There are a stack of envelopes sitting in the corner of my office calling my name, beckoning me to open them. The task of doing that is hanging over me like a college term paper. Do you ever have a chore to do, a call to make, an errand to run, that feels so onerous that you find anything and everything else to do in it’s place? You know that the idea of tackling it is worse than the thing itself, and that if you actually do it, you’ll feel better, but still you procrastinate? That is how I feel about this task. The envelopes fall into two categories-EOB’S(explanation of benefits) from my insurance company and bills from my doctors and hospital and diagnostic centers. The task it to match the EOB to the bill, like one of those matching games where you match the hat to the job, i.e. baseball cap to baseball player or firefighter hat to firefighter that we used to do in school or in those kid’s magazines, only not nearly as much fun. Then part 2 is to pay the bill.
Here’s the thing. The task is certainly easy enough. The problem is that I don’t want to do it for 2 reasons. First, opening the bills and EOB’s just reinforces the reality that I live in daily pain. Second, as I described in an earlier post that my pain is like a bad child-whining, demanding of my time, sucking my energy, but also demanding of a great deal of money, money that could be used for so much more joyous purposes, like a family vacation, or college for my kids, or summer camp, or our eventual retirement or for causes more needy than us. But unlike my real children, I get no rewards from this one, no baseball games or dance performances, or delightful thoughts, or spontaneous hugs, or unconditional love. This child takes me away from my real children and that fills me with resentment many days. I have tried to come to terms with this part of my existence and much of the time I am at peace with it. I know I have it better than many. I also have no intention of giving up the battle to destroy this little demon. Like any true Red Sox fan, I do feel pessimistic at times, even with a four run lead, but like any good Red Sox fan, I do continue to keep the faith that I will prevail in lifting this curse. I just hope I don’t have to wait 86 years. I don’t have that long.