My Tragedies

I'm writing on my iPad, the only computer I have left. Last Wednesday, my house burned "down." Charlie and I were not there, thank God. I've had a very bad few months, as Alexander would put it (remember the children's book?).

I had Legionnaires pneumonia and was hospitalized for eight days. If a friend hadn't insisted on a wellness check by the police, I would have died. They found me unconscious on the floor. I have no memory of that or how long I had been passed out. I'm told I had sepsis and kidney failure in addition to the pneumonia.

After the hospital, Charlie and I moved to a rehab center in an assisted living facility close to my house. I needed to get stronger, and I did. I thought that was the worst of it. Then, my sister, who was helping renovate my house, hired a company named Pest Now to eradicate the termites they found in my attic. A few hours after they left, my entire attic was in flames. Long story short, my house was destroyed. It will take at least eight months to rebuild it.

I lost much of my makeup museum, almost all my clothes, and I don't even know what else because all salvageable items are in a warehouse owned by my restoration company or with specialists who deal with art and antiques. My best jewelry was stolen.

If there is a silver lining to the last few months, Charlie is fine, and my pneumonia is gone. Chubb, my insurance company, has been fabulous. I can't say enough good things about them. Please check your insurance policy and make sure that you have a guaranteed rebuild clause (regardless of cost), more than adequate contents coverage (riders for valuables), and will have the money to live somewhere while your destroyed house is rebuilt. Chubb is paying for the rehab center where I will stay for the duration. It's five minutes from my house, and I feel safe here. I have a two bedroom apartment with a sprinkler system in every room...and Charlie seems happy.

Writing this has brought tears to my eyes. One of the restoration guys said I have PTSD. Could be true. I told my doctor I thought I might need a psychiatrist. I wasn't kidding. They weren't kidding when they told me I have a new job, with no pay. The work involved in making decisions, meeting people at my house every day, buying clothes and other necessities, and more has been continuous. Thank God Chubb is supplying me with the money I need to live.

That's the outline of "where I've been." Many of you have asked, and I'm grateful for your love.

I couldn't get a photo into this feature. I tried, but finally punted.