Things you find when you're packing.

[rivka]

1. The hospital bill from my hip replacement. Not counting the bills from the surgeon and the anesthetist, which were sent separately, it came to $20,055.30, of which I was obliged to pay $593.09 myself. I find that in 1997 a single morphine injection cost $42.39, which seems high given the street price of heroin. Operating room time cost $14.50 per minute after an initial base charge of $688.50. My artificial hip itself was billed in several pieces - the stem cost $4,375, the head $711, and the acetabular cup $1,875. The whole melange was held together with screws ranging in price from $135-$405. I was also charged for three "space suit sterile view gowns," which at $275.25 were each nearly as expensive as my wedding dress ($315). Fascinating.

2. A Lesbian Avengers flyer, written by me. It's protesting a bill that would have made it illegal for an unmarried woman to be artificially inseminated. Excerpt: "The only thing Kevin Mannix's bill accomplishes is to make it illegal to have a baby without first having sex with a man. Having a baby is a very private thing. How a woman gets pregnant is none of Kevin's business. Why is it so important to Kevin that would-be mothers have sex with men? Kevin Mannix: He's not pro-family, he's pro-penis." Okay, I know, but give me a break. I was only twenty.

3. My first love letter from Michael. He left it on the table in my apartment after he'd been up to visit me for a week. I'm not quoting from this one, but reading it still brings tears of joy to my eyes.

4. The menu for our wedding. I remember nothing about the food, except that I kept taking one bite of cake and putting the piece down, and then the next time I looked it would be gone. I see that we had smoked salmon, grilled brie on pesto, cold poached shrimp, fresh melon and berries, spicy Duxelle meatballs, petite quiches, seafood stuffed mushrooms, and cake. Okay. I hope it was good.

5. A picture of my ex, Lane. She'd dramatically asked for all my pictures of her back, so I thought I didn't have any anymore. Finding this one was a bit of a shock. It's a great picture - we were on the teacups at Disneyland, and she's grinning madly and her hair is flying all over the place. I don't want to keep it, though. I gave it to Michael and he threw it away for me.

6. My personal suicide note from Hilary. Hilary was my girlfriend when I was nineteen. She left a general suicide note to the world, but she also wrote some personal letters. The note's paper-clipped in to the journal I was keeping at the time. The day before she died, I had just started my journal up again after a gap of several months, and I wrote, "Hilary just called, really depressed. She says transitions are hard for her." I'm not going to quote from the suicide note either. I'll just say that it was loving.

I don't know what makes me save some things. The momentous stuff, sure. But why do I still have address labels for my last apartment in Iowa?

Comments

*drool*

[mamatiger.livejournal.com]

I see that we had smoked salmon, grilled brie on pesto, cold poached shrimp, fresh melon and berries, spicy Duxelle meatballs, petite quiches, seafood stuffed mushrooms, and cake. Okay. I hope it was good.

DROOL.

I mean, yes, Rivka, it was good. Very. (Didn't you even have nice expensive wine too?)

I know what you mean about excavating the past -- I found a valentine from my ex husband in my desk drawer here not that long ago. Had to have been over twenty years old.

*drool*

[rivka.livejournal.com]

(Didn't you even have nice expensive wine too?)

*grin* Actually? I think our wedding wine cost $6.99 a bottle retail. (We bought it ourselves and paid the restaurant a corkage fee.) I'm glad it tasted like a million bucks.

Unfortunately, I've heard that later years' production of the red wine we served (a Mariposa Malbec from Chile) really went downhill, so I can't recommend it anymore. But R.H. Phillips still makes a nice, cheap chardonnay.

[janetmiles.livejournal.com]

Rivka, I just recently found address labels for my apartment in Phoenix. That was, um, 13 years and three moves (Phoenix to Knoxville, Knoxvile to Louisville (TN, not KY), Louisville to Blount County) ago. In my case, at least, it's not a matter of choosing to save stuff as of getting down to the wire in packing and just throwing stuff in boxes willy-nilly.

And yes, the food at your wedding was wonderful! What I most remember was the Brie, but all of it (having been reminded, I now remember the mini-quiches and the mushrooms as well) was yummy. And the bartender was quite decent about serving non-alcoholic beverages, which I appreciated.

As to the love letter from Michael, I would think you could at least quote a *bit* of it for us! I mean, how personal is "Dear Rebecca"? (Note: I'm teasing. This is meant to be silly.)

[kalmn.livejournal.com]

in re the lesbian avengers flyer: i am glad to see that i was not the only one who was too earnest for words at that age. whew.

[starstraf.livejournal.com]

I have a box of "open wounds" that I go thru every few years, over time the box has gotten larger but just can't get rid of the stuff, nor find a place for it (guest book from mom's funeral, wedding gown from wedding #1...)

[mactavish.livejournal.com]

I barely ate at my wedding reception. It was a great party. :)