Month: March 2019

I found Costco yesterday. As it turns out, it’s across the street from La Organica, a vegetarian-friendly restaurant recommended by my hosts. Jorge even drove me there as he was on his way out to get beer. Viviana was home preparing for her meditation class, held on the main floor of their home. The night I arrived, she was having a class on Middle Eastern mysticism or something of the like. Viviana is a renaissance woman.

At Jorge’s suggestion, I walked to el Parque Urbano Kabah this morning. I wanted it to be brisk so I did not have coffee beforehand, The thought of that caffeine fix made for a pace that would make my running group proud. The park is in the middle of busy downtown Cancún, however when you are within its perimeters, the city and it’s noise fall away and peace abounds. Lots of walkers and runners, and even an outdoor gym where a handful of young men were getting their reps in.

I even came across a critter. Dr. Google says it’s a coati…part of the raccoon family. It was having breakfast and though it kept an eye on me (and vice versa) it did not appear flustered. I’ll admit I was a bit, only because I had no idea what it was. Now that I know it has very long sharp teeth, I will continue to keep a respectful distance.

Haven’t made it to the beach yet. There’s lots of time for that and I’m enjoying being in the midst of Mexican life instead of the tourist bubble. The pool here is gorgeous and mostly empty. Ahhh…

So this post isn’t about travel, but it’s a story that needs to be told.

On October 24, 2018, I went to a flu clinic in the building adjacent to mine for my annual flu shot. The shot itself was quite painful, and I noted that the clinician – a pharmacist from a nearby national drug chain – had injected me high up on the arm, close to my shoulder. The pain was quite intense but it eased after about 48 hours. 

I’ll make a very long story short. The pain returned about a week after the shot, and it affected daily life significantly. I saw a duty doctor in December who diagnosed nerve pain and prescribed something that did nothing for the arm but made me seriously contemplate suicide (stay away from old antidepressants). In December I saw another duty doctor with more experience. He gave me a strong anti inflammatory (and told me to stay away from anyone who wants to give me a flu shot who isn’t a doctor).

The second round of meds helped a lot with symptoms but the pain and weakness persisted so I saw my own doctor in February. She ordered an X-ray (it didn’t show anything) and wrote a referral to a local physiotherapist who she said was the best.

She was right! Andrea’s diagnosis got right to the heart of the issue and within a week or so, with some work on my part, I started to feel a lot better. I continued my visits and the exercises, seeing her for the last time on Monday of this week. Immediately afterwards, I submitted my claim to Sun Life for more than $500 in physio fees. 

This morning, I received notification from Sun Life that the claim had been processed. And denied. Reason? My doctor had failed to include the word “physiotherapy” on the referral. She had gone a step too far and written the name and location of the physiotherapist she wanted me to see. It apparently doesn’t matter to Sun Life that they have this physiotherapist in their data base…that they know she’s a physiotherapist….the word must be on the prescription.

Yes, I will fight this. But I gotta tell you, I’m gonna think twice before I let anyone approach me with a needle. Unless it’s filled with something that’s gonna make all this go away…

Sitting in Marco Polo, the coffee lounge on the ground floor of the building I used to call home. It’s fitting somehow…Marco Polo was an explorer, and looking ahead, I feel a certain kinship with him. Beyond the urge to travel, we have nothing in common of course. Imagine what the early explorers could have done if they’d had internet…keeping tabs on the castle via Alexa, setting up online banking to make sure the rent on the catacombs was collected on time…Speaking of internet, I’ve been a week without it. I am every bit as hooked and dependent as any 20-something. I’m developing a nervous tick as I think about all the crap I missed this week.

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So…moving….not a gift. Despite my best efforts, I still own way too much stuff. And the fact that I’m heading out for an undetermined period of travel doesn’t seem to have deterred me from wanting more. I was looking at a linen dress in Winners a few days ago…after all, I only have five…and only two blue ones…I can justify anything. And no, I didn’t buy it. But I really wanted it.

Not much left to do. After experiencing total mental exhaustion worrying about how to prepare the car for storage, I’ve decided to take it for a long drive, wash it and park it. This Golf is such a diva. I never worried about leaving the Echo for any period of time, and it never let me down. This computerized puff ball has all kinds of wants and needs in comparison, but I’m practicing tough love.

Four days…