When I received notification that my ancient red and white health card was going to expire and I would forfeit my rights to free Ontario health coverage if I didn't re-register for a new 'fancy pants' version, I gathered up the required three forms of identification and left for work just a wee bit early so I'd have time to slip through the glass door of Saunder's Men's Wear.
It must be as old as the town itself - this shop with it's heavy door and jingling bell and rows of suit jackets and shoe polish - and in a corner with a little counter is where us small town folk go to do government business...from license photographs to new health cards.
I plopped my paperwork down along with my birth certificate, my drivers license, and my passport. The trouble is, my health card - because it's the old version - still has my maiden name AND SO, unless I can prove my legal name change I CANNOT GET A NEW HEALTH CARD and, without a new health card I DO NOT HAVE OHIP COVERAGE.
"You need to bring in your marriage certificate," she told me.
Two days later, having found my marriage certificate from the archives that is our already many years together, I went back in with determination that I could take care of business.
Nope.
"This isn't a marriage certificate."
I pointed to the top where it says, 'Certificate of Marriage'.
"This isn't a marriage certificate," she said again, turning to a little poster on the wall with a picture of a golden card that looked like a birth certificate. "You need that."
I tried to argue. "I've never had that. Why would they let me change all my other information? Isn't my license an official document? My tax returns?" What I really wanted to say was: please, please, please don't make me have to come back here for a third time to try and make this happen!
She was apologetic and kind and I sighed and repeated over and over in my own head, 'patience & grace, patience & grace'. "It's not your fault," I told her, gathering my things again after she gave instruction as to how I would go about obtaining a legal marriage certificate.
And so I left - no closer to regaining my free health care.
And then I thought: what if I'm not actually married at all??!!??
Which, of course, is ridiculous BUT WHAT IF??!! How great of a story would that be!?
SEVENTEEN YEAR MARRIAGE FOUND TO BE A SHAM!
Ha!
So I've paid the fee and sent my request for a certificate. Which won't get here for fifteen days. Which means I'd better not get sick, or fall down a well, or stub my toe for at least a month until I find myself protected beneath that beautiful blanket of free health care (that they so ruthlessly snatched back).
And if, in some strange twist of affairs, it turns out we're not actually married {we were the first marriage ever performed by our officiant so it's not out of the question to think, perhaps, he forgot to send away the papers...} we shall elope to Vegas, honeymoon in New Orleans, and then run away to Europe for a year while the shame of our sin-living dims to a distant memory in the beautiful shadow of a Roman Coliseum.
STARTING MONDAY...
June is GIVEAWAY month here at SelfBinding Retrospect. You'll be challenged to take some time for yourself, share the ways you unplug and recharge, and enter for your chance to win a cute little gift pack I've put together with some of my own favorite 'Stolen Moments' tools. I will start taking entries on June 1. Check out the giveaway page if you want to know more!