He's on his computer buying the cruise tickets right now. I'm having trouble breathing. Cruise tickets for our 10th anniversary. Remember I said I really wanted to go on a cruise? I'm shaking my head at myself, doing deep breathing to try to calm down. Everything's gotta be a drama with me.
Just listening to him as he fills out the form is making my palms sweat. He's happy we've made a decision on a line, a boat, and even a room category, and is making it official today. As he types, he keeps talking. And asking questions ... I'm not good with questions when I'm worked up. I'm fighting the urge to just walk out of the room as he says, "Oh yeah, which seating for dinner?" I don't know what seating for dinner, I've never been on a cruise, duh. I sort of stare at him and say, "Well, we don't have kids. Let's assume the kids come out for the early seating." He types away as I wonder if I just doomed our cruise in some way. He gives me another look, "You want the room on the port or starboard?" My chest is constricting, "How should I know ... ah, well, they said most of the smoking decks were on the starboard, right? And we don't smoke so how about port?" He smiles and keeps typing. Can't he do this himself? Well I'd know that by now after 10 years and the answer is certainly 'no'. He grins at me, "Ok, now they are asking for our anniversary date, but it's just before we cruise, do we make something up?" I roll my eyes, "I don't care - let's 'celebrate' on the first full day at sea. Does not matter if it's official with them or not, honestly."
He types for a while and I sip my tea and work on this blog, hoping he is done. No ... wishful thinking. He looks confused a moment and says, "So for the travel insurance ... I know you want some, and we can get that here." This is the part I'm having real trouble getting him to understand. I need insurance so I can cancel for ANY reason. I need to know that if I freak out we don't lose this huge investment. And since insurance companies still don't see debilitating anxiety as a real illness, I have to be able to fit into the 'canceling because I've got my panties in a wad' category. I say pointedly, AGAIN, "I have to be able to cancel for ANY reason. Assume that will be the most expensive option for insurance."
He still looks confused, and keeps typing. Then stops, tipping his head, "You know, there are a lot of questions here we don't know. I think I'll call AmEx directly." I practically drop my head on the table as he goes for the phone. And maybe we could have started that way, and saved the third degree on your wife's questionable nerves? But after all these years, bless the poor man, he seems to start every conversation forgetting I'm a lunatic. Then he sort of remembers as I act weird. No idea why he puts up with this, really.
He's on the phone now, and this is not great, but an improvement. Going through it all again, but this time he's definitely happier that he has someone real on the other end for reality checks. Works out fine, with my blood pressure down to slow simmer, until insurance comes up again. I can hear her voice, saying that it will cover pre-existing medical conditions. I shake my head and he sees it, and says to the woman, "My wife has a chronic illness, and we travel a lot, but sometimes have to cancel late in the game." I can hear her words, "No problem, you'll just need a note from your doctor saying ..." Now I'm actually moving from anxiety to anger, which I've recognized is a more positive response sometimes, "That does not make me feel better. I don't want to have to document, because not everyone agrees that anxiety is a covered chronic illness. This won't work. We've been through issues where we've had just this problem, don't you remember? I need to be able to cancel for ANY reason."
Some more talking with the person on the phone, and I'm trying not to listen. Now I have to figure out how to make this work, clearly we are going to need insurance from a third party, and will probably end up with insurance from two places, and I'm pretty rattled at the moment. I hate hate hate this sh*t.
Will blog more later when I've calmed down, and focused on the good stuff. Right. The good stuff. Yeah.
Your Hostess With Neuroses
Sunday, March 30, 2008
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