I am the egg man, they are the egg men.
I am the walrus, goo goo g’joob.

When I arrived home from the Friday walk, I checked the mail. There were two envelopes. One from the insurer, and a second from TAQ. I was reluctant to open them. Why did they arrive on the same day? And if the TAQ communication was time critical and needed a response within a set number of days, why did it not come in the form of a confirmed, signature required, delivery?

Instead of opening the envelopes, I put them on the desk and puttered around making dinner. I had this wild flight of imaginative fancy. The insurer was writing to advise they were accepting the claim. All my efforts at amateur lawyering had paid dividends. I had argued them into submission. Pulled off a Perry Mason. The TAQ letter did not need a signature. My imagination told me it served to reinforce the insurer’s acceptance of the claim. Since the insurer had been forced into submission by my razor sharp litigation skills, there was no longer a need for a TAQ hearing. TAQ was sending a pro forma notice advising that my days as a litigator had come to an end. At least this is the story that came spinning to mind as I chopped the carrots and onions for soup.

Dinner prep is a great opportunity for an endless routine of chop, chop, chop and stir, stir, stir. While I prepared dinner I entered this state of advanced wish fulfillment. La-la land. Dream scape. Walter Mittyness. I convinced myself I had won the case. What would I do next?

First thing would be to get on the phone to Colin and tell him the good news. Dad may be an old geezer but he still has a couple of dozen aces up his sleeve. How about we get together and go out for a night on the town? The last time I was with Colin in NYC he was only 10 months old. Not really old enough to party, but cute as a button and the best thing in the entire Big Apple. Since this fact was likely still to be true, we should go out and celebrate. We cannot return to Windows on the World but there must be some place equally spectacular.

After talking to Colin, the next step would be to email Dr H and Dr D and pass the good news along to them. Both have been stalwart supporters. They would be delighted to hear their hard work and unceasing support had contributed to a successful result.

Next, I would get in touch with N and invite her out on the town. We could engage in whatever activity she might wish to undertake. I have no idea what that might be, or what would be workable given our respective fatigue levels. In reviewing past posts, I have found a large number which refer to her and I belatedly recognize she has been generous with her time. I want very much to thank her. Our Thursday meeting was the first time in a long while on which I felt I had rejoined the human race as a full member. I would like to return to that feeling and celebrate it with her.

The soup was ready. Placed in a bowl, garnished with a filigree of fresh Italian parsley, a double shot of hot sauce, and eaten with chunks of peasant bread, it was a welcome repast. But, before I got to the bottom of the bowl, I could not restrain myself from tearing open the two envelopes.

The letter from TAQ was two pages in French. I need to do a proper translation but I think it says that the insurer’s attempt to behead me has failed. I have somehow managed to keep myself alive, and in the game. The insurance company letter said something about their intent to place the defamatory materials created by Dr X before the Tribunal for a decision.

On one hand, I am full of joy that my Don Quixote lawyer skills have managed to carry me this far. On the other hand, I am greatly disappointed by the need to postpone a meeting with Colin, giving cheer to my Doctors, and missing a wild night out on the town with N.

See how they fly like Lucy in the Sky, see how they run.
I’m crying, I’m crying.