrack. Now, I have it inclined at seven degrees, walking at a speed of 3.2, for 50 minutes at least four times weekly. My right leg is fighting me now, wanting me to quit, but I ignore it and move! Not so bad for someone with asthma!
Today, when I returned to Weight Watchers, I was ecstatic that I did not gain. I really expected to see a two or three-pound gain. I think I’ll take a “maintained” as opposed to a gain, shooting to lose maybe one or two pounds next week. Meanwhile, the inches are melting away and I am proud of who I see now in the mirror.
The question I have for myself is — “Will this be the year that I achieve goal and lifetime at Weight Watchers?”
I certainly plan to. Stay tuned!
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here's an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 2,200 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 37 trips to carry that many people.
Christmas Is…
Dearest Readers:
Yes, it is the Christmas season. A time to give thanks and be appreciative for all that we are, and all that we have. A time to celebrate the birth of CHRIST…a time to recognize that IF we did not have the ‘birth of Christ’ as the reason for the season, we would not be celebrating Christmas.
Perhaps that is one of the reasons for this editorial. I cannot tell you how many times I hear good wishes, such as “Happy Holidays.” My response is a quick, “Merry Christmas to you too.” On one occasion while shopping, the employee look stunned at me when I said, “Merry Christmas.”
“We can’t say that,” she replied. “We can only say Happy Holidays.”
“But…this is America. The land of the free. We can express anything here in America.”
She looked down at the floor. “We can only say “Happy Holidays.”
I recall when I worked in the retail sales industry and we were told it was better to say “Happy Holidays,” than to express “Merry Christmas,” after all, we did not want to offend anyone. The philosophy at the department store was that Happy Holidays covered all of the holidays. Still, I expressed, “Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,” covering both. I didn’t care that I might offend someone. If they were shopping for the holidays, then I wished them a Merry Christmas.
I remembered my grandmother and how furious she got when she read “Merry Xmas.” “That isn’t Christmas,” she expressed. “They’re leaving Christ out of Christmas.” As a child I didn’t fully understand what she was saying. Now older and wiser, I do understand and I make certain I write Christmas, not Xmas. I will not leave Christ out of Christmas.
I do not believe that I am the most religious person in the world, but I do believe in Christ and I believe I am a Christian. I do my best to be a good person, and to treat others as I wish to be treated. Of course, I am human, and at times, I am just a bit opinionated, as you will read in this epistle! Yes, I am a feminist and an advocate against domestic abuse of all types. I look for the good in everyone and I believe that everyone in life has a purpose; however, I believe that when we make mistakes, we must admit them, apologize and rise above the controversy or pain we caused to others. Everyone deserves a second chance. We must make the most of every day and live life to its fullest. I attempt to treat everyone as an equal and I do not understand that IF America is the land of the free, where we can express our words freely, then we should be able to keep Christ in Christmas, and by saying Merry Christmas, there should not be any offense to anyone.
Let’s consider Christmas:
C – Christmas, a time to Celebrate and to share our love with others. Most of all, Christmas is the celebration of the birth of the Christ child. A time for change and growth within our lives.
H – Hope. Something our entire world needs now more than ever. Hope for the future.Hope for peace.
R –<ins Reflection. A time to reflect on who we are, where we are going, and what we are doing in our daily lives.
I – Integrity. Everyone needs to strive to have more integrity for ourselves, and for others.
S – Salvation.
T – Time. We need to share more of our time, especially quality time with our loved ones. We need to make time to shut down or unplug the technology and to share quality time without interruptions.
M – Making the most of each day while recognizing that life is short and we should appreciate those who are important in our lives.
A – Adoration. Appreciation.
S – Simplicity.
Last year, during the Christmas holidays, I was sick. Dreadfully ill with acute bronchitis. My body lacked energy. Every breath was a struggle. My oxygen level was ‘less than 85,’ and I was told to get plenty of rest. Resting was not a problem. Throughout the day, I rested in bed, watching Lifetime and Hallmark channel Christmas movies until I could almost recite the dialogue of each movie. When the phone rang, I ignored it. I told my friends to simply let me rest. I suppose it is easy to say I basically shut the world away as I drank coffee, took my pills, coughed my head off, struggled to breathe and to rest. I was miserable. My precious schnauzers could not understand why they were tucked inside the gated community of the breakfast room while I sauntered ever so slowly towards the bedroom. Housework was ignored. My stove actually got so dusty I could write my initials on it. My Christmas holidays were a time of reflection. For weeks I wondered IF I would ever get well. What did I learn during this time?
I must say, my husband was my angel during this time. You must remember, my husband has PTSD. When things do not go as he anticipates, let’s just say, he can be a real grumpy bear of a man. Never did he ask me to do anything at home, with exception of resting and getting well. I recognized my neglect of my home and him when he asked me during the week if I could teach him how to do the laundry. He glanced at me, apologizing to bother me saying, “I’m out of clean underwear and shirts.”
Just how long had it been since I did laundry? Glancing at the calendar I realized this illness began in late October. The calendar staring back at me was December. It was time to do laundry!
Life is precious. It is to be cherished with those we love and we should make the most of every day we live. After all, we never know when the wheels of life may turn and we never know when Father Time may start ticking away. Last Christmas, I didn’t shop, at all! My life and health was in a fog, so I learned that Christmas should not be a time to rush around. It is a time to reflect and to appreciate.
Christmas time is a great time to change our lives. To celebrate and appreciate our loved ones, freedom and the belief and faith we have.
So many of us get wrapped up in the hustle, bustle of the holiday season. We rush to get to the next social event. We rush to get our families prepared for the holidays, and we rush to complete our shopping. Maybe we should slow down and appreciate life.
How many times have you seen the actions of someone during the Christmas season? The rushing in traffic. The rudeness of others? Yesterday, a driver that was behind me in a torrential rain storm decided I wasn’t going fast enough in the center lane. He drove so close to me that If I had to slam on my brakes, he would’ve rear ended me. I tapped my breaks lightly, to give him the message to back off. Instead, he swiftly changed lanes, cut me off, then tapped his break. He displayed his arrogance driving by, giving me the finger. Such a nice man!??? Perhaps a new and tormented “Mr. Scrooge!” Yes, he sent me a message and I hope wherever he was headed in the rain storm, I do hope and pray he made it without causing an accident.
It is my perception that we should slow down and appreciate life, especially during the Christmas rush season. Perhaps while shopping, we could stop and smile at someone. How many times have you noticed someone with a frown on their face? Maybe if you said hello to that person it might change their perspective. Have you ever visited a nursing home at the holidays? There are so many people there who never have a visitor and during the Christmas season they do not receive mail, phone calls, or visits. These residents deserve to have a happy holiday season. I have added a few to my Christmas letter list and I enclose a Christmas card with the letter. My hope is to put a smile on someone’s face during the holidays. After all, Christmas is the reason for the season.
My Christmas wish for all of you reading this is one of simplicity. May you appreciate your family and friends while taking the time to realize Christmas is a time to share your love to others and to man kind. May you never get so busy with the demands of your life that you forget to smile and say hello. May you not over indulge with the spirits of the season, the foods, and the gift giving that you forget the true meaning of Christmas. May you stop for a moment, inhale, exhale and say, “Merry Christmas” with a smile on your face.
Merry Christmas to all, and may God bless us – EVERYONE!
Little things mean a lot, especially at Christmas.
Dearest Readers:
If you follow my blog on a regular basis, you will know I haven’t written much in this column in about two weeks. Last week was truly the week from Hell for me. Beginning with suspected car problems where the technicians replied, “The engine light wasn’t on when we checked it…” Of course, that is a typical response from men to a woman at a service department…now, isn’t it — WOMEN! They were slightly mistaken. The engine light icon returned, and on Wednesday, it took over three hours to get it repaired. Of course, the main reason it took so long is due to the fact my car warranty was purchased with the car ($1549.00) at Car Max. Still, I am furious with Car Max; however, I will go on record to say that the service tech at Dodge possessed an amazing amount of patience with them — JUST — to get the warranty approved. Thank you, Dodge…and NO THANK YOU…to Car Max!
But — that chapter is closed and I am pleased to share that the repair that I had to pay for in the amount of $477.21 has been compensated to me – minus the $100 deductible since I DID NOT USE CAR MAX FOR THE REPAIR… Heck, I could not get Car Max to return a phone call, or the Mouse Lady to acknowledge me! Can you detect my frustration with Car Max???
Enough about Car Max! I suppose this post should actually be Friday frustrations, instead of Friday Reflections; however, since I am a person who looks for the positive in life and not the negative, I will do my best to reflect with a positive attitude.
While I am reflecting on Friday and this week, I would like to share that I was finally able to attend my weekly Weight Watchers meeting yesterday — the first meeting I’ve attended in four weeks. I confess, I anticipated a weight gain of 3 or 4 pounds and was a bit happy when I had only gained .06! It was wonderful to get back to my REAL life again. This reflection proves to me that I cannot complete my Weight Watchers journey alone. Like someone with an addiction, I must attend weekly meetings to share my ups and downs with all. I confess, I think the only reason I did not show a weight gain of four pounds or more was due to the fact that I have worked out on the treadmill every day since last Saturday. It was suggested at the meeting for me to ‘shake up’ my exercise routine a bit, so this week I will go for an extended walk — on the Arthur Ravenel, Jr. Bridge, and I will return to walking my dogs again. I’ve been slack about walking my dogs ever since we lost my precious Shamey-Pooh. The last time I walked the dogs on our three-mile journey someone actually stopped me to inquire where the ‘beautiful silver dog was,’… when I replied that he died, they apologized and I burst into tears.
Undoubtedly, there has been a black cloud over me for a few weeks, or maybe it is the full moon returning; nevertheless, this week started off — shall I say unpredictable. Monday afternoon, Phil and I left the house a few minutes after 5pm, headed to the Coastal Carolina Fair. What would normally take about 30 minutes was at least 1.5 hours. We arrived at the fair at about 7pm. Never did Phil get annoyed about the traffic and we had a great time at the fair. Little did I know how things would change within 24 hours!
For those of you who do not know – My husband has PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. If you do not know what it is like to live with someone with PTSD — count your blessings! Tuesday afternoon when Phil returned home from work, he had a strange look in his eyes. I know that look well — PTSD! Within 30 minutes, we were fighting. I cannot recall what set him off, or me off – but our fight continued. I decided to shut myself away in the bedroom. That night, I broke our rule – a rule made when we were newlyweds…the rule of “never going to bed angry, or without a good night kiss!”
Wednesday – we had the same scenario. No matter what I said, we could not stop the fight. Listening to someone is difficult with him. I approached him carefully, telling him ‘we need to talk.’ When someone has PTSD communication does not exist. Every time I said I needed to talk to him, we fought. The real kicker was when Phil shouted to me that I was exactly like my mother. Yes, he does know the right buttons to push! I exploded although with a calm, diplomatic voice letting him know that I was ‘nothing like my mother!’ Never did I behave, or deceive him in the manner my mother deceived my father.
I gathered my dogs and off we went to the bedroom. I pretended to be asleep! No kiss. Nothing! Breaking the rules continued. I should add, Wednesday, Phil called me several times. No doubt, he wanted to end this scenario on the phone. I stood firm.
Thursday morning, after Weight Watchers, I had lunch with a close friend from Weight Watchers. As I was leaving the car to meet her, my cell phone beeped with an e-mail. From Phil. Subject – Peace! He said he was tired of fighting…recognized that at times he could be difficult, only that is not the word he used! And he was sorry. I phoned him. Fight over.
No, I was not refusing to take the first step to end this emotional battle, but when you live with someone with PTSD there does come a time when you must be firm so they can see the issues related to PTSD. I’ve had several friends ask why I tolerate his behaviors and mental treatments. My reply – simple –he is the only person who has ever loved me. He rescued me when I needed rescuing. If you’ve followed my blog for a while, reading my issues with my mother and the domestic abuse of my family, then you must understand. When someone grows up in such an environment, never do you anticipate a life of love and peacefulness. Never did I EVER see my parents hug or kiss, so — due to LOVE(??) that is why I tolerate such behaviors. I do recall my parents shouting and I shall quote:
Mother – expressed to my father: “I hate you…You no good Son of a B—-!”
Dad’s reply: “I wish I never married you!”
Mom’s reply: “I hope you die soon…”
Those cruel expressions echoed in my ears as a child, and they still echo in my ears. Once you live in an abusive family situation, you never forget it!
Maybe that is why I strive so hard to be positive. When I hear others gossiping, ridiculing others, I say something positive about the person. Maybe that is why I’ve lost “friendships” because I do not wish to gossip about others. I do not function well with gossip or negativity. As a child, I recall my mother dragging me to the beauty shop in Bibb City, GA where she would sit for hours gossiping about women, men and the couples within the village of Bibb City. I hated these moments and would rush outside, or sit with my head covered with one of the bubble hair dryers so I would not hear their shrewd gossip. Women can be so dangerous and cruel. I suppose those ‘toxic stories’ made my mother feel better about herself, and I do recall saying to my mother, “God don’t love ugly.” My grandmother’s favorite expression! My mother’s response, “You shush your mouth, you stupid girl!”
Later in my life, I focused on a new definition of STUPID!
S – Sensitive
T – Tenacious
U – Unique
P – Passionate
I – Imaginative; Independent; Intimate
D – Dignified; Dependable; Desirable
Perhaps for today, these are my Friday reflections. I am hopeful next week will be a positive, happy week for me, and for you. What are your Friday Reflections?
Dearest Readers:
Today is Sunday, November 02, 2014, a beautiful, but chilly day in Charleston, SC. Undoubtedly, this week has been a week filled with much stress, starting with last Sunday. Late that afternoon, I drove my car to dinner with my husband; I heard a distinctive ‘ding’ noticing my engine light was on.
“Oh no…what is wrong with my car?”
I purchased the car from Car Max in Charleston in March, 2012. A beautiful gold 2010 Dodge Journey with everything I desired in a car. Although not brand new, it was affordable. I gave my old car, a 1999 Chevy Monte Carlo with 92,000 miles to one of my sisters in Georgia.
I pulled the file for my car, reading through the warranty, phoning Car Max, leaving a message. Since the office was closed, I waited for a return phone call early Monday morning. I left an additional message with the local Car Max Service Center. And so, the wait began. On Monday morning I waited…and waited…and waited. Deciding to be pro-active, I drove to the local Car Max Service Center.
Instead of parking my car in the parking lot, I pulled up to the service center and walked inside. Two customer service reps were at the counter. One, a woman, was moving a computer mouse around the screen while glancing at the computer. The other, a guy, was assisting a customer. The woman never looked at me, or acknowledged me. She continued to play with the computer mouse, never acknowledging me. I was curious if I was invisible. I pinched my wrist. Nope I’m not invisible. I feel the pain. I cleared my throat, hoping the woman would acknowledge me. She was more concerned with playing with the mouse! The phone rang. Quickly, she answered it.
After her conversation, I approached her. “Excuse me,” I said. “I need someone to check my car. The engine light is on.”
“Do you have an appointment?” She asked, in a condescending manner.
“No. I’ve been waiting for a return phone call this morning. When no one phoned, I decided to drop by.”
“You can’t just drop by. It’s been a busy morning and I only received one phone call.” She said. Reaching for her mouse.
“Excuse me…Didn’t you hear me. The engine light is on. I need it checked.”
“You have to have an appointment and it will take two weeks to get an appointment. You can’t just drop your car by for service. You MUST have an appointment.”
“The only service I need is the engine light checked. Something is wrong with my car.”
“You need an appointment…” She repeated.
“No…I need to have the engine light checked.”
By now I realized I was getting nowhere with the tall woman who had the customer service skills of a mouse. Maybe that is why she and the computer mouse were so closely connected.”
“You can take the car to Dodge. They’ll check it for you.”
And then…this woman with the customer service skills of a real mouse returned to her mouse, ignoring me!
I was livid! No one else approached me. I left Car Max with the visual discussion playing in my mind, recognizing that this woman, whom I shall refer to as Ms. Mouse, had reprimanded me? She truly had the customer service skills of a robotic mouse!
I drove to Dodge. When they checked my car, I was informed that the engine light was not on. Nothing could be done. By now, I am ready to attack the next customer service person that walks nearby. I drove the car home. Less than five miles from the Dodge dealership, the engine light winked at me again.
Thus began one of the most disappointing weeks for 2014 for me. When my husband arrived home from work, he wanted to know if my car was repaired. I rolled my eyes, explaining how lacking customer service was at Car Max. “Funny…” I said sarcasm spilling from my lips. “When I bought the car their customer service was terrific.”
I should say, I have a history with customer service, both in retail and the educational industries. I’ve won awards for my customer service skills!
My husband phoned the service manager at Car Max. They placed his call on HOLD…….!
For over one hour, he held on his cell phone and the home, cordless phone. Deciding that one of the calls would be answered. He was mistaken!
When the phone calls disconnected, he slammed the phone down. “Let’s go to Car Max,” he said. I did not want to go back to them. My discussion with Ms. Mouse played in my mind, and I felt like a little girl filled with shame because she did something unforgivable by driving to the Service Center at Car Max, in anticipation of ‘customer service.’
We returned to Car Max. The engine light still on and my lack of confidence growing. I should say, I am one of the rare people who actually does maintenance service faithfully. In August, the oil was changed – every 3,000 miles…the air filter replaced…cabin filters replaced…and the fuel maintenance performed. The engine light should NOT be on!
Arriving at Car Max, Ms. Mouse was still – standing tall – PLAYING with the mouse! The service manager was at the end counter. My husband approached him. Of course, he was on the phone!
When he hung up, we approached. I shared my experience of the morning and how I was reprimanded for ‘dropping by without an appointment…’ Now, I asked, “What is one to do WHEN the car engine light is on and she cannot get a simple phone call returned or someone to check her car?”
“Customer service is a busy, unpredictable service,” Fred began…I interrupted him.
“I have over 18 years of service in the customer service industry and I returned phone calls quickly…”
Ms. Mouse’s ears appeared to be stretching to listen to our conversation, but NEVER…NO NEVER…did she approach. She probably knew I was not one to intercept with her thoughts.
It was suggested that since Car Max was ‘overbooked’…with only four technicians to service cars, we should go to Dodge.
I had an appointment booked for Dodge…for November 3, not until. “I have two important appointments this week. What am I to do? Continue driving my car with the engine light on, in hopes the car does not blow up?”
Fred discouraged me to drive the car. He phoned the Dodge dealership, managing to get me an earlier appointment for this Wednesday.
Rejoice! So much for customer service!
On Wednesday, the car was repaired; however. When the customer service rep at Dodge made the attempt to contact Car Max to get approval for the manifold repair, it took him almost one hour just to speak to someone!
Car Max reported that I would have to pay for the repairs, $477.21 — minus $100 deductible, since I did not take the car to Car Max and they would reimburse me within two days of the receipt of the invoice. Returning home for the evening, I wrote a letter to Car Max, faxing the invoice and letter to them.
Remember – that was Wednesday! I am hopeful that my check will arrive this week – however, considering the customer service at Car Max – I DOUBT IT!
Perhaps my next blog posting will reveal the date I receive the check! Something tells me it will probably be sent to me – via Pony Express, or a slow train!
Whatever happened to customer service in America! Yes…Indeed. Customer service? What a JOKE!
My suggestion for anyone buying at Car Max – I say – think twice! The customer service to make a purchase is most professional. Customer service when you REALLY NEED CUSTOMER SERVICE – well, let’s just say, let us hope you do not meet a “Ms. Mouse…” She cares more for her mouse…not the customers who approach her!
Dearest Readers:
Today is Friday…a day of looking forward to the weekend. As for me, it is another day of exhaustion.
Why? Allow me to explain…Undoubtedly, this week has pushed me to the limit, starting with Tuesday. Early Tuesday morning, my husband and I had to be at Ralph H. Johnson VA Medical Center. Hubby was scheduled for an eye lift. We arrived on time. Checked in at the kiosk and waited…like everyone does for their name to be called for prep. The waiting area was packed! Hubby was scheduled to arrive at 9:00 am. We were early. Parking was an issue, so we used the valet for parking. After check-in, hubby waited impatiently for his name to be called. The procedure was scheduled for 11 am. And so, we waited…and waited…and WAITED!
I don’t recall the time when his name was called, although by the time, I made a few friends, chatting with the ladies in attendance, checking my phone for e-mails, calls and of course, dearly beloved(???) Facebook.
About two hours after the procedure began, the doctors spoke with me, letting me know the surgery was successful and he might have a bit of bruising. The bruising arrived later! After he was cleared for dismissal, we gathered our things and left. On the way home, Phil’s eyes began gushing a ‘bit of fluid…’ AKA — BLOOD!
When he got home, I encouraged him to rest, relax, keep his head back and let the ice pack ease his discomfort. By now, the fluid is streaming down his face. I checked the list of instructions from the hospital, dialed the number for an emergency…having much difficulty getting through. About 15 minutes later, with his face streaked with blood, we were told to get back to the hospital at E-R. Phil did not wish to go back. I stood firm. “This isn’t open for negotiations…Get in the car.”
Reluctantly, he followed me, telling me I was “really being bossy!”
Perhaps! I suppose I don’t deal with a grown man behaving like a two-year-old! Upon arrival, Phil was rushed back to E-R…the doctors and nurses settled him in bed and the eye doctor was called. The eye clinic closes at 4:30. Fortunately, the doctors were still at the eye clinic, so they rushed down. I must compliment Ralph H. Johnson VA Medical Center, their staff and volunteers…what a difference they are from another time and visit where I wanted to claw the eyes of a nurse out…but I am not a violent person. [Incidentally, that experience is posted on my blog, if you care to read it.] I believe in diplomacy…or “killing with kindness…” Never did I have to invite my Julia Sugarbaker style to kick in. Everyone at the hospital was kind, courteous and helpful to us. Never did I have to request anything. Such a difference! Maybe the hospital, along with the VA, is getting their act together now. Thank you, Ralph H. Johnson VA Medical Center…I do believe Ralph H. Johnson would be proud of you!
The complication with the bleeding was a result of Phil taking his blood thinners a few days before surgery. After the doctor cleared the blood and got it to stop, his eyes were severely swollen and as black as midnight. He reminded me of a raccoon…or someone who was in a violent fight — and lost. Everyone who has seen Phil has joked about me finally getting my revenge with him and beating the H— out of him. Rest assured…I am not a violent person. Even though I grew up in a family of domestic violence and severe child abuse…where shouting, beating, cursing and knocking each other around was almost a daily ritual, I have never been a violent person. Even when my youngest sister slapped me, I simply wiped my face and walked away. I refuse to become another domestic violence statistic. Whenever I am mistreated, I crawl inside myself, a tactic I learned as a child, and I walk away…so the black eyes are simply a result of surgery.
Phil has been at home the remainder of this week. I must say, having to take care of him, making certain he applies the ointment, rests…applies the ice pack…and doesn’t bend down…has been quite a chore. Tuesday evening I was too exhausted to open my mail. Now, I have four days of mail stacked high. I haven’t opened any of it. Most of it will be shredded, including the never-ending catalogs I did not request. The usual clutter of mail many of us get…so no doubt, my starving shredder will be stuffed with the junk mail I will shred. I do recall getting a catalog from Montgomery Ward’s…didn’t they go out of business years ago?
Sleep has been a major issue for me this week. Monday night — no sleep. Too afraid of what I might have to face on Tuesday, especially since Phil is a heart patient, having the tendency to do what he wants and not what the doctor advises. Tuesday night, I carried my cell phone to the bedroom — something I NEVER do, in the event Phil needed me. His doctor advised him to sleep in the recliner, so I placed his cell phone on the table next to the recliner, with instructions to phone me if he needed me. On Wednesday — now sleep deprived for two if not three days — I was a total B—-! Compared to Julia Sugarbaker, I was truly the wicked witch of the Southeast! Not a Southern Belle…not a Steel Magnolia…just an exhausted, raving B—-! I was so physically exhausted that I wanted to run away from myself.
Wednesday afternoon I managed to go grocery shopping. Since I am doing Weight Watchers, I needed fresh fruit, fresh vegetables, almond milk and bread. How I prayed that no one would get in my way! While driving home, I had a serious discussion with myself, realizing that I was so grouchy — actually BITCHY — because of fear. The last time Phil had a procedure at the VA Hospital, he had a problem with his breathing. I suppose I have learned to keep these fears within myself while recognizing I needed to relax and say a prayer to God, thanking Him for keeping Phil safe. I suppose the gushing blood from his eyes horrified me. He absolutely looked like a monster from a horror movie. I needed to breathe…inhale…exhale…relax…and SLEEP!
Wednesday night I managed to sleep – finally. Thursday morning I awoke at 9:15 — too late to attend a Weight Watchers meeting. Refreshed, but still a bit tired I decided I needed to exercise. I worked out on the treadmill for 31 minutes, aerobics for 35 minutes. Much to my surprise, I felt amazing after my workout!
Today is Friday. A day to reflect. No doubt I haven’t lost weight this week, but on a positive note, I’ve discovered ways to make one of the “two B’s in my name,” recover and relax. I must remember to appreciate the little things in life. The warmth of sunshine. A warm lick from my precious, beloved animals…and mostly, I must appreciate that my husband came through the procedure with only a mild complication that the staff at Ralph H. Johnson VA Medical Center worked quickly and extremely professional to resolve.
Now, I must get on the treadmill…afterwards, I will tackle the mountain of laundry I must fold after doing laundry yesterday…and I must attack that stack of mail. My shredder will be so full and happy as it gobbles the stack of unwanted mail.
Hopefully, next week will be a better week…more relaxed and quiet…with a weight loss!
My Friday Reflections…I hope your week was much better!
Dearest Readers:
I have been quiet for a bit. Just a bit perplexed with writing…feeling as if I could not write one word ever again. Alas, I am back — on this day September 21, 2014 — 25 years after Hurricane Hugo strove to destroy the beautiful City of Charleston, SC.
So many people cannot comprehend what it is like to remain in a city during a hurricane. While it is true, I did consider making plans to leave, or even to go to a shelter, I chose to remain here in Charleston. Checking with the shelters I was told I could not bring my animals. At the time, I had two — Muffy, a sweet but hyper little mutt terrier and a small poodle named Buttons. I could not leave my animals and my husband was in the National Guard at the time, activated to work in the downtown areas of Charleston, so I decided to remain so I could check on my animals and keep them safe. Working at a university, I volunteered to assist with students. I supervised over 60 of them during the storm.
Although I have survived tornadoes, I could not understand why the media kept saying to fill your car with gas. Make certain you have cash. Have enough water to drink and enough food to eat for at least three to five days. I laughed. Why would I need my car filled with gas. Why would I need cash and food. After all, it was only a hurricane.
Little did I know!
On September 21, before the storm hit on that evening, I checked on the house, making certain my animals were cared for with water, food and the little necessities I leave for them while I am at work. I closed all of the hall doorways, left food, towels, water and all was well. My home is a brick foundation so I wasn’t concerned with flooding or a disaster. I prayed that all would be fine, and it was. On the evening of Hurricane Hugo, I hunkered down with 60 students in a historical brick building in downtown Charleston. As the rushing, roaring winds increased, the students were horrified, so we moved them from the second floor of the building to another floor where there were no windows. Within an hour, the students fears eased as we sang, told jokes and laughed. Ever so slowly the students stopped talking and laughing. I grabbed a flashlight, walked around the wooden floors, noticing many of the students huddled together — sleeping.
I touched a portion of a brick wall, able to see outside from the cracks of the loose bricks. I could hear the wind whistling…crying…screaming…I said a silent prayer. Moments later, I heard quiet. The eye of the storm. As the calmness eased my fears, I realized this would probably be one of the longest, most frightening nights of my life. How I longed to be inside my home, huddled in a blanket with my animals.
Listening to a portable radio describing the events of the hurricane, I counted the night away. I did not have a cell phone at the time, nor did we have internet capability. The building had emergency lighting, with exception it was not working, so we moved around the floors slowly while keeping our arms outstretched, carefully moving so we did not disturb the students. The room was a large brick warehouse, totally dark. No windows nearby. The only light I saw was when I found a few loose bricks and watched the lightning outside. There was a blanket of darkness everywhere.
Early the next morning as students awoke they asked me if I slept. “No,” I said. “I’ve been here all night.” One student nudged my shoulder. “I didn’t think you slept. Your makeup is still perfect.”
The door to the warehouse opened. Slowly we moved downstairs. The storm was gone. Breakfast was waiting for all of us downstairs, on the second floor. After breakfast many of the students wanted to go outside but I discouraged it. “Live wires are down, along with trees. It isn’t safe for us to leave yet.”
About an hour later my husband arrived, dressed in his National Guard uniform. He rushed to hug me, whispering for me to keep the students inside. “The city looks like a war zone,” he said.
A few hours later, students gone and the university shutting things down, I strolled slowly to my car, careful not to step on downed power lines while being ever so thankful that I had parked it in a garage. I anticipated the car having windows shattered, debris covering it. Much to my surprise, my car was safe with no apparent damage. Driving home, I was lost. The roads were hard to see due to the abundance of hurricane debris. Gone were the familiar street signs and landmarks. Roads were thick with debris, boats, cars, boards, roofs, tin, metal, tree branches and so much debris, it was difficult to determine if I was on the correct side of the road, so I made many detours while my car crawled over branches and the thick debris. I saw an abundance of tin roofs in the road. Yachts. Boats. A tracker trailer, overturned. Driving home to Mt. Pleasant was quite a challenge, and when I turned towards my home, I could not drive down my street. Trees were everywhere. I managed to park my car three blocks from my home. Carefully, I walked, constantly looking for downed power lines, snakes and other creatures.
When I arrived at home, I noticed several homes in my neighborhood were damaged. Tree branches were slammed into the roofs. A couple of homes were missing walls. I walked around the front of my house, opened the door, found my dogs, hugged them and examined my home. All appeared to be ok until I walked towards the back door. The ceiling in the living room was opened with a large tree branch resting on the portion of a missing roof. The ceilings in the back room were wet. Trails of water were on the carpeting. I grabbed the leashes and carried the dogs outside, still cautious of things I might find in the back yard. Several trees were down and my above ground swimming pool was missing — completely. The only part of the swimming pool left was some of the framework. Debris from the pool was tossed around my yard, but my home was safe. A bit injured but I was thankful we had survived.
The dogs and I returned to the house. Cuddling them in my arms, I cried tears of thankfulness. My home was safe. Many people in my neighborhood would return to discover a home so shattered they would need to live elsewhere. Phil and I had been blessed. Our home was damaged, but livable and Muffy and Buttons had survived. A bit shaken, but safe. We were blessed.
I reached to turn the TV on, to get the latest news, realizing we had no power, I laughed. I walked outside again, finding something I did not expect lying in the grass. The Post and Courier had published a newspaper about Hurricane Hugo. Wishing I had a hot cup of coffee, I opened the newspaper. Today was a new, beautiful day in Charleston, SC. Looking like a war zone, I said a silent prayer, hoping no one had died in the storm. Yes, today was a new day. A day to give thanks for the little things in life. Health. Safety. A home a bit tarnished from the storm, but a safe haven for me to rest and be thankful that we had survived.
Perhaps you are curious what I learned from Hurricane Hugo. My response is — to be thankful for the little things in life. If you live in an area where torrential storms happen, please listen to the forecast and take the suggestions shared seriously. I did not fill my car with gas. After all, after the storm, the stores would open and I could get gas. NOT. By the time stores and stations were able to open, the lines were long. Lessons learned.
Have cash. I did not. Fortunately, the university I worked for allowed us to borrow money from them. I borrowed $20.00, paying it back when I was able to get cash. Lessons learned.
Food — non perishable. Since my husband was activated with the National Guard, I did not have much food. By the third day of no power, I cleaned out the fridge, tossing everything in the trash. I managed to find several cans of tuna fish in the pantry, so I made a big batch of tuna fish. I ate dry tuna fish sandwiches for lunch and dinner until it was gone. Funny…I haven’t eaten tuna fish since Hugo!
On the third day, I discovered an old phone in the closet — the type that did not require electricity. I connected it, got a dial tone and phoned my insurance company to file a claim. Meanwhile, I phoned my sister and other family and friends, to let them know we were AOK. On the tenth day of surviving Hugo, our power returned. Three weeks later, the insurance adjuster arrived, apologizing for the delay in responding. I made a fresh pot of coffee, he walked through the house, taking notes and photographs and responded that he could set us up in a hotel while repairs were made. I smiled at him, thanking him for his compassion but I had a bed to sleep in, a home to live in while some of my neighbors were living in campers or moving to small apartments. “We’ve been blessed,” I said.
Surviving in a hurricane taught me appreciation for life. I’m still not certain what I will do the next time we are required to evacuate a storm. In 1999, during a hurricane watch we were supposed to evacuate, and we did — fighting traffic for nine hours, moving only 57 miles on Highway 41. I promised myself that if there was another evacuation, I would stay at home and I probably will.
Let’s just say — the City of Charleston is extremely limited with evacuation routes. It is a nightmare to sit in traffic, bumper-to-bumper, while anticipating a hurricane. Next time? I think I’ll stay at home!
Dearest Readers:
Yes, it is a true…everyone has an opinion about Ray Rice. Of course you must know, I have an opinion too and my opinion is this story is about Domestic Violence…from both sides.
In the TMZ video, I noticed Janay Palmer (his fiancee at the time) slaps Ray. This appears to start the fight BEFORE the fight intensified after the elevator door closes. I imagine this video is edited, after all, many of those broadcasting sites have the tendency to report, and I quote, “If it bleeds…it leads…”
As an advocate against domestic violence of any type, I believe Ray Rice is finally getting what he and his wife deserves! Reportedly, Ray Rice has been suspended from the NFL. President Obama has spoken out about the suspension stating and I quote, “…Stopping domestic violence is something that’s bigger than football, and all of us have a responsibility to put a stop to it…”
I am just a bit annoyed at all of these comments. Domestic violence has been happening within the closed doors (or elevators) for generations. Most people have always looked the other way…! “They don’t want to get involved…besides…it is a family matter!” Why is it suddenly coming to the surface, and finally getting the attention of a President — NOW! Because of football???
It is a known fact that domestic violence INCREASES during football season. Maybe it’s the testosterone that gets a man’s blood rushing thru his body while watching his favorite, and violent sport — football! I certainly had opportunities last night to observe this scenario at a football bar and grill locally. Sitting at the bar with a friend while my husband and her husband watched the game, I looked around the bar area. We were the only women sitting at the bar, so it was just a bit easy to listen to these men as they fought over that silly brown ball. During half-time, the discussion of Ray Rice began, so I listened — not to the TV, but to these testosterone overloaded, booze drinking men. Among the words I heard were:
“She got what she deserved…”
“She put herself in a man’s place…”
“Why is the NFL getting involved with a situation between a man and woman who love each other…”
My Julia Sugarbaker demeanor was steaming!
I looked at one guy speaking with another guy. “She started the fight…did you see her slapping at him? She was asking for it.”
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I interrupted. My husband shook his head and mumbled something. I suppose I was embarrassing my husband, but I didn’t care. I had a message to deliver:
“You gentlemen keep saying she got what she deserved. After all…
“She put herself in a man’s place… Obviously, you are not educated about domestic abuse. While I agree that she shouldn’t take a swing at him, she did not deserve to be knocked down. And IF you saw the video, you will notice HE did not knock her down within public settings…He waited until the elevator doors closed…and THEN the swinging, pushing, and knocking her around began…This IS what happens with domestic violence…The perpetrator waits until the doors close, and then he goes after his prey!”
The two men glared at me, along with my husband. I am certain my husband was livid that I was speaking, but this was my moment to voice what domestic violence is! Let’s just say, my husband knows that when I feel a passion about issues, I definitely attempt to voice my concerns, AND, I will not go quietly into the night!
I continued. Much to my surprise, these men were not interrupting me! “You also questioned, and I quote, “Why is the NFL getting involved with a situation between a man and woman who LOVE each other…”
“All of you need to understand, domestic violence is not about love. It is about control…jealousy…anger…outrage…never is it LOVE. A man who loves a woman, and a woman who loves a man, will not swing out at each other, slapping, hitting, shouting and knocking the partner to the ground.”
The two men glared at me again, ordering another beer. I cannot imagine why, but they got extremely quiet, choosing to gulp the beers and watch the beloved football game. I hope and pray the team they wanted to win — LOST!
I have no compassion for Ray Rice, and I have a limited compassion about his wife. Never do I understand why she married him, but that is for her to decide, and I imagine within a few years there will probably be a divorce…when she gets the courage to say — Enough is enough.” Perhaps money was a deciding factor???
Nevertheless, I do hope the scenario between the violence of Ray and Jayna Rice will open the eyes to the reality that domestic violence occurs daily in America. While there are laws regarding domestic violence, http://www.mincava.umn.edu/documents/ffc/chapter5/chapter5.html, we need shelters, venues and education pertaining to domestic violence. Unfortunately, the State of South Carolina has the highest rate of domestic violence in the nation. My, ain’t we so proud! This state appears to have the tendency to just slap the good ole boy on the wrist while giving him community service, or a night or two in the jail system. Yes, I live in South Carolina — a state — way behind the times!
As for the Rice Family — It is sad that they have a beautiful little girl. Why? Simple. She will grow up observing her parents fighting, sometimes slapping and knocking each other down. I walked in those shoes. Since I served as a referee between my parents when they fought physically and verbally with shouting and boxing matches I fought to end, and I promised myself at the age of five-years-old that I would not treat my family in such a way. It is horrible to watch your parents fighting, shouting, cursing and demonstrating what Love IS NOT! I pray that this precious child will not have to stand between her parents. One thing I did notice in the environment of our home as a child — whenever my parents were around company or family, never did they shout, curse or fight. All of these actions were behind closed doors with exception of when I was five years of age. On that occasion, my dad knocked my mother to the ground — outside, around other women. The other women simply walked away, never saying a word. As for my actions, I stood next to my dad telling him he was a mean man and I never wanted to see him hit my mother again! Never did I SEE him hit her again, but I did see the bruises!
Children need to grow up in a LOVING home, not a home filled with the monster of domestic violence. Regardless, I will still say, Domestic Violence is not LOVE! Love is gentle and kind…not control or violence!
As for Ray Rice, I pray that soon there will be another news story to broadcast, not another tragic story of domestic abuse. Maybe Ray Rice should join another long line — isn’t it called the unemployment line?
Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author 