I met a couple of friends for a walk yesterday. It felt good to get out of the house but it reminded me of just how many more MHID (my husband is dead) conversations lie ahead when I ran into a colleague from work. I didn’t stop to chat. There was no way to navigate around that conversation so I kept on walking.
On the sleeping front, the magic pills work as advertised, so that’s a win. I slept for eight hours and woke with a clear head. The pharmacist cautioned against using them too often so I’ll take one more tonight and then try another ‘natural sleep’ night.
I’m not sure if today was good or bad on balance but I made progress against the mountain of things-you-have-to-do-when-your-spouse-dies, so I’m calling it a win.
I updated records for the bank, the gym, a credit card and the irrigation service. It’s virtually impossible to make a change without the MHID conversation and I’m discovering this makes me irritable. It’s not something I want to discuss with strangers multiple times a day. The bank was easy enough, other than the sympathy. All they needed was a death certificate and photo id. The credit card was painful. It’s one of the few accounts where the boy was primary (we discovered financial-America’s cave-man attitudes toward women twenty five years ago and developed a habit of listing my name first). This means that instead of just taking the boy’s name off the account, they have to transfer it to me. My patience wore thin long before the explanations and scripted information dump were over.
It didn’t occur to me until later that all our automated payments are set up under the boy’s login on the bank account I just removed him from. I spent a frantic evening capturing details in case I can’t get in later. Looks like tomorrow’s job will be moving these across. Joy.
I’ve also made arrangements to see the boy’s doc later this week to ask some medical questions. The answers won’t make me feel better but I need the questions to stop circling in my head. I couldn’t face an office visit – too many familiar and sympathetic faces – so we are meeting for lunch. A bit outside the norm but we have been friends for years, to the extent you can in a medical setting. Guess I won’t be seeing him after that – another unfortunate side-effect of the boy’s passing.