Big Girl Finances and my Health Report

I’m glad May is in the rear view mirror because it kept me too busy as all the May’s in I’m life have done since 2000 or as I enjoy saying “…since the last century.” The first full week in June won’t be a piece of cake, though. I have nine appointments stacked up and only three are for fun stuff like my book club, mahjong and a lecture. I’ve got a follow-up for my cataract surgery, my annual bone density test, a haircut, a blood draw and a routine, ultrasound screening test for stroke risk, aneurysms and peripheral arterial disease. 

The lecture series the Life Enrichment director brings to our campus have been real gems---all on some aspect of history given by enthusiastic college professors. I wish they’d had guys like these back in my day. I suppose with teachers having to compete with the 21th century media they’ve had to step up their games. Either that, or I’ve matured enough to appreciate topics now that in my late teens were as boring as watching an ant drag a dead companion around which come to think about it isn't all that boring but for the sake the point I'm trying to make so let's pretend it is. I hate the word ‘mature’ by the way. A chart some where in my past called me a ‘mature woman’ and I pouted for a week. 

The blood draw I’ll be getting is the third one in as many months and after that one is read I suspect the doctor will start treating me for the anemia the other two turned up. He’s ruled out all the blood cancers and proved I’m still alive. I’ve had my doubts about the latter some days when I’ve been as cold as a cadaver on ice. And since this post is heavy-handed with 'health crap’ already I’ll mention that last month I went through 45 minutes of lung function testing that proved two things. 1) I’m not good at following directions when someone says, “Hold your breath” and 2) I don’t have lung issues. I have asthma. Can I hear a “Hallelujah” for that diagnoses? I’m using an inhaler now and breathing feels good again. I used to have asthma attacks back when when I was exposed to a lot of secondhand smoke so I should have recognized the signs, but I didn’t and this past winter I thought face masks would kill me from a lack of oxygen when I wore one or Covid would kill me if I didn’t.

In addition to above, I’ve got three appointments lined up in the first part of June to see my brand-new, first ever financial advisor. I used my ‘significant brain power’ to pick him out aka I am using the same guy my niece uses and has known for years and who happens to be located within minutes of my new home. I hate investments and moving money around thus I haven’t done it since the last century. Money left over from life insurance and selling my house are sitting in savings accounts not keeping up with inflation. Then I have several other accounts where pension money and IRA money gets dumped. Have I mentioned how much I hate, HATE dealing with money? I’m so fearful of making mistakes that my inaction becomes the mistake I fear. But I’m not getting any younger and I need to get all my nest eggs lined up to make things easier for my nieces to deal with in case my mind goes kaput before my body. 

Naïve me, I thought I’d be able to just job-assign the task off to My Finance Guy and he’d move stuff around and call me when he was done. But he has other ideas. He’s making a conservative 15 year investment plan, though I told him I’ll be lucky to make it to ten. He sent me home with a laundry list of papers and figures I need to bring back so he can a set up a monthly budget for me to follow. That will be handy because it will free me up to do things like update my wardrobe without guilt or worrying that I shouldn’t be spending anything above pocket change. He worn my brain out with our first hour appointment, but I felt good about the direction he’s sending me. Once we get things set up, I’ll be in his office to provide passwords and account numbers when needed and they’ll never get stored on his computer system. I’ll be watching his wall monitor as he does what he does with my assets. Each and every time. My husband didn’t trust financial advisors, he trusted collectibles but while my brain still works enough to look for red flags in people, I needed to trust someone because after this month I'm not willing to worry about money ever again. Been there, done that way too much.

I told My Guy that a few ladies here at the continuum care complex don’t care if they run out of money. They’ve booked cruises and spend a lot of time shopping because, they say, if they run out of money the CCC is contractually obligated to pick up the tab on our care. He says they’re not wrong but that he admires my mid-west mindset that I would rather break even at the end of my life, using my own money. For me it's a matter of the CCC being my plan B. Sure, they are contractually obligated to pick up our expenses if we run out of money---that's why we pay the big, non-refundable bucks going into places like this---but what if the sky should fall and their benevolent fund runs dry due to poor management or embezzlement before I kick the bucket? Better to have a Plan A that I have some control over. ©