is there any more pie?

I just got off the phone with my doctor, who had humored me last week by writing a lab slip so I could have the Covid 19 antibody test.  It was a long shot, I knew, but just in case that little bug I’d had was actually Covid, wouldn’t it be wonderful to know?  I couldn’t imagine releasing that fear, but I knew my body and my emotional state needed relief.

Last March, around the third week, I didn’t feel well.  I had a sore throat.  A mild dry cough.  A fever, but nothing horrible.  My ears hurt a little.  I was tired.  I was cold.  I called my doctor, who prescribed antibiotics but didn’t think it was the Corona virus.  At that time we all believed the symptoms had to be a lot worse.

I had my blood drawn at the hospital lab last Wednesday.  My doctor called this morning to tell me that I had antibodies, that I tested positive on all three tests, and that there was no chance of a false positive.  The tests showed I’d had the virus months ago, in March.

He pronounced me “Covid Immune.”

My life just became easier.  Less frightening.  A little more peaceful.

Banjo Man will have the test done on Monday.  Hopefully he was one of those people who had it but didn’t have symptoms.

I’ll still wear my mask in public.  I don’t want to freak people out.  But I’m going to get a copy of the test results to keep with me at all times.  My doctor said I should write “Covid Immune” on my mask, but I don’t see the point.

It’s enough to know that now I can hug anyone I want.  

I hope Karma is a bitch, I really do.

What has me so revved up?  Someone stole my mother’s Social Security number and used it on their own tax return.  They probably claimed her as a dependent and received a bigger refund.

I am livid.  What kind of person would do that when someone has died????

And in the midst of settling my mother’s estate–there are more forms and things to do than you could imagine—I now have more forms to fill out, more things to do.  There are mysteries to solve at her bank this morning, a trip to the police station to file a report, a call to the IRS Identity Protection Unit.  I pray that the bank issues have nothing to do with the theft of her Social Security number.

As her mental health declined, my mother grew very attached to her floral wallet.  She insisted on keeping her Social Security card, health care cards and expired credit cards from Kohls and Chico’s and Penny’s.  I removed those before she went into a nursing home in March, but I stupidly left the Social Security card in her wallet.  I had no idea that number was ripe for theft, if indeed someone who worked there stole it.  God only knows, as I’ve given that number to plenty of banks and government agencies these past weeks.

I have filed IRS Form 14039, Identity Theft Affidavit with her paper tax return.   And IRS Form 4506-F, to request the identity of who used my mother SS# on their tax return.  I would think a computer search would find that information.  I alerted the nursing home, just in case.

So…just a warning.  Don’t keep anything in your wallet with your SS# on it.  File your taxes early.

My father used to say, “Don’t get mad, get even.”   Well, I am mad and I have no idea how to get even, except to hope that IRS Form 4506-F ends up causing this evil person to be arrested.

I wonder if there is an IRS form that would allow me to throw rocks at them.