It has happened. I crossed the line, and now, I must face the consequences. No putting it off. No getting someone else to do it. It is my responsibility, and the only way to deal with it is, well, to deal with it. I turned 64 ½ years-old and must now sift through all of the information about Medicare. How did I know it was time? Magically, letters, booklets and phone calls started to tell me about my new set of responsibilities.
I don’t mind the aging part of this because, in my mind, I am still in my late 40s and look it. Stop with the laughter. I can’t see that well, and if you are anywhere near my age, I probably look pretty darn good given your eyesight. What I do mind is that there is no simple solution to the Medicare Part D dilemma. One brochure, full of typos and grammatical errors, was actually pretty helpful.
It talked about donuts (not the kind you eat), Part D and supplemental plans—but am I really going to believe something that is so poorly written? A visit to our insurance agent was helpful but still left me scratching my head because it is clear there is not just one answer. Going on medicare.gov did not help either—everything was grammatically correct, and the spelling was perfect, but the words did not make sense. Word salad best describes what I read. Perhaps, it is time to call in reinforcements
Yes, I am calling my brother Michael. He is on Medicare, a former CPA and way smarter than me. If I surprise him, he cannot say no. He does not read my articles so I am reasonably sure I can pull this off with Mike being surprised and forced to agree to help his baby sister. Being the youngest does have some advantages.
Aging is not for the weak. My 10-week dye jobs are now every eight. Crepe Erase—you know that stuff Jane Seymour hawks on infomercials—no longer works. My eavesdropping ability is gone. I cannot hear anything. My freckles are not merging, they are actually brown spots. My knees sound like I have gremlins living in them. Yet, the upside is okay. Movies are cheaper, my therapist gives me a discount, and I do not eat as much but continue to grow in size. What are you going to do?
Once this election season is over and I can answer my phone again, perhaps between Michael, my insurance agent, the mailers and phone calls, I will figure all of this out. Good news my husband is older so he has to do this before me! Hey, maybe this could be my third career, Medicare Specialist! But then I would have to talk to old people all day. Oh wait, that is me! I will be talking to people who have the same conundrum as I do/did.
I guess it is time to join AARP, become a Silver Sneaker member and do all those things I used to mock. I am going to embrace upper-middle age with style!
