Life goes on.

 I last wrote of my ex husband’ s death and his nightmare of a hoarder house. Progress is being made.My youngest is being appointed executor, and they have hired an experienced team to clean out, hold estate sales, rehab and sell the home. I go by periodically for mail and to have a look see and keep the girls informed. The first of multiple estate sales at the house this past weekend. So much stuff. A lot of it of decent value. China, Playmobile sets, you name it. And people were buying it. I hope their kids won’t have to get rid of it, one day. The girls will come see the house once it’s empty, painted and ready for sale. For the closure, for the peace. 

The cleanup team found a packet of b and w pics, which were from a Christmas when my ex was 3. Per the girls’ wishes, I just sent them off to my former mother-in-law.  Poor woman has lived to see the death of two of her three sons. My eldest had me send scans of the pics to her before I put it in the mail. She commented that it made her sad that such a cute little kid, whom she felt she closely resembled, could have grown up to be such a s*t  I understand  that feeling  I am sometimes struck by how sad it is that the man who died in that house was so far removed from the man I married. 

I’m glad to go to the house, to save the girls from leaving their work and lives to watch over things. It is, however, exhausting. I think the house is a drain on my energy, from the sheer enormity of the mess it’s been. And , as I said, for the pathetic life led there, at the end. I do it for the girls, and so,  as a mom, I worry less.  I hope he rests in peace. I hope we all find it. 

I had no idea.

 I came here to note my ex-husband’s passing, which was a week ago Sunday, barely ten days ago. Actually he likely died the day before, but 10 days ago is when he was found. Found during a welfare check called in by my eldest daughter, after his neighbors found me, looking for her. After his only living brother had reached out to her because my ex had not shown up where expected. 

He was found in a horrifying packed house that would make most hoarders shudder. He had lived there for  over 25 years, alone since our daughters went away to college and never looked back. They had long since lived with only me, since they were old enough to take a stand. 

Over the 15 years we were married he was a pack rat, and had packed our garage with his purchases. When he finally moved out, I set a deadline before I would empty it. He slowly filled the house he eventually bought, which became merely dysfunctional in my daughters’ middle school years. In the last decade and half it became derelict warehouse, full of some things of value, as well a mind-numbing nightmare of of piles of paper, non-functional appliances, nearly 2000 square feet that obscured windows, a barely discernible path from one room to another. He apparently ate and slept in a couple dozen of those square feet. A nightmare for my girls to try to address, from thousands of miles away, with my help. 

What I didn’t realize, since I don’t post here all that often, is that my last post was about him. About my realization regarding his anger at not being able to control me. Well, I guess he showed us. He went down the rabbit hole and didn’t come out until he died. I hadn’t spoken to him since 2015, but met his neighbors when I went to secure the house for the girls. They were fond of him, as he had evolved into the sociable eccentric outside of his house. They tried to help him, but no one was allowed in his house, and he wouldn’t let anyone help him. 

He had clearly descended into madness. He had a great pension, and did not lack for money. He just wouldn’t/couldn’t clean it up. He kept collecting and crammed it in to his house, a garage that collapsed, two non operational cars on the property. 

In the end, he exerted control by not letting go of anything, until there was no room to move, nothing functioning, and he died among his “stuff.”  

My poor daughters are left quite literally with his mess to clean up.  It will take months to get it remedied and the house sold. 

His neighbors were relieved when I showed up to help secure the property, begin the process on their behalf. They were glad to find out that sane people were going to address the blight on the block. My ex had to die for them to get some relief. 

It is both angering and pathetic. If he hadn’t left so much damage in his wake, if he was a stranger to me, it might have saddened me. 

As it is, it is a bit haunting. The man I married over 40 years ago died well before my ex husband did. 

When I wrote my prior post, in Sept of 2021, I had no idea I would be writing of his death within months. 

I am glad I had that clarity, then. It helps me better understand what is almost incomprehensible. 

Realizing a couple of things.

 I came here to say what I had realized about my former husband, whom I usually spend zero time in any given week thinking about, having divorced him over a quarter of a century ago.  

I was distracted by that last two posts I made, which were 3 and 2 years ago. One was about my doctor, who is now leaving the practice.  The other was about my retirement, which had just begun. The good news is that I’m quite used to it now, having been assured by my financial lady that I will not run out of money. I miss bringing in new money, but am glad I was so diligent about saving for my retirement, which came sooner than expected. 

So, what I came here to note. I am reading Alan Cumming’s book Not My Father’s Son.  It is, in large part, about his father’s abusive ways. Somewhere along the way I realized that my ex was angry and emotionally abusive with and to those whom he thought could do nothing about it. He was a weak person, with no well of empathy or caring to draw upon. His father (actually his stepfather since he was three, although he did not know until he was 18, and never met his biological father) felt no kinship with him, and displayed primarily contempt for his wife, my former mother-in-law.  He led her to believe she had no choice but to stay with him. She believed him, but exacted her passive-aggressive bride price in her constant victimhood. She was not nurturing, and her son continued his stepfather’s contempt. 

He became toxic once there were any challenges or demands.  He resented me as his family resented each other.  Once I realized what I was modeling for my daughters, I divorced him. He was emotionally abusive to them until they were able to distance themselves.  I didn’t recognize it as weakness until now. He struck out at whomever he thought had no choice  Once we all exercised our choices, he had no power left.  Fortunately, my daughters (although he did some damage) are strong, and whole.  We won.  

The Doctor I wrote about.

 The doctor I wrote about in 2018, whom I was none to fond of, continued to be less than nurturing.  I kept swearing I was going to change, but never quite got to it, prior to the pandemic. I managed to get done what I mostly needed, but ran into a billing problem for annual blood tests because of a lack of diagnostic codes on the work request. I had to call back and forth between Medicare, the lab billing people, and my doctor’s office at length over weeks, and was not amused by the lack of substantive response from the office. I swore I would change doctors as soon as the billing was settled. Then I had mammograms that led to ultrasounds, which led to biopsies. Fortunately that all came out fine, and I waited to make sure the billing was not a problem. That finally happened, and I went in for a visit to get my refills and then look into switching. She was remarkably warm and fuzzy and seems on top of her game, which I found slightly confusing. Then I got the letter this week that she was leaving the practice. Of course she is. No wonder she was so cheery. So, now we will see whom I am offered. Fun times. 

Welcome to my retirement.

Welcome to the first official day of my retirement .

The good news is that the severance and last check came in, in a timely manner, and a small pension kicked in today. So I am feeling a lot safer, financially. Certainly for several months.

I am waiting for the retiree and COBRA medical papers to come, so that can commence.  I got the most out of my FSA, with a little room left for straggling bills.

I am still pending a sit down with my financial advisor lady, to map out a long range plan. I don’t think I am quite ready for a  permanent vacation, but I have some time I can take to rest and to plan. I have been offered free career counseling, which I will pull the trigger on, come October.  I also have possibilities of picking up some part time underwriting work from home, from friends who have gone elsewhere.

I will miss being so valued by my team.  However, my team was partly disassembled by the jobs eliminations, mine and one of my fellow RMs, and, to my shock, my now former boss. They wanted the head of  our credit/underwriting take on his duties, with no upgrades, and she also gave notice.  They will backfill and patch the team support together, and I am hoping it will go reasonably well,  but it will not be the same. So there are  blessings in the way things came down for me.

I am not entirely certain what the next year or so will look like, but I know I will come out OK.

Onward.

Loyalty as a lost quality o

So. After nearly 24 years with the same company and division, my position has been eliminated. It seems I have become a luxury. At 64, it a tough age to be looking for a new job. It’s an awkward age, really. Old to be looking for work, and young to retire. I was going to hang in other 2, 2.5 years.  I had a plan, a good one.  But my massive employer that touts itself as inclusive, caring, careful of the environment, with all its concern about the employee experience needed to cut some costs. So I, and the oldest person in the department , and all our seniority, are out.

They’ve offered a severance package, which I can accept ( and receive if I behave myself) , so, after my remaining 30 days, I can take it and go find work, and extend my medical coverage at my own expense.  So, I am likely to survive. 

It is, however, daunting to think that nearly a quarter of a century of loyalty, hard work, and being able to roll with changes, I am out. I have been evicted from my work home, so to speak. In 30 days. No time to have a wake, to mourn, little time to figure out how to land. 

They are dangling a more junior position, at less salary, a commute away, as a possible opportunity. It would mean working without interruption, and not have to go through looking for work.  

There are a lot of hoops to jump through to get to the severance, extending medical, etc, and the above might be an easy way out. And I would be good at the new position, as described.  But. I am tired. I have been waiting for my coming vacation, and need it.  It sounds really good to rest for a couple of months and then figure it out. If only I could have waited 2 more years.  Make plans and God laughs. 

I would like peace of mind. Taking less pay with no severance isn’t all that appealing. And who knows when they would cut jobs again.  

In any case, I will get good advice and figure it out. I just really didn’t want things to change so abruptly.  I was in need of a rest, but thought it would be when I was ready. 

Ah well, the best plans of meeces and men. 

Doctor as caretaker

My medical group has been letting me down lately. I had established a comfortable relationship with my primary care physician, and my understanding of how things work with my HMO was good and workable.  She laughed at my jokes, she kept an eye on my general health, all that. If I needed something, I knew how to get through to her assistant in her office, I got my prescriptions renewed when I needed them.

Then a couple of things happened .  She became semi retired, whatever that means in the medical world, a couple of years ago. She only came in two days a week, and appointments were weeks if not months out.  I saw her PA, a lovely young lady named Jennifer .  I could get in when I needed to, things got done. Another change is that you could no longer get through directly to an office.  You had to go through a call center , leave a message , maybe hear back. Most of my prescriptions were written by my primary care doc.  Renewals meant having to time the request to land on her desk during the two days she was in, or wait a week. Too many miscommunications with my pharmacy. I scheduled my annual physical with her PA Jennifer. Had it, got my orders for a mammogram and for blood tests and all that, some of the refills I needed, with instructions to have any called to her. Great, right?

Then, when I went to renew one that I had no more refills on , and the pharmacy called me to say that they had been informed that my PA was no longer with the group, and no doctor there would do any renewals unless they had seen me. Mind you, this is after going to this group for decades. So, I made an appt., which they called and changed because the Dr I was scheduled to see decided to go to a conference the week I was scheduled. They kindly squeezed me in at the end of a day. The day I was supposed to go they called to see if I wanted to come in early. Unfortunately I work for a living. When I got there, the assistant asked me about all my prescriptions, and history and all.  Then the Dr came in and asked me all the same...after asking me why I was there.  The real answer was , “ because you made me”. In any case, she reviewed my prescriptions, asked who and why they were prescribed, had to ask me if I had been seen recently and if I got all my blood work done, and how it turned out. Not encouraging. She explained that she tried to review some stuff before she saw me, but that she had four new patients today....in the end, pretty much got the renewals with refills I needed., though the ones that they did electronically, they sent to the wrong pharmacy, which threw the Dr for a loop as she had a meeting to get to , and I was her last appt. I got written ones for two, and the others will be righted tomorrow.  I called the wrong pharmacy, myself and cancelled, which they appreciated. She wouldn’t refill one because she doesn’t trust compounding pharmacies, so we will try her substitute and see how it goes. She really thinks I should drop hormones and get on with my aging  

So mission mostly accomplished, but I am not feeling like I found a home, so to speak. I will likely look around to see if I can find a new medical group. One of the things that also changed was my medical coverage is now PPO, vs HMO. That gives me more latitude on how to proceed.

We shall see. It would be nice to feel you can rely on your doctor to know you and work with you. Darn that Jennifer the friendly PA, who moved to SF.