I took time out from my busy schedule of looking for "Wordplay" mentions to get a few things done today.
When I saw the gynecologist a month ago, I got a referral for a sonogram. No, not THAT kind (no longer possible), but under the arm. I have a dimpled, lumpy area that was checked 2 years ago, but when I had my mammogram in October, they wanted a new referral in order to do it again (the mammogram doesn't go that far up). My regular doctor basically forced me to go to the GYN and get the referral from him, since I hadn't had a GYN exam in a while.
I was worried the sonogram might be rejected by the insurance company as not medically necessary (and it still might be), but for my peace of mind I think it should be checked every so often. My first cousin Doreen died of breast cancer in her 40s, and her mother (my father's sister) also died of the disease last year.
So I was back at the Women's Imaging Center today. The technician moved the censor all over the area, and then on the other side for comparison. Then she made me wait while she called in the doctor. I lay there looking at the ceiling wondering if maybe there WAS something. The doctor (the same one who had done the exam 2 years ago) came in, and went over the same areas, as well as the breast. She couldn't find anything. Whew! My biggest problem was wiping off all the sonogram goo.
Now I'm back to worrying if the insurance company will think this was a waste of time and money. If they question it, I'll cite my family history and ask, "Would you question the medical necessity if the result had been BAD?" Since it WAS referred by a doctor, I hope I'm worrying for nothing. On the other hand, Cigna still hasn't paid for October's mammogram (apparently the claim was sent to the wrong place).
I walked through the hospital out the 68th street exit near the ER, took the crosstown bus to the post office to mail out a book and get stamps for at-home puzzles, considered but decided not to catch a movie at the Loew's complex near Lincoln Center, wondered why the Food Emporium was having a "grand re-opening" (but did not go in), and took the bus back uptown. School was letting out and there were some annoyingly noisy kids on board. Finally one of the passengers said, "Yo yo yo" and quieted them down.
I got off near the bank and deposited several checks, including reimbursements from the Puzzle Palace occupants and payment for some recent invoices. Always good to have money going in instead of coming out. I used the bank's deposit slips, hoping I remembered the account number correctly. I had my bank card, but the number is not on it (I just checked, and I did get the account number right; they probably would have told me if it didn't match).
Rummaging through my bag, I found what looked like a wristband with my name, dated September 5. What happened September 5, I wondered. Oh right, the ER. The rash. I was near there today on the way out from the sonogram. The scars have either faded more, or I'm just used to it.
Entertainment Weekly arrived today, with almost no mention of "Wordplay." It was listed as one of 5 hot Sundance films, and had a tiny mention in the "deal report." But not a word in the long reports from 2 reviewers (as far as I could tell; the issue is not online and searchable yet). The staffer I met on the bus in Park City was a high-level editor, not a reviewer. Ebert does not appear to have reviewed it on his site, either. Oh well, there will be more press when the movie actually opens.
Two weeks ago at this time I was at the Creadon family party in Deer Valley, anxiously anticipating the movie premiere. Since returning from Sundance, I've had difficulty being productive. Work is starting to pile up again. So much for semi-retirement.
Tomorrow I'm helping out at the Westport puzzle tournament, and Sunday I'll work in Westchester (I was supposed to go Thursday, but had to do the NYT dailies instead).