Today's letter is Q . For more Q posts, click here . A couple of letters ago, O to be exact , I griped about the high medical bills we got for the 10 stitches in the husband's finger at our local emergency department. They amounted to over $3,000 for about 45 minutes of medical attention. And, we were there for five hours. The doctor's bill was over $1,600. Man! I thought it would be about $300. After getting the doctor's bill, we questioned all the charges, including the hospital's, which we had already paid. I talked with the emergency department director, who after trying to feed me the corporate line finally listened and understood my complaint. She became outraged at how much the emergency medical service, with which the hospital contracts, was charging. She told me that if we write a letter, she'd be sure to investigate our case. So, that's what we did. We did our homework and learned that the contractor pays temporary emergency doctors who work at

Today's letter is O . A forewarning: I'm in an ornery and outraged mood. So, if you'd rather check out other "O" posts, I understand completely. Please click here to head over to Alphabe-Thursday, hosted by Jenny Matlock at Off on My Tanget. The husband and I don't have health insurance. We're self-employed writers in our late 50s, so the cost of monthly health insurance payments would truly put us into deep debt. Fortunately for the past 10 years, we have been able to afford our medical bills and prescriptions, which comes to about a third of what it would be to pay for health insurance. Ornery, the first, about which I am. Some people think we're taking a big risk by not having health insurance. What if, heaven forbid, one of us needs to go to the hospital? Ornery, the second, about which I am. A few weeks ago, the husband and I spent five hours in the emergency department at our local hospital. Nothing major, as some of you, dear readers, know .  A

Reflections, March 2010 It has been three days that we've been without a mirror in the bathroom. Not that I look at the mirror that much, but still I am surprised when I look over the sink and see a yellowish wall. That's another surprise. Without the mirror, both the husband and I realize that off-yellow is the color of our bathroom walls. These past seven years, we thought we were looking at dingy off-white walls. So, what happened to the mirror? First, you need to know that ants  invaded the bathroom last Thursday. The damn ants actually knocked out a bit of tile from a corner of the sink. That day, they kept scooting from behind the cabinet that rests on the counter. The husband's stitches! That night, just after 11 p.m., the husband decided to pull the cabinet forward so he could get at the ants. The next thing we knew, the mirror slipped, broke diagonally, and as the top part fell, it sliced through the husband's right forefinger in two places. Deep enough to cut