Health

Lease then ideal conditions

I didn’t want to.

I really didn’t want to renew my lease for a mold infested apartment for another year… so I didn’t. I could pay $200 more per month for six months (in addition to the “standard” $115 rent jump), or I can “upgrade” to a one bedroom/one bath unit and pay only $150 more in base rent. I still plan on moving… but not for six months. It’s not ideal, but it works…sorta.

I’m still looking for places. The problem is, I haven’t nailed down where yet. I want something suburban… but I don’t have a car. Unfortunately, any meaningful form of public transit it found in the city. Along with crime, traffic and, worst of all noise.

I would move back to Baltimore, but that not only has a “been there, done that” aura to it – it also feels like “giving up.” Pretty soon, I’d be writing unpaid “theatre reviews” no-one reads (I know, I checked my site stats), and that’s the absolute LAST thing I want. I know Autism is all about “sameness” and “routines,” but my last “official” diagnosis was ADHD so I can’t stand doing the same thing over and over again adfuckingnauseam. Let’s not forget all sorts of “fun” (aka “horrible and traumatic”) memories it would kick up (you can look them up yourself, many of them are still on here).

Both New York and DC have better access to jobs and have more expansive transit options… but they’re a LOT more expensive to live in. Sure, I can make it work, but I just don’t see it happening. I also looked at Myrtle Beach because it was listed as 2018’s “Best cheap beach town” by some magazine or another (and after checking various apartment rental sites, I can confirm they are)… but their one bus line stops service at 10pm.

One place I’m looking at is Philadelphia. It has its own mix of cheap split up townhouses with shared laundry rooms, and newer “luxury” units… but I’ve never lived there, so it would all be new to me. Pluz (uhn-lieg Fladda), I a’reddy speeg da lag-wedge.

The main problem right now is inventory. There’s just not much available this time of year compared to April or May when the school year ends and graduation season begins. Hopefully, by then, I’ll have better news for you…

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(Art credit: Emm Roy, Emm’s Positivity Blog)

 

Categories: apartment hunting, Baltimore, florida, Health, Orlando, Pennsylvania, Philadephia, Williamsburg | Leave a comment

UPDATE: Three Days, no solutions

Today is the third day since re-reporting my dismissed problems to the leasing office (they take this seriously, their maintenance team apparently does not). To my knowledge, not only has nothing been done, but no-one has been by to check on it. I’m beginning to think they aren’t going to come over the weekend either.

Yes, in the grand scheme of things, three days isn’t a long time to wait for something like this. I also know that a complex with 1100 units has a laundry list of problems on a daily basis… but something tells me that only are they not taking this seriously but that they are making me wait around for nothing.

Sorry, but, contrary to what most people think, I actually have places to go (I already put off a doctor’s apt because “omg, what if I’m not here?”) and things to do – and I’m going to do them. I refuse to be a prisoner in my own apartment. This lease can’t end fast enough…

 

Second update: As predicted above, no-one came by over the weekend either. But I did get a doctor’s appointment to see if it really is mold as someone suggested… or just IBS and strong allergies. This I know I’ll get an answer to this week… maybe. (10/7/19)

 

Categories: florida, Health, healthcare, Orlando, ramblings, Williamsburg | Leave a comment

Murky problems, no solutions

Two years ago (according to FB Memories), my apartment had a horrible black mold problem. Now, I have a mysterious force making me extremely sick all summer (hence no park photos), leaving black film on my dishes when I pull them out of the dishwasher, and turning my clothes a rusty red color.

If I knew what was causing this, I could do a better job reporting it to them. I’m told someone will be by today to look at it (whatever “it” is). But their solution to the dishwasher problem was to run an empty cycle and call it a day (and repeating it on their next three visits because it “worked the first time”).

However, their “mold-resistant paint” worked better than I thought, so I’ll see what happens…

 

Update: The maintenance crew just left. I don’t think they took this complaint very seriously as literally all they did was run an empty washer cycle (even though I expressly told them I have a problem with BOTH washer and dishwasher). They didn’t try to investigate anything else, but they did lecture me in half English/half Spanish on how to run a washing machine. I couldn’t understand most of it, I still found it insulting.

They didn’t look at the reddish clothes I brought out to show them. They didn’t check the lines into either machine or pop into the bathrooms/AC closet (which is three inches from my washer) to check for mold – they just ran the empty cycle, lectured me about using a washing machine and left.

I wasn’t expecting a solution, but I was hoping for, at least, something resembling an answer… and I didn’t get it.

 

Categories: apartment hunting, florida, Health, Orlando, Williamsburg | 1 Comment

A difficult week

This has been a very difficult week for me, not because yesterday marked exactly two months since my mother’s death or even the ubiquitous Mother’s Day displays springing up in all the stores or ads for specials at local restaurants shoved into my tiny apartment mailbox – no, it’s hard because, well, I can’t explain why.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s summer in Florida and the oppressive humidity is starting to get to me. Maybe it’s that the weekend thunderstorms are causing my arm/shoulder to hurt again. Maybe it’s that I’ve been stuck with terrible heartburn all week which makes me not want to eat so anything I force myself to eat only makes said heartburn worse. I can’t see a doctor about any of this because I don’t have insurance anymore (which apparently can’t be fixed until the exchange opens up again in December).

Perhaps, it’s the fact that I finally submitted my manuscript to another editor and have no idea whether they will praise it or tear me to shreds like my last two (which was why I waited a full year to submit it to another editor). Though part of me knows that it’s the waiting for their assessment that’s harder than anything they might say, the rest of me dreads any kind of feedback at all (though I know my work needs it).

Or I could just be bored. You wouldn’t think someone who covers theme parks for a living would get bored… but then again, I could be lonely too, but dating is probably the one thing scarier than anything my editor could possibly say to me. In fact, I should probably quit writing now, as I just realized: It was way too familiar blog posts about ableism and discrimination first thing in the morning that started this trend (thankfully, April is now over, so I should be seeing a lot less of them)… but the approach of Mother’s Day probably isn’t helping matters.

Categories: Autism, family, Health, healthcare, insurance, writing | Leave a comment

Photo: My right arm is fine though

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Photos: 2 months out

Note: I’ve been advised to “not discuss” my health in the aftermath of the my getting by a car on I-Drive two months ago – specifically regarding treatments, injuries, or insurance or my opinions on any or all of those matters – on this blog until litigation is settled. #lawyers

However, they said nothing about posting memes…

Categories: cartoons\memes, Health, healthcare, insurance | Leave a comment

Three weeks out

June 23, 2018 – I was with my mom and brother in Disney or most of this week (where I couldn’t take any photos because I couldn’t steady my camera without use of my left arm), so I don’t have an exact arrival date. But, as soon as I returned on Saturday, I found a letter from Florida Blue: “Our independent panel of medical experts have reviewed all documents associated with your claim and determined that it DOES NOT meet the criteria for a medical emergency.”

Wait, getting hit by a fucking car is “not a medical emergency?”

“…therefore, neither Florida Blue nor any of its subsidiaries are liable for any payments associated wit your claim.”

But don’t forget to keep paying us – that’s right, I have to pay them to not do the one thing I overpay (due to an error on their part but claim it’s MY fault for “not catching it sooner”) them to do

June 25, 2018 – I finally got the nerve to call the lawyer the physical therapist gave me, and he has tentatively offered to take my case. I meet him at the IPM offices on Thurs, which is good since I can show him the rejection letter from Florida Blue.

June 27, 2018 – Got a call this morning from an “unavailable number” who turned out to be the “Billing and Payment Office” at ORMC informing me that my insurance is not paying for my Emergency stay but SOMEONE is…and I get the distinct feeling I don’t want to ask who that “someone” is (especially since I was the one on the other end of their message).

If only, there was a way to prepay into an account in the event that something like this happened to me… oh, I do? Tough luck, kid, here’s your bill. Yes, you HAVE to pay it.

Categories: adventures, Advocacy\volunteer, florida, Health, healthcare, insurance, Orlando, Williamsburg | Leave a comment

Photo: Five days out

Categories: Autism, cartoons\memes, Health, photography | Leave a comment

Slightly better Saturday

4:23am – I thought being moved up to the surgical suites would make the rest of my night quieter, but, no, there were still people pacing up and down the hall, staff laughing at the nearby nursing station and machines making various noises.

In fact, if I got out of bed to use the restroom and an ear-piercing alarm goes off so now a half-dozen (young female) nurses know I have to pee: “That’s why we have that pitcher next to your bed. Just go, we’ll turn it off.”

4:43am – I finally get my pants back up and my belt redone (neither task is easy to do one handed), and as soon as I’m back into the bed and almost asleep, a female Orderly comes in to clean the bathroom.

7:30am – Daylight.

Also, the time I hear the door to the room open and Dr. McDreamy from whatever that show was called walks in. He’s a surgeon, he’s gone over my reports and has determined I don’t need surgery after all. However, he still needed to hear a comprehensive medical history, a complete report on what caused the crash, a full list of symptoms (tbf, the pain had gone down noticeably overnight). He tells me “I’m not releasing you today” and leaves.

8:37am – A male Orderly comes in holding what turned out to be a standard Continental breakfast, and just as I’ve almost pulled myself up to an eating position… the NT comes in, takes my temperature, gives me a pain pill and checks my blu-presser: “Eh, eeeezzz still no good, but maybe better. 143/105.”

9:23am – Regular floor Nurse arrives (not the one from earlier). She tells my vitals, while “not good” appear to have “stabilized,” but the doctor said I’m “most likely” staying overnight again for “continued observation.”

10:29am – the exact same nurse walks in, and immediately asks: “What the hell are you still doing here? You were discharged over an hour ago.”

12:29pm – Yes, I am still here, but I just finished the saddest “Turkey Club” since my mom packed my lunch in the 4th grade, but at least, I got to eat it sitting up. I’m told the discharge papers should be ready any time now.

As I force myself out of the chair, I see a familiar chocolate colored boy in a tight, black shirt ambling down the hallway before the door next to mine slams. Apparently, you can have the same highlight twice on the same trip. Who knew?

1:15pm – The nurse comes back in with a copy of my discharge paper which she rather quickly goes over with me. No weight on shoulder, contact primary for folo in 5-7 days, pills every four hours… when I asked when the cab was coming to get me, she just looked at me blankly. Why not just drive my own car back? Oh right…

2:29pm – The nurse just happened to be outside my room (walking an elderly patient) when her cell phone rings telling her the cab was “en route” and would arrive shortly so she had to quickly (or as “quickly” as hospital staff move) her patient back to her room and get a wheelchair out of the closet at the end of the hall for a leisurely trip down to the lobby.

2:43pm – Finally arrive at the main entrance where, yes, a cab was already waiting. Surprisingly enough, the driver was friendly and managed to get me back to Williamsburg in decent time, despite “heavier than normal” afternoon traffic.

I get out of his vehicle, go up to the unit, open the door and see the time on the oven was… 3:15pm.

Categories: florida, Health, healthcare, Kissimmee, Orlando, Osceola Regional Medical Center (ORMC), Williamsburg | 1 Comment

WORST Friday ever: part 2

Midnight in the ER is nowhere near as quiet as certain 90s TV shows liked to portray. Sure, the old lady next to the doors for Radiology who spent the past 3 hours bitching about being in a hallway was replaced by a black family who spent the last hour walking up and down the hallway until the doctor (or billing agent) came to see their daughter. Also, the two cantankerous old men in the rooms behind and across from me had finally gone to sleep just in time for the relatively quiet woman in the bed next to me to be wheeled upstairs to be quickly replaced by another accident victim (a hot chocolate colored skin dude in his mid-20s with a tight, black shirt).

While the billing lady was taking his information (in Spanish), two doctors showed up by my bed again (apparently, they’re like buses) the one in the lab coat said he was “familiar with my case,” had “thoroughly examined” my Radiology and CT reports… but still needed a full history, description of the accident and complete list of all my symptoms anyway.

He completely ignores my ankle, but takes a slight interest in my stomach cramps, dizziness and lightheadedness… until I told him it was probably due to lack of eating in past 10-12 hours (my mom nearly died last year from something called “Glycemic Shock”) before abruptly moving onto the guy in the bed behind me (in English: Korean SUV, rollover crash, works as a dishwasher at Bob Evans, also has a fractured shoulder).

An hour later, the younger doctor comes back with a portable EKG machine just to “rule out” more serious causes of my stomach problems. It was patently clear this was not how he wanted to spend his Friday night. Luckily, all I have are Kidney/Gal stones, but nothing to actually worry about. He wipes that weird gel off my chest and pushes his cart away.

A half-hour later, an orderly comes by and wheels me through the labyrinthine, semi-lit hallways on my way to the “brand new” surgical wards. It certainly LOOKED newer, and the room was easily TWICE the size as the ones downstairs (with a large clock on the far wall).

Unfortunately, the two nurses there were anything but helpful. Particularly, the male nurse (who was easily half my age) yelling at me for “not transferring properly,” and then making a HUGE deal about being asked to put my shirt, sandals and the envelop with my checks in it on the counter behind him.

“Why the hell do you have a check for $8,152.68 here – in a hos-pit-all at 1:15 in the morning? Why didn’t you just take it to a BANK like a norm-”

“Where the fuck did you THINK I was going when the collision took place? Oh, wait, sorry, I forgot I’m Autistic, we stand in the middle of the road and flap our arms for fun.”

“DON’T YOU DARE TALK TO ME LIKE THAT,” he roared pointing his finger at me threateningly. “I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU HERE. HELP YOU.”

“By opening it, reading it outloud and questioning me about it in the most judgmental way possible? That is being ‘helpful?’”

“UM, YES, BY DETERMINING IF THIS ENVELOP ACTUALLY IS YOURS OR NOT. BUT SUUURE, FINE, WHATEVER, IF YOU THINK I (scoffs) ‘OFFENDED’ YOU, FINE, I’M ‘SORRY,’ BUT I WILL NOT PUT UP WITH YOU OR YOUR ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR ON MY WATCH. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

He walks over to the door picks the ugly camo gown of the hook and comes back to throws it at me before storming off in a show of maturity.

“That was unnecessary,” the female nurse said taking the gown off my head.

“I’d say so.”

“I was talking about YOU. He was merely doing his job, and you were an ass… jerk to him for it. Now, I know you aren’t going to be happy about this, but I need to ask about your history, what caused the crash, a full list of patient symptoms – plus a number of additional questions guaranteed to ‘piss you off’ further.”

As the nurse continues her rather long list of questions, a Nurse Tech with a thick accent comes in and puts a pair of yellow ankle socks and a straps a foam brace on my RIGHT foot. As I am about to correct her, she pulls out a similar brace to that as well. She then leaves unceremoniously as the nurse leans in to explain the TV and lighting controls on the remote.

Unfortunately, the recessed lighting directly above the bed stay on for “safety reasons” so I’m stuck staring into them for the rest of the night so I pull the second pillow over my head… and the Nurse Tech returns with another Motrin and a Blood pressure wrap.

“Blu-presser esteem high. 150/105. Very, very bad!”

“It’s not like something stressful could have happened to me in the last 12 hours to cause it….”

Categories: florida, Health, healthcare, Kissimmee, Osceola Regional Medical Center (ORMC) | 1 Comment

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