Thursday, February 16, 2012
Secondhand Rants will return on Tuesday, February 21.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Word choice could be far, far better here, especially in the context of wellness, but the postmortem of my brush with healthcare has been decidedly grim. You see, I’ve been experiencing sharp pangs of regret, compounded by severe relapses of invoicing. In retrospect, I should’ve gone with my gut on Christmas Eve, debilitated as it was, doubled down on my self-diagnosis, bought $20 worth of Gatorade, slept, and saved $350 in the process.
That’s the last thing any doctor wants to hear. I get it. The fear is a real need for professional care will arise one day, and I will stubbornly neglect to pursue it, simply on the merit of past experience. But god damn is healthcare getting more expensive by the year, for reasons entirely out of my grasp. All I can tell you is there was a time when I could flash my insurance card, pay whatever co-pays were needed, and then move on with my life, free and clear.
As it stands, my card is more like a frequent shopper card these days, where maybe the 15th blood test is free, after I mail in my receipt and 14 proofs of purchase. I’m certain I chose the priciest health plan, but perhaps it’s just that much shittier? It’s been two months since I went to Urgent Care and the hospital, and I’m still getting bills from both establishments for so and so service that wasn’t covered. Perhaps I should consider bringing my own cup for future lab work. A rare editorial correction to my January post, then: I was wrong. Leechcraft is alive and well.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Hidden between all the infuriating shots in beginner’s golf are those rare moments when everything connects, small oases where you discover, much to your delight, your body in communion with physics, rather than outright revolt. Surprisingly enough, I’ve found more than one such moment on the putting green, and brief as they may be, they are valuable for the hope they instill–the hope that, in spite of myself, I can be competent at this sport.
Equanimity. I’ve used this word in the context of golf before. I like it because it evokes what it defines. But equanimity on the green feels different than it does in the tee box or on the fairway. When I’m driving, for instance, a good, calm shot feels totally effortless. A solid put, on the other hand, also feels effortless, but it’s a bit more kinetic, too. There’s this click that simply feels right. Not too much, of course, lest the ball go skimming off the green. Just enough. Click. Follow through. And then the ball, seemingly guided by luck and magic, finds its way home.
I’ve realized, too, that not having any expectations helps immensely. There was a time when I tried to obtain equanimity. But that peace is more a by-product now. Instead, I’m reveling in my attendance, pleased as punch that I have the wherewithal to even step on the green. I’m there to enjoy the weather. And I’m buoyed by the thought that maybe it’s persistence, rather than insanity, that’s propelling my arms to swing again and again.