As I hoped, I got a good night's sleep last night, falling asleep somewhere around eleven, while Marty was still watching TV, and waking about five. I read some e-mail, then went back to sleep and slept till eight-thirty. Marty was already watching TV (there are two episodes of "The West Wing" that start at eight). He said he slept pretty well too--we both certainly needed it.
Yesterday afternoon I got a call from Kay, the Boston Globe reporter, who said that the latest she'd been able to find out after several discussions with my insurance company that the limit on hospice care was in the contract between my ex-husband's employer and the insurance company (like many large companies, this company "self-insures," with the insurance company acting only as the administrator of the plan). So when I looked at the information on how to file an appeal (which my ex-husband had e-mailed me a week or more ago) I was surprised to find that this could not be done electronically, but had to be printed out and snail-mailed.
Lisa was due at eleven to give me my massage, and I explained to her the very uncomfortable feeling that the air had no place to go, so she worked on making my chest feel more open, and also massaged my feet for all-over relaxation. I definitely feel more comfortable (I'm also continuing to take more morphine and ativan than previously), and have not been doing any of that convulsive coughing. I've also been doing a bit of chocolate therapy!
After lunch I worked on the appeal, writing that basically hospice care was the optimum care for my condition, but without that support I would probably have to revert to my previous pattern of frequent hospitalizations, which are both much more expensive and provide less satisfactory care. Marty put it in the mail this afternoon, but of course it will be weeks before we get an answer, since it's all done by snail mail. Celeste, the hospice social worker, has assured me that they will not abandon me in any case.
Marty is out running errands and Susan is here getting stuff put away and keeping me company. The cats have been spending less time on my bed these days, but the hole in the time/space continuum seems to have closed (although the missing medications and Marty's pens remain on "the other side"). I'm feeling calm and relaxed and considerably better than I have been feeling.