I love going to Bodega Bay. I love watching whales and seabirds and pinnipeds from Bodega Head. I love going to the Campbell Cove at low tide, going over the jetty to the rocky tide pools and peering at the life inside. I've started learning about birds, and have become involved in the seabird monitoring program. Training starts Tuesday, but I'm going out in a support position on Monday for my first shift.
I feel attached to Sonoma County in a way I haven't before... even when I first came here, before the pandemic, full of hope and jumping into church and community with both feet... into things that were less than nourishing for me, or perhaps it was just that my hopes were too high.
Spring is a time of rebirth, and I certainly found a joyful rebirth in being able to take part in these programs which are a mere 36 miles away, and tied to spring migrations and the times of the tides.
Now it is also tied to inflation and the price of gas.
What I haven't written, but only hinted at recently, was the series of setbacks I've faced. I live on social security disability, so having to replace a car key (one of those expensive ones with the transponder) after the last whale watch would have been impossible without the help of my son-in-law, and still involved a whole day of trying to get the pin number from the dealership to program the replacement key and a round and round with the parts department and the one place in town that had the key blank I needed. It all came at a time when there were a dozen other little inconveniences going on, and it seemed overwhelming at the time.
Then, when the key drama was over, the lock mechanism on the driver's side passenger door jammed. That could be expensive. First estimate was $500. I put that on hold. Then gas prices topped $5/gal, then $6/gal. This week I put $100 on my credit card for gas. It didn't fill the tank. Suddenly I was no longer seeing my trips to the coast as a mere 36 miles, but as $20 per trip in my van. I am envying my daughter's new Yaris, also a product (and solution) to some of the family related stress.
And yesterday my phone stopped working. I have become the Morton Salt Girl (When it rains, it pours) It seems my LifeLine provider sold out to another company, and while the letter I got last week about the change said that there would be no change in service, suddenly there is simply no service.
And last month's inflation numbers, for just ONE MONTH of price increases, topped the Social Security increases (COLA) for this year.
I am sinking.
I am looking around my apartment for things to sell. What, if it came down to not having transportation, could I live (and stay sane) without? My spinning wheel? My table loom? Is it time to just sell the car, hunker down, and only get medical care in an emergency via ambulance?
Or should I try to go back to work, knowing the risk with an autoimmune disorder and fearing to pop out of remission? Knowing that, if the pattern continues, I will have to go to the ER and follow up with a procedure for my kidney issue at least once during the year? Hoping that my health insurance will be able to pay for it? Knowing that my rent (currently subsidized) will increase significantly, that my SNAP benefits will be gone, and that my subsidized phone and internet will also be gone? Will I earn enough to make up for those losses? and if I can't continue to work, how will I afford to live with those subsidies gone?
I have only a few months to choose to try work under the Social Security Ticket to Work program... a program I tried to access a couple months ago, but never received the promised call-back for, in order to set up participation in the program, which would give me a measure of security should I attempt work again. Only a few months, because then I age out, being too close to retirement age to qualify.
Today I am thinking of terns and turns... seabirds and cycles. Part of me is saying "do nothing. hunker down and hope this hardship passes". It's passed before, but not with hunkering down. It's taken some fight, and I'm not sure how much fight is left in me at my age.
Today I want to go see seabirds and whales, but have canceled the entire weekend volunteering on the coast. I just saved $40 worth of the gas in my tank. It's not enough to pay for phone service or get my car fixed, but it'll get me the long drive to the only medical center where I could book my kidney imaging studies within in the next couple months.
The problem is, the things I want to do on the coast, my volunteer positions out there, are purely seasonal, and come May they'll all be gone. To every thing there is a season (turn turn turn)
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