We rarely receive calls from unidentified numbers, but since the last one that came through was from the helpful person at the insurance company, when the phone sang (because that’s what phones do in 2025) before breakfast time, and the number was “unidentified” we were of two minds as to whether we would answer it.
Curiosity won out, and the somewhat broken up voice on the other end of the phone confirmed that she too was from the insurance mob, the claims team, just checking as to whether we had sufficient funds to see us through the next few weeks and whether we would like to begin the claim process so that they could help us out. This was both unsettling and reassuring at the same time. Unsettling, because clearly the company is wanting us to begin the claim process early, and we are reluctant to do so until all our ducks are hanging neatly on the wall, but at the same time reassuring because it seems our file is actually somewhere in the system, and just possibly the system really does care for our well being.
Being unwilling to bury ourselves in paper just yet, we very respectfully declined her offer, and we can only hope that when the time comes, the person dealing with that paperwork will be as helpful as the two that we’ve spoken with.
Incredibly it’s now been two weeks since that fateful stumble, and while one of us has spent that time hopping in very small circles the other has been running in them, becoming quite adept this thing called “multitasking”- a curious process that involves for instance; making a cup of tea while cooking an egg with one hand while the other hand is checking social media feeds on the telephone, with one foot making the bed, and the other is preparing to administer her nightly jab.
With Ron and Robin’s able assistance or management more like, things have been running very smoothly indeed, but there’s a level of nervousness beginning to appear despite that reassuring call. As our next date with the hospital looms and hopefully giving us some parameters around which we can make plans, we are staring at a blank wall while trying to plan a sailing route through a hypothetical weather window and hoping against hope that we can find flights and magically transport ourselves from boat to home without one of us having to carry the other.
If mental gymnastics were an olympic sport, we’d be gold medal contenders.
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