(Illustration by Stripes Okinawa)
I’m overdue for a mammogram, I haven’t had my cholesterol checked and I’ve been ignoring aches and pains for months. It’s time to finally make my health a priority.
I add this resolution to my list, which includes quitting Spider Solitaire cold turkey and going to bed earlier. Making my health a priority won’t happen easily. Online portals must be accessed. Records must be checked. Appointments will be scheduled. Authorizations will be requested. Medical professionals must be consulted.
I call my podiatrist, Dr. McCormick, who hasn’t administered a cortisone shot for my arthritic left foot since March. I’ve become accustomed to gimping around like Quasimodo. Rather than deal with pains individually like I used to, I’ve accepted my status as a menopausal woman who experiences multiple pains on a daily basis. Back when my hormones functioned properly, natural collagen cushioned my joints. If I felt pain, I’d say to myself, “Ouch! That shouldn’t hurt! I’d better investigate.”
Nowadays, when each pain du jour presents itself, which often happens with an audible “snap-crackle-pop!” while getting out of bed, I simply groan and add it to the long list of menopausal inconveniences with which I am now plagued.
However, making my heath a priority will require acknowledging and mitigating my various pains. The first step is getting that cortisone shot.
“Your authorization expired over the summer,” Dr. McCormick’s receptionist says. My blood pressure jumps, anticipating the colossal hassle ahead. Who is my Primary Care Manager anyway? I call the Naval Health Clinic to request a new referral.
“What’s your DoD ID number?” the clinic scheduler asks. Since they started asking for DoD ID numbers a few years ago, I’m never prepared. For 25 years while I was an active duty Navy spouse, I’d rattled off my husband’s social security number, scribbling it on checks at the commissary in the early days. His SSN is burned into my brain more deeply than my own. But my DoD number is a confusing series of tiny numbers stamped among others on my military ID.
“Oh, geez, let me grab that,” I fumble, feeling my blood pressure elevate again. I read off the numbers, pausing at the blurry “65” in the middle to be sure it isn’t 56. Thankfully, the authorization is requested without the need for an appointment with my unknown PCM, and my stress dissipates.
“Just check Tricare online to make sure the authorization comes through,” the clinic scheduler adds, and my blood surges with traumatic memories of accessing the DoD’s Self-Service Logon System (DS Logon) to get access to Tricare. A few days later, I hesitantly type my password into the system.
“Your current password has expired and should be updated,” appears on my screen, explaining that passwords expire every 60 days. The vein in the middle of my forehead bulges. I tap a new combination of words, numbers and characters into the little box, but each one is rejected. I focus on the long list of password requirements listed on the page:
Passwords must be at least 15 characters but no more than 128;
At least one lowercase letter;
At least 1 uppercase letter;
At least 1 number;
At least 1 special character, no spaces allowed: @_#/,;~`%&=‘:$*+().{}|?><^[]-“\;
You cannot use your birthdate, SSN, name, phone number or ZIP code;
When changing a password, your new password must have at least 8 characters be different;
When changing a password, your new password must be different than the current and 5 previous passwords;
You cannot change your password more than once every 24 hours.
On the fourth try my heart palpitates, as I think of the worst cuss words for another password, but it, too, is rejected. I type new strings of fresh swears and dirty words. By the time one of my foul epithets is finally accepted as my new password, I’m willing to undergo a gynecological exam on a crowded subway platform rather than make one more password attempt.
“Security be damned!” I seethe, my veins about to burst.
“You are confirmed for your appointment on Tuesday,” the podiatrist’s receptionist says.
“Great, but will Dr. McCormick also check my blood pressure?”
Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com
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