Today’s artwork: a digital collage, destined to be a postcard to swap with my little art group on Facebook. After several weeks of starting postcard designs, and abandoning them as being too pretty or too sweet for this particular group, this one came together in about an hour last night. I blame it on my crappy day. Part of my week of crap.
Many of you have gleaned from my writing that I’m vegan, which brings with it a pile of health benefits. All those numbers that doctors worry about are sort of a non-issue for me. Also, I don’t get sick as often, and when I do, it’s for a shorter time, and less intense than in the past. So, when I do hit a health snag, I’m particularly aware of it—and I really resent it.
Such is the case this week. At a time in my life when I should be going through menopause, I’m plagued with a tidal wave of problems that prevent me from leaving home for more than an hour or so at a time. And I am angry about this. I’m angry that my body is betraying me, at a time in my life when I should be rid of all this mess and bother.
I cannot tell you how many times this week I’ve looked down, and yelled at my uterus to get with the program.
Add to this the fact that I still don’t have any health insurance, and can’t really afford to go to the doctor. I know what she’d say if I could—that it’s time to either go in for another outpatient procedure that’s the short-term solution to this problem, or have my uterus removed as the permanent one. I can’t afford to have either done without insurance.
I priced health insurance again this week, thinking that if this new wave of problems doesn’t abate soon, it could get really serious, and I should be prepared. Fat chance. The cost for even a very high-deductible policy for a self-employed woman my age is well out of reach. I don’t have that many dollars leftover at the end of the month, and there’s not much chance at the moment that I can increase my income enough to cover those ridiculous premiums. On the flip side, I make too much money to be covered by any state or federal programs.
I’m stuck in the middle, waiting for something to give. And hoping that thing isn’t me in an ambulance…
UPDATE – Shortly after I sent out a link to this post in my newsletter, I received this message:
“Please please, don’t use a African American picture again, it shows insensitivity, and is very insulting to me. Abominable!!”
Like many artists, I use images of all sorts of people, including those of races and cultures other than my own, in my work. GET OVER IT.
In this case, the expression on the woman’s face was infinitely more important to me than her race. If all you get from this is “white woman insulting black women”—you should run to the nearest shrink, because you need some help. And you should never come here again, because you really, really, REALLY don’t get me, or my work, at all.