Every five years we have to get a new Ontario Health Card. Don't they call themselves OHIP any more? How many years am I out of date?
My old card expired on my birthday. A couple of weeks before that I went to their office to renew my card, got my picture taken - just a little older and more frazzled than the previous card. They took my old card, and gave me a piece of paper which they told me to keep in my wallet until my actual card arrives in the mail.
So today I went to the bank and got my temporary travel health insurance for my trip to the States next week. Just as I was leaving the bank, the teller reminded me to make sure I had my Ontario Health Card with me. I explained that I didn't have a card at the moment, but that they'd given me a piece of paper to tide me over. "Just be sure to take it with you," said the teller.
Very helpful reminder. So I looked in my wallet and... no slip of paper. It's been a few weeks. Had I absent-mindedly taken it out? Had it fallen out? Where was it?
I've been rooting around the papers on my desk with no luck. Starting - almost starting - to worry. Then I realized I hadn't looked at today's mail yet. There were a few things... including a letter from the Ontario government. Yup, my health card has arrived. I'll be covered to travel. Or at home, too, but it's the idea of being sick or in an accident while out of the country that worries me.
Not that I intend to have any mishaps. I think I feel that if I'm insured, nothing will happen. If I'm not insured, fate will come and bite me.
An appointment with my doctor today - my GP. It cheered me up no end. She said:
- My thyroid, which has always been low, is now absolutely normal - without medication.
- I have lost 9 pounds since November.
- I am in a low-risk category for diabetes.
I did a lot of walking today, and a beautiful day it was, too. Mostly sunny, no rain and only a very little snow, and enough of the sidewalks and roads clear of ice that it was easy to walk. Walked about four miles or more - and that's a lot for a day in Ottawa in January.
Had lunch with gamergrrl at Temptation Tea Shop on Bank Street. Talked mostly about Golden Globe Awards; movies and TV we have seen.
In the evening, discussed questions from Cheryl Richardson's 2013 newsletters with Lisa and Lynne over tea and cookies. I just had tea, no cookies. So happy about those nine pounds.
My father was born January 8, 1919. He would be 93 if he were still alive.
For many years, I got a bad case of flu when his birthday came up. I hated it! I assume it was just timed to be after he Christmas holiday exertions, the heart of the cold weather, and the dark days.
That hasn't happened in years, thank goodness, but I still think of it on his birthday, thankful that I feel healthy.
I was reading about fecal transplants over breakfast. Yeah, yeah, good breakfast reading.
Being a person whose life was once almost destroyed by candidiasis (no exaggeration), this seems to me like a Very Good Thing, to be able to readjust the bacteria within us. Seems to me this would be easier than the usual methods of colon cleansing.
But more: I have read, and don't recall where, that it is theorized that one reason for weight gain, maybe even a primary reason, is an imbalance of intestinal bacteria. Presumably if we could have fecal transplants, this would be adjustable, and it would be easy to keep ourselves at a healthy weight.
I feel worse than ever with my chest cold from hell. maaseru and Pim took one look at me and told me to go to bed.
I didn't. I read, I did laundry, I watched videos.
Wrote an apa. A rather pathetic excuse for an apa, but still.
Hope I feel better tomorrow.
A surreal day.
I woke up, didn't feel too bad. When I went to feed the little feathered guys, I discovered that their water dish was missing. Now, they have one of those dishes that attaches to the bars of the cage - it couldn't just be missing. But it was.
So I thought they might have dislodged it somehow, but it wasn't on the floor near the cage. And if (surely I wouldn't?) I'd removed it to fill it and hadn't taken it back, it wasn't anywhere I'd have been likely to put it. Baffling.
Eventually I found it - yes, they'd dislodged it, the little devils, and it fell into the seed-catcher around their cage. I wonder when that happened?
So then I went to work. I didn't have to speak to anyone until I started making my message for my voice mail. I couldn't say a word. Total laryngitis. Usually I talk to the little feathered guys before I leave for work, but today I didn't, because I was afraid it would start me coughing again. I hadn't even realized I couldn't talk.
So I went through the day speechless. Well, the occasional whisper.
I went home at lunchtime and slept, and woke up to wind and rain outside. Fierce autumn weather. I had to go back to work because there was a big party for the departing Director, who is a lovely person. I wanted to be friendly and chatty, especially with the people I hadn't met before, like the Board of Directors - but I couldn't say a word. I tried to be silent and mysterious and friendly at the same time. Didn't feel like eating - and usually I love party goodies! Especially since I helped to set up the catering.
And then there were many brief speeches about how wonderful Carol was and how much she'd done for co-operatives, and everyone was so nice, and I'm standing there wondering whether I'll even be working there next week. Weird feeling.
When I went home, it was raining less. I went to bed and slept heavily for four hours.
Did today really happen? It all feels a bit too odd to be real.
I'm going to bed now. Hoping I'll wake up with a voice again.
Possibly the most boring day ever. No, not really, I did things. But not much.
- Slept late. I don't often do that, but being sick feels like a decent excuse, and besides, I was awake in the night with the coughing.
- Spent a lot of time working on and polishing my Dorothy Dunnett annotations for the beginning of The Game of Kings. Major triumph: tracking down the quote, "Farewell, my masters," which Lymond says to Wharton and Lennox at Annan. It's in Shakespeare, Henry VI, act i, scene 2, but since Shakespeare was after Lymond's time, that couldn't be the source. I eventually found it: turns out it's from an anonymous morality play called "Interlude of Youth", in which Charity says:
- Farewell, my masters everychone!
I will come again anon,
And tell you how I have done
- Laundry. Yes, again.
- Read a little French. Watch a French TV show about a cyclist in Montréal.
- Playing mindless computer games like mah jongg and bejewelled.
Hopefully feeling better tomorrow.
Didn't want to get out of bed this morning. Still tired, still coughing.
I managed to get up, though. Then got to work at two minutes to nine to discover I had a job interview (for the position of the job I'm doing, only as a permanent position) at 9 a.m.
At least I didn't have time to get nervous. They even asked me to talk French, so I did.
Then it was a busy morning...
And I would have worked a few more hours in the afternoon, but I was too tired to move. So I went home, via the bank and the drugstore.
Woke. Read. Ate. Read some comics. Did French homework. Tricky exercise: Au départ, j'étais content d'être là and Changer de profession? J'y pense depuis longtemps mais je n'en ai jamais parler à la maison. I hope that's right.
Visited maaseru and watched part of a Nova program about the search for planets which might hold life.
Finished reading Grave Hunt by Kalayna Price, which was okay, but which I didn't like as much as Grave Witch.
Time to sleep some more now.