I got up with a list of chores to attend to, and it was far too early (5:30am) to attend to any of them.  Shortly after nine I started making calls.  Medicare thought I would need to change to the new card, but suggested I call Social Security, where the wait for an agent (nothing on the menu came close to matching) was over ten minutes.

So I went on the the next step:  How to establish that I actually paid check number <whatever> in the amount of <whatever> to cover my Medicare expenses.  That one was easy.

On to Verizon:  I told them I’d like to get an iPhone with a Verizon contract, but that, as a cancer patient, I might not make it to the end of the contract, so I wanted to know what arrangements could be made.  I spoke to a front-line rep who had to pass me to a customer service person, both of whom (somewhat to my surprise, although thinking about it, of course they did) expressed sorrow and good wishes.  By the way, there would be no early termination penalty, but if he wants, my sweetie can assume the account.  So now all I need is to get the phone.

I cancelled my mammogram (a week from Wednesday).  I wrote to our financial folk to arrange a conference call tomorrow afternoonm just to verify that our accounts set up so that transfer won’t be a problem.  And, in between, I spent some time doing chores at work.

After lunch, I went to the bank, and spent more time going back and forth between the computer and the bed.   It’s a beautiful day.  It was 60 degrees F when I went out, sunny and fresh and just lovely.  I gave myself about a half hour to walk (as recommended by the folk who put in the port; I wouldn’t have minded walking more, but there’s no question that I was feeling it.

Now we’re just settling in before dinner.  We have a meeting tonight, of the committee that runs the fitness center in our co-op, but I don’t expect to spend much time at it.  Eight o’clock is late for me to start a meeting even when I feel well.  But I figure that I’m about to drop a bombshell on these people I’ve worked closely with for the last five years, only three of whom know what’s happening, and they’re going to have to find someone to cover my chores for me.  This also means that the news will begin to percolate through the co-op grapevine, and that’s what I’m really dreading.