Maintenance Light

Maintenance Light

I was supposed to have my first appointment with the new rheumatologist tomorrow, but the maintenance light came on in the Corolla, and it needs to be taken in.

It’s one of those 100,000-mile deals where we knew the car was going to start needing money and attention, but we were hoping the Universe would give us a break for a few more months.

That’s not all that’s going on, either. Dan’s rheumatologist is leaving—he got the letter yesterday. I still need to sort out his insurance situation since Medicaid says we make too much money. (That’s laughably absurd.) 

And … wait that might be it?

It’s enough when you’ve got cancer, don’t get me wrong, but I am pretty sure yesterday I was feeling overwhelmed. And this morning it’s actually not that bad.

Catastrophizing is my go-to anxiety builder, and I’m proud for limiting myself to just a few hours of it—without even trying really. I think it helped that I actually slept a few hours last night.

I’ve also noticed that doing a ten-minute bird ID session with the Merlin app is basically a meditation that engrosses me in chirping birds, and I was able to do that again yesterday.

Anyway, I’m not thrilled about having to delay a doctors appointment that might get me some answers, but what’s another couple of weeks when I’ve gone this long?

The time will come and go whether I know what this *makes a circular gesture encompassing entire body* is or not.

OK. I’m off to determine whether a cat peed territorially inside the house or I’m having a migraine and my own maintenance light is on. Not sure which scenario would be more fun.

See you later, folks.

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